Smoke and Mirrors: (Fire and Fury Book Two)

by Avery Kingston

  She opened the door and flipped open the knife. With her pepper spray firmly planted in her left hand, knife in her right, she went down the hall, trailing her left knuckles down the wall to keep her bearings.

  More rustling behind the door, then the hinges squeaked as the master bedroom’s door creaked open and heavy footsteps—like someone in boots—walked the wooden floor, about to round the corner at any moment.

  She waited—ready to pounce.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  The footsteps grew close and she started to count: 3…2…1…

  Tori raised the knife and was met with someone’s panicked intake of breath, as a firm, strong hand wrapped around her wrist.

  “Tori!”

  The oddly familiar voice shouted, but it was too late. She’d already pressed the pepper spray button and it spewed off—releasing its vile contents into the air. About that time, all hell broke loose.

  Her intruder dropped whatever contents he’d thieved and they clambered into a marble-like scatter on the floor as anguished cries filled the hallway.

  Tori’s eyes watered up, just from close quarters. She gagged and sputtered. Her throat was on fire. She backed up against the wall and covered her mouth, emitting about a thousand coughs in one minute. She was so miserable herself it took her about two minutes to catch enough air to pay attention to whoever it was she just sprayed that was crying for mercy.

  “Fuck, Tori!” the voice sputtered as they writhed on the floor.

  Southern accent, sounded like Scott, but not.

  Oh, shit.

  “Chad?” Tori coughed. “Oh, my god! I’m sorry!” Tori reached for his body.

  More coughs, more screams and obscenities followed. “Wet towel,” he croaked.

  Tori scrambled to the bathroom, groping for the door. She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a washcloth and doused it in warm water. She walked back down the hallway with the dripping cloth and squatted down. She reached for Chad, trailing her hands up his body until she found his face. It eerily felt like Scott—making her feel that much worse. She placed the cloth over his eyes hoping to alleviate some of his suffering. She stayed there for several moments, until his labored breathing calmed, then she finally spoke.

  Tori wished she could sink into the floor and disappear. “I thought you were a burglar,” she croaked.

  Chad patted her leg. “We really need to stop meeting in the hall like this.” He chuckled wryly.

  She fought back the tears of embarrassment threatening to spew out. “Can you see?”

  “Not great, but better than you, I’d reckon.” He snorted.

  She was humiliated but laughed nonetheless. “I’m really sorry, Chad.”

  He slung his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “It isn’t the first time I’ve been hit with that shit. I’ll survive.” His voice cracked. “Can you get me some water to drink?”

  “Of course!” As she pushed herself off the ground something sharp dug into her skin. “Ow!” Was that glass? Tentatively, she hovered her palm over the floor and slowly lowered it to inspect. It didn’t feel like glass, it felt like…jewelry?

  He grunted and cleared his throat.

  Maybe she had caught a robber. God dammit. Tori swallowed the lump in her throat and stood.

  She silently shuffled to the kitchen and back with a bottle of water for him. “Chad, what’s all over the floor?” she asked. She didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but between his odd behavior the other night and now this, things were looking bleak.

  He groaned. “I took care of the mess.”

  They sat there quietly for a few moments. Finally, the silence became unbearable to her. “I’m sorry I sprayed you with pepper spray.”

  “You should know nobody in their right mind would break into this house—unless they want to be met with a hole in the chest.”

  Even their son? She bit her tongue.

  “You know, your parents are really great people. I was so scared to meet them—especially your mom. I’ve never been a meet-the-parents type of girl. I’ve always been a bit wild; well I was.” Tori let out a wry chuckle. “I’ve slowed down a bit recently.”

  “Yeah, it’s almost like Scott and I were raised by two different sets of parents,” he huffed. “But we weren’t.”

  “Did they treat you differently?”

  “Nah, they raised me right. I just always had the wild in me—like you—I suppose. What are your folks like?”

  “My dad was great. Him and I were tight,” Tori choked on her words. “He died when I was seven.”

