Chapter 13
13
T he next morning I gazed over the sparkling Pacific Ocean, but the clear cerulean water did nothing to ease the tension in my neck from my fitful sleep the night before.
I could still feel Smoke’s touch on my skin. Surprisingly gentle, yet demanding, as if he already knew what I wanted, what I needed. I couldn’t help questioning if it made him an expert with all women or just me. Those torturous questions kept me up all night. The speculation, the wondering, and then the ugly truth. What happened last night was only leverage, nothing more. Part of the scheme to wrap Smoke around my finger so when my father gave the ultimate order I would set Smoke up and he’d follow blindly.
A light tap on the door and then Marta stuck her head in the door. “Your father is ready to see you now.”
I smiled at the woman I’d known since childhood. A kind, caring woman who tried her best to soothe the pain and anguish I experienced after my mother’s death.
“Tell him I’m on my way. ”
My father would want to know how the plan was moving along, and of course I would tell him the seduction succeeded. Leaving out the parts about how Smoke worked my body and mind into a frenzy where reason, good sense, and the final goal of entrapment were banished from my brain. Where the haunting question remained. Who was seducing who?
T he afternoon heat made the temperature in the crawl space unbearable, but Rico insisted on seeing exactly where his precious gun shipment would be stored. The three of us crouched in the tight space as Rico’s underlings brought in ten boxes filled with assault rifles and ammunition.
“You seen enough,” Blood grumbled, then swiped at his sweaty forehead.
Rico nodded and the three of us crept out. Blood replaced the opening with the same wood as the construction of the building, then pushed the dumpsters back in place.
Rico eyed the space. “I think this will work out nicely.”
“As long as you can trust your people.” I jerked my chin to the two guys off to the side who stored the boxes.
“They wouldn’t be with me if I couldn’t trust them. They know the consequences of deceit although it seems you’ve managed to lure away one of my fighters.”
I’d expected him to bring this up earlier. “I just offered him a better deal. I’m assuming you don’t own him.” I laughed around my words. “Or is slavery still a thing in this city?”
“Of course not.” Rico inflected righteous defense. “He’s free to work wherever, but you should be warned he has a criminal record in the States.”
“Who the fuck cares?” Blood barked out a laugh. “Most of the people we know have a rap sheet. ”
Rico ignored Blood’s outburst and directed his words to me. “Just a word of caution.”
“Appreciate it.” I paused for half a second. “We needed to add some security. Especially since we were robbed at gunpoint three nights ago.”
“Really? Crime in this city is escalating by the day. So much unrest.”
I controlled my eye roll and played along. “Probably due to the inequality between the haves and the have-nots.”
“Hmmm, more pathos than I expected from an outlaw biker, but you make a good point.”
I cleared my throat and resisted the temptation of telling Rico to fuck off. “Then this is a done deal.” I had no intention of bringing him back into the office to toast our fake alliance or to shake hands with the devil.
The three men eyed each other, then Rico said something to his men in Spanish and they parted.
Blood and I watched them until they reached the sidewalk at the front of the building, then he heaved the back door open. “I still don’t trust the guy.”
The cool air of the club surrounded us. “We don’t have to trust him.” We headed into the office and I pulled out my phone. “Now, to make the second part of this deal.”
I swiped at Jamison’s number as I settled behind my desk.
After a few rings Jamison’s gruff voice filled the phone. “Yeah?”
“I got everything in place.” Code for the guns were in the crawl space.
“I’ll arrange pick-up in two.” Code for Jameson sending a cargo van in two hours to transport the artillery to the States.
“Sounds good.” I swiped away the call and leaned back in my chair. “We just took the first steps to getting back home. ”
Blood pulled out his smokes, offered me one, then flicked his lighter and lit us both up.
“I just hope your plan works.”
“It will.” I drew deep on my cig, then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “What are you gonna do with the rest of your day off?”
After working seven days straight for the last three months, we decided to close on Mondays. It was the slowest day of the week and we needed a fuckin’ break especially since we had Sandoval where we wanted him.
