Page 4

Smoke

I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. My body felt like one big bruise even three days after the explosion. Every breath came with a dull ache in my ribs. It was a brutal reminder that I wasn’t as indestructible as I liked to think. My arms and face itched from the scabbing cuts, and my muscles screamed every time I shifted even a little.

Thursday.

The past three days had been a blur of painkillers, restless sleep, and the low murmur of voices outside my room. The club was laying low and keeping things quiet, which was for the best. The cops didn’t think we were behind the explosion, but they sure as hell wondered why we always seemed to be in the middle of shit when things went south.

The ceiling fan spun lazily overhead, and the rhythmic creak of its motor was the only sound in the room. My cut hung over the back of the chair in the corner, and my boots were neatly tucked beneath it.

I needed to get up.

Sitting here feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to make the soreness go away, and if I didn’t start moving, I’d be stiff for weeks.

“Fuck it,” I muttered and forced myself to move. I gritted my teeth against the sharp protest of my ribs and planted my feet on the floor.

I moved slowly as I pulled a black shirt over my tattooed torso and winced as the fabric dragged across healing wounds. I shrugged on my cut and felt better with the weight of the leather, reminding me who the hell I was. My boots went on next, and each movement was still painful but better than the last. Finally, I grabbed my motorcycle keys off the nightstand and headed out.

The clubhouse was quiet, with only the low hum of the TV filling the space. Dice was sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back with his eyes half-watching whatever mindless shit was on. He barely glanced up as I walked in.

“Where you going?” he asked, his voice scratchy like he’d been up all night.

“Ride.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Where to?”

“Just around. I need to get the hell out of here,” I said and ran a hand through my hair. Three days stuck in my room made the walls feel too damn close. I needed the open road and the wind to clear my head.

Dice smirked. “I’ll come with.”

I hesitated. I wanted to be alone and to get lost in the ride, but I wasn’t stupid. Boone and Gibbs were still out there somewhere, and if they wanted to finish what they started, I wouldn’t stand much of a chance on my own. “Fine, then let’s go.”

The sun was blinding outside, and I had to squint as we walked toward the bikes. The air smelled like fresh sawdust and hot asphalt. Yarder, Throttle, and Compass stood near the new garage and watched as the crew put up the last of the siding.

I whistled low. “Shit. We’ve got a fucking building.” The last time I’d seen it, it had been nothing but a concrete slab and a half-finished frame. Now, the walls were up, and a metal roof stretched over it. “When the hell did this happen?”

Dice chuckled and kicked at a stray nail on the ground. “Yeah, man. The world keeps spinning even when you’re laid up in bed. Yarder says we should be back in business in a month or so.”

“Damn,” I muttered and eyed the structure with a mix of pride and frustration. We were moving forward, even though Boone and Gibbs were still out there.

Crazy.

Nothing and no one was going to stop us.

The second I swung my leg over my bike, pain lanced through my ribs and stole my breath for a second. I cranked it up and gripped the handlebars tight while the familiar vibration of the engine settled me. Fuck, I was sore, but the rumble beneath me was worth it.

Yarder glanced over his shoulder at us. I gave him a two-finger salute, and he nodded before turning back to the work crew.

Dice revved his engine and grinned. “You know he’s only cool with you leaving because I’m going with you.”

I shrugged and pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m good with it.”

We all knew the risks. Boone and Gibbs were still out there, watching, waiting. The only way to stay ahead of the shitstorm brewing was to keep moving, stay sharp, and be ready when it came crashing down.

I glanced at Dice, and he gave me a nod.

Time to ride.