by Skye Knizley
Smoak rolled to her feet and ran the length of the container, her eyes on the sniper ahead of her. When she reached the end, she jumped, flying into the yellow-tinted darkness like a death angel. Another bullet tore through her shirt, she could feel the heat of its passage on her skin, but all her concentration was focused on the railing ahead of her. Her hands wrapped around the heavy-gauge steel, and she swung, bringing her legs around in a kick that sent the sniper flying backwards, where he fell in a heap at the edge of the catwalk. She landed in front of him and kicked the Russian rifle out of his hands.
“You’re out of business, Igor,” she said.
She watched Frulov dust himself off and stand with as much dignity has he could with a broken nose and missing teeth. He raised his head to look at Smoak and his eyes widened.
“You…” he breathed.
“Surprise,” Smoak said.
“You cost me thirty million dollars. Why?”
Smoak laughed and shook her head. “That should be obvious even to a bottom-feeding slug like you. Get on your knees and lace your fingers behind your head.”
Frulov bent over and started coughing, spitting blood on the blue-painted metal at their feet. Smoak was watching him, but he still caught her by surprise when he rose with a small derringer clasped in his hand.
“Surprise, bitch,” he said, mimicking her.
Smoak shrugged, her eyes on Frulov’s. “Really? Give it up, Frulov. The cops are on their way, your cargo is gone and, soon, the whole world is going to know you are still alive. There’s no place you can hide, and prison is better than death.”
Frulov spat out another broken tooth and smiled.
“I’m not going to prison, girl. Most of my money is safely tucked away in accounts the police cannot touch. After I put a bullet through your brain, I will escape onto that ship where your Miami cops cannot follow. I’m untouchable.”
“Why can’t the police follow?” Smoak asked. Anything to keep Frulov talking.
“The captain is carrying a diplomatic pouch and is an old friend of mine,” Frulov replied. “The whole ship has immunity from search and seizure until that pouch is delivered.”
“You’ve been watching too many movies, Igor,” Smoak replied. “That shit doesn’t happen in real life. One way or the other, you’re going down. Last chance, put that toy away.”
She watched Frulov’s eyes and saw doubt flicker across them. He wavered and glanced at the pistol as if wondering if he should pull the trigger or not, that split second was all Smoak needed. She grabbed his hand and spun, putting his weapon in front of her and her elbow into his throat. He choked on his own voice box and the gun went off, discharging harmlessly into the night. Smoak let go and spun again, this time leading with her fist. The impact pitched Frulov over the railing, and he fell headfirst into the concrete below. He didn’t even have time to scream.
Smoak sagged against the crane and ran a hand through her hair. Below, she could see the red and blue lights of the Miami police, complete with the special response team. They were swarming the still-burning pickup and the crane beside her. It wouldn’t be long before Chandler showed up to take credit for everything, while denying any direct involvement. It was a talent he had.
She would have to vanish into the shadows soon, but for now, all she wanted was a rest. And a cigarette. It had been one of those days.
All together, thirty-nine women and sixteen children had been rescued from the two containers. Rayne had been found, and though she had been severely beaten and drugged into oblivion, she was recovering at the University of Miami Hospital. Ashley had contacted Blaze just after two in the morning to let her know that Rayne had been found and the case was closed. Blaze had slept fitfully in the spare bed next to her sister, and she was still there when Smoak entered late the next morning.
Smoak smiled at the sleeping woman and set one of the bouquets she was carrying on the table next to her. She placed the second one next to Rayne, who was still sleeping off the naloxone and her ordeal, and leaned over to kiss Blaze on the forehead. Blaze opened her eyes and smiled a lazy smile.
“Good morning,” Smoak said. “How are you feeling?”
Blaze smiled and sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Hey, you. I’m doing okay. Rayne has been through a lot, but the doctors say she’s going to be fine, it will just take time.”
She looked at Smoak and frowned. “What happened to your face?”
Smoak touched the scratch on her jaw and smiled. “Overenthusiastic asshole. He won’t be bothering anyone again. Ever.”
Blaze kissed Smoak’s jaw and lips. Smoak sighed into her girl’s mouth and pulled her close.
“Thank you,” Blaze said when she parted the kiss.
“For what?” Smoak asked.
“For believing and not letting me give up. You said they would find her, and they did. Along with two trucks full of people bound for Mexico and who knows where else. So thank you.”
