by E M Lindsey
“You’re sure?” Antoine pressed, and he ignored Rene’s flat look.
“Absolutely. Trust me.”
Antoine shoved the paper into his pocket, then patted them for his keys before he remembered his car was beat to shit because of a goat he absolutely did not imagine. His legs already ached for the workout they were going to get, but he’d take his money and go on a long, tropical vacation when it was all over.
This was the life he chose, after all, and he had to roll with whatever punches came with it. “Talk to you soon, Mayor Davis.”
“Call me Rene. We dinnae really stand on formality,” Rene told him as they shook hands again.
Antoine smiled, but he didn’t correct himself as he headed out. It was going to be a very long stay, but at least he could get another coffee on the way, and with any luck, he’d get through the next several weeks without any drama—and hopefully without having to see Fitz again.
Antoine closed the listings book, then pushed it across the table toward Gwen. She was regarding him with cool, hazel eyes and a soft mouth, and a casual air about her that was strangely relaxing. She had a rough, lounge singer kind of voice and a strong grip in her handshake, and he immediately liked her. She was smart and thought quick on her toes. He thought maybe she belonged in a bigger market—she could be richer at the very least, but then he caught a glimpse of her son in a photo on her desk and he understood.
He appreciated it, in fact. Antoine couldn’t say he entirely saw the point of small town life, but he would have traded everything for a childhood that left him in one place for longer than six months. He would have given more if that sort of childhood took him down a path where he wasn’t missing his brother like a limb.
“You need to digitize all of this,” he told her, patting the binder. “Your website is massively lacking.”
She pulled a face and sat back in her chair with a sigh. “I know. My son built it for me three years ago when he was taking this online web design course.”
“How old is he?” Antoine asked.
She laughed. “Seventeen.”
Antoine let out a low, impressed whistle. “For fourteen, the site is amazing. For a real estate business, it’s crap. Rene’s budget is going to allow a full revamp, and the only thing you’ll be responsible for is maintenance fees and the domain name. You need something that doesn’t have a webhost title. It’s tragically unprofessional.”
She looked at him, her eyes a little hard, then she laughed again. “I want to hate you because I don’t like being told I’m wrong, and also my brother warned me about you—but I know.”
Antoine narrowed his eyes. “Who’s your brother?”
“Edmund,” she said, then laughed. “Well, Fitz. He goes by Fitz. He’s a…”
“Firefighter,” Antoine finished flatly. “We’ve met.”
“So, I’m guessing you had the same impression of him,” Gwen added with a laugh. “He’s actually a good guy.”
Antoine lifted a brow at her. “Yeah well, so am I.”
“I’m starting to see that. This has been a lot of help. I mean, everything you said makes sense. I have the funds for all of this in my budget. I haven’t really spent much for advertising.”
“That needs to change,” he told her, pushing up to his feet. “But we can take that slow. I have a few ideas and we can get together over the next couple of weeks if you want.”
She shrugged. “Sounds good. What about tonight, actually?”
Antoine pulled his phone out and saw that Sonia and Rose were waiting for him, but he didn’t think the meeting would take any longer than Gwen’s. “I was planning on checking out the Farmer’s Market tonight,” he told her.
“In the mood for kitchy homemade crap?” she asked.
He snorted as he headed for the door, Gwen close at his heels. He liked her a lot more than he liked her brother—even if his dick disagreed. “Market research. I wouldn’t mind a tour guide, though, if you’re not busy?”
“My son will love you forever if you get me out of the house past seven.” She reached around him to open the door. “Are you walking? I heard about the crash.”
Antoine’s cheeks heated up. “I am for now. The rental company should be calling soon about a replacement. I paid their absurd insurance fees, and there was a wild goat in the road, so it wasn’t my fault.”
“You know we don’t have wild goats here.”
Antoine’s eyes narrowed. “So people keep telling me. But I saw what I saw.” He dug his card out and handed it to her. “That’s my cell. Text me and I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Nice to meet you, Antoine.”
