Her vision blurred.
She blinked.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Shit.
Webb would be here any minute, and she was crying.
The last thing she wanted was to show any weakness or emotion around that man. He still resented her for wanting to be an agent before she’d worked for him. He didn’t want to color inside the lines. He’d wanted her to do everything humanly possible, and not always legal, to get what he needed. Being an agent provided her recourse. A way out, if things went bad. If he asked too much of her.
Like the time he suggested she sleep with a source to get the intel.
Webb didn’t give two shits about her, or Chaz. Webb would use whatever he could to bend her over a barrel and force her to act. Even if that meant putting Chaz at risk.
Payton sank to the carpet, her back braced against the wall, and let herself cry.
Life wasn’t fair. She’d gotten a good dose of that as a girl when her mother dumped her on a motel doorstep then disappeared. Payton had never expected things to be easy. Growing up the way she had, had taught her valuable lessons about the idea of fairness. Anything worth wanting was going to cost some blood, sweat and tears, and even then, it wasn’t a sure thing. Still, for once...she’d tasted what her life could have been like if things were different. If she’d been more normal. If she wasn’t such a train wreck.
The truth, no matter how she wanted it to be otherwise, was that she didn’t deserve Chaz, no matter that he said the reasons were all in her head.
Chaz scrubbed the stove, getting all the gunk that’d built up since his last shift off the appliance. Usually the act soothed him. Cooking and cleaning up were regular, methodical activities.
Today wasn’t normal.
His life was deviating from the path he’d been on ever since the first day his dad put him on a fire truck and he got to ride around the block.
The moment Payton entered his world, he’d known things were different. He’d sat across from her at the dining room table, confused by his mom and this strange, colorful girl he was supposed to treat like a sister.
He’d watched how people treated her, mostly because he was busy watching her. She didn’t try to blend in, she stood out. And she’d gotten a lot of negative attention. Guys wanted to bang her, girls hated her. He’d put more than a few dudes on their asses for trying to follow them home.
The truth?
He wasn’t any better than they were.
He’d looked at what she presented the world and just assumed...
God, he was a shit.
“I think it’s clean.”
Chaz glanced over his shoulder.
Spencer stood at the pass-through window, arms braced on either side.
“How long you been there?” Chaz went back to scrubbing. Spencer’s idea of clean and Chaz’s were two very different things.
“Long enough.” Spencer wandered around the island into the galley kitchen and leaned against the counter. Right in Chaz’s way. “Your sister, huh?”
“She’s not my sister.”
“She’s hot.”
Chaz whirled to face Spencer, who held up his hands.
“Just making an observation, dude,” Spencer said.
“Don’t talk about her that way.”
“Touchy.”
“Fuck off.”
“Tell me why I should keep my mouth shut. You into something?” Spencer crossed his arms over his chest.
The medic was the last person Chaz wanted to confide in. There wasn’t any guarantee that he wouldn’t start talking, and then what?
Fuck.
That was unfair.
Chaz scrubbed his hand over his face.
He was making problems, not fixing them.
Spencer definitely liked to play the field, but he was a stand-up guy when it came to their crew and being there for each other.
“I’m not into anything, and—I’m not trying to avoid the question—but I can’t talk about what happened.” Chaz had promised to keep Payton’s secrets, and that started now. From this moment on, he’d make damn sure he was worthy of her trust.
“But your sister is.”
“She’s not—”
“I know, I’m messing with you.” Spencer relaxed, leaning on the cabinet. “There were a lot of badges at your place.”
“Yup.”
“Makes a guy think she’s...someone who needs protecting.”
Chaz snorted.
Protecting?
That was rich.
She’d saved them.
“Not protecting.” Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “She’s a witness in a case? A fed?”
Chaz didn’t react. At least he tried not to.
“Fed.”
“How the—?”
“I won’t ask any more questions. About this morning.” Spencer chuckled and shrugged. “How’s the knee?”
“Good.”
“Getting some more, regular exercise?” The way Spencer asked, his arched brow, the hitched smile...
Chaz flipped Spencer the bird.
“So, you are. Good exercise, I hope?” Spencer grinned.
“Get out of here.”
“Hey—you guys seen Kyle?” Abby leaned into the mess hall, her long, red braid swaying with her movement.
“Hey, pretty lady.” Spencer waved.
Abby ignored him, looking at Chaz.
Shit.
“No, he’s not on shift.” Chaz checked his watch.
“I know that.” Abby sighed and strolled across the mess hall to lean against the island. “He took my truck to get serviced and was going to pick me up.”
“I can help with that service, Abby.” Spencer grinned.
“Ew. Gross. No, thanks.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Just trying to help.”
“Really?” Chaz glanced from Spencer to Abby.
“What?”
Spencer’s radio crackled to life, summoning him away.
Abby watched him go, gaze narrowed.
“He giving you shit?” Chaz asked.
“Not any more than usual.” She sighed. “He’s just being a dude.”
“If you don’t like it, say the word.”
