Smolder: Trojans MC (9 page)

Luke blinked, trying to clear the red from his vision. Sparky was right. That was why Luke trusted him so much, why he valued his counsel. Luke knew he could be a bit hotheaded, and Sparky was the one who told him which battles were worth the wounds. And vice versa.

“What should we do first?” Luke asked, running his hand through his hair.

“What do you want to do first?”

Luke gave him a flat look.

Sparky put his hands up. “Listen, there’s a reason you’re in charge and not me. I only know what we shouldn’t do.”

Luke paced. “We need to send flowers to the girl’s parents. Or something like that. Whatever the hell you’re supposed to do in those situations.”

“Won’t that look like an apology? Like an admission of guilt?”

“It’s the only way we can get a message through to them without spooking them. Put something in it makes it clear we aren’t responsible, but we will find and punish the ones who are. Something comforting. But write it vaguely enough that it wouldn’t stand up in court.”

“The Reapers wouldn’t rat on us.”

Luke gave him a wry smile. “They aren’t supposed to sell in our territory, either. I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Good call.”

Luke stopped and rubbed his chin. “There is a chance that this guy was from out of area. It’s a tiny chance, considering how well-known it is in the community that we’ll fuck up anyone who sells here, but it’s a chance.”

“He might also have been a Reaper, but not doing work for them.”

“Good point. We need to get in contact with Herman, ask him if any of his guys have gone off the rails recently. Or if he’s noticed any out-of-towners in his area.”

“He’ll lie if it was his doing,” Sparky reminded.

Luke shook his head. “That’s fine. But his actions don't lie. Put guys on to watch him when you make the call. See what he does and report back to me.”

Sparky smiled. “I told you there was a reason that you’re in charge and not me.”

Luke rolled his eyes, even though he felt a little sliver of pride bloom in his chest. It made him furious that someone had the audacity to try and sell somewhere that Luke had spent the last four years clearing of drug activity. He couldn’t control all the dealers, but most steered clear because they knew that any sort of high profit yield would just bring the Trojans down on them.

People were going to do drugs whether they could buy them in his part of the city or not. Luke knew that. What he absolutely couldn’t stand for was people pushing drugs onto kids like Holly and Rose. Especially when they were diluting the product with poison to increase their profit margins.

Holly could die because one guy wanted to make a quick buck.

“Is there anything we can do for Rose right now?” Luke asked, stopping and turning to Sparky. “You’ve spent more time with her. What does she want?”

Sparky shrugged, shaking his head. “She wants revenge, man. She came to my door looking for a fight, broke down as soon as I got to the root of the problem.” He looked sadly in the direction of the weeping teenager. “She feels so goddamn guilty.”

Luke’s rage grew again on behalf of the broken girl. If Holly died, two lives would be gone forever. Whatever guilt-ridden shell of Rose remained, she would never be able to get over her friend’s death. Not really. She was too young to be having to face this kind of horror.

“Wait until tomorrow to call Herman,” Luke said. “And tell him that you saw it on the news. I don’t want him knowing Rose came to us.”

Sparky nodded.

“When she’s rested a bit, try to see if she can remember any details from the jacket the guy was wearing. Don’t tell her what the Reaper jackets look like, just let her remember it on her own. If she can’t remember, tell her that’s okay.”

“Should I like...call her parents or something?”

Luke shook his head. “She’s on your couch right now. That means she’s comfortable with you. I’d imagine we’re the only ones who haven’t looked at her with even a smidge of judgement, so she’ll probably want to stick around for a bit longer. Until she can face the rest of them, at least.”

Sparky rubbed his hand across his face. “I still can’t believe this is happening here. They’re so young….and one of them might not make it because of this.”

Luke took a deep breath. “Which is exactly why we stopped selling fucking drugs here in the first place.”

Luke left Sparky, telling him to call if he needed anything. For now? Luke needed a ride. He hopped on the back of his bike and rumbled out of the driveway, conscious of the girl still in Sparky’s living room and not wanting to startle her. As soon as he got down the street, though, he revved his engine as hard as he could and took off in a burst of speed, as if he could outrun his problems.

When he’d woken up, his biggest issue was that the girl he wanted to fuck had ditched him at the bar last night. Now there was the possibility of a goddamn gang war. Things had been so much easier yesterday, when he’d had a woman in his bed and a kitten in his lap and not a care in the goddamn world.

Dialing a phone number was difficult with fingers that felt more like sausages than fingers. That was Shayla’s lesson for the day.

Though she’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep, she had still woken up way too early to call up Luke and apologize. She’d only end up having to call him another time to apologize for calling him so early with her first apology.

