Page 22

Chapter

Twenty-One

Tenley

B y the time I’ve left the hotel room undetected and called a cab to take me home, it’s a little past 1am.

While Paddy had been stripping out of his outer clothes, albeit amusing to watch as he swayed around trying to remove his legs from his pants, the liquor still playing tricks with his equilibrium, I had excused myself to the bathroom.

I’d taken my time. I was conflicted. The thought of snuggling up with Paddy Dunne felt all kinds of wrong, but the investigating reporter part of me was desperate for more information. The thought of going back to Smoke with a heap of beneficial information for the Young Outlaws was thrilling. For some strange reason, I wanted the man’s approval. It can only be for the simple reason that he and the club are fundamental when it comes to Oriana. I don’t doubt that they will care for her and keep her safe now that she’s part of the MC family. And if I can be part of that? Selfishly, it would be a way of repaying her, just a bit, for the hell I’d put her through when we were kids.

But I feel like an epic failure, because by the time I’d stepped back into the bedroom, Paddy was in a deep, drunken sleep. Guiltily, I’d taken in every inch, every muscle and smooth plane of skin as he lay flat out on his back. The tight-fitting boxer briefs showed a clear outline of the long shaft of his cock, even though on the slack. I had known that he was well endowed from when I was in his lap but now, I’m thinking was he hard or was he only part way there? If so, it would be one prize-winning sized eggplant emoji.

I toyed with the idea of sliding in between the sheets and lying beside him, wait it out and see if I could get more information out of him in the morning. But then I thought, horny male with morning wood, and quickly decided against it. I slipped back into my dress, grabbed my shoes and purse, and left.

The cool air of the early morning hits me as soon as I step outside of the hotel. Thankfully, the cab is pulling up in front of the building. I step inside, give the driver my address, then sink back into the seat and let out a deep, thankful breath.

Tonight has been… crazy, stupid, enlightening and probably a thesaurus worth of similar synonyms. And extremely risky. My stomach rolls. Beads of perspiration pop up on my forehead and lip. I close my eyes, swallow down and take deep breaths through my nose and let it out through my mouth, while listening to the qu iet rumble of the cab’s engine, praying that I’m home soon.

When the cab pulls up outside my apartment, I hand him a couple of twenty-dollar bills, knowing that I’m overpaying but not giving a shit. I don’t feel too good. It could be anxiety, the aftereffect of being on permanent edge for the past however many hours. Or I’m just simply tired, but the wave of nausea and rolling of my stomach is telling me different and all I want to do is get inside, get out of these clothes and crawl into bed.

I press the button to call the elevator, as it’s on the ground floor, it opens immediately. When I reach my floor, I step out, my hand already in my purse, searching for the key. I unlock the door and step inside, kick off my shoes and start work on the zip at the side of my dress as the door closes behind me. I need out of these clothes and also need to pee.

I reach out in the dark for the lamp I have on the side table as you step inside the living area. As my dress drops to the floor, I flick the switch and the subtle light filters into the room.

“How was the date?” A deep growl fills the silence and I scream out like an old horror movie starlet.

Smoke

“Aargh!” she screams out, her hand slams across her tits that are now only covered by a lacy green-colored bra that is a similar shade to the dress that’s pooled on the floor at her bare feet. I’m surprised her bra has stayed up at all with the weight of her tits, and it does not have straps. I can’t help but appreciate the creaminess of her skin and the soft mounds of her breasts.

“Smoke,” she gasps, and it’s all shaky and breathy, and the hell doesn’t it have my dick jumping in appreciation. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” I’d been sitting here in the dark for a good few hours, waiting for her to return for one reason only. Dunne knew where she lived and he’s a dangerous prick.

“What the…” she pauses and takes a breath. “What the hell for?” Her hand rushes to her stomach, and she bends forward, her other hand goes to grip the side table to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” I query, getting to my feet. Normally I would have put her unsteadiness down to having too much liquor, but in this instance, it doesn’t look like the case. “You look kinda green, and I’m not talking about the bra and panties you’re wearing.”

“I’m going to be sick,” she moans, both her hands now firmly over her mouth.

