Up in Smoke_A King Series Novel

by T. M. Frazier

  Frankie’s eyes went wide with understanding and fear. “Cameras?”

  I nod. “Fucker saw and heard everything.”

  “Shit,” she says, pushing her feet into her shoes.

  “He knows it was you and not your old man. He’ll be coming for us soon. I bet his men are almost here already.”

  “I have to tell you something,” she says.

  “Not now, right now we have to get the fuck out of here.” I take her by the arm and lead her from the room just as the window of her bedroom shatters. Glass shards pierce my back. A bullet whizzes right by my ear before exploding into the wall a few inches over Frankie’s head.

  Over the unending, unyielding barrage of gun fire, the urge to protect Frankie is downright overwhelming. It’s my only goal. My only mission. The most important fucking job I’ve ever had. While the house explodes around us, a realization hits me harder than any bullet.

  I’m not just in love with Frankie.

  I’m prepared to die for her.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  There’s so much gunfire. I barely have my shirt on over my head when the walls explode all around us like they’re made of paper. Smoke’s grip on my hand is so tight it’s almost crippling as he yanks me down the stairs, but I don’t tell him to let up. I won’t. I need to be connected to him.

  We race down the stairs and out the back door through the woods.

  The gunfire follows.

  The pace is lung-burning and never-ending. I’m in good shape, but I’m falling behind.

  Smoke stops, tugs on my arm and lowers me to the ground on my hands and knees. He pushes me toward a large tree with a hole no larger than a couple of feet hollowed out at the bottom of the trunk.

  “Hide in here,” Smoke orders. Voices shout to one another in the not too far off distance. “I’m a huge moving target. They’ll spot me a lot faster than you, but I can outrun them. Stay here. Stay quiet. I’ll lead them away from you.”

  “No! Don’t go!” My words are a whispered yell followed by a choked-out sob.

  I’m hurting. My feet. My muscles, my heart. I can barely see him through the blur of my own tears like I’m looking up at him from under water. I’m drowning in the depths of my own misery, every breath I suck in is killing me. My heart is hammering out a frantic SOS to the rest of my body and it’s crushing me from the inside out.

  “Meet me here in the morning,” Smoke says, reaching into the inside pocket of his cut and producing a black sharpie. “If I’m not there. If I don’t make it—”

  “No!” I shake my head and close my eyes, not able to bear the thought.

  Smoke’s grip on me tightens. He tilts my chin up so our eyes meet. His voice isn’t louder, but it’s sharper, more precise, like he wants to tattoo his words into my memory.

  “Listen, Hellion, and listen real good. First light, I want you to head to this address. It’s the Lawless MC compound. You’ll be protected there.”

  I hold out my hand thinking he’s going to write on my palm, but he surprises me by pushing the fabric of my shorts up my leg, writing directly on the skin of my upper thigh.

  “Less obvious,” he mutters. “Take this,” he says, unclasping a pair of the cuffs from his wrist and clasping them around mine. “Show it to them. They’ll know I sent you. Just get there and wait for me. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. But you better be there, Smoke. I mean it.” I’m trembling. My lip quivers. “Is this good-bye or just good-bye for now?”

  Smoke brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Always with the questions,” he says, a sad smile on his beautifully scarred face. “I’ll do everything I can to meet you there.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I try to argue once more.

  The sound of gunfire and shouting in the distance is all the argument Smoke needs.

  “It’s the only way to keep you safe,” he says, softly. He tenderly brushes his rough thumb over my cheek, and I can’t help but to lean into his touch. I close my eyes briefly then look up at him through my wet lashes.

  More gunshots. This time they’re closer. Smoke looks over his shoulder and then back to me. “First light,” he repeats with a much too brief searing kiss to my lips. “You wanted me to choose you, Hellion. Well, this is me...choosing you.”

  My. Fucking. Heart. Breaks.

