Up in Smoke (King #8)

“Sometimes you don’t get to choose where home is. Sometimes home chooses you,” Zelda says, wiping her hand on her apron.

“Zelda, why do you think he tried to push you away all those years ago? What happened to him?”

“He wasn’t pushing us away,” Zelda argues. “Quite the opposite. He was staying away because he didn’t want to bring his troubles into our lives. Don’t you see? He was loving us, the only way he knew how.”

“By staying away from you,” I say with some semblance of understanding beginning to sink in.

“Yes, and I’m afraid he still thinks that way no matter how many times I try to tell him otherwise.” Zelda smiles and shakes her head. “I wish things were simple, but Smoke…he’s not a simple man.”

“But you two are close now? I mean, you seem close,” I say.

“In some ways, yes. In others…well, some things never change.” Zelda stands up. “I’m going to go freshen my tea.”

She leaves me alone on the porch. I hear barking in the distance and look up to see The Warden with another snake in his mouth. He’s tossing it around in the air like it’s a Frisbee. My eyes fall on the porch box in the corner, and I can’t help my curiosity.

I kneel and lift the rusted metal lid. It’s empty…except for a bouquet of fresh wildflowers.

Zelda comes back out to the deck just as Smoke comes into view carrying a huge bundle of wood over his shoulder. He’s shirtless, wearing only his jeans, boots, and a pair of work gloves. His tattooed body is glistening with sweat. His long dark hair is tied into a knot on the top of his head. He sets the wood down with ease in front of the dilapidated fence and using his hands, he grips an old crumbling post and lifts it from the ground, tossing it to the side with ease before replacing it with a new one.

Zelda sees me watching him.

“You know, just because a relationship doesn’t conform to the standard shapes you were taught in preschool doesn’t mean they don’t fit together. We may not all be triangles or squares, but we’re still shapes. That boy over there,” she says, pointing her teacup at Smoke.

It sounds odd her calling him a boy especially when he yanks another post from the ground with one hand.

“He’s my child in every way. Not every child requires three squares a day and a story at bed time. Some just need a box on the porch and the freedom to run free.”

She gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Just give him time.”

Time for what?

“Time isn’t something I have much of,” I say, looking down to my hands.

Zelda doesn’t ask why, and I suspect she knows a lot of what I’m not telling her already. She squeezes my shoulder again and sighs. “Time isn’t something any of us really have.”

It isn’t. I look down at my lap.

“Rage was right, you do feel something for him.” Zelda says, watching my expression. “I can’t blame you. I was always attracted to the complicated ones myself. My Barney being the most complicated of them all.”

My eyes snap to hers.

“I know everything, dear,” she says with a sweet smile. “Let me tell you this one thing.” She leans in close and gently tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek. “Never ever underestimate a woman, especially yourself. We are in charge despite what anyone might say or think. You have more control over your life than you give yourself credit or blame for. Also, Smoke seems to think he don’t feel things like a normal person. That he was born without a conscience or a heart but he’s wrong.”

“He is?”

She nods. “He is. It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything, it’s that he feels everything. And for a man capable of such atrocities it’s hard for him to justify it any other way.”

It hits me. I’ve been blaming Smoke for ripping me away and holding me hostage, but really, none of this is his fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who stole the money from Griff and set the wheels in motion. I’m the one who embarked on some sort of deep web crusade to save the world without fully appreciating the consequences of my actions.

Zelda and The Warden make me think of all I had in the world before I was brought here, and it wasn’t much. A sort-of friendship with Duke. A one-sided love-hate thing with neighbor’s meddling cat.

Smoke isn’t the problem at all, I realize.

He’s the consequence.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





Griff is close to finding Frank. Soon, revenge will be mine. I’m in shock that Griff got a hit on Frank. I was beginning to believe Frankie when she said her old man wouldn’t materialize no matter what we threatened him with.

But it was hard to focus on revenge after that shit-storm on the couch and the text from Griff. I find myself needing a release like a snake bite victim needs anti-venom. I’m dying, or I’m already dead, because visions of Frankie gyrating her hot pussy up and down my lap are all I can see. Even hard physical labor of replacing Zelda’s fence posts didn’t tire me out enough to stop my imagination from running wild with what could’ve happened. What I’d wanted to happen.

What Frankie wanted to happen.

After taking Frankie back from Zelda’s, I spend half of the night in the same bed with her trying to pretend this thing between us isn’t a thing. It’s better that way. I promised I’d deliver her to Griff. That was the deal. I can’t go back on my word when Griff was the one who gave me the Frank Helburn lead to begin with.

Frankie’s asleep. Her warm body just inches from mine. The covers slip, and I’m staring at a perfect pink nipple on a made-for-my-mouth pale creamy tit.

I’m rock fucking hard. I salivate, imagining my tongue lapping against her nipple. Sucking it. Making her moan as it peaks in my mouth. Imagining her wet and ready for me to take her any fucking way I goddamned please.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I’m a grown fucking man, and I’m drooling.

I have needs. I’m a man. That’s all this shit is.

I slip out of bed and make sure the cuff tethering her to the bed is tight. I leave the house, get on my bike, and head over to a local dive bar. Within minutes, I find a busty and willing redhead who I take back to the house.

I bring the redhead into the living room, but I leave the door to the bedroom open. I tell myself it’s because I want to make sure I can keep an eye on Frankie as she sleeps, but as the redhead unzips my fly, I realize it’s because I want to keep my eyes on her. As my cock enters the stranger’s mouth, it feels all wrong. I try to close my eyes, but all I see is Frankie.

I open them again, and all I see now is bright red lips and dark blue eyeshadow bobbing up and down on my dick. I feel myself softening. I look at the ceiling and thread my fingers through the redhead’s hair, impaling her on my cock. She makes a choking sound followed by a moan, and I lift my hips to fuck her mouth, but I can’t reach the release that’s so close. I just need…