Page 18
Chapter
Seventeen
Smoke
S hit. When I’d barged into Tenley’s apartment, the last thing I had wanted to do was knock her on her ass. Good thing I have quick reactions. And managed to hook my arm around her waist before she hit the floor.
Fuck. I didn’t expect to find her dressed in a scrap of a towel, that did nothing to hide a gorgeous figure. Her skin was flushed, her pink lips parted, hair still damp and hanging in loose tendrils around her shoulders. I didn’t mean to scare her, still with her eyes wide and full of fear, sick I may be, she was a delicious sight. One that my cock acknowledged instantly and had me salivating at the thought of tasting the sweetness between her legs. And sweet, I bet she is.
When her hand had come out to slap me, it had excited me and infuriated me in equal measure. Her feistiness was refreshing, and I can only imagine how that could play out in the bedroom. Yet, being who I am, the president of an MC, she was playing a dangerous game, thinking that violence against me could be anything but cataclysmic. No one fucks with me.
I did the only thing that would hide my arousal and diminish any thoughts my deprived brain might fantasize over. I cut her down by baring my teeth and growled at her like a rabid animal, telling her to cover herself up before temptation got the better of me.
I slump down onto the couch once she’s stomped her way into what must be her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
I glance at the laptop open on the table in front of me. The screen is still active, so I lean forward to take a look.
When I see that the last paragraph is talking about members of my club, I scrawl back, skimming over the words until my name jumps out from the page.
Ronan Hale, aka Smoke and the present president of the Young Outlaws, was brought into the MC family as a young boy. Although nothing is one hundred percent clear, it is thought that he is the illegitimate son of the then President, Grimm, real name (still to be confirmed).
The ‘still to be confirmed’ has been highlighted in yellow. I’m guessing that’s one thing Tenley has still not found via web searches. I continue reading.
Despite Grimm being legally married and having an old lady at the time, Angel, his wife, took on the young boy as if he were her own .
My thoughts quickly go to Angel, my mom, my hero, and Grimm, the man who shaped me into what I am today. I’d not seen them in such a long time because I was busy with club business. I need to put that right.
When I hear Tenley’s movement at the other side of her bedroom door, the sound alerting me she’s about to come back into the room; I click off of the screen only to come face to face with an image of myself, looking fucking handsome, even though I say it myself.
As she steps through the door from her bedroom, I sit further back on the couch, a smirk plastered to my face as I watch her eyeing me up, eyebrows bunch together in a frown.
Tenley moves swiftly across the room, immediately reaching towards the laptop.
“Didn’t your mamma teach you that snooping into other people’s business is rude?” She quickly glances at the screen before she slams it shut.
“Says the reporter who makes a living out of poking into other people’s business and raking up dirt.” Her skin is blushed, but I’m not sure if it’s from my comeback or the fact that I caught her with my picture on her computer. “Are you stalking me, Tenley?” I tease. “Should I be concerned that you have an image of me as your lock screen?”
“It’s not set as the fucking lock screen.” She picks up the laptop, and while resting it across her forearm, she flips it open and waits for it to wake back up. “And because you,” she points at me with her free hand, “have consistently rejected my requests for an interview, I’ve had to rely on what I’ve been able to find on the web and therefore have come across photographs of you and the rest of the MC Members.”
“But I’m the one you have as your lock screen, maybe I should be flattered but I can’t help but feel a tiny bit violated,” I smirk, adding a visual by bringing my hand up an showing a small gap between my thumb and index finger. I’m trying to keep the stoic expression that is my usual mask, but this woman seems to be able to strip it away.
“It’s not on my screen…” As the laptop comes to life, the light hits her face, highlighting her flawless skin. A press of a few buttons is all it takes. I know the exact moment she sees my face, indeed set as her lock screen, as her eyes go wide and her face goes a pretty shade of red. “You did this?”
“Sweetheart, when would I have had time to do that?” I say with all innocence. “You were out of the room for barely a minute or two.”
“Huh,” she puffs out. “Why are you here, anyway?” Ensuring I don’t get anywhere near her computer again; she walks over to the kitchen counter and puts it safely out of my reach.
“You didn’t report back to me after you left Dunne.”
“I’ve not been back long and I needed to shower.” As she walks to the refrigerator and goes to open the door, I push myself off of the couch and step over to the counter, the only barrier between us in the small kitchen in the open plan. “I guess the phone you gave me has a tracker on it which then led you to my home?”
“Well deduced, Tenley. Which is what I would expect with your investigative talents.” While she’s reaching inside the refrigerator, her back to me, I let my eyes take in the view.
Without the heels, she’s not as tall as I first thought, and her usually solid stance softer in her own domain. Her shoulders are more relaxed, and while I have the chance, I let my eyes roam the perfect curves of her tight little waist, over her hips and along her ass. Her legs are fucking glorious, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have them wrapped around my neck while I sucked and licked her sweet cunt.