  I can’t find the words to protest as he places branches over the cutout in the trunk to conceal my hiding space. I hear him jog off, and I silently cry into the dark space. I pull my knees to my chest and crawl as far back into the hollowed-out stump that I can.

  Every gunshot I hear feels like it’s a direct hit to my heart because with each one, there’s a possibility that come morning light, Smoke won’t be there.

  This is me…choosing you.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I move through the woods like a wild animal because I am a fucking wild animal. It’s dark, but I use instinct to creep up behind Griff’s men. I slit one’s throat; the blood sprays in my face. It’s warm and wet, and I don’t bother wiping it off as I drop his body quietly to the ground.

  I move without making a sound. My boots don’t even crunch against the fallen leaves. I lay another man out, knife to the base of his spine. And then another, stab and twist to the neck.

  I feel like a kid again. These woods are my home. I breathe in and use the smell of pine to fuel me.

  My hands are covered in blood. Not an inch of my skin can be seen through the thick red.

  I just killed for her. I’ve killed a thousand times before. But this was different. This meant more.

  I down another and another man until all that’s left is me and the sins I’ve committed.

  I sheathe my knife. It’s daylight. I know I told Frankie I’d meet her at the club, but I go back for her anyway.

  She’s not there, but the cuffs are.

  And the cuffs are covered in blood.

  “No!” I roar, racing through the woods. I race back to the townhouse where, thankfully, the van is intact.

  I speed the entire way to the Lawless MC clubhouse with my foot slammed to the floor. I run it right up to the gates and scare the shit out of Nine, who’s talking to the prospect standing guard.

  “Is she here?” I ask, pushing him to the side and running through the gates.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” The prospect asks. I pull my gun and aim it at his skull. “Is. She. Here?”

  “I…I…uh,” he stutters.

  “I’m here,” a voice says, and I spin around to see Frankie. Leaves in her hair. Clothes torn. In one motherfucking piece, Frankie.

  “Oh, thank fuck.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “Guest room is two doors down on the right!” Nine calls out as I race to Frankie and scoop her in my arms. I carry her into the room and slam the door shut, pushing her back up against it.

  I’ve heard love described as clean or pure. I’ve heard it a million times in a million different ways, but it’s always been like this big mythical unreachable shining white ball of fuckin’ glitter. It wasn’t real.

  Until now.

  Which makes me think that even though what I’m feeling for Frankie is strong, there’s no way it can be love because there isn’t a damn thing clean or pure about the thoughts I have involving her. Nothing angelic about the things I dream day and night about doing to her. In fact, my feelings toward her are sending me more into the darkness than the light. More toward Hell than Heaven.

  She’s not an angel here to guide me toward a better path; she’s a demon like me, here on Earth to do God only knows what. What she has done is make me feel like I’ve lost my fucking mind because around her I don’t feel…wrong.

  The things I’ve done to her. The things I’ve done WITH her. If each person is only given a certain amount of feelings, of love, then there’s no way she could feel the same because there’s no way I’d let her waste it on me.

  All thoughts about how we don’t fit together are put on pause because
Frankie’s eyes are wide as she looks me over.

  “The blood,” I realize. I turn to head toward the bathroom to grab a towel, but she reaches out a hand, stopping me.

  The energy in the room shifts like someone’s left a torn wire in an open puddle. Frankie gives me a look, silently asking if I can feel it, too. I give her a small nod because it’s all I can manage.

  My words have left me along with the air in my lungs. Frankie’s hair is tangled. Her long lashes touching her cheeks.

  She shakes her head. “Don’t go clean up. Not yet.”

  I’m rock fucking hard for her. Throbbing. Aching. Not just my cock. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her again. My fingers twitch at the anticipation of touching the nakedness beneath her t-shirt.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “I want you. Just as you are. Bloody, beautiful, Smoke.”

  “My little hellion,” I growl.

  We crash into one another in the center of the room. I feel pressure at my back as if we’re being pushed together by a force bigger than ourselves. Just two pawns in a game that’s no longer about life and death. It’s bigger and more complicated and more…everything.