They shook a last time, then he stepped out into the sun and pushed his glasses back down over his nose. He fought back an urge to call his brother—just to hear Marcel’s voice, to ask how he was doing. Maybe to get a little comfort because the last twenty-four hours had been absolute shit. But he was trying to give him the space he’d asked for when his parents refused to accept Colton.
Starting down the sidewalk, Antoine’s phone buzzed, so he slowed his pace and dug it out of his pocket.
Unknown: Hi, this is Max Caldwell from the shop. I have the assessment ready for the damage and I’ve sent it to the rental company. They want you to come down and verify and sign the paperwork so I can have the car towed back.
Antoine: Thanks. Let me see about a ride since that was my only one.
Unknown: I can pick you up from town this afternoon. It shouldn’t take long.
Antoine: Okay. I appreciate it. I’ll be at the Tavern.
He was in the middle of hitting send when it all happened—all at once. His foot slipped off the curb, he tumbled, and the sound of a blaring horn overwhelmed all of his senses. Something hard, and metal, and cold slammed into his shoulder and he went flying. In the distance, he heard his phone hit the ground before his ears started ringing and his side smashed against the concrete curb.
Antoine knew he was stunned. He didn’t feel anything right away—just a sort of breathless, dull pressure against his ribs. Over the ringing in his ears, someone was shouting, but his vision was foggy though his head didn’t hurt. He became distinctly aware he was lying on his side, his back pressed to the hard cement curb, and when he tried to move, a hand held him fast.
“Not so fast there, Hollywood.”
“Oh god. No. Not you.” The words tumbled, gasping out of his mouth before he managed to focus his vision, and Fitz’s face swam into view. “Why?”
“Because someone likes to tell little white lies about texting and driving.”
“I was walking, asshole.” Those were the last four words Antoine managed before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fainted.
Chapter Seven
Fitz was only half paying attention to Antoine, who had come out of Gwen’s office. He was trying to focus on the task at hand, which was sawing branches from an overgrown tree that was causing a traffic hazard, but he was mostly hating himself for being so damn aware of Antoine now that he was in Fitz’s eyeline. Cherry Creek was too goddamn small. He didn’t know what god he’d managed to piss off over his lifetime, but it seemed his punishment was going to be not being able to turn around without Antoine being in his periphery.
He looked good too. He looked put together and well-groomed with his hair combed just so, and dark shades hanging low on his nose. He was in a button up and trousers, his loafers polished and shining in the sun. He had a good profile—his thin nose and olive skin impossible to ignore, even from across the courtyard.
Fitz nearly slipped with the saw as his gaze tracked Antoine pulling out his phone without missing a step. Kids, he thought, though he knew Antoine was anything but. The guy’s attention was entirely off his surroundings though, and Fitz started to feel nervous.
He was out of the tree and moving in Antoine’s direction before he was consciously aware of it. There were warning bells going off, a churning in his gut. Training had made him aware of dangero
us situations—usually seconds before they happened. He saw the car coming when Antoine didn’t, going a little too fast around the corner just as Antoine missed the curb with his heel.
He stumbled, and Fitz’s heart was in his throat, choking him so his shout was nothing more than a hoarse gasp. He watched as Antoine tripped, his knees smacking the pavement before the car clipped his shoulder. His brain slowed the whole thing down as he began to run—the way Antoine’s body lifted a few feet up, then slammed hard against the concrete. The car came to a screeching halt as Antoine went limp, and Fitz was racing across the road faster than he thought he was capable of moving.
He only breathed again when Antoine let out a soft groan and tried to stand. Fitz already had his phone in one hand, the other pushing Antoine back to the ground. He’d seen the whole thing—knew he hadn’t hit his head or his neck, but he knew better than to let him move.
“Not so fast there, Hollywood,” he said, and he was surprised at how steady his voice sounded for how badly his hands were shaking. Antoine looked mortified, and even managed a couple sentences of banter before he passed out.
