Page 71 of Loving Smoke

“All right, you prove yourself and we’ll see what we can do about getting you a bike.”

I’d made a sweet deal with a Harley dealership I used to do business with just north of Imperial Beach and with the money we confiscated from Rico’s villa we were able to secure four used bikes in top shape.

We wrapped up the particulars with Diesel then headed out. I was anxious to get back to the club and check on Marisol. Thankfully she didn’t get hurt too bad physically but I was worried about the shit floating around in her head. Wasn’t every day your father held you at gunpoint only to have your older brother gun the bastard down in the foyer of your villa.

I’d gone through most of my life thinking I had a fucked up childhood, and of course I was right. Being shipped to one foster home worse than the other. Never having anything to really call my own. Didn’t have to be a genius to figure out why I joined the Bastards, but with Marisol it was way different.

Her parents lulled her into a false sense of security. Even when she found out the truth about Rico’s business, he was able to hide the gruesome part of his life. He passed himself off as a loving father and husband—until it all fell apart and the cold, hard truth smacked her in the face, big time.

The shock, and disbelief had to be fucking with her brain, and I wanted to be there and catch her if she stumbled.

Couldn’t fuckin’ believe I felt that way, but I did.

We pulled into the back lot of The Tropics and the last forty-eight hours was hitting me hard. My shoulder ached mainly because I ditched the sling after the first day. Hitting the throttle with my broken hand wasn’t a good idea either, but fuck me, if I was gonna let a busted bone keep me from riding.

I threw my leg over the saddle and Blood fell into step with me. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks, brother, I can always depend on you for the hard, fuckin’ truth.”

Ricky and Bolt flanked him on the other side. “I think Diesel’s gonna work out. He can be a little rough, but he’s got heart.”

“Time will tell.” I’d seen plenty of prospects come and go and sometimes it was the guys you least expected who were the toughest.

We headed in the back door and I paused by the steps. “I’m gonna head upstairs.”

“Stay with your girl,” Blood said. “We got it covered down here.”

We tapped fists and I headed up the stairs. Each step making me more tired. When I reached the apartment, I fumbled the keys out of my pocket, unlocked the door and Blood’s words hit me. ‘My girl.’ Fuckin’ crazy but he was right. Marisol was my girl. I just had to make sure she felt the same way.

Manny looked up from tapping on his computer and I jerked my chin toward the bedroom. “How’s she doin’?”

“Fine. Mostly slept.”

“She eat anything?”

“Just a little soup.”

I motioned to the papers covering the coffee table. “Take all that shit down to the office and work there. I’m gonna stay with her for the rest of the night.”

Manny collected his papers, and flipped his laptop shut. “I just wanna thank you for being there for her. With all the confusion I didn’t get a chance to?—”

I put up my good hand. “Not necessary. You’re part of the Bastards now and no matter what we have each other’s backs. It’s what we do.”

Manny stared at me for a minute, then nodded and headed out.

On the way to the bedroom, I eased my t-shirt up and over my head careful not to jar my shoulder or my throbbing hand. All the shit I’d had, I’d never broken a bone and this fuckin’ sucked.

I undid my jeans, stepped out of them, pulled on a pair of sweat shorts and eased myself onto the bed slowly so not to wake Marisol. I burrowed under the covers savoring the warmth of her body and yeah, for the first time in forever I let my body relax. A little busted up, but peaceful.

Achill swept over my body and I tugged at the sheets, my hand blindly searching for the blanket. Smoke liked the air-conditioning blasting, as in arctic air cold. Some time during the night he must’ve come to bed and I shifted closer to his body. His skin radiated a soothing warmth—no wonder the man was always hot.

His arm slid around my waist drawing me closer. “You all right?”

“Mmmmhmm,” I mumbled my eyes barely open.

He propped himself up on his good arm examining me. “You sure?”

I smiled at his whispered rasp. The unsettled tone in his voice completely out of character for a man who lived life on the edge.

---