“No.” She rolled her eyes. “There’s a big difference between Spencer’s lame jokes and sexual harassment.”
“If the only difference is in how he says it, that’s not a big difference to me.”
“Chaz. Stop. I’m a big girl. If he bothers me I can look out for myself, thank you very much. Spencer’s not that kind of guy. Don’t get me wrong, I might want to strangle him, but he’s not dangerous, just idiotic.”
“Okay. Just...offering.”
He finished wiping down the stove and rinsed out the rag, leaving it to dry on the rack. Abby watched him the whole time, a familiar, comforting presence.
Chaz liked Abby. She was a great asset to their team. But he didn’t care for her the way he did Payton. Payton made him...crazy. She messed up his life, his head, and he...loved her for it. Without her, it was just one day after another. No color. No...nothing different.
“Hey, Abby, can I talk to you for a minute?” He leaned against the island, watching her tap her phone.
“One...second... It’s my reptile line.” She shook her head, chuckling. “This guy messaged me back during the summer about finding ball python he thought was a cottonmouth. Every so often, he texts me something super random.”
‘’Yeah? How’s that going?”
“Good.” She shrugged and put her phone in her pocket. “What’s up?”
“About Payton...”
Abby stiffened, flinching as though he’d smacked her.
Shit.
He hadn’t known.
“I don’t understand how you can want to be with someone like that,” Abby blurted. “She...she’s a mess. Every time you talk about her, its she’s messed something else up. She puts you through hell, Chaz. I get being there for her because she used
to be your sister, but...why her?” And not me?
Abby didn’t have to say the words for him to hear them now. They were written on her face.
He had complained more than a time or two about Payton’s lifestyle and choices to Abby. Because Abby was a good listener. She was always around. And now...he knew why.
“There’s...a lot about Payton I didn’t know until recently. Some...knowledge about why she’s made some choices that makes everything...okay. I guess.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Abby shook her head.
“I know it doesn’t, and it won’t unless...until later.”
“What kind of magic word makes this all okay? She’s skipped out on you so many times, Chaz.”
“And how many birthdays, weddings and special occasions do we miss because we’re on call? Hm?”
“That’s different.”
“No, it’s not.” He stared at Abby, willing her to understand.
“I’m not a mind reader, Chaz.”
“The reason why she’s had to do the things she’s done...it’s like us.” Except where he got to call in sick or take a day off every now and then, Payton didn’t. She had to live her job.
“Okay. Whatever. She’s not a terrible person.” Abby shrugged.
“I didn’t mean to be cruel to you, Abby. You have to know that.” Heat crawled up Chaz’s neck.
Abby’s brow wrinkled and she made a face.
“Can we...pretend this isn’t happening and just move on?” she asked.
“I don’t want you to—”
“Chaz. Sh. I don’t date firemen. It doesn’t matter how I feel about someone. I. Do. Not. Date. Firemen. I know this. You know this. Everyone knows this. Conversation not necessary.”
“I upset you.”
Abby squeezed her eyes shut.
“No, it’s me. And hormones. Please, can we just move on?”
“Okay.” Chaz stared at Abby, not sure how to make this better.
All he’d meant to do was be a good friend and treat her like an equal. Somehow, he’d fucked that up, too.
“If you just need a ride home, I can give you a lift,” he said by way of an apology.
“My place is not on your way home.”
“But it is on my way to the Motel 6.”
“Why...would you go there?” She stared at him in horror.
“Had an accident at my place.” He sighed. “They’re fixing it up, but it’ll be a day or two before I can be there.”
“What’d Payton do? Try to cook again?”
“No.” He chuckled and ducked his head, because how did he lie his way out of this one?
“If you’re going to take a girl to a hotel, you could do a lot better than that old dump.”
“Payton’s got work.” He shrugged.
“You are not staying at that place by yourself...”
“It’s just a night or two.”
“Nope. No. You are not.” Abby shook her head. “We’ve got a perfectly good guest room.”
“Abby—”
“Do not Abby me.” She planted her hands on her hips. “We look out for each other. End of story.”
“Yo, Abby.” Metal jangled.
“Kyle! Finally.”
Chaz hung back, watching the brother and sister trade jabs.
He’d never had a relationship like that with Payton. There was always an undercurrent of tension between them. And now he knew it for what it was.
The kind of lust that turned to love.
“They didn’t confirm the kill?” Alice dug her nails into the armrest.
“No, they didn’t.” Brent looked a little pale. Previously, Alice had kept him in the lab, concocting new mixes for her buyers. He’d always been a bit squeamish when she talked hands-on business. Well, it was time to man up.
“God damn it.” Alice pushed to her feet and paced the room.
“They were just kids.” Brent followed her to the window, all of Dallas spread out at their feet.
Dion had provided them with a well-appointed apartment in a refurbished warehouse space that he owned and ran most of his operation out of. It was private, no neighbors, no one to monitor their activity, and most importantly, no one to call the cops.