Fitz felt his pulse first, then swiped a hand over his brow which was cool but sweating. Shock, most likely, but probably not dangerous. He’d need an ambulance though. He pressed his phone to his ear and waited for Sandra to get through her customary greeting.
“I need an ambulance in front of Gwen’s office,” he said. “Pedestrian struck.”
“Oh shit,” Sandra gasped, and if the situation had been different, he might have laughed. “Okay I’ve got Carl on the way.”
“Thanks, hon,” he told her. “I’ll stay with the victim.” It was unprofessional, but he didn’t care. Antoine was starting to come around again, so Fitz helped ease him onto his back. He glanced around to see the driver, one of his nephew’s friends, standing just outside of the driver’s side door. He was trembling and pale.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he ordered, and Dmitri nodded, looking like he couldn’t have moved if Fitz paid him.
There were sirens in the distance, and Antoine’s eyes started to open, his brow furrowed. “Oh god.” He looked up at Fitz, and Fitz felt some measure of relief to see two very even pupils responding just fine to the sun’s bright light. “Why am I on the ground?”
“Do you remember what happened?” Fitz asked. He ached to examine him, but he knew it was better to let Carl handle it.
“Do I remember tripping off the curb and getting hit by a fucking car?” Antoine snapped.
Something unknotted in Fitz’s chest. “You know,” he said, affecting a smirk even though he was still shaken. He didn’t have to like Antoine to feel that rushing wave of fear as a person was nearly plowed over by a vehicle, “Most people look up and pay attention to avoid getting hit by cars. Even if they need to text.”
Antoine scowled at him, looking more like a disgruntled kitten on its back than any sort of real threat. “Most people should be able to trip and fall off the edge of a curb and not get hit by a car. He was going too fast.”
“Yes,” Fitz said from behind a sigh, because that was true. For however much Antoine should have been watching his step, Dmitri was driving too close to the sidewalk, and going way too fast on the narrow downtown streets.
Antoine twisted his neck backward to look at the driver and his angry expression faltered. “Shit. He’s a kid.”
Fitz opened his mouth to respond, but just then Carl came around the corner and killed the lights and siren. When Antoine tried to move again, Fitz pinned him to the ground. “Let him examine you first before you get up and try to fistfight a teenager.”
“I’m not going to… god, you are such an ass,” Antoine growled. “I don’t need an ambulance.”
Fitz gave him a flat look. “You were hit by a car, then you passed out. The day after you crashed your car,” he reminded him. “You’ve waived your right to decide on appropriate medical care.”
Antoine looked murderous, but Fitz didn’t much give a shit. He waited until Carl approached, then he backed off and let the EMT ease Antoine to a seated position. More than anything, Fitz wanted to stay close, to listen in, to see if there was some damage he missed, but it wasn’t his place. After all, they weren’t even friends.
Shoving one hand into his pocket, Fitz squinted his eyes and glanced down the street. Bruce would probably be there soon to take a statement, and there would have to be an investigation, and it was obvious from Dmitri’s expression that he knew it. He approached the kid and leaned against the open door where he was sitting.
“Hey, Dmitri.”
“Hey,” he said miserably. “I um. I’m…is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t think he’s going to die. Where the hell were you going in such a hurry?”
He hung his head, which answered that question. “Owen texted. He said he needed a ride.”
“I don’t think he meant go fifty on a narrow downtown street,” Fitz told him, a hint of warning in his tone. This wasn’t just some minor accident, he knew. Antoine had been hit by a car. Dmitri wasn’t just going to walk away from this with a slap on the wrist.
The teen let out a choked noise. “I didn’t mean to…I was just reaching for my phone.”
At that, anger rose in Fitz, but he breathed it down because screaming at Dmitri wasn’t going to solve anything. “I don’t think I need to tell you what a huge mistake that was.”
“Am I going to jail?” Dmitri asked softly.
Fitz didn’t have an answer for him. “You’re going to have to talk to Sheriff Riordan, and he’ll want to talk to your uncle. I just put out fires, kid. I don’t make the rules.”
