Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

  Up in Smoke

  A Firehouse Three Novel

  Sidney Bristol

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  Inked Press

  Up in Smoke

  A Firehouse Three Novel

  He’s always loved her.

  Fireman Chaz Fairchild has always held more than brotherly affection for his former step-sister—a wild child with a nose for danger. When Payton shows up on his doorstep without notice, days before Christmas, he knows she’s in trouble. He’ll do anything to keep her safe, but can he protect her from his forbidden desire? Touches turn to kisses and more as Chaz does his best to show Payton he’ll put it all on the line for her.

  She knows she’s bad for him...

  Undercover DEA Agent Payton Harris can’t let anyone too close. But Chaz is her anchor, her heart, the person who keeps her going at the darkest of times—and her enemies know it. Loving him means putting him at risk, which is why she has to walk away from any chance of a future with him. But when Chaz is taken prisoner by the people she’s been hunting, Payton will have to trade herself for his safety or risk losing the one person she’s ever been able to love.

  Danger threatens to send this holiday UP IN SMOKE.

  Gina and Nina, you guys keep me anchored.

  Love does not appear with any warning signs.

  You fall into it as if pushed from a high diving board. No time to think about what’s happening. It’s inevitable. An event you can’t control. A crazy, heart-stopping, roller-coaster ride that just has to take its course.

  ―JACKIE COLLINS

  Table of Contents

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  19.

  Epilogue.

  1.

  Fireman Chaz Fairchild was going to barbeque those kids if they didn’t stop knocking on his damn door. Ever since Halloween—he’d thought it was a great idea to hand out candy dressed as a mummy—they’d been coming around. If he could go back and tell himself to pop a pain pill and prop his cast up instead, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

  “God damn kids,” he muttered.

  The Christmas wreath and lights obscured the view out the front door, but even then, the kids were so short he wouldn’t see them anyway.

  So far, the hooligans hadn’t done more than knock and run off, laughing. Truth be told, he kind of liked a few of them, he just wished getting up and around were a bit easier.

  Here goes.

  Chaz jerked the door open, roaring, “What?”

  The woman on the other side of the door sputtered and chuckled, her head tossed back, glossy black and silver hair cascading over her shoulders in big curls. Her laugh brought back memories. Teasing words. Lace panties. Nights spent looking up at the stars. And the best string of wet dreams of his life.

  Her smile widened, eyes sparkling.

  He stared.

  What was she doing here?

  “Payton?” He blinked a couple times to make sure it was really Payton Harris, his former, sort of, still step-sister and the star of his every youthful fantasy, standing on his doorstep.

  What—the—fuck?

  “Hi. Miss me?” Payton tossed her bag in the door.

  She wrapped her arms around him, head tucked under his chin, and squeezed tight. He stared down at her hair, dimly noting that there was a hell of a lot more silver in it than there had been last time he’d seen her. She’d always had some gray, it was a genetic family thing that caused her jet-black hair to lose pigment and go silver. By the time he’d met her at sixteen, she was already a salt-and-pepper, teenage vixen. Other girls might have dyed their hair, try to hide it, but not Payton. She embraced her oddities, the things that set her apart.

  Shit.

  When was the last time he’d seen her?

  Before last Christmas.

  Thanksgiving?

  She’d gushed about a new job she’d landed for someone named Mr. Smoke.

  God damn, it was good to see her. He worried about her. Constantly. Every Tuesday he watched the clock, waiting for nine p.m. when his phone would ring and she’d be on the other end of the line.

  Chaz squeezed her tighter. How many times had he regretted that fight they’d had when she’d last been there? It’d been a knockdown, drag-out kind of fight. He remembered that in stark detail, because she’d left bright and early without telling him goodbye. Mom had cried. It’d taken Payton two weeks to answer his calls so he could apologize. Not that he’d been wrong, he knew he was right. Damn it. There was no way Payton was just some guy’s personal assistant. It was in the way she talked about it, how her face had lit up.

  Whoever this Mr. Smoke was, Chaz hated the dick. He hated any and every man who touched Payton. His sister. S-i-s-t-e-r. The step part didn’t really matter, since her father had died. He and his mom were all the family she had left in the world. He needed to remind himself of that.

  “W-what are you doing here?” A brisk breeze swept through the front door. Texas might not be the coldest place on the planet in the winter, but the chilly wind could slice through ten layers of fabric. “Get inside, it’s cold.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.” She slapped his shoulder and followed. “You really Grinched up the place. Where’s your tree? Martha seriously hasn’t made you put one up yet?”

  “Mom’s on a cruise.” Not that she lived here anymore. Hadn’t since he bought the place and moved her into a cushy condo. The rest he didn’t want to talk about. Shit. When Payton found out about his knee...he’d have to go on not telling her. It wasn’t like she ever stuck around long, and their weekly phone chats never went more than surface-level stuff. If he watched the game that week, how was work, was Mom okay. Nothing deeper.

