Smokey's Distraction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 15)

by Chiah Wilder

  Smokey stared at her for a long second, then nodded. “How do you manage to look so beautiful all the time?”

  A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her kissable mouth. “We’re keeping this businesslike, remember?”

  “That’s what you keep telling me.”

  “Because you keep forgetting.”

  “And you don’t?”

  A pinkish hue colored her cheeks as she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Stepping back, she put her hands on her hips, lifted her chin, and stared at him, those captivating blues sparking like streaks of lightning.

  His gaze lowered to her cleavage, watching her breasts rise when she drew in a sharp breath. Lust gripped his spine and his balls. Fuck.

  Folding her arms across her chest, she hissed, “Really? You’re incorrigible.”

  “I prefer tenacious,” he retorted.

  “We’re not getting anywhere.” She looked at the portfolio. “I have work to do, so I’ll leave you to decide which ad you want for the digital marketing campaign.” With an exasperated look, she turned on her heels and sauntered out of the office.

  He watched her as she walked away, looking through the doorway long after she’d disappeared from sight. Running his fingers through his hair, he sighed. What the fuck am I doing here? Since starting the company, he’d never let his personal life enter into his work life. Over the years, there had been occasional temptations, with many eager female employees and clients, yet he’d never crossed the line—until now.

  But Ashley was different. She stirred things inside of him no woman had ever stirred before. The way her clothes accentuated her curves distracted the hell out of him. It would any man. He scrubbed the side of his face with a fist at the thought of any man looking at her the way he did. But it was more than just how sexy she looked. It was the scent of her perfume, her beautiful eyes, the defiant lift of her chin—it all flowed through his veins like the smoothest whiskey. You’re doin’ a number on me, woman.

  Smokey pushed out of the chair and walked over to the window where the sun shone on the mountain peaks, and the tops of the evergreens shimmered as if made of gold. It was a perfect day to ride the back roads through Russet Canyon, but there was no time. Church would take up a good part of the afternoon, and then he had to work alongside his crew at a new construction site that would boast its own retail-laden road leading to luxury condominiums and townhouses. It was a major credit to have landed the contract, and working overtime on such a substantial project was essential.

  Turning off the computer, Smokey grabbed his keys off the desk, tempted to stop by Ashley’s office to see what she was up to before heading out to the clubhouse. Chances were high she’d give him “the look,” where the crease in her forehead became more prominent. A smile spread across his face when he pictured it. Fuck, he liked the way she got flustered when he teased her, and he especially liked the edge in her voice when she was trying so hard to be professional. But what he liked best was the way her cheeks flushed and the sultry look in her eyes whenever he got close to her.

  Pearl pulled him out of his musings when she asked, “Did you sign the contract?”

  “No. I didn’t have a chance to review it yet, and I have to head out. Just so you know, I’ll be tied up for the next couple of hours, and then I’ll be at the Perkins’ site.”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “I’ll fax the contract to you in the next few days. See ya.” Smokey glanced down the hallway toward Ashley’s office, paused, then walked in the opposite direction, toward the elevators.

  Traffic was light on the two-lane road leading to the clubhouse, and in less than twenty minutes, he was turning into the club’s lot. Walking into the room, the pungent smell of weed permeated the air, and huddled near the bar was a group of brothers, beer bottles in hand, their voices booming over the hard rock tunes playing on the jukebox. Against the back wall, platters of cold cuts, cheeses, watermelon slices, and baskets of potato and tortilla chips, sat atop an aluminum folding table.

  He felt a firm hand clasp his shoulder. Turning, he found Rock, the sergeant-at-arms, shooting him a friendly grin.

  “When the hell did you come in?” he asked as he brought a beer bottle to his lips.

  “Just now. Is Banger here?”

  “He’s on his way. You want to grab some chow?”

  Nodding, he followed Rock as he wound his way through the crowd.

  Seeing Smokey, Rosie sidled up to him and curled her hand around his forearm, giving him a warm smile. “Let me fix you a sandwich, honey.”

