Page 47 of Loving Smoke

“A few years back her son had an unfortunate confrontation with the police. He was carrying a weapon and he resisted arrest putting one of the officers in the hospital.” My father looked toward the ceiling. “Two offenses that carry a very heavy sentence and would’ve put him away for a long time.”

“What does any of this have to do with our situation?”

“Rita didn’t have the money for a lawyer and even if she did I don’t think her son would’ve won his case—so I stepped in. I used my influence with the local authorities, called in some favors, and Juan was released. No hearing, no trial—a free man all because I made it all go away.”

“I still don’t see what any of it has to do with us.”

“It’s very simple. You either continue working at The Tropics and pursuing Smoke or the evidence I have will reappear sending Juan straight to jail.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Rita’s heart would break to see her only son go to jail for many, many years.”

“Would you actually do that to a woman who’s worked for us so many years?” As the question left my mouth, I already knew the answer.

“It won’t be me doing the damage—it will be you.”

A long unsettling silence stretched out between us. He could afford to wait because he already knew the outcome. I didn’t doubt for one minute he would carry out his plan. His world was governed by checks and balances using people’s lives as collateral.

Unlike him, I wasn’t ready to destroy someone’s life, or gamble with their emotions for my own gain.

“Fine.” I heaved out a heavy sigh. “I’ll stay at The Tropics.”

“And continue to enchant the vicious biker.”

“Yes.” The word whispered from my lips. Suddenly, what little energy I had drained from my limbs.

My father directed his attention to his desk. “And just to be clear, I don’t want to have this discussion again. Soon I’ll give you another task. A final end Smoke will never see coming, and I’ll expect for it to be carried out without question.” He jerked his head in my direction. “Is that clear?”

“Clear.” I pushed out of the chair, turned away from the desk, and left his office—exhausted physically and mentally.

The spiral staircase leading to my bedroom suite seemed insurmountable and when I finally reached my room I flung myself on the bed. The tears didn’t come right away, but when they did I couldn’t control them. I wept for my poor mother, I wept for me, then I wept for what could never be with Smoke.

Finally, I rolled off my bed, stripped and stood under the shower letting the hot water pulse against my numbed body. When it became unbearably hot, I shut off the faucet, dried myself and slipped between the covers naked welcoming the cool sheets against my skin.

I refused to let my mind wander over the last twelve hours. I told myself what happened between Smoke and I was a mistake from the beginning, and whatever feelings I had for him had to be squashed. From now on I would deal with Smoke the same way I handled the customers at The Tropics—fast, efficient, and without feeling.

Finally, I fell into a fitful sleep plagued with running and never getting anywhere while guns fired around me. I jolted awake more than once throughout the night plagued with visions of Smoke bloody and beaten begging me for help while my father laughed in the background.

18

Blood and I reentered the club feeling pretty good about twisting shit out with Sandoval.

“I think this deserves a shot.” Blood went behind the bar and retrieved a bottle of Jack and two glasses.

I pulled out my phone and hit Jameson’s number, then looked up at Blood. “I think I may have our ticket home.”

After the fifth ring, I prepared for the away message when the call connected.

“Yeah,” Jameson’s gruff voice filled the phone.

“I’m assuming your products were delivered.”

“Absolutely. Our customers are gonna be very happy.”

“Premium goods.” I paused. “Had a visit before from the local authorities. They expected to catch us with our dicks out, but the laugh was on them.”

“Interesting.”

---