  “Really?” Payton grinned that same wild-child grin. With her silver-and-black-streaked hair, she looked more like a pixie than a human. “Good for her.”

  She shrugged out of her coat and Chaz frowned.

  Payton had always been slender, but under the puffy coat she was downright...gaunt. Was she using again? There’d been a stint in her mid-twenties that’d been pretty damn scary. She’d just appeared on Mom’s sofa one morning, eyes red, saying she needed help. He’d never been more scared of losing her than he’d been that week.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” he asked before he could think better about it.

  “Way too long ago. Please tell me you have something in the fridge? I’d eat the hell out of a cheese stick. Celery. Cardboard. I’m starving.” She smoothed her hands down her tank top.

  What the hell was she wearing? Flip-flops. Jeans. Tank top.

  “Where have you been?” He peered at her face, looking for the signs.

  She held still, staring right back at him.

  Under the make-up and the lines that life had carved around her mouth, she was still the girl who’d wrecked his life. In a good way. Chaz would always love her. Care for her. He just...he wanted better for her.

  “What?” She thrust her chin forward.

  That was Payton, always looking for a fight.

  “I just put a roast in the fridge. Let’s make you a plate.”

  Her eyes weren’t dilated. Her skin was sooth, flawless. Besides the weird timing and inappropriate winter clothes she was just...Payton. Which probably said a lot more about what was going on than anything else. Payton went where Payton wanted to go, and for whatever reason
, she was here.

  Chaz forced himself to walk to the kitchen, gritting his teeth against the urge to limp.

  Just because he was used to Payton’s...wildness, didn’t mean something was up. Maybe she really was just here for a visit?

  And maybe pigs could fly.

  Something was up. He’d bet money on it, and that’s what worried him.

  What would happen if he wasn’t there for her one day? Who would look out for her? That was his job as her...friend.

  He pulled the leftovers out of the fridge, nudged her toward the table when she tried to take over, and made her a big plate of food.

  He’d just turned sixteen when his mother introduced him to Calvin Harris, the man who’d become his step-father. Chaz had always known his mother needed someone to take care of, and Calvin was a wreck. A reformed con man with a teenage daughter who couldn’t be controlled. What the family hadn’t known was that Calvin had had tumors and not long to live. But he’d loved Chaz’s mother and made her happy for nearly eight years before he, like Chaz’s father, passed away. At least that time it was on their terms, unlike the accident that took Chaz’s father.

  Chaz had resented the hell out of Calvin and, to some extent, Payton. Until that night.

  He glanced at her, watching her twirl a lock of hair around her finger, chin perched in her hand, smiling at him. For all her appearances, Payton was an amazing woman.

  That night, the anniversary of his father’s passing, everything had changed. He’d been so...angry at Mom, watching her dote on Calvin as if Dad didn’t matter one bit. In a huff, he’d gone outside and lain on the trampoline. Payton had followed not much later and instead of prodding him and poking at the wound he couldn’t conceal...she’d curled up next to him, and whispered the truth.

  “She’s hurting, same as you. She misses your dad, but she’s a caregiver. She’s pouring all that hurt, all that grief into doing something for someone else.”

  Those words were lodged in his brain all these years later.

  It was the moment when he’d gone from hating Payton...to loving her. Because she saw the truth when others didn’t. She could see past appearances, past what people wanted others to see, to the heart of the matter.

  Chaz swallowed that down deep.

  For all of Payton’s insightful ways, she’d never realized the truth about him, and he hoped she never did. Because she needed someone in her corner for when things went sideways.

  Like now.

  Payton...she wasn’t the kind of girl who could be tamed. What the hell was she into now?

  Alice Douglas concentrated on breathing through her mouth, not her nose, or else the stench of a million dead things would assault her senses.

  She could hear the Drug Enforcement Agency officers yards away, combing over what should have been her largest shipment of designer drugs to date. The test market for her new concoction of heroin and feel good pills proved that the stuff was highly addictive and would create a rush for more demand.

  But now the DEA had almost her entire supply.

  Months spent finding just the right combination of cheap and expensive stuff, only to have it blown up in her face.

  The only people who knew about the new drug, besides the testing group, were her people. She could count the number of them still alive on one hand and still have fingers left over.

  Brent. Payton. Roy. Wayne.

  Roy and Brent were out of the question. They were loyal.

  Payton was her right-hand girl, and the face of Mr. Smoke, so Alice could sit back and watch prospective clients squirm.

  It had to be Wayne.

  The bastard.

  He was going to regret having double-crossed her.

  Alice needed to get out of here and find Payton. Together, they’d track Wayne down, put a bullet between his eyes and move on.

  She breathed deep, too deep, and got a lungful of the rotting garbage all around her.

  Disgusting.

  Payton practically licked her plate clean.

  Would it be rude to ask for more?

  God, she’d thought she’d never be full again.

  She hadn’t wanted to stop for anything, not even a burger or gas station granola bar, since leaving Galveston. She’d taken cabs, Ubers, buses, even hitchhiked for a stretch, just to make sure she hadn’t been followed. Now that she was here, food was the only thing she could think about. Well, almost.