  “Thanks, but I can make my own.”

  Rock picked up a paper plate and scooped up a handful of potato chips. “Fuck, dude, she wants to spoil you.”

  “That’s right, baby,” she said, pressing her body close to his. “I’m dying to spoil you.”

  Stepping away from her, he grabbed his own plate. “Not now. We got church in a few.”

  “After? It’s been too long.”

  “I have to work. We’ll catch up sometime.” Turning away, she sauntered off as he put a couple of slices of turkey, ham, and salami onto his plate.

  “Do you have something going on with that marketing chick in your office?” Rock asked.

  “No,” he answered tightly.

  “I heard she’s quite a looker. I bet she’s smart too.” He laughed. “A smart, pretty woman can bust a man’s balls real good.”

  “Are you speaking from experience, or just blowing smoke out of your ass?”

  “You got the same shit going on that I did with Clotille. I kept denying it, but she had a hold on me.”

  Smokey snorted. “That was you, not me. No one’s got me by the balls.”

  “Are you gonna fuck Rosie when you get back tonight?”

  Slathering mayonnaise on his bread, he scowled. “How the hell is that your business?”

  “When you stop wanting to fuck the club girls, it’s because you got another woman on your mind—I know, dude. But if you don’t believe me, ask Wheelie, Chas, or Throttle.”

  “Ask me what?” Throttle said smacking Smokey on the back. “It’s been a while, bro.”

  Rock chuckled as he looked at Throttle. “He doesn’t want to fuck the club girls.”

  “Damn. Do you have the hots for a woman?”

  Smokey took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed it slowly.

  Throttle snapped his fingers. “I bet it’s the chick who works for you.”

  “I’m only gonna say this once—stay the fuck out of my personal life,” Smokey said.

  “You’re hooked, dude,” Rock stated matter-of-factly, slapping him on the arm.

  “And fuckin’ screwed,” Throttle added. “When you’re done pretending this woman doesn’t exist, bring her to one of the parties. See if she can deal with our world.”

  Suddenly, the music stopped, and all conversation ceased. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Banger and Hawk by the door. Stuffing the last bite of food into his mouth, he tossed the paper plate into the trash can.

  “Church!” Banger shouted as he and Hawk walked through the main room.

  Brothers burst into motion, their boots shuffling across the floor and into the conference room. Smokey plopped down into a chair, and tipped it back on two legs until it hit the wall behind him, focusing his attention on Banger and Hawk, who stood at the head of the table. Once the members settled down, Banger brought the gavel down on the wooden block, calling the meeting to order.

  “I called church today because we got some shit going on with those fuckin’ Rising Order pussies. We’ve found out the fuckers are wearing a rocker, claiming Colorado as their territory.”

  “Fuck them!” Jax bellowed, as Shadow asserted, “Let’s beat their asses!”

  The room quickly erupted into chaos with shouts of agreement, fists banging against the table, chairs bumping against the concrete walls as brothers jumped to their feet, chanting, “Death to the Rising Order!”

  With
Banger pounding the gavel several times to no avail, Hawk placed his fingers between his lips and let loose an ear-piercing whistle. Suddenly, the room went quiet, and several brothers dropped back down into their chairs.

  “We’re all fuckin’ pissed, but we have to keep focused,” Hawk said. “Skeet’s the sonofabitch who started all this shit. The Rising Order wasn’t a problem until that traitor left the Insurgents to join up with them. This shit is his doing—no doubt about it.”

  Wheelie rested his arms on the table. “We should’ve iced him. Being that he was tight with Tigger, he was resentful of the way the club handled him.”

  “No. We should’ve gotten rid of him when he ran off with Metal’s woman. Instead, we gave him a beatdown, but I was all for snuffing out the bastard,” Animal said.

  Rock nodded. “Me too.”

  Banger held up his hand as several more brothers voiced their agreement. “I admit, I fucked that one up. I should’ve listened and eliminated the fucker.”