“Not that it would have mattered if I had a tracker on you or not. I knew where you lived, anyway.” Her body instantly stiffens at my revelation. No doubt realizing that I know things about her, too. Where she lives is just the tip of the iceberg of what I know, and it’s a damn sight more than she thinks she knows about me.
“Want one?” she turns suddenly, waving a bottle of beer at me, catching me in the act of observing her sensuous curves. I wonder if she realizes I’m close to salivating at the thought of tasting her sweet nectar. “Hey, eyes up here, buddy.” She reprimands. “Now, do you want a beer or not?”
“I’ll take one.” I lift my chin and look back at her through half-closed lids. “Might as well quench my thirst while you tell me exactly what went down.”
“Nothing went down, as you put it,” she pops open a bottle and passes it to me before opening one for herself. I take a long swig and wait for her to say something, when she doesn’t, I prompt her .
“So, you’re telling me you sat for God knows how long eating ice cream in total silence?” I laugh lightly, moving around the counter until I’m in front of her. She goes to take a step back, but I grab hold of her upper arm, and stop her from putting distance between us.
I lean into her until my face is barely an inch in from hers. “Bullshit,” I hiss in her face, my tone of voice much harsher, darker. “Don’t fuck with me, Tenley. What was said?”
“Smoke,” she cries out while trying to shake herself free of my grasp. “You’re hurting me.”
I let go of her like she’s on fire. To hurt her, despite my conduct, is not what I’m about. Scaring her to get what I want, yes. Leaving marks on her? Hell no. I stay exactly where I am, all up in her face and intimidating, but have no physical contact. “Talk!”
“Look, if I’d have gone in asking a thousand questions about the Death Valley Irish, where they hang out and what their plans are, he would have smelt a rat.” Her hand comes to my chest as if to reassure me; however, she doesn’t put any actual pressure behind it to push me away. It tingles where she touches and the temptation to put my hand over hers, to hold it there, is real.
“We talked, mostly about general stuff, you know like, his background, family, about Ireland. It was easy conversational topics, what you’d expect on a first date.”
“So, you got absolutely jack shit?” I huff.
“This time, yes. You need to think of it this way. It’s like building a house. You need to lay some foundations before you can go onto the fundamental structure,” she tries to placate me. I’m eager for more, still I have to admit, she is right, but like fuck am I going to tell her that.
“Were there any signs that he was suspicious in any way as to why you contacted him?”
“Not at all. In fact, he was very relaxed, cordial, and the conversation flowed,” she replies. “Besides, why would he? As far as he’s concerned, I’m just the woman he happened to meet in a grocery store.”
“You need to contact him, make arrangements to meet up again,” I order, taking the steps away from her that has her hand falling away from me and breaking the contact. I need to before I do something that I might regret. Like, kiss her.
“Already got that covered.” She places her own bottle to her lips and tips it back, swallows and explains. “Paddy initiated it, to be honest. He’s taking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Good,” is my simple response because I’m conflicted when it comes to the thought of her spending the evening with him, and therefore possibly in danger.
“Oh, there is one thing that you might want to look into,” she offers.
“And that is?”
“When I asked him about where he was living, he was vague, but he did mention Yeringtown.”
“That’s old news,” I mock at her offering. We’d already got that information while torturing the hired men we’d found at the Death Valley’s warehouse that had held enough guns and ammunition to supply a small army.
“But did you know he has an apartment for his personal use here in Reno? One that only a few people are aware of,” she divulges.
“I suspected.” I lie, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of gaining new information. “That’s what you can find out when you see him tomorrow. Exactly where it is he lives.”
“I’ll try,” she sighs, “but like I said, I can’t be too obvious. Baby steps, and all that.”
“Never mind fucking baby steps, you get me the information I need,” I growl, slamming the empty beer bottle onto the counter. I turn my back and walk away from her.
“Smoke, please,” she pleads as I get to the apartment door. “You need to have faith in me. Give me time to gain his trust so he’ll open up to me.”
“The only people I have faith in are my brothers. You, you’re testing my patience, so you better start proving your worth.” Pulling open the door, I step out into the hallway, but not before I spin on my heels and heed her a final warning. “Because I’m known for changing my mind at the drop of a hat, and I’ve still got a bullet in the chamber of my gun with your name on it.”
I slam the door behind me, my heavy boots thud on the tiled floor until I reach the elevator. It comes in a matter of seconds and once safely inside, despite the tug of guilt at slinging the threat of death at Tenley, of which I doubt I’d ever act upon, I allow the corners of my mouth to tug upwards into a smile that I rarely allow anyone to see.
We have progress .
Paddy Dunne has an apartment where the chances are when he’s there, he’s alone. No backup, no foot soldiers and fucking vulnerable. This gives us the perfect chance to make our move. The only thing we need is the address, and Tenley will be the one to supply it.