The big man didn’t even give them shit about pouching one of his fighters. He played along with the cat and mouse game and even denied setting up the robbery. Devious fucker.
Blood’s hard face split into a grin. “Check out some of the local talent. How about you?”
My phone picked that exact moment to buzz with an incoming text from Marisol. “I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you come with. See what kinda trouble we can get into.”
“Nah, I’ll stay here. Relax a little.”
“Yeah, sure.”
I couldn’t tell if I sold the lie or not. Sometimes my VP was hard as shit to read, which made him an excellent VP and a pain in the ass as a friend.
The minute Blood left the office I swiped at my phone which annoyed the fuck outta me.
Marisol: What are you doing on your day off?
That seemed to be the question on everybody’s mind.
Smoke: No plans .
Yeah, he was a dog and yeah, he was going to make her work for it.
Marisol: There’s a secluded beach on the coast I’d like to show you.
Of course, she would have to bring up the beach. Living only a few miles from the Pacific all my life gave me a love for everything to do with the rolling waves of the ocean. In the bad old days, it calmed my demons and learning how to surf kept me off the dark road of drugs. A road traveled by plenty of guys I knew coming up.
I stared at the message bubble a few more long seconds. A flip response would back her down and tell her what happened last night meant nothing. I could even come right out and use those very words like I’d done plenty of times to plenty of others. ‘Great fucking you, babe, but that’s all it was.’
Smoke: Sounds good. I’ll pick you up in an hour.
Marisol: No. I’ll come to the club.
Marisol: My parents think I’m working.
Smoke: I’ll be here.
Marisol: See you soon.
Marisol’s concern over her parents’ opinions drove home her youth and how different she was than the other women he knew. Most of them got with me because I was an outlaw or just to fuck with their parents by getting with the bad boy. Yet, Marisol seemed genuinely concerned about their feelings which probably wasn’t good. Especially since I hoped I’d be back in California before the end of the year, and I had no business being with such an innocent .
I’d had a parole officer once who told me every human being has a choice. It was just a matter of making the right one. Well, fuck me, cause I still hadn’t learned how to make the right choices or decisions—especially when it came to women.
O bviously, Smoke couldn’t pick me up at my real home. Although Rita agreed to let me use her house as a home base, I didn’t want to take advantage of her kindness. I also didn’t want to involve her any more than necessary in my treachery so I agreed to meeting him at the club.
Now, I rushed around my room to get ready so I could drive to Rita’s and deposit my car. Then I’d walk to the The Tropics so we could drive to a beach literally a short walk from the villa.
Fifty minutes later, I walked into the empty club. Interesting how it took on a completely different look without people crowding the stage or the music pounding against the walls. Outlaw or not both Smoke and Blood did an amazing job renovating the space. A far cry from the original broken down building. They’d obviously poured money into the structure and the overall business.
Money from their illegal dealings much like my father. A fact I must always remember, even when my senses told me otherwise. Smoke and everyone affiliated with him was a criminal and the one and only reason I was a part of their life was to exact revenge.
“Right on time.” Smoke’s deep rasp spun me around and all my logical self-talk flew out the window.
The man was sex on a stick, as one of my college friends used to say. He moved across the floor, or more like swaggered across the floor, eating up the space between us until he stopped only inches from me. The clean scent of citrus tickled my nose. He gently tipped my chin with his forefinger and when he gazed into my eyes something else tickled me. “I’m glad you texted.”
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” Which was the absolute truth.
I’d done my research and apparently bikers had many women at their disposal and some at the same time. Their tastes ranged toward the bohemian with no boundaries, rules, or regulations. They basically went with the moment and what pleasured them at the time. No strings, no attachments.
“Especially since we said we should hold back for the sake of our working together.”
“I also said I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
He dipped his head and covered my lips with his, then his tongue explored my lips until both of us were in a heated kiss. Just like last night his mere touch set off a fire within me which settled at my core.
“I hope this beach you got in mind is real secluded.”
“It is.” Except my father’s villa overlooks it on the cliff above.
