Guns & Smoke
The Fool's Adventure Series, Volume 1
Lauren Sevier and A. Smith
Published by Lauren Sevier, 2021.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
GUNS & SMOKE
First edition. July 10, 2021.
Copyright © 2021 Lauren Sevier and A. Smith.
ISBN: 978-1734402339
Written by Lauren Sevier and A. Smith.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One - Bonnie
Chapter Two - Jesse
Chapter Three - Bonnie
Chapter Four - Jesse
Chapter Five - Bonnie
Chapter Six - Jesse
Chapter Seven - Bonnie
Chapter Eight - Jesse
Chapter Nine - Bonnie
Chapter Ten - Jesse
Chapter Eleven - Bonnie
Chapter Twelve - Jesse
Chapter Thirteen - Bonnie
Chapter Fourteen - Jesse
Chapter Fifteen - Bonnie
Chapter Sixteen - Jesse
Chapter Seventeen - Bonnie
Chapter Eighteen - Jesse
Chapter Nineteen - Bonnie
Chapter Twenty - Jesse
Chapter Twenty-One - Bonnie
Chapter Twenty-Two - Jesse
Chapter Twenty-Three - Bonnie
Chapter Twenty-Four - Jesse
Chapter Twenty-Five - Bonnie
Chapter Twenty-Six - Jesse
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Bonnie
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Jesse
Chapter Twenty-Nine - Bonnie
Chapter Thirty - Jesse
Chapter Thirty-One - Bonnie
Chapter Thirty-Two - Jesse
Acknowledgments
Also By Lauren Sevier
Also By A. Smith
About the Author
About the Publisher
To best friends, whiskey, and the roll of the dice...
Chapter One - Bonnie
I didn’t particularly like the idea of killing the handsome, blue-eyed stranger, but he wouldn’t be the first. I tightened the laces on my boot, then sank into the shadows between the ramshackle buildings, my eyes never leaving him. He was the most beautiful mark I’d ever seen. On first glance, an easy one, but I look closer than most and could tell immediately this man was more than he appeared. Brushing the red sand off my fingers, I stalked close enough to make out the broad width of his shoulders. A wicked smile curled over my lips as I caught sight of the bag slung over one of those delicious shoulders. Bingo.
This part of the Vegas strip was crowded; it was the same in other cities too, dilapidated shops and makeshift markets encroaching on the well in the center of the square. Here in the desert, there was only one God: water. And like the God of old... absent too often.
My mark, the blue-eyed man, bypassed the lines of people waiting for their daily ration and walked directly into the middle of the fray. Fuck. Almost immediately, I lost sight of him in the crowd. Tugging my hood low over my face, I barreled after him, ducking and twisting through the throng.
“Step right up! Only two brass bits and you can own a piece of the Salt Lake bombs! Rare and radioactive—"
“—all the way from the Borderlands. You’ve never tasted anything like this!”
“And the Lord sent fire raining down from the sky, in the Culling, punishing us for our sins.”
The cacophonous din of the market overwhelmed my senses as I searched for my mark in the crowd. I snorted derisively at the hysterical man preaching on the corner. The Culling wasn’t any God-like retribution. It was what happened when greedy, entitled men had access to nuclear bombs. I tried not to get distracted by the mouthwatering scent of rat roasting on skewers, but it’d been a long time since I’d eaten meat. Chewing the cuticle of my thumb instead, I took a steadying breath and paused a moment to remember the details I’d gleaned from my quarry so far.
He was young, early twenties, and handsome. His features were so chiseled it was hard to imagine he was made of flesh instead of stone. The long ridge of his nose led to sculpted lips that seemed carved with precision beneath a pair of the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. They’d caught my notice initially. Their color a striking shade of clear, light blue splintering into dark navy, reminding me of heat lightning. In contrast to his stubbled jaw and corona of golden hair, bleached from too long under the desert sun, his expression had been almost boyish.
Think Bonnie, think.