“One of them was hit.” Brent faced her, the strain making his voice whine. “Twice.”
Then Payton had to be alive. She was an excellent shot. Alice had seen her handle weapons and hit targets with an accuracy that backed up her claim that her old man had shown her how to handle a firearm.
Alice crossed her arms over her chest.
“What do you want us to do?” Brent asked.
“Be. Quiet.”
Damn Payton.
She’d been the perfect patsy.
She knew when to be quiet, when to speak, when to anticipate Alice’s needs. Alice should have known Payton was too good to be true. Symbiotic relationships like that never lasted. Alice had become complacent. She should have seen this coming. She could only blame herself. Which was why this was now on her to resolve.
The door to the suite banged open.
“Mr. Smoke,” Dion bellowed.
Alice pivoted, crossing to the elegant desk. It was such an odd piece for the thug to procure, but it suited her needs.
So, this was happening now.
Good.
She needed to let off some steam.
Dion stalked into the room, two young men flanking him. They were wide eyed. Terrified. Kids, really. Well, the younger they were, the easier they were to mold and shape.
Alice pulled the desk drawer open and checked her cell phone. Her replacement cell phone. That still grated.
“Mr. Smoke, we’ve got a situation.” Dion stopped in the middle of the room, thumbs hooked in his waistband. The butt of a handgun protruded lewdly from the front of his jeans.
“You do know how to use a door?” She laid the phone on the desk, so it was out of the way.
“You sent my boys out on a job? Without telling me? Now I’ve got one bleeding out in my office.” He gestured behind him.
“Your boys couldn’t do a simple job. No wonder you’re hurting, Dion.”
“Now wait a minute—”
“It’s time to consider new management.”
Alice lifted the Glock out of the drawer and fired. The other three started, the two foot soldiers diving for cover.
“Christ, Alice.” Brent literally threw an arm over his head.
Dion’s slack-jawed shock was a fascinating study in human physiology.
Unlike in the movies, people aren’t knocked off their feet. Blood doesn’t spurt unless an artery is hit. The only time someone would drop dead was when something major was hit.
Dion held up bloody hands.
“Time must be slowing for you, your whole life playing before your eyes.” She tilted her head to the side. “Your blood pressure is dropping. And—up. Down you go.”
Dion fell to his knees, then slouched forward.
“I imagine I got close enough to the heart. Maybe clipped an artery. Internal bleeding like that means you have maybe seven minutes to live. There’s perhaps a five-minute window to save your life, but no one’s going to.” Alice stepped around the desk. This was necessary business. The show of it. Half of her power came from the inference of what she could do when someone crossed her. “You couldn’t manage your territory, Dion. I’d have helped you, but you pissed me off. I can’t help people I can’t trust.”
She glanced up at the two young men edging toward the door.
“Stay put. It’s about time your balls dropped. This is what happens when an order is disobeyed, understand?” She gestured at Dion, his gasps punctuating her words.
“Alice, put him out of his misery. Christ.” Brent turned his back.
“I’m in charge now, do you understand?” Alice planted a hand on her hip, the gun a cumbersome weight in her hand. She hadn’t had to do something like this in a while, but these were drastic times. She was talking a big game and
that meant a big show of strength.
“Y-yes, ma’am.” The brown-skinned, Hispanic boy seemed to gather himself first. “You...want us to take care of this?”
“I want you to talk to your friends, the rest of Dion’s crew.” She set the gun down on the desk and circled to the desk. “Let them know—I’m in charge now. Go.”
Both of the men scampered off like kids who’d been spanked.
“Was that really necessary, Alice?” Brent groaned. “What are we going to do with him? He’s getting blood everywhere.”
Alice sat down and exhaled.
That was done.
In a few moments, her hands would begin to shake. She needed the room cleared before she puked. She wasn’t that much of a stone-cold bitch. Yet. Besides, it’d been a while since she shot a man.
“Brent, be a dear and go get me a latte?”
“Coffee? That’s what—okay. Pumpkin or peppermint?”
“Pumpkin spice, please.”
She had people now. Just a small network, but it was more than what she’d had, now that her team was mostly in the custody of the DEA.
Except Payton.
That bitch was still out there.
Alice was going to have to do things herself, it would seem.
13.
Payton was on her...sixth—or was it eight?—cup of coffee.
Sleep had eluded her, but maybe that had to do with being in a strange house.
The big bed in the upstairs bedroom had felt empty and the sofa in the living room too lumpy to allow her to rest.
Her phone was cut off by Webb’s order. There was no Wi-Fi, no phone, not even a fax machine. She had all the TV she could want, but the only things playing were Christmas movies, and that made her think of Chaz.
The tree.
He’d been so insistent they get one.
It’d been perfect.
The lights. All his old ornaments from his younger years. The pictures of his dad.
When she’d left, Chaz had just begun to look at it. The shattered remains.
That was what she left in her wake.
This was all her fault.
If it weren’t for her...
Payton descended the stairs to the living room.
Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4) Page 12