  “We can do it now, and it’d be justified,” Chas said. “It’s obvious Skeet put the Rising Order up to this. They’ve never tried to pull this shit before.”

  “Those assholes wear the regalia and practice the traditions of an outlaw MC, but they’re doing it rebelliously. By not asking us for permission, they disrespected us,” Hawk said.

  Klutch pounded his fist on the table. “They’re fuckin’ impostors playing dress up. Skeet knows that pretending to be an outlaw club gets the offenders killed.”

  For one-percenter motorcycle clubs, respect was everything. Any new MC that wanted to wear a rocker had to get the approval of the established club who claimed the territory. It was biker etiquette, a show of respect, and ignoring the rules was not only stupid, it was, in many cases, deadly.

  “Their club’s blatant disregard of our traditions of how to establish themselves must pay for the consequences of their actions,” Animal said.

  Smokey leaned forward, the front legs of his chair hitting the floor. “The fucker’s getting personal too.”

  “How so?” Banger asked.

  “He threatened some chick into lying about Ryan doing shit to her. I’m ready to ride up north right now and put a bullet in his fuckin’ head.”

  Several members jumped to their feet, cussing and raising their fists in the air, and wanting to join him.

  Hawk pushed away from the wall and ordered, “Sit the fuck down. We got shit to decide.”

  “Skeet’s brother still lives in town,” Smokey said.

  Bones smiled. “He and Skeet are real tight too.”

  Banger nodded. “That’s good. We can use him to bring Skeet in.”

  “What about the other fuckers in that fake MC?” Rags asked.

  “We’re gonna go to Cottonwood and do some damage,” Banger replied.

  “The officers will iron out the details. We’ll let you know the plan at church next week,” Hawk concluded.

  “That about covers it.” Banger brought the gavel down, ending the meeting.

  “You gonna stick around?” Throttle asked Smokey.

  “Nah. I gotta help out at a site. Are you going to be around tonight for a game of pool?”

  “Wish I could, but I’m taking Kimber out to dinner and a movie.”

  Smokey laughed. “A chick flick?”

  “Nope. I’m lucky my old lady hates those movies. It’s the new action film at the Esquire. I don’t know anything about it—she picked it.”

  “I wish Addie didn’t like those sappy ass movies,” Chas grumbled.

  Throttle frowned. “I don’t know how you do it, dude.”

  “It makes my old lady happy.”

  Nudging Smokey with his elbow, Throttle smirked. “See what you’re getting yourself into?”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see you tied down to one woman,” Chas said.

  Smokey narrowed his eyes. “Throttle’s ass is sucking wind. I’m not tied down to anyone.”

  Throttle laughed. “I got a real strong feeling you’re gonna be eating those words, bro.”

  Biting his tongue, Smokey dug the keys out of his pocket. “I’m outta here. Later.”

  Ignoring the snickers and comments as he walked out of the conference room, he made his way through the clubhouse and slipped out the back door.

  As he strode toward his Harley, thoughts of Ashley filled his mind. There was no doubt he was attracted to her, and liked her more than any other women he’d dated, but that didn’t mean he wanted a woman—an old lady. Throttle’s full of shit. I’m just looking to have some fun with a hot, sexy woman. She’s going back to the city after the project’s over, and for now, she piques my interest—that’s all.

  But he knew that was BS.

  The truth was, he was hooked, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  With a deep sigh, he jumped on his bike and sped out of the club’s parking lot.

  13

  Pausing on the landing to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light of the bar, Ashley scanned the room for Whitney. Not seeing her, she sauntered over to the bar, slid onto a barstool, swiveled around and saw Jared down at the end, chatting up a petite blonde. Remembering how he’d flirted with Nicole the night before, she rolled her eyes. I bet he does that with all the women. Men are so transparent.

  She pulled her cell phone out of her purse, and sent Whitney a quick text, telling her she was waiting at the bar. She had called Ashley that afternoon, asking if she would pick her up for dinner at Blue’s Belly because her car had died the day before.