  “Shit, seven? That’s rough.” Chad let out a long, slow whistle.

  “Mom didn’t handle it so well. She started self-medicating. From then on, things got rough at home. There were lots of times we didn’t even have food in the house because she’d blown all her money. I had to steal from the convenience store to feed my sister dinner on more than one occasion.” Tori sighed.

  “We do what we do to survive.”

  “Even steal from your parents?” Tori turned toward him and raised her brow.

  “Tori—”

  “I may be blind, but I’m not stupid.” She frowned. “You need to put whatever it is back, Chad. It’s one thing to have your vices. It’s another ball game to hurt those you love.”

  The air in the hallway grew heavy with that statement.

  Chad didn’t say a word. He just stood and walked back into the master bedroom, opened some drawers, and hopefully put back whatever he’d taken. His heavy footsteps came back down the hall and he slumped down next to her on the floor. They sat there for a few moments before he finally spoke.

  “Tori, I was in a bind. I’ve never stolen from my parents before. I owe some money and these bastards will burn my shop to the ground if I don’t pay up. I’ve worked too damn hard for this place. It was only until I finish the bike I’m working on and sell it. I was gonna pawn the jewelry then buy it back before Mamma noticed it was missing.”

  Tori had listened to every damn excuse come out of her mother’s mouth over the years so her heart was hardened to sob stories. But something about the way Chad said it broke her heart. Maybe it was because his voice was so close to Scott’s? Whatever it was, he sounded desperate.

  “I don’t know what all my brother told you, but I won’t lie to you. I’m still a goddamn mess. I’m trying not to use, but it’s hard…long hours and sometimes, I just need that pick me up. I’m not great, but I’ve gotten better. I haven’t used in almost a month.”

  “But the other night...” Tori shook her head. “In the bathroom? You came out sniffing, a sweaty mess, with your heart beating out of your chest.”

  “Wow. Not much gets past you.” Chad laughed. “I wouldn’t snort coke in my parents’ bathroom. Jesus, Tori. Dad just mowed. Grass gets me every time. Scott always bitched about having to do that job growing up because I couldn’t.” He shifted uncomfortably. “The rest, well…” he trailed off. “You’re a pretty girl—not that I’d make a move on my brother’s girl or anything,” he added quickly, “But when we wound up tangled up in the hall, your shirt came down…exposing the goods…” Chad’s humiliation rang through loud and clear. “You fixed it right away, so there was no point in telling you, but my damn body has a mind of its own and responded accordingly.” Chad laughed. “You really should wear a bra, little chickadee.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t be the first I’ve flashed and probably won’t be the last.” Tori threw her head back and laughed. “Blind girl problem number one thousand twenty-five…wardrobe malfunctions I can’t see.” She snorted, causing Chad to start laughing as well. When their giggles died down, she patted his thigh.

  “Well, I better get back to the shop.” Chad grunted as he stood. He grabbed Tori by the hand and helped her to her feet. His heavy steps went into the bathroom. “Holy shit,” he growled—at what Tori assumed was his reflection—as the water poured out of the sink.

  Tori leaned on the door frame wh
ile he washed his face. “That bad, huh?”

  “Eh, it’ll be ok. Maybe it’ll blend with the red in my beard.” He laughed.

  “You have red hair?” She asked as she listened to him towel off.

  “The beard is redder than the hair for some weird reason. Mom has auburn hair. I get it from her.”

  Tori nodded. “Yeah, Scott told me.”

  He snorted. “Thankfully, your aim is terrible. Only got the left one, the right eye isn’t too bad.”

  “You ok to drive?”

  “Why; you offering?” he teased. “Because I’ll pass.”

  Her mouth quirked up in the corner as she cocked her head. “I was asking because I’ve almost died once in an auto accident. I’d rather not test my luck again.” Her smile widened.

  “Come again?”

  “I want you to take me to see your shop.”

  “There’s nothing for you to see there.” Tori could tell he was smiling at his stupid pun as he squeezed past her.