So Shayla had made some coffee, cut up some strawberries, and curled up on her couch with her newspaper. Normally, there wasn’t much to read about in the Templeton Gazette. Especially on a Saturday. More often than not, stories even more idiotic than her biker/kitten story would earn the first page spot. That meant that the rest of the newspaper was essentially drivel.

That being said, Shayla appreciated that not a lot happened in her town. The crime rate was low, despite the presence of no less than two biker gangs, and the populace was generally cheery. She’d take that over constant drama any day, even if it did mean her job wasn’t as relevant as it would have been in other cities.

Today, though, the Templeton Gazette’s front page story was actually news. Tragic news. It was the story of a teenage girl in a coma because of some bad ecstasy. Pills which her best friend claimed had been all but shoved down her throat by a member of one of the motorcycle clubs.

Shayla’s heart thumped in her chest. Could it have been a member of the Trojans? She didn’t see that as something that Luke would allow, and yet here it was on the front paper. And isn’t that what kind of shit biker gangs were notorious for?

God, what kind of fool had Shayla been to get involved with a motorcycle club president? Well, she hadn’t really gotten involved. That was a small blessing, apparently. Should she still call to apologize? Or should she just never speak of or to him again?

She already knew she was going to call. She wouldn’t be able to relax until she knew whether the guy she’d nearly slept with had been in some way responsible for this. And if he was? Well, she would deal with that later.

Shayla looked at the clock. It was still probably too early to call him, but now she was pissed. So she picked up her phone and dialed the number from the scrap of paper on her fridge. Twice. Because her sausage fingers made it difficult the first time.

He picked up on the third ring, and his gruff “Hello” caused heat to flame in Shayla’s core despite the seriousness of the call.

“Luke. It’s Shayla.”

“I was wondering when you’d call.”

She rolled her eyes. As if he’d known she was going to call. He was so full of it.

“I read a really interesting story in the paper today,” she spat. “About a girl who could lose her goddamn life because of a bad pill she got from a member of a biker gang.”

There was a pregnant pause, and Shayla couldn’t tell whether Luke was shocked or trying to figure out how to talk himself out of it.

“I know.”

That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. “You know?”

“It wasn’t one of mine, which you’re clearly thinking. The girl’s friend came to us, and we’re finding out who it was and how deep the problem goes.”

Shayla was shocked. That sounded so...noble. She had pegged Luke for many things, but noble hadn’t been high on the list. Not that it had been low on the list. It just hadn’t been on any list whatsoever.

“How do I know you’re not lying just to pacify me?”

“Why would I do that?” If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint or irritation in his voice.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe so I don’t go spin the news against you or something.”

Luke chuckled mirthlessly. “You wouldn’t do that, Shayla.” His use of her name sent tingles everywhere through her.

“You don’t know that.”

“I know that you’re a good reporter and you have ethics. You’ll do your research, and when you do, you’ll find out it wasn’t my gang. You’ll also find that there’s been a curious lack of drug pushing in half of the city for the past four years. And then I think you’ll apologize for making assumptions.”

Shayla passed. He had a point. And he did sound like he was telling the truth, and that he was just as distressed as she was. Maybe even more.

“Well then I guess I’ll just swallow my pride and lump that apology in with my other one,” Shayla said.

“Two days later I’m getting an apology for you running out on me?” His laugh this time was full of amusement. “That’s some hell of a turnover time you’ve got there, little one.”

Oh god, why did he send such tingles through her? Why couldn’t she just feel nothing when he spoke? It was clear that she hadn’t gotten over her infatuation, as she’d hoped she would. More importantly, it seemed to have gotten worse. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that. Just his voice was making her core throb.

“I had an emergency.”

“Did you now?”

“Yes.”

Shayla’s mouth was dry, and the hand holding the phone began to tremble.

“You can come and apologize to me in person, little one.”

Shayla knew exactly what that would entail. He might not expect her to sleep with him just to get his forgiveness. Apparently he was noble. But that would end up happening—it was absolutely certain. There was no way that Shayla could see him again and not jump his bones. She’d only been thinking about it nonstop for the past two days.

But Shayla chickened out. Again. “I’m busy today.”

“Bullshit, Shayla,” he said darkly. “You can’t lie to me, remember?”

Oh god, she remembered. How could he pack every word with such lust and heat? It had to be some sort of impossible talent. Something that one in a million people possessed.

“I could be busy,” she defended.

Luke just laughed. “I have your number now. I'll text you my address. I’ll be home all day.”

The line went dead before Shayla could say anything else, and moments later her phone buzzed. She was dismayed to see that he lived relatively close to her. She wouldn’t even be able to use the old “car’s in the shop” excuse.

