Smoke (Archer's Creek Book 5)

by Gemma Weir

  I must fall asleep, because the ringing of my cell phone startles me awake. Slapping my hand around the bed, I search for my glasses that I must have taken off at some point. When I finally find them, I slide them onto my face and answer. “Hello,” I say, my voice full of sleep.

  “Riley, it’s barely eight pm. Were you asleep?”

  “Pierre, what do you want? You just interrupted the most amazing dream. Luther was pre- apeman and he and I just—”

  “Fucking hell, Riley, I do not need to know any of that shit. I take it you haven’t seen my email?” Pierre shouts, interrupting me.

  “The one about the consulting job? I replied to that.”

  “If you weren’t sleeping in the middle of the day, you would know I’d emailed back. The company is desperate. They want you, they know your work, and they want to know how quickly you can get out to them.”

  Scrubbing at my face with my palm, I wipe away the last of the sleep from my eyes. “Where are they? Do they really need me on site? Can’t they just send me what they have so far and I can review it from here? I don’t know why they would need me at their offices.”

  “They want you on site, and they’re happy to pay for it.”

  “Oh God, they’re in Alaska, aren’t they?” I say, my voice whiney.

  “No,” Pierre chuckles. “Their offices are in Houston.”

  “Houston, Texas?”

  “How many others do you know of?” Pierre says dryly.

  “Oh. Well, I mean it’s not Hawaii, but it could definitely be worse.”

  “And not only are they happy to pay you a big chunk of change, but they’re also happy to pay for a hotel, or a short-term rental while you’re out there.”

  “Wow, why me? There are so many other people more qualified to do the job than me. What’s the name of the company?”

  “It’s Winters Inc. The owners name is Dan Winters.”

  “Hmm, I’ve never even heard of them.”

  “This game they’re developing will be their first to go to market. Dan is backing it himself; lots of family money from what I can see. Seems like a nice guy. They want you ‘cause you’re damn good at what you do. You’re one of the most talented coders I’ve ever seen, and you refuse to take any of the jobs the big guys offer you. Your name is listed on eight out of the top ten games in the market at the moment.”

  “I need some time to think about it. I planned to take some time off; my sister is pregnant again and the other is at med school. I was thinking about going to visit them.”

  “Ry,” Pierre interrupts, “the money these guys are paying you for a couple of months work, you could take six months off.”

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow,” I say.

  Pierre sighs. “Okay, babe, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  “Bye Pierre.”

  Ending the call, I slump back down into my pillows. The apartment is quiet, my T.V. has gone into standby, and Maddie will have left for her night job at an improv club downtown. My stomach growls and I roll out of bed and pad into the living room to raid the refrigerator for leftovers. The shelves are bare, so I order a pizza and decide to scroll through Facebook. I hate social media, but I still use it. I don’t click on my notifications; I scroll through my newsfeed, looking at the photos my ‘friends’ have posted.

  Social media is about sharing your best life with the people looking in. Only a handful of my supposed Facebook friends are actually people I still talk to, but I’m too nosy to delete the rest. So now I look at all the pictures of new homes, new babies, new outfits, and a dull sense of loneliness washes through me. Not for the perfect life these people are showing me, but just for the life. I don’t remember the last time I went out and got drunk. I don’t remember the last time I met up with friends or just enjoyed myself.

  The last few years have been a blur of code and work and doing everything I can to establish myself within the game coding world. Scrolling down, I stumble across a picture from my friend Rosie from college. It’s her with a huge guy who’s covered in tattoos. She’s smiling at the camera and he’s looking at her. It’s a beautiful picture and she looks so fucking happy. The caption reads “We’re finally in! Happy new home.”

  I smile, and that’s when I notice the location on the picture is Houston, Texas. What are the fucking odds? Driven by an overwhelming sense of serendipity, I send her a private Facebook message. I do have her cell number somewhere, but this is quicker.

  Riley: Hey Rosie, long time no speak.

  I hit enter and the Messenger app lets me know that she’s active now. A second later, the three dots appear at the bottom of the message screen to let me know that she’s typing a reply.