  Frankie pulls back as if she can read my thoughts and stares up at me for a beat before closing her eyes. She sucks in a breath, and I’m lost. To us. To her. Those eyes. That shiny black hair. Those soft fuckable lips. Her mouth is calling to me once again, and Lord fucking help anyone who tries to get in the way of me answering.

  She doesn’t want me clean. Frankie wants me dirty. Real.

  And I want her.

  Any way I can fucking have her.

  She belongs to me.

  Frankie Helburn is mine.

  She isn’t under my skin. She’s fucking torched it. My flesh burns for her. She’s the flame and the balm, both painful and soothing. I want more of her.

  All of her.

  She owns me. Body. Soul. Bloody hands, along with whatever the fuck is left of my heart. It’s hers. All of it.

  I’m not just obsessed or consumed by Frankie Helburn.

  I lift her into my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist and our lips crash together.

  She’s part of me.

  Frankie

  Our teeth clank together as he lifts me in his arms and tosses me down on the bed. He rids himself of his clothes and mine, revealing his thick, swollen cock that bobs against his belly button as he pulls me to the edge of the mattress and devours my lips and neck with his tongue, nipping at my earlobe with his teeth. He trails down my jaw, and I can’t help but lift my hips and rock into the air. I need to feel him. In me, around me. I need him to show me that I’m his, now more than ever because Smoke doesn’t know that tomorrow, everything is going to change, and I selfishly need this. Need him. I need to be his tonight because by the time the sun’s first rays hit the ground, I’ll be gone.

  I’ve already arranged everything with Rage and Nine. Griff won’t stop until he gets to me, and he’ll kill anyone and everyone in the process.

  I’m going to give Griff what he wants.

  Me.

  And in the process I hope to give Smoke back a piece of himself. A piece he doesn’t even know he’s missing yet.

  But right now, it’s just me and the bloodied, beautiful man before me.

  Smoke bites the inside of my thigh, then crawls up my body, lacing his fingers through my hair and yanking to expose my neck to him. He kisses and sucks on the sensitive skin behind my ear, and I feel a buzzing in my nipples and pussy. Awareness. Pleasure. Anticipation. His hard heat brushes up against my wet folds, and I buck up off the bed. My core painfully empty and clenching.

  “Please,” I beg.

  Smoke growls against my skin then pulls back for a moment to look me in the eyes and press a hard kiss to my mouth. A deep kiss. A kiss that both apologizes and makes no apologies. A kiss that makes me feel alive. Special.

  I am loved by him in a way that no one else on the planet could ever love me.

  He pulls back to hover over me, bracing himself on both sides of my head on the bed. His biceps and forearms flex with his every movement. His tattoos dance as he lowers himself down my body, lines his cock up with my already painfully ready pussy and pushes in with a groan that sounds like the love-child of love and lust.

  I meet him stroke for hard stroke. Lifting my hips, pulling him closer. For a long time, we just stare in each other’s eyes until Smoke tries to speak.

  “I… I want you to know,” he says, before growing frustrated and stopping.

  “I know,” I tell him, feeling a tear fall down my cheek. “I know.”

  Smoke picks up his pace, pounding into me harder and harder. Faster and faster. He’s giving me everything he’s got, and although he thinks it’s not much to me, it’s everything. He’s everything.

  Smoke’s powerful. And I don’t just mean in his sculpted muscles. I mean powerful in mind. Spirit.

  He may be a monster, but he’s my monster.

  I feel the pressure mounting in my core and see the chords of Smoke’s neck pull tight. He’s close, and so am I.

  So very close.

  “You’re mine.” His nostrils flare as he picks up his pace, hammering hard into me until I see stars. “You’re mine,” he says louder, pushing even faster and harder, and I realize he’s trying to fuck those words into me.

  “Yes,” I pant as my orgasm takes over and pushes through my body like a cannon shot. I’m writhing underneath him as pulse after pulse of pleasure like I’ve never felt explodes from my every nerve ending until I can see only white behind my eyes.

