Page 2 of My Casanova

I frowned. “Huh?”

He didn’t answer. My heart kicked up a notch. His stillness terrified me. What if he’d passed out? Or worse—what if he was dying? My mind raced through worst-case scenarios, and each one was worse than the last.

“Smoke?” I leaned over him and shook his shoulder gently. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips, and up close,I could see the fine details of his face. The scruff on his jaw was rough, and tattoos crawled up his neck from his collar. By his ear was a monarch butterfly, delicate and out of place against the gritty aura he gave off. His arms and hands were covered in more ink—symbols and intricate designs that told stories I couldn’t even begin to understand. Black gauges filled his earlobes. He was handsome in that bad-boy way that made good girls like me contemplate doing reckless things.

Focus, Dani.

“Smoke, come on. Wake up,” I urged and shook him again. “You gotta stay awake for me.”

His eyes cracked open, their dark depths meeting mine. “I’m tired, angel,” he whispered.

There it was again—angel. Was he talking to me? “Uh, well, you can’t fall asleep, okay? You might have a concussion. Or worse. Just... stay with me.”

He nodded faintly, though his eyelids drooped alarmingly. My nerves were frayed. I had no idea how he’d ended up sprawled in front of my shop, but I could guess it involved whatever explosion had rocked the strip mall.

“Smoke!” a booming voice called out and made me jump.

I turned toward the sound and saw two men sprinting toward us. Their figures were outlined against the backdrop of rising smoke and flames. They were tall and intimidating, both wearing similar vests to Smoke’s.

The first man dropped to his knees beside us, his beard flecked with soot. “What the fuck, man?” he asked, his voice rough with concern. “You good?”

“I think he’s okay, but I’m not sure if he has internal injuries or something,” I explained and shifted back slightly to make room.

The bearded man’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and assessing. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh...” I stammered, caught off guard. “I own the shop your friend landed in front of.”

He grunted, clearly unimpressed with my answer. His name patch caught my eye—Yarder. It was oddly convenient that these guys wore their names on their chests. The second man, who stood watchfully behind Yarder, had Fade stitched onto his vest.

“What happened?” Smoke rasped, drawing the attention back to him.

“Building blew,” Yarder growled, his expression dark.

“Fucking O’Hara,” Fade spat, and his tone was laced with venom.

O’Hara? I blinked, my confusion deepening. Another name I didn’t recognize. My questions were piling up fast, but I had no answers.

“What about the girls?” Smoke asked, his voice weak but insistent.

“We’re all good, man,” Yarder assured him. “Can’t say the same for O’Hara, though. Compass is with her.”

I frowned. O’Hara was a woman? And who was Compass? The mystery surrounding these men grew with every passing second.

In the distance, the wail of sirens cut through the air.

“Cops?” Smoke asked, his tone wary.

“Fucking blast shook at least three blocks’ worth,” Yarder growled. “None of us called, though. I’m sure other people did.”

Both men turned their eyes on me. Suspicion flared in their gazes.

I held up my hands defensively. “I didn’t call the police! I’m no snitch.” The words tumbled out before I could think them through, like I needed to prove myself to them.

Fade chuckled behind me.

More like I hadn’t had time to call the police. The second I saw Smoke lying in front of my shop, I didn’t think of anything other than to help him.

“Should we split?” Smoke asked, his voice tight with strain as he leaned against Yarder for support.

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