  “Did you want something to drink?”

  Looking up from her phone, she met Jared’s eyes. “I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio. Have you seen Whitney around?”

  “She’s in the back. You two are going out for dinner, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’s your friend?”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Is she meeting you here?”

  “No. How about that glass of wine?”

  His eyes blazed with anger. “What’s your problem?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Without a word, he stormed off. What the hell’s up with him? He was the one who had an attitude toward me for no reason the last time I was here with Nicole. I don’t know what it is, but he rubs me the wrong way.

  Returning with her wine, he set it in front of her, glaring.

  “Thanks,” she murmured. “Listen, I’m sorry if I was snarky. I had a long day.”

  He stared at her for several seconds. “Where’s your friend tonight?”

  “Visiting a cousin in Steamboat Springs.”

  “Are you from here?”

  “No—Denver.”

  “So you moved here?”

  “Sort of.” She took a sip of her drink, then asked, “Could you tell Whitney I’m here?”

  “I can’t leave the bar. And what do you mean by ‘sort of’?”

  “I’m here on a temporary gig.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a customer trying to get Jared’s attention. Pointing to a tall man in jeans and a sports shirt, she said, “I think he wants you.”

  “How long are you staying in town?” he asked, as if she hadn’t spoken.

  “I don’t know.” His interrogation was making her uncomfortable, so she swung around on the stool, giving him her back.

  “You’re not very friendly,” he gritted out..

  She looked at him from over her shoulder. “And you are? I don’t like discussing my personal life with strangers. Nor do I like being grilled in an aggressive manner.”

  “I was just making conversation.”

  “Sir! I want to order a drink!” the customer called out.

  Slapping the bar top, Jared turned and strode over to the patron.

  Just then, Whitney came up beside her. “Sorry I’m late. I’ve been doing inventory and lost track of time.”

  Ashley smiled, raising her glass. “That’s okay. It gave me an excuse to have a glass of wine.”


  “Good. I’ll just grab my purse and we can head out.”

  Finishing her wine, Ashley pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her purse, tossed it onto the bar, then quickly scurried over to the front door. The last thing she wanted was for Jared to start in on her again. I mean, who does that? He doesn’t even know me. Not only is he rude, he’s a jerk. There’s no way I’m coming back here with Nicole.

  “I’m ready,” Whitney said.

  Pushing the door open, they walked out into the warm spring evening.

  Ashley waited until Whitney turned off the porch light before driving away. Whitney had been right about the restaurant, because the food was delicious and worth every calorie. At first, Ashley had been worried that the two of them wouldn’t have that much in common, but that fear had quickly dissolved. They’d spent the entire meal talking and laughing, and had even made plans to meet up again next week.

  During dinner, she’d been tempted to ask Whitney about Smokey, hoping to get some “inside” information on the man, but she’d resisted. She had to stop thinking about him, though how could she? Her body was always on autopilot whenever he was around, no matter how hard she tried to pretend he didn’t have any effect on her. Just hearing his name at work made her heart skip a beat. Ridiculous? Probably. Unprofessional? Absolutely.

  But what could she do?

  Like a moth to a flame, she was drawn to him. Maybe I should tell Zach to send someone else. But that would jeopardize her chances of making partner, something she’d worked her ass off for too long to throw away over a man. She’d been a full-time student throughout college and graduate school, and worked every moment she had to spare, sacrificing many, many nights of fun and any kind of meaningful relationships. Making partner was the brass ring of success and validation, along with financial security. She would never allow herself to be poor, hungry, or homeless again. Life had been going along as planned until Zach sent her to Pinewood Springs and she met Smokey. Suddenly, it was like she was on an out-of-control roller coaster, turning her structured, well-thought-out life topsy-turvy.

  If only he wasn’t so funny, so tough—so sexy. He paid for the alarm system and never would’ve told me. It made her insides all warm and mushy whenever she thought about it. The truth was, his gentle side made her weak, while his dominant side made her wet.