  “You really need to work on your blind jokes.” She trailed her fingertips down the wall, following the sound of his steps. His keys jangled. “Come on.” She stomped her foot. “I’m losing my damn mind at all the quiet here. I’m about to climb the walls.”

  His foot tapped against the ground, and she could feel his eyes on her. Were they brown like Scotts? “Fine. But you can’t wear those things on my bike.”

  “What things?” Was he pointing at her? Hell, if she knew.

  “That sad excuse for a pair of shoes. Please tell me my brother had the sense to buy you a proper pair of boots.”

  Tori wiggled her toes in her gladiator sandals and smiled. He sounded so much like Scott. “Fine, give me two seconds to change!”

  “Grab a hat, too!” He yelled after her.

  She went back into the bedroom and dug through her suitcase for the boots Scott got her and slipped them on. Cowboy boots with cutoffs were cute, right? She rummaged through her bag and found a small drawstring backpack that she’d had the good sense to pack. She tossed her wallet inside, threw on her sunglasses, and put Scott’s hat back on her head. She grabbed her cane and met Chad in the living room, stashing it in her backpack.

  “Well, be a gentleman and give me your arm.” Tori held out her hand.

  “All right, little lady.” Chad placed her hand on his arm. He was thinner than Scott, she noticed. At the door, he opened it to guide her through and nearly let her smack the door frame. She’d halted, her hand butting against the frame.

  “Pull your arm behind you at the door please, that will cue me to get behind you. I really don’t want a bruise in the middle of my forehead.”

  “It’ll match the shiners you’ve got.” He chuckled but did as she instructed.

  “You can blame Scott for those,” she tattled, as he shut the door behind her.

  “Did you talk back to my brother or something?” He teased. “You gotta watch that Harris temper.”

  “Ha ha, very funny.” Tori told him the quick version as they walked down the street to his bike. “How far did you park?”

  “Far enough to not be noticed. So, I thought.” No wonder she didn’t hear him come up. Sneaky son of a bitch. She wondered if she was crazy for going off alone with Chad.

  This was Scott’s blood. She could trust him. Her gut told her so.

  He stopped when they got to the bike and helped her on, showing her where to put her feet. “Those boots are much better. You almost look like a Texan now. Almost.”

  Tori loved the feel of the leather underneath her thighs. Her heart pounded a bit in excitement. The bike dipped as Chad climbed on and she placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. They were broad like Scott’s, but not quite as muscular. “Hold on tight now. I won’t bite.”

  She ran her fingers across the leather on his vest, and she could feel an embroidered pattern—like a motorcycle club member would wear. “Are you in a MC?”

  Chad snorted. “Where did you learn that from? Sons of Anarchy?”

  Well, yes.

  “I know stuff!” she pretended.

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “You sound like your brother.” Tori groaned.

  Chad chuckled. “No, I’m not in a motorcycle gang. Just wearing a Harley Davidson vest.”

  Tori tightened her grip around his torso. His build was softer in the mid-section than Scott, but not fat at all. He was lean. Her mind built a picture of him, tall and lean with auburn hair and beard, in leather clad clothing.

  “Chad,” she asked as he leaned the bike upright and moved the kickstand. “What color are your eyes?”

  “Green, like mom’s.” His shoulders slumped as the engine roared to life and they sped off down the street.

  Chad toured her through the back of the shop first. “You’re standing in the garage of a small warehouse. It’s got two large doors that are lifted right now,” he explained as the hot breeze blew on her skin. “You’ve got a work bench here.” he placed her hand on the counter then continued weaving her around the area. It smelled of motor oil and gasoline mixed with burning metal and the loud roar of a blowtorch hissed over the sound of country music blaring through the speakers.

  The roar of the torch died and metal hinges creaked as whoever it was lifted their welding helmet. “Ryan, this is Tori, Scott’s girlfriend.” The helmet hit the workbench with a clank.

  “Nice to meet you,” Ryan said with the thickest redneck accent she’d ever heard. Far more country than any of Scott’s family.

  Tori shifted her cane to her left hand and held out her right.