“Fuck,” I ground out, quickly stepping forward and grasping her around the waist. “Bathroom?” She points to a door that leads off from the other side of the lounge. I walk her over to the door and push it open. Immediately she pushes away from me, but only so she can flip up the toilet seat and fling herself over the bowl. Then the retching starts.

The sound is not good and one I’m not a fan of. If I hear someone puking, it takes all my willpower to hold back the need to retch right along with them. I swallow down the urge, take a step forward and grab hold of her hair, bringing it over her back and away from her face.

While I scope out the bathroom with its white and black tiled floor, basin, toilet and shower cubicle, all looking clean but scattered with discarded articles of clothing and used towels. The vanity has a couple of prescription bottles and a packet of Advil. A thought hits me from out of nowhere.

“Did he put something in your drink?” I seethe at the thought, but I wouldn’t put it past Dunne.

Her head rises slightly, and she blurts out “Oysters,” then her head is back down as she pukes up some more.

“Jesus, no wonder. Those things are slimy, nasty shit.”

“Not helping,” her muffled voice responds as the words echo around the crapper.

“Sorry,” I laugh, which is inappropriate under the circumstances, but I’m a little out of my comfort zone, and anything to keep my mind off puking. “I was just saying.”

She hurls a few more times while I hunker down behind her, one hand holding her hair, the other slowly rubbing circles on her back. I’m not quite sure why the fuck I feel the need to pander to her. What do I care if she’s sick?

“You got a hair band or something so I can tie back your hair?” I find myself asking. There’s a reason behind it. I can’t sit around here hold fucking hair all night. Tie it up and get the fuck out of here. She waves her hand towards the vanity and I see what looks like a black band curled up at the side of the faucet. “Hold on,” I warn before reaching over while trying not to pull her hair too much. When I tug a little too hard, bringing her head up from the bowl, she lets out a deep moan.

Interesting.

My fucking dick pushes up against the zipper of my pants. Fucking traitor.

“Got it,” I tell her when I manage to hook it up with my finger. I stretch it out between my finger and thumb until it’s unravelled into a circle. Using both my hands, I scoop up all her hair and slip the band around it, twist and around again. On the third twist, I twist her hair too, so it ends up in a messy bun at the base of her neck and secure it with the loop. As I go to stand, Tenley sits back from the bowl, swipes a handful of paper from the roll and wipes her mouth. Her ass hits the floor as she moves to sit with her back leaning against the shower cubicle door.

“I think I’m done, but I’m never gonna eat any kind of shellfish ever again.” Her voice is gruff, her throat raw from all the shit that has come up from her stomach.

“You want some water?” I ask, looking down at her. You can barely catch the nod she gives in return as, at the same time, her whole body begins to shake.

“I’mmm sooo cccold.” Her teeth knock together between words. I reach out and hold my fingertips against her bare shoulder. Her skin is hot, which is in total contrast to shivers that are overtaking her. “We need to get you into bed. You’re burning up. Come on.” I wrap my arm around her waist and help her to her feet, but all her strength seems to be depleted .

“Damn, I’m so sorry,” she cries, trying to hold on to me and push up to stand. “My legs are like jello.”

In reply I scoop her up into my arms, a small squeak of surprise leaves her as I pull her against my chest.

“I’m sorry, Smoke,” she mutters again, her hands coming around my neck as she holds on to me. “I’m really sorry for putting you to all this trouble. I know I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Stop saying sorry,” I say firmly back to her. “It’s no trouble, but as for you being a pain in the ass, the jury is still out on that one.”

“Thank you.” Her head drops to my shoulder as if she can no longer keep it upright. “But don’t think for one minute that you’re forgiven.”

“Forgiven for what?” I question, kicking the door open to what must be her bedroom.

“Scaring the living daylights out of me,” she mumbles against my skin. “Not to mention that you broke into my house.” I drop her onto the bed. “Ouch.”

“That didn’t hurt,” I mock her dramatics.

“At the moment, everything hurts. Like a semi-truck has run me over.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” I huff at her. “You’ve got a bit of food poisoning, that’s all.”

“Since when did you have a PHD in medicine.”

“If you’d seen the food that gets served up at the clubhouse, then you’d know that this is far from the first time I’ve seen it.” I tap her leg with the back of my hand for her to shuffle up the bed so I can pull back the covers. “And before you ring the cops, I didn’t break in. I had your key copied. ”

“Holy shit, Smoke.” She goes to sit up, but I push her back down and cover her up. “You do realize that’s not exactly legal either?” She rolls onto her side, her arms wrapping around one of the pillows and bringing it down, tucking the end under her chin. She’s facing towards me, her eyes shut.

