Page 106 of Secondhand Smoke

Candy laughed. “Did nobody ever teach you how to wait your turn? News flash, kid, you’re on the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to pussy privilege.”

“This isn’t about your goddamn totem pole,” Carter said. “Jazz isn’t interested in being pawed at, and you’re gonna respect her and back the fuck off.”

Candy stared in open disbelief, then glanced over at Jazz…then he noticed her expression, and the way she couldn’t stop trembling.

She felt tears sting her eyes. “Please…” she whispered, and wasn’t sure what she meant. She was a jumble of nerves and anxieties, and she hated it.

“Get your hand off her,” Carter hissed.

Candy withdrew his hand, but didn’t move. The look he sent to Carter was a clear warning, one anyone else would have backed down from.

Be careful, baby, Jasmine wanted to tell him.He’ll hurt you bad. But she couldn’t speak, could only watch.

“Are you trying to make her your woman?” Candy asked, an edge creeping into his voice.

“No. I’m looking out for her, and all you have to do is look at her and know she’s upset.”

Candy looked back at her, indecision edging in on his anger. “I’ll back off,” he said, “onlyif she wants me to. I ain’t ever gonna force anyone. Is that what you want, babe? Do you want me to back off?”

Didshe want it? Even when she was tired, or a little bit sick, or just not in the mood, she never refused a brother. She knew her place; she understood that the use of this clubhouse and the safety it provided was dependent upon her cooperation.

But she nodded. Yes, she wanted him to back off. She couldn’t stand the idea.

Candy looked as shocked as she felt. But, true to his word, be withdrew from her with one last searching look.You sure?it said. And she knew that if she let him go now, he’d never show favor toward her again.

But again, she nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, but Candy was already moving away.

Tears filled her eyes, blurred her vision.

Carter took Candy’s place, leaning over her, face harsh with concern.

“I don’t understand why this is happening,” she said, brokenly. Was this it? Had her lifestyle finally caught up to her and she was cracking? “I never….”

“Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her along after him. Through the shifting crowd of bodies in the common room, the pulsing music, the smell of sweaty bodies and spilled liquor. Out the front door, where wood smoke filled her lungs and the night wrapped around her with cold relief. Carter skirted the outdoor crowd and led her around the side of the building, to the shadowy side of the clubhouse, where the club trucks, vans, and ratty old cars were parked. The security lights were cut off by the roofline, and only a dim glow enabled them to see, everything soft-edged and gentle. The party noise was a dim murmur.

Jasmine took her first deep breath of the night, a ragged sound catching in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she gasped, pressing her cold hands to her face. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.”

“Jazz.” Carter touched her carefully on the shoulder. “Hey, take a deep breath, it’s alright.”

She shook her head. It wasn’t, it really wasn’t.

“You were traumatized, and that takes time to get over.”

She didn’t want to cry, and squeezed her eyes shut tight. “You’re sweet, bless your heart, but you don’t get it.” How could a pretty blonde baby boy have any idea what would happen to her if she was no longer welcome within the club?

She heard him exhale, a tired sound. “Yeah, actually, I think I do.”

Her eyes sprang open in surprise when she felt his arms go around her. She stiffened…and then relaxed against his solid chest as he stroked her back. His heartbeat thudded beneath her ear. He was hugging her. Actually hugging her. No man in her entire life had ever hugged her. And here was this sweet thing, young enough to be her son, and he was holding her in his arms and telling her it would be alright.

It was the sweetest thing she’d ever experienced.

Slowly, the shivering eased. Then her breathing evened out. The cold numbness was replaced with a spreading warmth, one that began to take shape in her mind, coalescing physically in secret places.

It was easy to forget, in the aftermath of her trauma, that before Aidan entered the scene, things had been going very right that evening in the dorm. She hadn’t put much thought toward Carter Michaels before that, but she should have, because he had been magnificent. He had–

Time to stop thinking so much.

Jazz braced her hands on his chest and pulled back, tilted her head back so she could see his face. It was a beautiful face, a little sharper and more masculine than Tango’s; it belonged on a fancy cologne add, the scented kind that slid out of glossy magazine pages.

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