  “I would, but I’m a lefty,” Ryan said awkwardly.

  Chad pushed her hand down.

  “Trust me you don’t want a handshake from ugly here. He’s covered in grease.” Chad cleared his throat. “I’m just showing her the shop. For some crazy reason this girl from DC wanted to take a look at it. Or a feel, I suppose, in her case.” Chad laughed.

  “Really, Chad. Get better blind jokes.” Tori shook her head.

  “How’s that tank coming along?” Chad asked.

  “Good; looking good,” Ryan replied.

  “This thing is gonna be interesting,” Chad explained for her benefit. “He’s working on making the tank look like a skull.”

  “May I?” Tori reached out her hand.

  “Let me check to see if it’s too hot.” Ryan said, stopping her from putting her hands on the metal. “Ok, you’re good.”

  Tori could make out the shapes of what felt like the eyes of a skull. It was obviously not smoothed out yet, but the general shape was done damn well. Not bad.

  “Do you have a buyer for it?” Tori asked.

  “This one is for a client, but we don’t get paid until it’s finished,” Chad said. “But we do have a few I’m working on right now to sell outright. They’re a bit more traditional choppers to hopefully bring in some income while we’re working on the customs.”

  Tori frowned. “Do you take a retainer?”

  “A what?”

  “A retainer, like a deposit? To secure your services up front?” They were both quiet and Tori assumed from their silence they didn’t. “You have to take a deposit Chad!” Tori scolded. “Listen, it’s one thing if you’re making art for artistic sake, and plan to sell it down the road, but something this custom that may not be your normal market niche would be difficult to sell to someone else. You’ve put in all this time and material cost, so if they back out you’re screwed. You have to at least take a deposit to secure your service.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense.” Chad sounded embarrassed.

  “Listen, I’ve been there myself. I got screwed over more than once by starting custom artwork and having the buyer back out. Don’t be embarrassed by it. I’m just giving you my advice.” Ideas rolled around in Tori’s head. “You know what you should do is make a few that look like older bikes—vintage replicas. Appeal to the hipster crowd here in Austin that likes all that quirky stuff.”


  “Yeah, maybe,” Chad said. Tori could hear the edge in his tone. Maybe it was time for her to shut her mouth.

  “All right, Ryan, back at it, man. I’m gonna show her the rest of the place.”

  Chad took her through the front of the store where he had a few bikes for sell, then into the small office in the back. “It’s not much—just an old, metal desk with a filing cabinet in the back corner and a crummy sofa I can crash on if I’m pulling a long night.”

  Tori felt for the sofa and took a seat, resting her cane between her legs and over her shoulder. She let out a long breath. “Sorry if I overstepped a boundary out there. I didn’t mean to cut your legs out from under you with your employee there. I have a habit of getting over zealous when it comes to creative stuff.”

  The wheels of his desk chair scraped across the floor. “Actually, those were some damn good ideas. I’ve never been business minded. I just like bikes. I’m good with the metal work and mechanics, but Ryan—he’s something else artistically. He’s a good kid, deserves to make something of himself.”

  Tori detected a hint of sadness in his tone regarding Ryan.

  “So, is he really that ugly, or so ridiculously good looking that you call him ugly?” Tori pulled off the baseball hat and fluffed her hair.

  Chad snorted. “A little of both, I suppose. Depends on which side you’re staring at.”

  Tori tilted her head.

  “Ryan’s an amp. IED got him. Lost his right arm and right leg. Handsome kid for the most part, except he’s got some gnarly shrapnel scars on the right side of his face. Scott sent him to me. One of his projects.”

  “Projects?”

  “Yeah, one of the guys he met at Walter Reed while visiting. He goes there all the time and volunteers with the Vets—well when he’s in DC, at least. Just ya know, does his thing, talks to them, helps them out.” Chad sounded shocked. “You didn’t know that?”

  Tori was dumbfounded. “I had no clue,” she whispered.

  “Even lets them shack up in his condo rent free if they need a place to stay after they’re discharged.”