Trying to resist the urge to fidget beneath his dark stare, I licked my lips. “Well, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
“Good, so you’ll have no problem staying with me until your sister is found.”
“What?”
“You’ll be safe at my house. I just want you nearby in case Sarah tries to contact you.”
Panicked at the thought of staying with the scary man, I looked over at Smoke. “Um, I’m staying with him. With Smoke.”
I gave Smoke a pleading look and his gaze darkened before he grinned and took his cap off, rubbing his fingers through his longish curly black hair. To prove that once again my libido had ill timing, all I could think about was running my fingers through his hair. Stroking the curls while he did … things to me. Delicious things. Naughty things.
Smoke lifted his eyes to Beach and they went cold and intense. “She’s staying with me.”
Eager to make the point, I went across the room to Smoke’s side and grabbed his arm, clinging to it. The president merely nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “Might be better for you to stay over there, away from the club bullshit. Your sister made a lot of friends, but also some enemies and you look too much like her. But your tits are smaller.”
Without thinking I looked up at Smoke and said, “Ha! See, I told you people would notice. Duh. I do not have tits big enough to use them as flotation devices. Mine move, thank you very much. And my hair! I mean—hello—Sarah rocks the cute bob, but I haven’t cut my hair in eleven years other than trims. This is not a weave.”
Smoke put his hand over my mouth and got me in some kind of almost-choke hold as he walked us to the door together. “I’m going to take her back to her place to pack up some shit. We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”
“You do that,” the president said as he casually took out a rather big handgun with a silencer on it from his lower back. “I got some trash to take care of. Don’t worry, sweetheart, those assholes will never bother you again.”
Totally freaked out by the clear signal Beach was sending me, and now positive the president and my psycho sister deserved each other, I followed Smoke out the door and down a grungy hallway. This whole building had an abandoned, creepy feel made me want to wash myself, like I could get cooties from touching any surface. I kept quiet the whole time, following behind Smoke close enough that I felt like his shadow. When we made it out a set of thick steel doors that opened up to the moonlight outdoors we both let out a soft sigh.
Smoke led me over to a big, low slung, black bike with blue accents done to look like flames in a very cool, old school way, with lots of shiny chrome. A guy stood over to the side with what I was pretty sure was an Uzi. Ignoring the guy scanning the area, I focused on Smoke as he led me to his motorcycle. It was a really cool bike, all shiny and stuff, but I could give a shit what it looked like as long as it got us out of here. A sudden almost animalistic urge to hit the road filled me and I eagerly put on the helmet Smoke offered me. He mounted the motorcycle and hauled me up behind him.
“Wrap your arms around me, baby girl, and hold on tight.”
Thank god it was summer, because the wind was chilly against my bare legs as we started moving. In an effort to warm myself, I did what he told me to and put my arms around Smoke and marveled at how solid he was. He was so ripped that even his ribs had thick muscles. My fingers decided to go for a stroll over his abdominals and I could feel the vibration of his groan move through his body and into mine. I’d never been in a situation like this with a man before, a time where I actually craved the feel of his skin. Without asking, I slipped my fingers beneath the hem of his shirt and slowly scratched my nails over his abs. He moved against my hand like a big cat seeking attention and I obliged him, my pussy swollen and throbbing, pressed against his tight ass. The softness of his t-shirt against my hands, the warmth of his skin, and how fucking ripped he was turned me on something fierce.
What can I say? I like strong men. Seeing a guy who can take care of himself just does it for me. I like men who can keep up with me. Out in the real world that’s hard to find. Most guys don’t consider going for twenty mile hikes with a heavy pack and a gun fun, but there is no way I could date a prepper. No fucking way. Never again. Never ever, ever. Which probably made the mysterious Smoke all that more attractive to me. Smoke was wild, raw. Visceral. He moved in a different world than the one I’d grown up in. I’ve never been much of an adrenaline junkie—getting drunk and watching chick flicks with my friends in the safety of my house is about as wild as I get—but riding on the back of Smoke’s big bike made my blood sing.