What did the details tell me? Pack of supplies over his shoulder, wide-eyed—almost innocent—expression, days or weeks in the desert sun. The realization hit me all at once: he’d traveled here from far away. A dark chuckle escaped my lips as I headed in the direction of the red district. There was one thing almost guaranteed to pique the interest of a man who’d been traveling for that long. The prospect of sex.
In my excitement to find him, I grew reckless, something I couldn’t afford to be. Crossing the busy thoroughfare hastily, I knocked into a man almost twice my size. My hood flew back, exposing my scowling face as I stumbled on clumsy feet. The man gripped my arm, steadying me. I jutted my chin with a withering glare and a scathing curse poised on my lips. That is, until I noticed the dark crimson ink in the shape of a fist covering his pounding pulse.
My stomach dropped to the red sand at my feet. Immediately I lowered my eyes, letting my long black hair obscure some of my features from his suspicious gaze. The tattoo marked him as a member of the Crimson Fist, a gang of bounty hunters and assassins that controlled this part of the strip. Their only God was money, and I had a hefty price on my head.
“Sorry,” I murmured as quietly as I could.
“You look familiar,” he said, his grip digging into the muscle of my upper arm. “Do I know you?”
“No,” I said, my fingers twitching toward the back pocket of my shorts. “Just here for my rations.” He grunted, his eyes trailing to a rough sketch on a wanted poster hung on a wall a few feet away. Fuck. His other hand came up to my face, pushing the long strands of hair away. I saw the moment he made the connection: back stiffening, eyes dulling into a hard glare, lips pulled too far away from his teeth. I offered him a pretty smile and flicked the knife from my back pocket into my palm. Before he could raise the alarm, I shoved forward with all my body weight, feeling a crunch as the blade sank deep into the base of his throat.
His eyes went wide, mouth dropping open and shut soundlessly as the warm rush of blood spilled over my hand and down my front. He slumped forward, losing strength in his legs, and before he collapsed completely, I shuffled him toward the entrance of an alley, giggling seductively so any onlookers might think we were just enamored lovers stealing a few moments of privacy.
Once cloaked in shadow, I dropped my arms and let him crumple to the ground. The red sand consumed the crimson puddle rapidly growing around him with each moment that passed. His dark eyes were frantic, hands scrambling toward me as if I would help him. Instead, I placed a boot on his chest and leaned low enough that he could see the apathy in my expression.
“I’m never going back,” I said coldly. Then the light in his eyes went dim and his arm went still before falling lifeless to the sand.
I tried to pull the knife from his throat, twice, but it was wedged too deep and the hilt was too slick with his blood. Even bracing one foot against his chest couldn’t dislodge it. My skin felt sticky now, as his blood started to dry on my hands. I wiped them off on his pants and found a bottle of water strapped to his belt. The son of a bitch forced rations on everyone else but got as much as he could guzzle
down.
Looking down at my shirt, I swore. It was completely ruined. There was no way I could walk through the crowds unseen soaked in blood. Peeling it off as carefully as I could, I discarded it next to his prone form. My undershirt was much more revealing, but still covered my left arm and the ugly scar that marked me as a fugitive. I would miss the safety of hiding beneath my hood. Using the last of the man’s water, I rubbed as much of the blood off my hands and neck as I could. After checking myself three times, I decided I couldn’t get any cleaner.
Rummaging quickly through his pockets, I scoffed at what I found, which was surprisingly little. Three brass bits, a handful of water ration coupons, and a small vial of glowroot with its telltale iridescent blue light.
Slipping out of the alleyway as inconspicuously as possible, I kept my silent footfalls near the buildings, letting the darkness obscure me. I should give up now. I knew that. The blue-eyed stranger wasn’t a priority, not when the tenuous safety I’d gathered around me had been shattered into pieces. I had a choice to make: look for my mark or get off the streets.
I'd be damned if I lost a knife and my favorite shirt for nothing.