  Chaz’s knee bumped hers under the table, reminding her of his presence. She always forgot how he loomed over her. He was so damn big. And grumpy.

  She glanced up and found him watching her. Still.

  He thought she was a drug addict and call girl, or something of the sort. She hadn’t the heart to come out and ask him what he thought she did for a living. Knowing would hurt.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. Ever. It didn’t make that close, careful way he studied her grate any less.

  She licked the fork nice and slow.

  Let him watch that.

  Teasing Chaz had always been her favorite hobby.

  He was such a rule-following goodie two-shoes. It was cute winding him up and watching him sputter, losing his marbles when she stepped out of line.

  Did he know half the time the only reason she’d done stuff like that was to get a rise out of him? To get his attention?

  She wasn’t proud of the way she’d acted out as a kid, but it’d happened. They’d poked and prodded each other, smoothing out the other’s rough edges until they each uncovered the person they were supposed to be. She wouldn’t be Payton without Chaz. If it weren’t for him, she’d have had a lot more growth to do, some of that the hard way.

  These days Chaz was her anchor. Her point of regular life contact that reminded her why the sacrifices she made were worth it. What she was fighting for. And if that meant that Chaz had to wonder about her health, well, it was a small price to pay for the greater good.

  “Thanks for dinner.” She set the fork down and propped her chin on her hand.

  “Glad you liked it.”

  His reception was frosty, per usual these days.

  Payton had been banking on Martha being around. Her step-mom would insist on Payton staying with her, and Chaz would counter and say there was more room at his place and she’d be set. At least until she got the call. Without Martha, she wasn’t so sure Chaz would welcome her under his roof. Sure, they might chat regularly, but it wasn’t like he knew her anymore. She wasn’t the same girl who’d grown up under this roof.

  “What are you doing for Christmas, if Martha isn’t around?” Payton sat forward, pressing her knees against his.

  “Picking up a shift at the firehouse.” Chaz shifted, turning his big body away from her and stretching his legs out.

  He was favoring his left knee.

  He didn’t want her to know about it. She spent her life watching for micro expressions. It was hard to not read it in the crease of his face, his body language, even the way he cocked his head.

  What’d happened?

  Had he fallen?

  Been in an accident?

  “Dang. I guess I’m on my own then.” She sighed, throwing in some dramatics.

  Shit.

  Okay.

  Well, she needed a back-up plan.

  A motel would do. She might hate it, but it wasn’t like she had a place of her own to go to.

  Chaz checked his watch.

  The fireman routine.

  He must be on shift soon.

  “I guess I’ll get out of your hair then.” She picked up her plate.

  Chaz’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Deep frown lines bracketed his mouth. “It’s Christmas. You’ll stay your ass right here.”

  A shiver stole down Payton’s spine.

  Chaz had these moments when he was downright domineering. It was kind of sexy. If he wasn’t so stuck on them once, years ago, sort of being siblings...

  Oh,
well, she’d rather have him in her life than not at all.

  “Yes, sir.” She gave him a middle finger salute, because she had to. If he thought she wanted to stay here, he’d ask questions she couldn’t brush off.

  “Your room just needs some fresh sheets. I’ll get them for you.” Chaz slowly pushed to his feet. Yup. There was a wince. He tried to hide it, but he wasn’t as good as her at pretending everything was fine.

  “Oh, please. Like I can’t make a bed. Go on. I’ve probably upset your precious routine.” She stood and went up on tip-toe to kiss his cheek. “I can clean up. I swear.”

  “You haven’t washed a dish in your life. Give me that.” He took her plate and fork to the sink where he scrubbed them both half to death.

  Was he trying to remove any trace of her?

  Would he bleach the whole room when she was gone?

  Martha had always left Payton’s room alone, but after she’d sold the house to Chaz this last spring, Payton had to wonder what he’d done to the place. She wanted him to go to bed so she could investigate on her own.

  If she could remove her feelings from it, it would make sense for Chaz to strip her room down to the studs and renovate it. He’d likely want an office or a workout room. The idea of her place in his life being reduced to a couple pictures hurt.

  Chaz had no idea how important he was to her. How much it meant to her to have his steady, stubborn presence in her life. All she was to him was a fuckup. A constant reminder that he’d once had a better life, with better people.

  “Hey.” Chaz’s hand wrapped around hers.

  He’d caught her woolgathering.

  Payton shook her head and smiled up at him.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  Only that her pseudo-boss was getting taken down tonight. After this, Payton would spend the next six months of her life in a fishbowl being examined and prepped to testify. Wasn’t exactly a lot to look forward to.

  “Full. Feel my baby?” She took his hand and pressed it to her stomach.

  His eyes widened and he stared at her abdomen.

  Really?

  “It’s a food baby, and you’re the father.” She grinned.

  “Payton.” Chaz rolled his eyes.

  “Goodnight, brother mine.”

  She nudged him down the hall.