Smoak sat next to Blaze and held her hand. “You’re welcome. I’m glad she’s back safe and sound. With everything y’all have been through, I know how strong you are, you’ll be okay.”
“You sound like you’re going somewhere,” Blaze said.
Smoak blinked. “I do? I wasn’t planning on going anywhere, I mean, eventually I’ll need some coffee but…”
“Smartass,” Blaze said. “You know what I mean. Saying we’re going to be okay and stuff. You’re going to be with us? With me, right?”
Smoak kissed Blaze’s fingers again. “I plan to be. I’ve got something to tell you, though.”
“You can tell me anything, Kam.”
Smoak looked at Blaze with her fiery hair and emerald eyes, and she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tell her that she was the one lurking in the shadows helping search for Rayne. When she tried, all she could think was that she had lied. And it never ended well when she came clean to people she loved.
Instead, she looked away. “I lost your jacket.”
“What?” Blaze asked.
Smoak looked back. “I lost your jacket last night. It got damaged when I crashed my bike, but I promise, I will buy you another one. You point and I’ll buy.”
Blaze stared at Smoak for a beat and burst out laughing.
“You lost my jacket? Honey, you made it sound like you were going to tell me you were married or something” It was a jacket and I have plenty of others. It isn’t like it’s the end of the world. We live in Florida for God’s sake.”
Smoak grinned and kissed the beautiful woman by her side. “I feel really bad, love. When this is all over, we can go shopping, and I’ll get you a new one. Whatever you want, really.”
Blaze chuckled. “If I get new stuff, I should let you borrow my clothes more often.”
Smoak was about to answer when Rayne stirred. “B? Is that you?”
Blaze turned and moved to the bed. She took her sister’s hand, and Smoak could see the gentle smile on her face.
“I’m here, Ray. You’re safe.”
Rayne nodded. “That’s what the woman said last night, I was safe. What happened?”
Smoak stepped up behind Blaze and whispered, “I’m going to let you two have some time. Call me later.”
Blaze half-turned. “I will. Love you.”
Smoak’s heart fluttered and the dozing butterflies did happy cartwheels in her belly. “Love you, B.”
She left and never felt her feet touch the ground.
Outside, it was a warm summer day with a gleaming yellow sun and the scent of salt carried on the sea breeze. Smoak stretched her sore muscles and crossed the lot to where Ashley was leaning against the Evade enjoying the sun.
“How is she?” Ashley asked.
“She’s good,” Smoak replied. “She needs some rest, but she’s better now Rayne is safe. Rayne is awake and coming out of it, so I think they will both be fine.”
Ashley watched Smoak and arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”
Smoa
k shook her head and put on her sunglasses. “Nope.”
“Why not?” Ashley asked. “You saved her sister and all those other people.”
“We saved those people, Ash. You did the heavy lifting. I just did what I always do. Killed people.”
She joined Ashley against the Evade and ran a finger over the healing cut on her jaw.
“You remember that girl I met that time in London?” she asked.
“The brunette go-go dancer? Yes, why?”
“Do you remember what she did when I told her I had to leave for the Philippines?”
Ashley grinned. “Didn’t she set fire to all your bras?”
“It wasn’t funny, Ash. I was wearing the last one,” Smoak replied.
“It wasn’t funny, it was hysterical,” Ashley laughed. “You were trying to put the French one out with a frying pan, knocked over a bottle of white spirit and set fire to the curtains. The whole place almost burned down.”
“Yeah, okay, maybe it was a little funny,” Smoak said, joining the laughter. “But I really loved that bra.”
They giggled for a few seconds longer before Ashley sobered. “Wait…are you afraid that Blaze will go postal, too?”
Smoak shrugged. “It never goes well when I tell someone I’ve been keeping a secret. My parents, my sister, Casey the Crazy Brit…”
“But that’s the key word, love. Crazy. Blaze isn’t,” Ashley said. “If you really think she’s the one, you need to give her a chance.”
Smoak sighed. “I know. But what if I’m wrong?”
“You won’t know till you try, SK. If it’s right, then she’ll understand. You’re always telling me to have faith. Maybe you should have a little, too.”
Smoak said nothing. She knew Ashley was right, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from having a pity party.
“Are you going to be alright?” Ashley asked.
“I’m fine,” Smoak said. “No worries.”