Quickening my pace, I found myself back near the well as I crossed into the red district. Whores with their signature red ribbon chokers perched on stoops, in varying states of undress. Everything in Vegas was for sale, if you knew where to look. I skittered around the lines of people, my hands finding the cool metal and ivory of a gun shoved in the back waistband of my shorts. The gun was dainty and only .22 caliber. An ornamental piece, with a carved ivory handle worn down with age. I knew each groove and line like the planes of my own face. Her name was Selene, and just like me, no matter how diminutive she might be, she was still deadly.
My mind flickered back to the man lying dead somewhere behind me. Maybe I felt bad about it once, the hustle, but that girl had been broken a long time ago.
Turning the corner, a strong gust of wind from a passing wagon startled me. As the dust settled, my eyes fixated on the visage of a man down the lane. A tall, blonde whore leaning alluringly against a post stole his attention, beckoning him forward. It struck me again how handsome he was, all six feet of him lithe muscle. From the width of his strong shoulders to the trimness of his hips. He dwarfed the whore in front of him, which meant he would tower over me.
He held his shoulders back with some internal confidence that leant a slick grace to his movements. I watched as he tipped his chin to the whore, letting her get a glimpse of those pretty blue eyes. He knew he was handsome. My mouth curled into a devious grin.
I bit my bottom lip, more curious now than I’d been before. This man was a mass of contradictions. He acted like he knew the hustle, how to con and manipulate; I recognized the signs. Yet, he held his bag in a way that left it exposed to pickpockets and got distracted too easily, as if he’d never had to worry about thieves before.
I had to know more. Get closer.
Taking a few confident steps forward, I nearly fell as the gnarled hand of an undesirable reached from the shadows to grip my ankle. I spared a glance at the woman, her face behind her cowl scarred beyond repair. Like a candle at the end of the night, her flesh looked like at one point it’d become liquid and dripped gruesomely down her face.
Gritting my teeth at the interruption, it was hard not to sympathize with her. Hell, it was hard to look at her. Digging into my pockets, I pulled out the water ration coupons and pressed them into her gnarled hand. Then, after a moment, I gave her the bottle of glowroot, too. If anyone deserved to forget for a time, it was her.
“Thhhhank you,” she said, the words whistled on a labored breath.
Instead of answering her, I stepped far enough out of her reach that I could continue on my way. When I looked up again, my mark was nowhere to be found. I huffed, wondering why I was still stalking this man when I needed to get off the streets before I became a permanent resident. Like the man I killed. Fuck this, I thought to myself, whirling in the opposite direction, ready to head home.
Lightning-strike blue eyes.
Shock and delight warred for control within me, keeping me firmly rooted in place. There he was, less than twenty feet away and closing the distance; he’d flanked me. He’d flanked me. That meant he knew I’d been following him... but for how long? The possibility of him having known the entire time, leading me on this chase, thrilled me.
The whore from earlier didn’t want to give him up so easily. She crossed the space to him, allowing the front of her dress to slip down and expose the swell of her breasts. Trailing her fingers over his forearm, she whispered something close to his ear. What the whore didn’t realize yet was that I’d already won this game. His eyes never wavered from my face, a curious spark growing bright within his eyes as a triumphant smile spread wide on my mouth.
Seduction, my favorite weapon, has killed more men than guns ever have. This man, with all his sculpted beauty and countless dizzying contradictions, was mine. To tempt, to lure, even to kill... if it came to that.
The dust-laden breeze drifted towards me, and I tasted the sand on my tongue, the tang of mineral reminding me that after this I would have to leave. Out in the open expanse, away from the dying civilizations crumbling around me, I knew I’d be safe. For a while, at least. One last hurrah.
Slowly, I pushed the long locks of my pin-straight hair over my shoulders to show my face. Aware all the while that his eyes marked each movement. I knew I was beautiful. Beauty was a weapon, my weapon, and I’d cut down more men than I cared to remember wielding it.
