Page 71 of Smokey's Distraction
He winked at her. “Whatever you say,darlin’.”
Letting out an exasperated huff, she opened the door and marched out of the office.
It was hot as fuck the way she was making him work for it. No woman had ever affected him the way she did. There was something about her that ignited a fire deep inside his darkness. He felt drawn to her in a way that both stymied and excited him.
“Women.” Chuckling, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and removed the piece of paper Ryan had given him with the name of Hannah Gleason scrawled across it.
In less than a minute, he had her address and place of employment. It always amazed him how willing people were to share every aspect of their lives on social media.
The Cole Brothers wouldn’t arrive at his office for another two hours, which gave him plenty of time totalkto the alleged victim about what she claimed Ryan had done to her. Smokey knew she was bullshitting, but he wanted to find outwhy. He had a nagging feeling that someone had put her up to this, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out the whole story. He ducked into the en suite bathroom, changed his clothes, and left the office.
The ride to Newberry’s on West Main Street was a short one. With its red and white striped awning, and white painted brick façade, the dime-store stood out among the brown brick buildings that lined both sides of the street.
Smokey took off his sunglasses and put them in his jacket pocket as he walked into the store. Cool air fanned his face as he stood by a bin of novelties, scanning the area. He was looking for a short, bleached-blonde woman with facial piercings. The store was busy, but that wasn’t a surprise. Newberry’s had been a town favorite for several decades. Replete with pressed tin ceilings, wood floors, and a candy counter, entering the dime-store evoked memories of simpler times, when life was lived at a much slower pace.
A tall, willowy woman wearing a red apron approached him. Turning, he walked in the opposite direction to avoid her, and that’s when he saw Hannah Gleason at the soda fountain in the back of the store. There were a few people seated at the counter, and another employee helping her out. Shoving both hands into his pockets, Smokey made his way toward her, and almost bumped into a trio of boys huddled around the gumball machine.
Hannah came over and wiped the marble counter, then set a glass of water in front of him. Light brown eyes moved over his muscled arms to his chest, then slowly up to his face where her gaze settled. She smiled wide.
“The specials are Frito pie and grilled egg salad with bacon and cheese. Oh, and homemade butterscotch ice cream. It’s real good.” Licking her lips, she leaned over the counter.
“When’s your break?” he asked.
Raising her eyebrows, she pulled the top of her uniform down a bit. “Why do you want to know?”
“Do you have to ask?”
Her face relaxed, her lips turning up into a wicked smile as she glanced over at a fellow soda jerk, then back to Smokey. “Hang on a sec.” The sway of her hips was exaggerated as she walked away.
A few minutes later, Smokey was behind the store with her. He leaned against the wall, one knee bent, his foot pressing flat against the bricks at his back. His gaze skimmed over the nametag on her uniform.
“We gotta talk, Hannah.”
“How do you know my name?” He pointed to the nametag on her uniform, and she giggled. “What’s your name?”
He ignored her question. “I’ve got a problem, Hannah—a big problem.”
She giggled again. “And you want me to fix it?” Her gaze shifted to his crotch, then back to his face.
“Yeah, I want you to fix it. I’m hoping you cooperate, ’cause I don’t wanna get rough with you.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked down at the ground. “I like rough sometimes.”
“I wanna know one thing—why the fuck did you lie about my brother touching you?”
Her eyes snapped up to his, her coy smile gone. “What are you talking about?”
Smokey pushed away from the wall. “The bullshit you told the police about Ryan Harty.”
A scowl crossed her face. “That’s why you wanted me to come out here with you?”
“I wanna know who told you to make up that BS. And don’t even think of lying to me.” He stood less than a foot from her—motionless, and staring menacingly.
Hannah cast a quick glance at the store’s back door.
“Don’t even think about it,” he gritted out.
“I didn’t mean to get your brother into trouble. He opened his coat, and I just sort of … freaked. And when he came over, I thought he was going to hurt me or something.”