  Rosie: FAR TOO LONG!!!

  I laugh. Rosie and I took a few classes together and our dorm rooms were on the same floor our freshmen year. We hung out fairly regularly until we graduated, when she stayed in L.A. and I moved to New York.

  Riley: I know, I know. Life has been crazy the last few years. Where are you working now? Are you still at that newspaper?

  Rosie: I was until a few months ago. Now I’m working for a lifestyle magazine in Texas of all places. I just moved in with my boyfriend. <3 <3

  Riley: Congratulations!!! I actually just got offered some consulting work in Houston. Would you maybe want to catch up for a drink or something while I’m in town?

  Her reply is instant.

  Rosie: YES!!!!!!!!!

  I chuckle, remembering how sweet and enthusiastic Rosie is. The thought of seeing her and catching up makes a weight lift from my shoulders. It’s taken me a few years, but I have a good standing in the game coding community and I have jobs booked months in advance. Maybe it’s time to reconnect with my life, have some fun, and some sex. Sex would be awesome! Greg and I had sex, but it wasn’t exactly what I’d call mind-blowing. Since we split up, men had been completely off my radar. My asshole ex taught me a valuable lesson; shiny, pretty things might look great, but that doesn’t mean they’ll keep their dicks in their pants and out of every fucking groupie wannabe’s pussy. Right now, the only dick I’m getting is the pink plastic variety and apart from needing to take out shares in a battery company I’m pretty content.

  Riley: Awesome! I’m not sure when I’ll be coming out. The company I’m consulting for have offered to pay for a hotel or a short-term rental for me, so I need to figure out where I’m going to be staying, but once I’m settled, we can get something set up. I can’t wait to catch up xx

  Rosie: Yay, I’m so excited to see you again. I actually live in a small town outside of Houston. I could see if there’s anything short term around here, or I know of a fantastic guest house here in town, if you don’t mind cabbing into the city.

  Riley: That might be perfect! I was supposed to be having a couple of months off, but this consulting job comes with enough zeros to make turning it down almost impossible. I’d rather be out of the city so I can at least pretend I’m on vacation. Let me confirm with the client and then I’ll get back to you.

  Rosie: Okay, sweetie. Speak soon xo

  Riley: Speak soon xo

  Laying my cell back down on the bed, I exhale happily. Suddenly being stuck in Texas isn’t sounding quite so bad.

  “Ladies, oh ladies,” I holler from where I’m stood on the bar, a bottle of liquor in my hand poised to pour into the mouths of the women below me. It’s party night and the club is packed to the rafters with hot, wet, available pussy. It’s a regular vagina buffet, and as I slowly move from one end of the bar to the other filling the open, waiting mouths of these desperate bitches, I laugh out loud at how fucking perfect my life is.

  When I stop, my legs shoulder-width apart, my arms spread wide above my head, every woman in the place goes wild. I’m a God among men and I fucking love it. Scanning the crowd, I try to pick a girl for the night. It doesn’t matter who I choose, they all want me. I know I’m a pretty motherfucker. It’s a blessing and a curse. It’s vain as fuck to admit it, but when you look l
ike me, it’s rare to find a woman who wouldn’t drop to her knees right here and now for a chance to fuck me.

  Setting my sights on a mocha-skinned, dark-haired beauty, I drop down from the bar and make my way toward her. She bites her lip and looks up at me through her thick eyelashes.

  “Hey,” she says, her gaze running up and down my huge, ripped body.

  “Hey, you want to get out of here?”

  I don’t need to say anymore; she just nods and follows as I lead the way out of the clubhouse. I have a room I could use, but I don’t like random pussy on my sheets; they’re Egyptian cotton for fuck’s sake. “Let’s go to your place,” I say, when I push through the clubhouse doors and out into the Texas night.

  She nods. “Sure.”

  I lead her through the darkness and open the door to the beat-up truck.

  “Where’s your bike?” she asks, the corners of her mouth turning down in displeasure at the sight of my truck.

  “Only woman that’s getting on the back of my bike is my old lady.”