I walked toward him, cautiously, noting the nervous bob of his Adam’s apple as the space between us began to disappear. My steps were long and lithe, a seductive swing to my hips. Fifteen feet. A warning trilled down my spine to stay away, that there was more to him than I could clearly discern. Ten feet. The danger forced my heart into a staccato rhythm that exhilarated me. Five feet. His eyes were more honest up close, the glint in them devoid of dark intention. That was surprisingly unexpected.
I turned from him then, a hard left, as if I’d never been walking to him at all. Twisting between people, I kept him in my periphery.
“Wait!” he called behind me, but I didn’t. Instead, I let him chase me this time, twining through the crowds. I’d let him catch a flash of my thigh, a swish of my hips, or a sultry smile before disappearing around a corner or between a group of people.
I was the perfect contradiction to the wasteland surrounding us. My delicate skin, pale and unblemished beneath a shock of long, ink-black hair made my features seem almost doll-like. My body, perfectly on display in my tight undershirt and shorts, highlighted my legs and curves. Athletic, yet curvaceous enough to tempt men to their baser instincts, a hard balance to strike. I knew, intimately, that to this man I would look like a desert mirage made flesh.
Finally, I’d led him to the edge of the red district away from prying eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, halting his pursuit. His eyes flashed back in the direction of the well. Indecision flared bright in his blue eyes; would he follow, or let me get away again?
I faced him then, turning to stare at him plainly, tempting him away from the crowds. I gasped, his handsome face even more devastating up close. A shock of awareness shuddered down my spine. His keen eyes fell to my mouth where I bit my lip. The thrill of danger I’d felt earlier was palpable now, thudding into me with every rapid beat of my heart.
He stepped forward, the heat from his skin a living thing, wavering in the air between us. I assessed him quickly. Sun-darkened skin that ended at his sleeve line, calluses on his palms when he reached toward me. Both signs of hard labor and long hours outside... like on a farm. I blinked up at him in confusion. I’d never met a farmer before. Farmers stayed isolated near the northern borderlands, a thousand miles away.
What the hell was he doing way down here?
I took a step back, reconsidering my trap. He followed. I searched his body with my eyes, looking for the bulge of a knife or
gun hidden somewhere. He’d studied me too, the flush on my cheeks, my rapid breaths, and with every evasion, his eyes darkened in desire as his want for me grew.
He weighed his options, his hot gaze lingering around the crescent of my lips, sliding gently down the elegant curve of my neck. Though there were feet between us, his eyes made my skin tighten as if he’d brushed a callused thumb across my skin. A shiver of pleasure forced its way up my spine.
I wouldn’t let his pretty face distract me from my purpose. One last conquest. Then I could flee before my past caught up to me. Nodding, I beckoned him to follow me. The seductive smile on my lips spread wide over my face as I ducked around the corner of a building into a dark alleyway. Here. I would lay my trap here, away from prying eyes.
A breath. A moment. Then, he was there with me, and I wasn’t alone anymore.
Lightning raced across my skin, and I tasted the metallic sting of electricity on my tongue as his eyes met mine. His were dark with desire that mirrored my own. It lanced up my spine and set my pulse pounding in my ears.
“You’re a woman now, Bonnie. You need to use what you have to lure them. Men want soft women, with curves to press into their hands; they want you to be small and enamored with them. Lure them that way, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Jones’s words rang through my memory, forcing a hitch into my step. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I was in control here. No one else, just me. My mark faltered at the sight. This was it. If I didn’t act now, this con would have been for nothing.
“We don’t have to do any—"
I pressed a single finger to his lips to stop his words, shushing him sweetly. It was better not to know whatever he wanted to say. His lips were soft beneath my fingertip. He nipped at it playfully with his teeth. I pulled my finger back to my mouth and sucked it between my lips, tasting him on my tongue. The gesture seemed to break whatever tenuous hold kept his control leashed so tightly.
Guns & Smoke Page 1