instincts told him otherwise. All he had to do was figure out who the person was and why he was interested in her.
For several minutes he sat in the car watching for any movement, straining his ears for any sound out of the ordinary, but there was nothing. He saw Ashley peeking out the blinds, then looked down at his phone when it rang; the number flashing across wasn’t familiar.
“Yeah?” Suspicion laced his voice.
“Why are you still parked in front of the house?” Ashley asked.
Smokey chuckled. “I was checking something in the car.”
“It doesn’t look that way.”
“That’s what it is. I was just ready to head out.”
A long pause passed between them before Ashley spoke, “I hope we can go over the marketing campaign tomorrow.”
“Yeah, I’ll let you know in the morning.”
“Goodnight.”
“Yeah.” He hung up the phone, then switched on the engine. After slowly pulling away from the curb, he made his way to the clubhouse.
When Smokey arrived at the club, Hawk was leaning against the brick wall, smoking a joint.
“Hey,” Smokey said, bumping fists with the vice president.
“Hey.”
“Klutch called me—sorry about this shit my brother caused.”
“Yeah, I was ready to bash his face in.” Hawk inhaled deeply, then released a stream of smoke from his lips. “Your brother’s not welcome here. Make sure his ass doesn’t come back.”
Smokey nodded.
“He’s not a fuckin’ member, so he shouldn’t have been here tonight. I know you didn’t tell him to come, but he’s your family, so it’s on you to control him.”
“I know—I got this.”
“Make sure that you do.” Hawk stubbed out the joint on the ground.
Smokey walked inside the club and went straight to his room. Anger sparked inside him, and he had to take several deep breaths to calm down before confronting his brother.
When he opened the door, the room was dark, so he switched on the light. Ryan lay on his back in the bed, his mouth open, snoring loudly. Smokey kicked off his boots then went over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of dark gray pajama pants and a black T-shirt.
After washing up, he switched off the overhead light and shuffled over to the bed. A beam of moonlight cut across Ryan’s face, and the scent of bourbon reeked from him. Smokey stared, watching his brother’s chest rise and fall, and the anger from moments before slowly melted away. Images of his younger brother cowering in the corner of the living room, lips drained of blood, his face pale like a white stone, and his brimming wide eyes fixed on their father—who stalked toward the boy—spewing obscenities as he unbuckled his belt.
Then, the hiss of leather cut through the air as he yelled, “You fucking brat! You’ll never amount to anything. You make me sick!” The memory of the thwack from the strap against Ryan’s skin made Smokey’s muscles bunch, and he saw himself as a young boy again, rushing over to protect his brother. The belt whipped him across his face when he stepped between Ryan and his father. Then his father turned on him as his mother quietly scampered away. It was a scenario that had repeated itself a thousand times in their household.
Smokey reached over and pulled the blanket from the other side of the bed. “You smell just like the old bastard always did,” he mumbled under his breath as he covered his brother.
He walked over to the window and leaned against the sill. He lit a joint and stared into the darkness. Thoughts of Ashley flitted through his mind. He’d enjoyed having dinner with her, and it surprised the hell out of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had that good of a time with a chick and it hadn’t ended in sex. But she’s in danger—I sense it. For some reason, he felt an overpowering need to protect her, which was fucked up since he hardly knew the woman. But then, he didn’t like to see anyone who worked for him be in distress. Yeah, that’s all it is. I’d feel the same way if it were Pearl, Ivy, Sabrina, Georgia, Katrina, or any of my crew.
Smokey stubbed out the joint, then crossed the room to grab a sleeping bag out of the closet. After snagging a pillow off the bed, he spread the bag on the floor and slipped inside, then punched the pillow into shape and closed his eyes.
7
Ashley stood in the doorway of Smokey’s office, once again looking at his empty desk. For the