Smokey (Hell's Bastards MC 2)

This was her dream, and it was gone as quickly as she thought it could be possible. She was the biggest fool.

Resting her forehead against her knee, she didn’t know how much time had passed. The energy to get up and clean was gone. All she wanted to do was go curl up and forget this had ever happened. This was the nightmare she didn’t want to come back to.

She stared across the floor at all the mess. Tomorrow, she’d clean it up. As she began to work out a plan, her cell phone rang.

Pulling it out of her pocket, she recognized the cleaning services number.

She frowned and clicked accept.

“Hello,” she said.

“Is this Ms. Ava Sinclaire?”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry about my misinformation. We have plenty of openings. We have a cleaning crew on their way to your shop right now.”

“Wait, what?”

“And please, don’t worry about the bill. It has been settled, and my sincerest apologies.”

The line hung up before Ava could ask for more details.

Just as she was about to call them back, her cell phone rang. This time, from one of the builders.

She took the call, and the same thing happened. They were on their way to get measurements for new windows and to board them up until they were able to fix them. Again, the bill had been taken care of.

As she stared at her cell phone, she knew it didn’t take a genius to work out what had happened.

Smokey had taken care of it.

She didn’t move.

When the cleaning crew arrived, no one approached her. No words were spoken. They just got to work as if it was an everyday occurrence to see a trashed shop and the owner sitting in the corner.

People worked around her as if she wasn’t there. She watched them work.

The pain in her body was the only indication she was alive because every other part of her felt so numb.

****

Three days later

Smokey stared down at the check written to him.

It was in Ava’s writing.

The money was the exact amount for the cleaning crew and the builders.

He’d ridden past the shop earlier to find it had been perfectly cleaned and the windows were back in place. The shop looked brand-new. Only, it was closed.

There was no sign of Ava either.

Several of the brothers had gone past on each day to see. The windows had been fixed within twenty-four hours as he’d paid the extra to have the process speeded up.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asked, coming to stand beside him.

He didn’t hide the check.

The club felt Ava’s loss. They all did. No one had any idea of how to make it up to her.

“She wouldn’t even let you pay for the damage.”

“I don’t blame her,” Smokey said.

“What are you going to do?” Hunter asked.

Smokey stared down at the rectangular piece of paper. He’d never been hurt by something so trivial. He had a lot of money and was aware Ava wasn’t hurting for money either. Her parents had been sure to take care of her.

Tearing up the check, he refused to take her money. She was going to realize there was no running away from him.

“Has Hanson finished with Ryan yet?”

Collecting Ryan from Carlos had gone without a hitch. He was starting to believe the man was true to his word.

People were surprising him left and right.

“Smokey?”

“Well?”

“He’s still enjoying torturing him.”

“I don’t want him to make the final blow until after I’ve spoken to him.” Smokey tossed the torn check into the trash bin.

“What do you want to do about her?” Hunter asked.

“Nothing yet. She’s hurting. I’ll take care of the bills when they arrive. I want a set of eyes on her at all times. Creed will be watching for the fallout unless he’s already aware of it.”

“You want me to set up a meeting with him?”

“No. I’m not interested in talking with that asshole. The only thing I want to do is kill him.” He thirsted for Creed’s blood and wanted to hear the son of a bitch’s screams. All in good time.

He and Creed had been able to exist so long as they stayed out of each other’s business. Now that Creed had invaded that, all bets were off.

“I want to call in every single favor we have. By the end of this week, I want to know everything the Twisted Bastards are into. Got it?”

“Got it. The boys will love going to war with them.”

Smokey turned on his heel and made his way into the clubhouse. Ignoring the bar, even though he really wanted a drink, he went straight to his office. Sitting down in his chair, he stared up at the ceiling.

Anger pulsed through every single fiber of his being. The need to kill rushed through him. Acting out now would only cause more problems, and he’d fucked up enough for one day.