  “I could be your old lady,” she purrs, in what I’m assuming she thinks is an attractive whine.

  “Yeah, I don’t think so.” I gesture to the inside of my truck. “You getting in or what?”

  She huffs, but just like I knew she would, she climbs into the truck, crossing her legs so her skirt rides up high enough for me to see she’s not wearing any panties. I slam the door and circle the cab, climbing into the driver’s side and cranking the engine.

  My dick’s hard, my life is fucking perfect, and in about ten minutes this girl’s lips are gonna be wrapped around my cock. Being me rocks.

  She rolls off me, panting hard, a sheen of sweat coating both of our bodies. “Baby, that was amazing,” she manages to say through her gasps.

  “Uh huh,” I say, my eyes fixed on the ceiling above her bed. This round of sex had been good, not great. She’d ridden me until she came, then left me to chase my own release. I don’t even know her name. I doubt she knows mine either, but who cares? In a couple of minutes, I’ll go to the bathroom, pull off the condom, then get dressed and leave. This isn’t a relationship; it’s a one-night-stand.

  Four minutes later, she’s asleep with little snores coming from her mouth. I should feel guilty for sneaking out, but I justify it because I was leaving anyway. When I’m dressed and walking out the door, I look back and feel nothing, just nothing.

  “Your dick is going to fall off if you keep sleeping with every woman you meet,” Rosie says as we sit at the table in her kitchen the next morning. Her lips turned up in disgust.

  “I haven’t fucked you,” I reply.

  Park’s palm slams into the back of my head and I jerk forward. “Shut your fucking mouth about my girl.”

  “I’m just making a point,” I say, reaching up to rub at my head.

  “Why don’t you try being a bit more discerning with your choice of women?” Rosie suggests, taking the plate full of pancakes from Park’s hand and tipping her head back for a kiss from him.

  “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, I am discerning. They all want me and most of the time I only pick one or two a night. How much more discerning do you want me to be?”

  She sighs and shakes her head. “Smoke, you are as deep as a puddle. Wouldn’t you like to meet someone and have a connection that lasts longer than an orgasm?”

  “I’ll have you know that my connections usually last for at least two or three orgasms,” I say, winking at her.

  She throws her hands up in the air and looks to Park. “I give up. He’s your friend, you tell him there’s more to life than hook-ups.”

  “Rosie, honey. I know that you guys are all loved up and you want to spread the love bubble to me, but I’m happy with meaningless and gratifying. I’m not looking for anything more than a night. This week I’m starting at Sinners Security and Puck is training me on the computer side of the business. This is my chance to get away from being just the muscle at the bars and clubs. I don’t have time to invest in an old lady right now. One day I will, but right now I want to do more than just look big and scary.”

  Rosie’s expression softens and she nods. “You’re gonna do great, sweetie. I know how much you want to do this, and Puck is gonna see that too.”

  “I hope so,” I say, reaching for the plate of pancakes and taking three. Park comes back to the table with a platter full of sausage links and crispy bacon. He places it down then takes his seat.

  I fill my plate, then drown everything in maple syrup and dig in.

  “Guess who messaged me out of the blue last night?” Rosie says.

  “Who?” Park asks, as he loads his own plate up with food.

  “My friend Riley. We went to college together. She writes the programs for video games or something like that. She’s coming to Texas to do some consulting work and wanted to know if we could catch up for a drink.”

  “That’s cool. Where in Texas? It’s a big state,” Park says.

  “Houston. She said that the company she’s working for are paying for her accommodation, so she’s looking for either a hotel or a short-term rental.”

  “When’s she gonna be here?” I ask.

  “She wasn’t sure, but I’m looking forward to seeing her.”

  “You should bring her to one of the clubs parties; you girls could live it up for the night,” I suggest with a wink.

  “I don’t think so. Riley is less of a biker club party girl than even I am. I’m pretty sure she’d hate it.”

  Park laughs, “Rosebud, I’ve seen you with Nikki and Angel. You don’t hate the club party nights, baby.”

  She flushes pink. “Yeah, well, it’s a little different when your boyfriend is sitting watching you and you’re actually a part of the club.”