“Maybe not, but it’s a fucking good job I did. Isn’t it?” I raise my voice at her. “What the fuck were you doing, letting Dunne pick you up from here?”

“Don’t shout at me. For your information, I didn’t give him my address. He must have found it out somehow.” She opens an eye and stares at me. “Probably the same place as you did.” Eyes closed again; she continues. “Maybe he’s having me followed.”

“He’s not,” I say with conviction.

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Because if he had, my guys would have noticed.” I guess the cat’s out of the bag. “I’ve had a couple of guys tailing you.”

“Then why all the heroics? Why are you here waiting for me if your guys knew exactly where I was and where I’ve been?”

“Because tonight I called my men off,” I sigh. “I weighed it up and thought it was too risky. It wasn’t until I spoke to you, and you told me he’d picked you up here, I realized it was a mistake. But it was too late. By the time one of my brothers could get here, you’d already left.”

“For someone who has coerced me into spying for you in the first place, you seem to be over concerned. Why?”

“Let me get you that water,” I reply, purposely avoiding the question. I step out into the hallway, blanking out the sound of her calling after me. I go to the refrigerator and swing open the door. Leaning in, I grab one of the water bottles on the shelf. Closing the door, I drop my forehead to the cool, glossy surface.

What the hell am I doing? Why am I acting this way and why has this beautiful, vibrant woman caught my attention?

I do like her, although I know I shouldn’t. But the fact is, I can’t let myself get involved.

“Smoke,” I hear her call again.

“What?” I snap when I walk back into the room. She’s sitting upright in the bed and I can see that she’s struggling to keep her eyes open, but her sheer determination is winning the fight.

“Why? Why are you so bothered by my safety?”

“Here,” I hold out the open bottle of water to her. “Sip it, don’t gulp it down, it will only make you sick again.”

I wait while she’s taken a few sips and hands the bottle back to me. I replace the lid and sit it on top of the bedside cabinet.

“Now, lay down and get some sleep. You should be better in the morning.”

“Are you leaving?” I can’t miss the look of concern on her face.

“Not yet. I’ll wait around for a while. Wouldn’t want you to choke if you start puking again.”

Her body relaxes, and she snuggles further under the quilt. Her skin is flushed, but when I put the back of my hand to her forehead, she seems to be less feverish. I observe her. The rims of her eyes are red, the whites, bloodshot from all the retching. Her skin a little blotchy, slightly puffy lips parted as her breathing evens out into a rhythm that comes with sleep. Despite all this, she’s still fucking beautiful.

I could take myself off into the living room and keep checking on her from there, but instead I kick off my boots, shrug off my leather and place it over the back of the decorative chair sat in the corner of the room. I sit ever so gently on the other side of the bed and swing my legs up onto the mattress so as not to disturb her. I lean back against the bedhead, arms crossed over my chest, legs stretched out, and close my eyes. Sleep is not something that comes easily to me. It’s never restful, as it comes with visions and painful thoughts that haunt me. So, I don’t let myself go into the darkness, however a few minutes of peaceful silence is perfect.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Tenley mumbles sleepily from beside me.

“I don’t remember what it was,” I reply, knowing exactly what she’s referring to.

“Why is my safety a concern to you?”

“Because Oriana is part of the Young Outlaws’ family, which by default, makes you family.” It’s the truth.

Even though Oriana may dispute the fact she cares for her stepsister, I know. I’d seen it in her eyes when I’d defended my reasons to both her and Stone, why I’d pulled Tenley into help the MC, and that it was the right thing to do. She’s far from stupid. She knows being connected to the club comes with risks. Oriana knows enough about Dunne, the Death Valley Irish, and the devastation that they inflicted on Stone to understand the possible implications of being associated with us.

“That’s the only reason?” she asks. We both hold our breath. Me, while I ponder my answer. Her, while she waits for it.

“The only reason,” I clarify. I’m not a liar. It’s something I detest, but on this occasion, I find myself breaking my own rule because I’m not willing to acknowledge any other one.