Her heart was racing as she stood from her couch and staggered toward her bedroom. What should she wear? Should she wait, or should she just go over right away and get it over with? She lifted her arm and took a whiff of her pits.

She needed a shower first. Even if she was pretending she wasn’t going to fuck him rotten, she needed to be presentable. Just in case. 

Shayla stripped off and jumped in the shower, and she did the works. She washed her hair, moisturized, even shaved her legs the slow way that kept her from nicking herself a thousand times. Navigating out of her foggy bathroom afterward, Shayla tried not to dwell on the fact that she’d clearly already made up her mind about what she was going to do with Luke.

If he’d have her.

But who was she kidding? She could tell just from the tone of his voice that he was already thinking about her naked. And it thrilled her. It wasn’t a matter of passing the point of no return at his front door. She was already past that point. She had stepped over it without noticing, and now she couldn’t even see the damned thing.

Shayla was in this. She was going to take a chance and possibly end up worse off for it, but she would take the chance all the same.

She spent extra time and care blow drying her hair, wanting to look her best. She wanted to knock Luke off his feet when he saw her. She’d felt so sexy around him before. It made her want to primp for him even more.

After blow-drying and straightening her hair, Shayla applied light makeup and admired herself in the mirror, blowing herself a little kiss like she was Marilyn goddamn Monroe or something.

She felt giddy. Excited. Anxious, yes, but still generally in good spirits about what was to come. Her body as warm all over, as if it had been waiting for her to make this decision and was now rewarding her for it. Christ, she wanted him.

Shayla opened up her lingerie drawer and picked out the red panties that she normally only wore on one of two occasions: when she was getting laid, or when it was laundry day. For the first time in months, it was a case of the former. She smiled and slipped them on, grabbing the matching bra from the drawer and putting that on too.

Not wanting to look like she’d tried too hard, Shayla then put on a simple tank and a pair of skinny jeans. When he took her clothes off it would be like unwrapping a present. And she bet it would be better than anything he’d gotten for Christmas this year.

Grabbing her keys from the counter, Shayla shoved her feet into the closest pair of ballet flats she could find. Luke wouldn’t be looking at her shoes, anyway. Men never did. Though he seemed to be a little more perceptive than most men, she still wasn’t going to hedge her bets on him even noticing she was wearing shoes.

None of Shayla’s anxieties had disappeared, but they seemed to take a back burner to the desire pooling hot in her belly. She wanted what only Luke could give her, and she was willing to put her heart on the line to get it. This time.

She just hoped it wouldn’t take that.

Just before she stepped out the door, Shayla’s phone rang. When she saw the station’s number flash on her screen, she considered not picking it up. But Shayla was a slave to duty.

“Hello?”

“Have you seen this shit about the biker guy who drugged that teenager?” Amy’s shrill voice blared through her speaker. “We literally just did a piece on how bikers were sweet guys. Do you know how dumb this makes us look?”

Why was she saying it like it was Shayla’s fault? She hadn't even wanted to do the goddamn cat story. She wanted to tell Amy that it wasn’t Luke’s guys who had done the deed, but that would only lead to more questions and possibly a demand for her to get the story from Luke so they could use it for ratings.

“I saw it. There are more bikers out there than just that one guy. It’s not like it was him.”

Why the hell was Amy even calling her in the first place? “Meg said you’re close with that Luke guy,” Amy said.

Ah. That was why.

“I want to get him in for an interview but he won’t answer my damned calls. Can you talk to him, win him around?”

“I don’t even know how to get in contact with him,” Shayla lied, knowing that even if Meg had sold her out about spending time with Luke, she wouldn’t put herself in the line of fire for what she’d done to get his details.

“I’ll send you his phone number.” She said it so matter-of-factly and with such exasperation that Shayla gritted her teeth.

“What I mean is,” she bit out, “if he’s not answering your phone calls, he’s not going to answer mine. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to the press.”

“Well I’ll get Mike to find out where he leaves. He’s good at that nerdy shit.”

It made Shayla smile that she had this tiny bit of revenge over her producer. They would have to work to get a piece of information that Shayla already knew. That’s what they got for being such a jerk to her all the time.

Anyway, it would all be for nothing. There was no way that Luke would ever agree to do an interview about his club. She knew that without even having to ask, just based on the fact that he engaged in illegal shit.

First rule of motorcycle club: don’t talk to the press about motorcycle club.

“I’m just about to get in the car. Anything else you want to run by me?” Shayla asked, conscious of how her wording flipped the power dynamic and probably had Amy fuming.

“No. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Have a good day,” Shayla sang.