Chapter One: The Bombshell
Smoke
I was never much of a morning person. So, when my alarm clock went off promptly at nine o’clock, I fumbled around without opening my eyes, hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock, somehow managing to also knock the thing off my nightstand as I let out a low groan. Rolling over, I pulled the blanket over my head and had almost slipped back into dreamland when I remembered why I intended to get up early on my day off.
Bones was getting married.
Well, that was his plan, at least. He had the crazy idea of surprising his Old Lady with a wedding. I thought it was risky as hell, but Bones seemed confident about the whole thing. They had been together for a while, and she was pregnant with his kid, so maybe he was right to assume that she’d be thrilled by his plan.
Iwould never go that route, but to each his own.
I had agreed to help set up the wedding with the other Rebel Saints, the motorcycle club pulling together to help out our president. I was due to be there in less than an hour.
Sitting up in bed, I stretched my arms over my head, enjoying the satisfying feeling of both my shoulder joints popping. Turning on the lamp on my nightstand, I flinched as the bright light assaulted my tired eyes. I quickly made the bed, the way that I’d been doing for my whole life. No matter how tired I was, there were some things that were so deeply ingrained that I did them automatically.
Making my way across the room, I stepped into the bathroom to use the toilet and brush my teeth. My stomach rumbled, and I remembered that all I had eaten for dinner last night was half of a bag of potato chips.
I really needed to go grocery shopping…
But that would have to wait until later. I hopped in the shower, standing under the spray of hot water for a long time, letting the water relax my tense muscles as I struggled to wake up fully. I knew that I shouldn’t have stayed up late last night, but I got caught up watching a true crime documentary after I got home from the bar.
I spent at least three nights a week at Wheelz, the biker bar where my fellow Rebel Saints hung out. The motorcycle club’s meetings were held on the second floor, but the place was about more than just business. It was like a home away from home for me. Pool tables, dart boards, and a well-stocked supply of liquor. What more could a man ask for?
I knew that I didn’t have anything in the kitchen that I could make for breakfast, so as I stepped out of the shower and got dressed, my mind was focused on nothing other than where I could pick up a strong, black coffee and a bacon sandwich on my way to the beach for the wedding.
Then, I heard a light rapping sound.
My brow furrowed as I walked out into the living room, looking toward the source of the noise. Someone was knocking on my front door. I had no idea who it could be. I wasn’t expecting anyone. In fact, I hardly ever had visitors before noon.
Still barefoot, I strode over and peeked through the peephole, frowning when I didn’t recognize the woman standing on the porch. I opened the door anyway, surprised to see there was also a child standing at her side.
“Can I help you?” I asked her, assuming that she had the wrong address. I certainly didn’t know her.
“Jay?”
Okay, maybe I do know her. But I hadn’t gone by my legal name in years.
“I go by Smoke now,” I said, giving her my biker nickname. It was a name chosen for me by my brothers at the club, and I preferred it over the one my parents gave me. Not wanting to be rude, I stepped back and opened the door wider to let her in.
The duo stepped inside.
I watched the two of them, trying to figure out who they were.
The kid was young, maybe ten, and his eyes were flickering around the apartment, taking in everything with a stoic expression.
The woman was starting to look familiar, but I couldn’t place her. She had straight blonde hair that brushed the tops of her shoulders and blue eyes framed by dark eyelashes. She was pretty, but she looked anxious as her eyes met mine, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and nibbling on her lower lip. “I suppose you’re surprised to see me,” she started, “And I’m sorry to just drop by like this, but I need to talk to you…”
“I’m sorry,” I said, shutting the door and searching my memory for a clue as to who this woman was, “I can’t seem to remember… How do we know each other?”
A flicker of emotion passed across her face. Was that hurt? Disappointment? I could only guess, because she buried the expression with a stiff grin that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Right,” she nodded, crossing her arms across her chest. “You don’t remember me.”
The boy was watching me now, and the intensity of his gaze made me feel like I was under a microscope. What was this kid’s problem? I turned back to the woman. “No,” I confirmed. “I don’t.”
“I guess I should have expected that,” she said, her eyes dropping to the ground as she shook her head at herself. She mumbled, “Why would you remember? It’s not like you had a reason to…”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I was confused.