“Good, cause I have a feeling we’re gonna need all the privacy we can get.”
He broke away from my lips and when he stepped back I gripped a nearby chair for balance.
He smiled the same sly smile from last night when he caught me checking out his shapely, firm ass. Ohhh, this was not good. Not good at all.
Smoke grabbed up my hand. “Let’s get outta here before I bend you over this barstool and take you from behind again.”
Yup, my research was right—bikers took what they wanted when and where they wanted it. I just had to stay in character and remind myself this was all an act and meant nothing.
He led me to the back of the club, then out the door and into the lot where his motorcycle awaited us. He reached into the compartment on the side, pulled out a helmet and handed it to me. I fumbled with the strap until he pushed away my hands, adjusted it, then climbed on the huge beast.
“Get on,” he ordered, then lifted the kickstand and kicked the machine to life. “Hold on like last time and move with me.”
I nodded and he throttled the handlebar, steered us out of the back lot and onto the street. Our last ride only lasted a few blocks, but I knew the ride back to the beach would take us at least a half hour. A good thing because I actually enjoyed riding, but a bad thing because the combination of being plastered to his back and the vibration of the bike already had me aroused. By the time we reached our destination I might not be able to control myself.
I noted how Smoke obeyed all the traffic laws and I didn’t feel afraid at all. Seems although he dealt in all kinds of nefarious deeds, driving recklessly wasn’t one of them. Probably because bikers held their bikes in the highest esteem. Higher even than their women. More endless research.
The Baja Coast mixed high cliffs overlooking the beaches with flat coastlines way below sea level. Smoke rested his hand on my thigh as the magnificent view spread before us. I yelled directions to him over the rumbling of the Harley and we made our way down a winding road cut into the cliffs. Then we ventured off the road to a narrower path leading to the beach.
Smoke pulled off the road and onto a small paved area where he could park his bike a few feet from the beach. He cut the engine then jerked his chin at me to dismount. When I did, I faltered and he caught me around the waist.
“Sorry.” I laughed, not quite sure if it was the almost orgasm I had on the bike or being hugged up against this man for the last hour.
“Happens when you’re not used to riding.”
Okay, so it had nothing to do with my out of control body or the roughed up biker pulling me against his rock hard body. Right.
Smoke stored our helmets, grabbed my beach bag and a bag he’d stored in the cooler side of the bike’s compartment. Seems one could fit quite a few things in a motorcycle.
We made our way over the sand and settled on the side of a small rock formation a few feet from the breaking waves. He spread out a huge blanket, then toed off his boots, removed his cut and folded it placing it on the blanket. I’d noticed the same reverence regarding his cut last night even in the heat of passion. When he pulled his t-shirt over his head I was once again face to chest with his scrolling tats and taut muscles. He seemed totally comfortable in his own skin and I envied him. Like many women I worried about every imagined flaw on my body.
“Love the beach.” He drew in the salt air and exhaled. “Nothing like it.”
“I agree. It’s such a force of nature. I could watch the waves all day long.” Many days I did just that from the terrace surrounding my room. The same terrace we could see if we walked a few more yards down the beach.
Smoke sat down on the blanket totally at ease, as my insides tightened to the point of pain. Playing a role was one thing, and concocting this scheme on paper seemed like the perfect scenario when I’d texted him this afternoon—now the reality of what would probably happen again filled me with anxiety. I wanted it to happen because it was the best sex I’d ever experienced and it played into the scam. On the other hand, guilt twisted inside me even when I reminded myself who Smoke was and what was at stake.
Manny would’ve been much better for this job. Since he was little he’d figured out ways to get extra candy from their nanny, extend his bedtime, and make anyone believe the most outrageous stories.
I, on the other hand, never cheated on a test and graduated with honors. I followed the rules, and respected authority. Sounded strange with my background, but my upbringing was actually very chaste. The boarding schools I attended based their foundation on trust and honesty . . .
Smoke brushed his lips over mine and it jolted me back to the present.
I had to get out of my head because concentrating on the end game would be a matter of life or death.