  “So what’s up with this Riley chick? Why wouldn’t she be up for a party?” I ask.

  “Nothing’s up with her, she just wasn’t really into the party scene at college. She might have changed, but I doubt it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything but boots and a hoody.”

  “No offense, Rosie, but your friend sounds boring as fuck. Where are all of your hot slutty friends? Bring those out to play.”

  Rosie curls her lip and shakes her head. “Justin, you do not need any more slutty women around you. I think you have enough club girls crawling all over you without throwing my friends into the mix.”

  “True dat,” I say, lifting my hands palm up and tilting my head to the side with a smirk.

  Rosie throws a piece of sausage at me, but I catch it in my mouth and grin widely. Turning to look at my friend, I say. “Park, could you please tell your woman to stop calling me Justin. My name is Smoke.”

  Park smiles widely then looks to Rosie. “Rosebud, pretty boy over here would prefer it if you didn’t call him by his real name.”

  “But his nickname is Smoke. I mean who can take him seriously when he introduces himself as Smoke? At least Justin is a proper name,” she replies, looking at him, but obviously talking to me.

  “Smoke is a badass biker name and I’m a badass biker,” I snap at her.

  She turns to look at me and pouts. “Sure you are, sweetie. You’re a really badass biker.”

  Rolling my eyes, I look back to Park, who’s covering his mouth with his hand to smother his laughter. “I hate you both.”

  Rosie starts to laugh as well and I flip them both the bird, pick up my plate and get up from the table, taking it to the counter in the kitchen and eating my food with my back to them both.

  I finish my breakfast, ignoring my laughing brother and his annoying fucking woman, then I flip them the bird again as I walk out of their apartment. Heading for the club, I climb onto my bike and hit the switch for the shutter that encloses the courtyard. I wait for it to fully lift so I can kick my bike forward and enjoy the short ride to the club. I miss the long rides we used to do as a brotherhood. There’s a convention a couple of days ride from here that we always used to attend, but with brothers getting wifed up
and everyone having fucking babies we didn’t go this year.

  My brothers are all settling down and growing up. Fuck that, I’m Peter Pan. I’m staying young and free forever. Twisting the throttle, I push my bike faster, zooming down the road and embracing the rush of adrenaline that accompanies the speed and feeling of danger as I overtake the cars around me and take corners just a little too fast.

  The clubhouse comes into view too soon, and regretfully, I slow down and pull into the compound. The gatehouse is empty and I scowl, wondering where the fuck the prospect is that’s supposed to be manning the gate. I spent six months sitting in this spot as a prospect, with nothing else to do but wait for someone to come or go. It was boring as fuck, but I did it because I had to pay my dues and doing the shittiest of shitty jobs was just part of it.

  Still annoyed, I stomp into the clubhouse and head straight for Anders’ office, rapping on the door and waiting for him to yell at me.

  “Come,” he shouts eventually.

  Pushing open the door, I march in and do a double-take when I see Blade sat in the chair in front of Anders’ desk, his head in his hands.

  “Am I interrupting?” I say, slightly less aggravated than I had been only moments before.

  “No,” Blade says, rising from the chair and moving to the door. “I’m done.”

  He moves past me and I turn to the side to let him pass, my brows furrowed in concern for my V.P.

  “Come on in, Smoke,” Anders says, his eyes on Blade’s retreating back.

  I enter the room more fully, closing the door behind me. “Is he okay?” I ask.

  “He will be,” Anders say knowingly. “What’s up?”

  Slightly surprised by Anders’ change of direction, I falter. “Oh, err. Did you know that there’s no one in the gatehouse?”

  “I know,” Anders says.

  “Oh, well why not? I practically lived in there when I was a prospect.”

  “Dino has had to go out of state; his dad passed away.”

  “Oh shit,” I hiss, feeling bad for the kid and shitty for coming in here and moaning.

  “They weren’t close, but his mom is pretty cut up, so I sent him out to her to help her get through the funeral. He’ll be back in a week or two. He’s the only prospect we have at the moment since Slow pulled the shit he pulled over Dove.”