Page 25 of Loving Smoke

“Agreed. I told Ricky to put out some feelers, see what he can come up with since he seems to know or is related to everybody around here.”

I cracked my neck from side to side. “I’m beat. Let’s hit the sack and deal with this shit fresh tomorrow.”

Blood slapped me on the back. “Gotta say, brother, you were impressive tonight. Fuckin’ guns blazing and you came out without a scratch.”

“I’m invincible, like smoke.” I shot my VP a cocky grin cause that’s what he expected, but truth, all I could see was Marisol’s terrified face. Women. Blood was right, I crave them like a tweaker craves junk.

We climbed the back stairs then paused in the hallway in front of my door. “Another thing we gotta do is head over to that fight club, see if there’s anybody decent to recruit. After tonight’s shit show we need more than just you and me.”

Blood blew out a breath. “Ricky’s working out good, but you’re right, we need more manpower.”

“We can’t be too picky as long as they’re willing to throw fists if needed or handle a gun.”

“Agreed.”

We tapped fists and went into our separate rooms. The exhaustion hit me hard the minute I closed the door behind me. Like I had a fifty-pound weight on my back pressing me to the floor. I hit the bathroom, took a piss and a quick shower, then I put on a clean t-shirt and gym shorts before crawling under the covers.

I attached my phone to the charger and the screen came alive with messages.

“Fuck,” I mumbled. Was this some kind of a damn test?

Marisol: I just wanted to thank you again for your bravery tonight.

I stared at the message for almost a minute, then I eyed the reply bubble. Just swipe the damn thing away and go to bed, asshole.

Marisol: If it wasn’t for you, it could’ve ended very badly.

I slapped the phone face down on the bedside table and it buzzed again.

Marisol: And also for the ride home. You were very sweet.

Ahhh, fuck. Sweet?

Even after giving a woman multiple orgasms they never called me sweet. I’ve spent thirty-five years looking at myself in the mirror. Between the scar running down my jawline and multiple fractures of my nose, sweet was not in my description box.

What happened next was not good.

Smoke: You should be asleep by now.

The little reply bubbles popped up immediately and I knew I was in the shit.

Marisol: So should you.

Smoke: Not much of a sleeper, even on a good night.

Marisol: And this was definitely not a good night, right?

Smoke: Fuckin’ truth. Could’ve been a lot worse.

Marisol: We were both lucky, but I felt safe with you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Was she intentionally trying to crank me up?

Smoke: Always.

Marisol: Thanks for texting me back. I’ve been lying here in bed so restless. I kept tossing and turning.

Fuckin’ great. Now I wanted to ask her what she had on or didn’t have on. Shit!

---