Dmitri let out another miserable groan and dropped his head forward. “Is he really going to be okay? That guy?”
Fitz snorted as he glanced over to see Antoine arguing with Carl about getting into the ambulance. Their voices were low, but he could see pink rage rising in Antoine’s cheeks. “I think he’s going to be fine. He had a rough week. Do me a favor and don’t leave, okay?” Dmitri, of course, didn’t look like he was going anywhere, so Fitz didn’t mind leaving him and walking back to the ambulance where Antoine’s voice was steadily rising. “Is there a problem here?”
“I don’t want to get carted off to fucking Colorado Springs,” Antoine hissed. “That’s like an hour away and I don’t have a car to get back. I’m fine.”
Carl opened his mouth to argue, but Fitz put up his hand. “What if we compromise?”
Carl looked annoyed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you talking about Parker? He has a single x-ray machine, Fitz. From, like, the seventies.”
“And I witnessed the whole incident,” Fitz countered. “I doubt he needs an MRI, but if Parker thinks he does, I’ll drive him down to General myself. Trust me, okay? Dmitri barely clipped him in the shoulder, and he got the wind knocked out of him. No head injury.”
Antoine looked startled, but a little triumphant as he turned his gaze back to the annoyed EMT. “I’m not in the mood to die of some secret brain bleed, okay? Believe me, I’d tell you if I thought something was wrong. I have meetings all fucking day to pull this little crap town out of the hole you have dug for yourselves…”
“Is that like a compulsion with you?” Fitz snapped, cutting off Antoine’s flow of words. “You have to drag this town every time you make a mistake?”
“Every time I make a…” Antoine shook his head, a thread of high, tight laughter escaping his throat. “Your fucking town is trying to murder me. From wandering goats to teenagers acting like this one-way street is the Indy five-hundred…” He dragged a hand to his face.
Fitz softened, but only a little. Antoine was a snob, but Fitz could—if he tried very hard— understand his perspective. He reached past Carl into his supply bag, then found a pad of paper Carl used to make reports. He plucked the pen from Carl’s pocket, then scribbled a name, address, and number.
“Here,” he said, ripping the paper off and smacking it a
gainst Antoine’s chest. He felt a small thrill when Antoine winced in pain—because it served him right for being such a dick. “This is where you’re going. His name is Dr. Parker Alling. He’s nicer than me, and he’ll see you right away.”
“I don’t have a car,” Antoine reminded him again.
Fitz fought the urge to roll his eyes, but that was his own fault. “Right.”
Antoine pulled his top lip between his teeth and bit down before letting it go. He glanced over his shoulder and when Fitz followed his gaze, he saw Gwen in her office doorway with her arms crossed, a look of amusement on her face. “That’s just great. I love an audience.”
Fitz couldn’t help his laugh. He lifted his hand to wave at her, and she shook her head before turning on her heel to go inside. When he looked back at Antoine, he was blushing again. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride to the clinic?” He was surprised at himself, but not as surprised as the man he’d just asked.
“No thank you?” It sounded like a question coming off Antoine’s lips. “Don’t you have to like…give a statement and make sure that kid doesn’t run off?”
At that, Carl laughed. “He’s not going anywhere. That’s Jayden’s nephew.”
“That means nothing to me,” Antoine grumbled. He rubbed at his side, then winced. “Fuck.”
Fitz felt another wave of concern hit him. “Are you having any trouble breathing?”
With a sigh, Antoine rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “A little, but I don’t think they’re broken, if that’s what you mean. I know what broken ribs feel like.” When Fitz gave him a disbelieving stare, Antoine rolled his eyes. “My brother drove a golf cart once. I got three broken ribs from the crash. This is a bruise, and it sucks, but I don’t really need to see a doctor…”
Fitz turned to Carl. “Keep an eye on Dmitri, yeah? I’ll take Mr. Hollywood to Parker’s office. Just tell Bruce I’ll drop in for a witness statement when I get back.”