Up in Smoke (King #8)

“We’re working on a way to get on the inside. Got our tech people examining the blueprints. We’ll burn that motherfucker down and everyone in it,” King pipes in.

“Shit, haven’t killed anyone in a while,” Preppy purses his lips and shrugs then begins to stretch like he’s preparing to run a marathon, running in place. “Sounds like a fucking good time to me.”

“We got you,” Bear says. “We all do.”

The thought of finally getting my revenge and getting to keep Frankie makes me smile.

I down another whiskey then Bear walks with me back down to the room where Frankie’s asleep. I push open the door and the smile on my face dies a quick death. My heart falls from my body.

Frankie’s gone.





Chapter Fifty-One





“Okay, let’s do this,” Rage says, pulling out a long knife. She’s standing behind me in her room at the club. I’m sitting down, facing the mirror above the dresser. She turns the knife over, inspecting it. After a few seconds, she seems lost in the glint shining back at her as she rotates it again and again.

I clear my throat, and she glances up at my reflection.

“So how do we do this?” I ask. “Should we do a count to three? I think that’s the best waa—ouch!”

“Or I can just do it now,” Rage sings, having already made the thin slice into my skin below my ear.

“That works, too,” I mutter, trying not to wince in fear she’ll take the whole ear off for shits and giggles.

Rage twists her lips while she works to shove the small device just below the skin under my ear. When she’s done, she covers the wound with a flesh colored patch that matches my skin. “That should do it.”

“Any words of advice?” I ask, feeling terrified. I don’t want to think about the look on Smoke’s face when he realizes I’m gone. I don’t want think about anything other than the plan and what lies ahead.

Think now.

Feel later.

Nothing else matters.

Rage lifts her large blue duffle bag that says LEE COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL on the side and throws it over her shoulders. She shrugs. “Don’t die?”

Rage opens the door, and I follow her out into the darkness of night. We reach the back gate, and she crouches down, tossing her bag through a hole in the fence before crawling through herself. “Don’t die,” I repeat to myself on a whisper. I get on my hands and knees and follow her through. “I’ll try to remember that one.”

As we move through the dark, I focus on why we’re doing this.

The entire reason for me leaving Smoke without telling him.

The surveillance video image. More specifically, the corner of it I didn’t show Smoke. The part where you can see that Griff didn’t leave Morgan’s house empty handed. He was holding a wrapped bundle of towels in his arms, but it isn’t the towels that’s fueled this mission, it’s what was peeking out from underneath them.

A tiny pair of pink feet.





Chapter Fifty-Two





“You’re Rage?” Griff asks, adjusting his glasses as if it would make her morph from a girl to a guy. “I pictured someone different.”

He’s wearing the hat. The one from the surveillance video. White with a black stripe above the brim. He’s much shorter than I imagined, but he’s got this look in his red-rimmed beady eyes. He’s unhinged. Disturbed.

The dread moving up my stomach into my throat threatens to strangle me but I swallow it down.

“Someone with a little more penis perhaps? I get that a lot,” Rage says, pursing her lips, giving the impression that she’s bored. She looks so unruffled. So composed. I wish I could feel that way or at least fake it better because I’m quaking from the inside out. My stomach is twisting as if it decided to take up gymnastics. But even with this level of fear coursing through me, I can’t help but notice that Rage and I make a good team.

Griff looks amused. He sucks his top teeth and steeples his fingers. “That’s exactly what I was expecting.”

“If a dick is what you want, I can cut one off one of your guys and give it to you. Would that make you feel better?” She pulls her blade from the sheath.

Griff smiles. His overly tanned skin is in contrast with his too-white teeth.

Rage, growing impatient, shoves me forward, and I fall onto the ground on my knees. My chin bounces off the concrete since my hands are bound behind my back.

“What’s this? A gift? For me?” Griff asks, looking down at me like I’m a species of goat he’s never seen before. He places his fingers under my chin, and I jerk my head from his touch. This buys me a backhand to my cheek. I see stars.

“Frankie Helburn,” Rage says. “Word is she stole from you. Consider her an offering to prevent the war and the deaths of my brothers that would happen if this bitch keeps hiding behind the walls of my club like a scared bird instead of taking her punishment like a woman. Now say ‘thank you’ like a good boy so I can get the fuck out of here. It’s cold and dark and dusty in this fucking place. You’re like Batman without the cool car.” She gives Griff a once over. “Or the good looks.”

Griff ignores her insult and glances down to me. “You don’t care that I’m gonna kill her?” he asks, straightening his jacket as if it will make him better looking.

Rage rolls her eyes and tightens her hair tie around her long blonde ponytail. “We all die, Griff. Don’t act like that’s a surprise to you. We’re all just biding our time until we meet the dirt again. I’m just buying us a little more time is all. One in exchange for many. I hear that’s how morals work. I’m giving it a shot. Do we have an agreement? The bitch for laying off my club?”

Griff places his hand under his chin and pauses for a moment. “We have a deal.”

Another man comes up and yanks me off the floor, roughly pushing me across the room and tethering me to a small metal chair.

Rage doesn’t look in my direction when I yelp as he tightens the knot on my wrists, cutting off my circulation.

“You don’t care that Smoke won’t be happy with this revelation?” Griff asks curiously. His voice is high-pitched for a man’s. He sounds like a grandmother from Queens.

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there’s bad blood between me and Smoke,” Rage says. “I know people think I abandoned him. Just packed up and left, but he’s the one who broke up the team. He left me so he didn’t have to split the paycheck two ways anymore. So, you see? There’s no love lost between us. I’m looking forward to seeing his face when I tell him I’m the one who brought his bitch back to the kennel. But Smoke’s mine. To kill, to let live. He’s mine. That’s part of this deal.”

“Search her,” Griff orders suddenly.

I’m hoisted out of my chair and patted down. There are hands and fingers everywhere, and I mean everywhere. My eyes water from the painful intrusions.

Rage still looks bored, buffing her nails on her pink t-shirt that reads WHITE GIRL WASTED until they toss me back down onto the chair with such force my tailbone stings.

“We done here?” Rage smooths down her ponytail and taps her foot impatiently.