Read Online Secondhand Smoke (Dartmoor Book 4) by Lauren Gilley - Free Book Online Page A

he’ll live. I think I convinced him not to press charges unless he wants some of his own, with a restraining order to keep away from Holly.”
                  Tango wanted to offer some meaningful comment, but all he said was, “Oh. Okay.”
                  They settled into step beside one another, and it was silent a beat. Two. Three…
                  Ghost said, “I had breakfast with your boyfriend this morning.”
                  It was like he ran into wall. Tango slammed to a halt, shock forcing the air out of his lungs. The shakes hit him hard, jerking through his limbs, clamping his veins tight. “Wh...wha…you…” Alarms blared in his mind, lights flashed.
                  Ghost pulled up in front of him, hands on his hips, the picture of calmness, one brow lifting in question.
                  “I don’t…he’s not…”
                  “It’s okay,” Ghost said, tone low and soothing. “Kev, take a breath. I’m not upset.”
                  Tango dropped his face in his palms, tried and failed to take the suggested breath, lungs seizing.
                  “But I am worried,” Ghost continued. “Whoever he is now, he’s not the guy you used to know. He’s dangerous in a whole different way than anyone else we’ve ever dealt with. Be careful.” He squeezed Tango’s shoulder and stepped back, walked away.
                  When Tango finally got his breathing handled, and lifted his head, his president was halfway back to the clubhouse. He had no idea what had just happened…but he didn’t trust it. Nothing was ever that simple.
     
    ~*~
     
    As it turned out, none of the club’s resources were needed to find Jesse the drug buyer, and abandoner of teenage girls. A quick text to Sam yielded his name and address.
                  “She must be spending too much time at my house,” Mercy said of her, grinning. “She’s turning vigilante.”
                  “If you’d seen her sister looking all skanky this morning, you’d understand,” Aidan said, checking his phone one last time to verify this was the address.
                  It was. And the house was…well, it looked a lot like the sort of frat house nightmare where he belonged. Unmown grass, overflowing trash cans at the curb, rotted and warped woodwork along the windows, all of which had the blinds drawn tight. He could already envision the way it would look and smell inside: the darkness, stink of mildew, of stale takeout food in the fridge.
                  Beside him, Mercy cracked his knuckles.
                  “I was just gonna knock,” Aidan said.
                  Mercy sighed. “Spoilsport. Alright. Knock .”
                  Aidan grinned. “I’m having a shit day already. Having Ava chew my ass out for letting you get arrested isn’t gonna make it any better.”
                  Mercy grinned back. “It’d be fun to watch, though.”
                  Aidan made a disagreeing sound. They reached the front stoop, littered with scrappy year-old leaves and dead grass, and pushed the bell, listened to it echo through the house. He rang it a second time before the lock finally clicked and the door opened.
                  The guy who appeared in the threshold was older than Erin Walton, but not by much. Messy reddish blonde hair, a scruffy pretend beard, bloodshot eyes. He had a puka shell choker around his throat, and a silver cross on a leather string.
                  Douche. Aidan hated him immediately.
                  “You Jesse?” he asked.
                  “Who wants to know?” the guy asked, dashing at his nose with the back of his hand.
                  “Take that as a yes,” Mercy said, and charged into the house, his size, and