  Smoke grunts, holding my hips in place while he pounds into me a few more times before roughly grabbing my face and forcing me to look him in the eye.

  “Mine.” His voice falls to a whisper, and he closes his eyes. “Always mine.”

  The orgasm continues to tear me apart limb from limb. I welcome it. Never in my life have I ever wanted so badly to be in pieces. I want to be scattered on the wind like ashes, so small and so many I can’t ever be put back together.

  Smoke has both broken and healed me. I’m shattered, and I’m complete. I’m so in love, and I’m scared out of my fucking mind, but that won’t change what I must do.

  It feels so good it hurts. I come with tears seeping from the corners of my eyes. I love him. The good, the bad, the violent, the brutal, and the bloody.

  I love all of him.

  Smoke’s face twists as I feel him explode inside of me in long wet hot spurts that fill me to the brim. I come again, squeezing around him until my vision is blurry, and all I see are stars and blood and smoke.

  A few hours later, I wake to a knock at the door. Smoke doesn’t bother covering himself when he walks to the door, tight muscles of his ass and his huge half-hard cock on full display, much to Nine’s obvious displeasure.

  “Cover your junk, and head upstairs. The boys want to have a talk,” Nine says.

  Smoke snorts and stares him down.

  “Fine, PLEASE Smoke will you come up the fucking stairs?”

  Smoke shuts the door in his face. “I’ll be back, hellion,” he says with a quick kiss. He pauses, then ads, “I choose you.”

  I’m smiling both on the inside and out. “And I choose you.”

  He grins.

  I sit up in bed and watch as he dresses quickly and heads out the door.

  I wait only a few minutes, until I’m sure he’s upstairs, to get out of bed and throw on my clothes.

  I place the USB drive Nine gave me on the pillow.

  I ignore the crushing pain and agony taking over my body and mind. I feel like I’m dying, but what I must do is more important than how I feel.

  I take a deep breath and sneak out the door.

  I don’t look back.

  Chapter Fifty

  “Where’s Rage?” I ask after explaining how Griff framed Frankie’s old man as Morgan’s killer to the other’s in Bear’s office on the second story of the MC.


  “Skinning the neighborhood cats?” Preppy jokes, popping his suspenders with his thumbs.

  “She was with Nolan in St. Augustine. They’re back now. She’s around here somewhere,” Bear, the President of the club, says.

  We’ve got a lot of history between us and a shit ton of mutual respect, but I didn’t realize I had his loyalty until he just offered to help me go after Griff.

  I feel unworthy and grateful, the same way I do about Frankie’s love.

  “I’m still in shock you let her convince you to join your club,” I say, lighting a smoke.

  Bear shrugs and looks me in the eye, man-to-man. “Would you have done any differently?”

  I shake my head. “Fuck, no. I know better than anyone that it’s always better to have Rage with you than against you.”

  “You two still got unresolved business,” King says.

  It’s a statement, not a question. King, otherwise known as King of the Causeway, rounds out the trio in the room. These cats couldn’t be more different, but they’re tighter than a nun’s vagina. They run Logan’s Beach and everyone in it like the white trash mafia. Nothing happens in this town without them knowing.

  Guns, drugs, even the fucking Twinkie truck.

  “Sort of,” I say. “We talked a bit. I think we might get there though.” For the first time I’m feeling hopeful about the future.

  After I kill Griff, of course. The need for retribution and vengeance has only grown with the knowledge of who really killed Morgan. I feel it spreading inside me like a welcome disease.

  “You know, you say no connections, no relationships, but you’re one shit-talking motherfucker if I’ve ever met one,” Preppy says, cocking his eyebrow at me. “Cause I saw you almost take out half this fucking MC just to find her when she was standing like ten feet from you earlier.”

  “If you stand in between me and her, I’ll take you out, too,” I warn, feeling myself heat and readying myself for a fight.

  “Preppy’s right,” King says.