Exquisite Trouble(20)

After filling both glasses with orange juice I turned to move past Smoke who’d fried up some scrambled eggs and sausage, but he stuck an arm out, blocking my way. Turning the burner off, he then faced me and cupped my chin. I looked up at him, my hands full of the glasses of orange juice while he examined me. Whatever he saw must have pleased him because he gave me that small, unbearably sexy curve of his lips that made me melt inside.

“Thought I must have been imagining how stunning you are, but look at you. No makeup, the morning after a rough night, and you look as fresh as spring rain.”

I flushed hard, then looked away, too tongue-tied to even begin to know what to say to that unexpectedly beautiful compliment.

Instead of being offended by my lack of response, Smoke chuckled and I turned my head so I could glare at him. “Excuse me.” With an exaggerated move he got out of my way.

We actually had a rather normal breakfast, talking about the areas where we’d grown up and neutral things like the weather and favorite sports teams. He’d been raised in an exclusive suburb outside of Miami and did a stint in the Marines before moving to Austin nine years ago. Smoke was happy to discover I actually liked football and we talked trade prospects while we cleaned up from breakfast. Once the last dish was dried and put away, I sighed and turned to fully face him in the small area next to my white tiled counter.

“I guess I should start packing up. Any idea how long I’ll be gone?”

“I’ve already paid the next six months mortgage on this place.”

“You did what?”

He shrugged and put the plates away, ignoring my shock. “Don’t want you losing your home ‘cause of this bullshit. It’s no big deal, Swan.”

I did a quick calculation of my bank account and realized it would leave me five dollars to my name. “I’ll pay you back right now. Let’s go to my bank. This and the car? It’s too much.”

“No.”

His stern tone brooked no argument and I silently fumed at him. I’d write him a check and stick it in his pocket or something. What really irritated me was how smug he looked, how satisfied with himself. Jerk.

Giving me an arrogant smile, he fished out his cell phone. “You got boxes to pack your shit in?”

Thrown by the change of subject, I blinked. “Yeah.”

“What about a backpack?”

“Yep.”

“Take what you’ll need for tonight in your backpack, then box up the rest. Don’t bring a lot of clothes. I’ll be buying you new ones. And do not bring your gun. It’s registered to you. I’ll have one of my guys come and secure it for you.”

“Excuse me?”

He scrolled through his text messages, clearly dismissing me. “Go pack.”

“You can’t just order me around. And how did you know I have a gun?”

He glanced up and me, his expression now closed down. Whatever he’d read in his messages didn’t make him happy. The teasing was entirely gone from his gaze. “I need you to go, as fast as possible, and pack your bag.”

My heart stuttered, then began to race at the clear menace in his tone. “What’s going on?”

“A Los Diablos member was spotted driving past your house. We need to get the fuck out. Now.”

I didn’t wait around, instead sprinting upstairs and grabbing my pack from where it hung on the railing. Like any good prepper I had my bug-out bag ready with my three days’ worth of survival gear, but that wouldn’t quite work for this situation. I stood there for a moment in my small room, trying to figure out what I would need. Dumping my workout gear onto the bed, I quickly moved to my dresser and started shoving underwear, clothes, and my cosmetics from the top of my dresser into my bag along with my lotion and hairbrush. I gave the room a quick scan, my gaze coming to rest on my computer. There wasn’t anything on there that could get me in trouble, just two years’ worth of homework and a whole bunch of porn sites in my history, so I decided against destroying it. I grabbed the bare necessities from my bathroom before shoving my purse into the backpack and zipping it up. Feeling time running out, I sprinted down the stairs and found Smoke peeking out the front window while talking on his phone.

At the sight of me with my pack he ended the call and handed me the black helmet and a pair of sunglasses that were almost like goggles. “Put these on.”

I fumbled with the straps and followed him as he set the alarm then took us out the back door, locking up after us. I really needed to try and keep my head on around him, because I kept forgetting to ask him important things like how the fuck he had a key to my house. Smoke slipped on a pair of sunglasses similar to mine; of course, he looked incredibly sexy in them.