Ashley didn’t look convinced. “I need to get back to the office. Someone tried to break into our computer this morning, and I want to know who. Are you coming with?”
Smoak shook her head. “No. I don’t geek over computers, and I need to see about getting a bike to ride until Classified can build me a new one. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She kissed Ashley’s cheek and turned toward her old Power Wagon, wondering how she was going to tell Blaze what had really happened to her jacket.
The afternoon was spent in a blur of motorcycles and salesmen. Smoak had test-driven almost every crotch-rocket and cruiser in the city. None were as fun as the bike she’d had specially made, but by evening, she had settled on and purchased a Ninja ZX-14, touted as the fasted production bike in the world. It would take a few days to get the one she wanted delivered, but she felt better knowing she wouldn’t be stuck in the Power Wagon forever. She would never know what had possessed her to buy the old hunk of junk in the first place, but she usually blamed Tijuana and three bottles of tequila.
She was heading back to the apartment when Blaze called to tell her that she had left the hospital and was going home to get cleaned up. They’d agreed to meet at Lollipops later in the evening, and Smoak had gone home feeling an odd mixture of delight and fear.
She parked the massive Power Wagon in her space on the top floor of the garage and hurried up to the apartment. She found Ashley in a tee shirt and shorts, still bent over her computer, a glass of tea beside her.
Smoak collapsed onto the sofa and looked over Ashley’s shoulder.
“How’d it go?” Ashley asked. “I saw you spent like fifteen grand this afternoon.”
“I bought a Kawasaki,” Smoak said. “It will be delivered late next week. When my Classified is done the Ninja is yours, if you want it.”
“I haven’t ridden since we left Mexico,” Ashley said. “I like having Rock drive me around, it’s safer.”
“And legal,” Smoak said with a smile. “How ‘bout you? Find out anything about the would-be hacker?”
“Not would-be,” Ashley replied. “Whoever it was, they managed to get into the system for a couple minutes. I’m still trying to find out what they accessed. All our accounts are fine, so I don’t think they got anything important.”
“Any clue who it was?” Smoak asked.
“None. All I know for sure is it wasn’t any of Chandler’s cronies, and they were somewhere near Fisher Island.”
Smoak blinked in surprise. “What? They’re here? I thought these guys usually came from a coffee shop in China or something.”
Ashley nodded. “Yep. It took some digging, but their originating IP address was out there somewhere. I’ve set up some searches to try and lock it down, so I can go pay them a visit. I don’t appreciate people looking into our system.”
“Me either. I’m going to go get changed. Let me know if you get an address on them,” Smoak said.
“Are you going somewhere?” Ashley asked.
“I decided to take your advice. I set up a date with Blaze at Lollipops later tonight,” Smoak said.
Ashley smiled. “Nice. Want me to go with?”
Smoak looked at her friend, the one person who had been with her all her life and grinned. “Yeah. I want you there in case she tries to set fire to my bra.”
“I’ll pack a fire extinguisher, just in case,” Ashley giggled.
Miami on a Friday night is a sight everyone should see at least once in their lifetime. The city glows every night of the week. However, there is an energy, an electricity that is only in the air on Friday night, just after the neon tubes click on and cast their brilliance out into the world, making the city shimmer with violet light. There is a reason so many photos of Miami are captioned ‘Purple Haze.’
Smoak and Ash arrived at Lollipops just as the evening was beginning to glow. Ashley had chosen to wear one of her work outfits, a pair of black hot-pants, bikini top and stockings. She would be able to blend into the crowd and keep an eye on things while not standing out as Ash from Shadowlands.
Smoak on the other hand had dressed as if she was going out. In a lot of places, that would have meant a conservative dress and smart heels. In Miami, it meant a pair of leather shorts so tiny they were almost panties, a hot-pink bustier and a lightweight bolero jacket. The outfit was completed by her silver metal belt and a pair of black Louboutin pumps she only wore on special occasions. Smoak had spent almost three hours on her face, paying particular attention to the jagged scratch on her jaw. Her skill with covering scars had paid off. If you didn’t know the cut was there, you would never know it existed.
Ashley took over DJing duties from Rikki to give her something to do, and Smoak took a seat at her personal table on the opposite side of the club. From their positions, they could see the entire club without being too obvious about it. Most people didn’t know they owned the club, and they preferred to keep it that way.
Blaze entered half an hour later, dressed to the nines in what Smoak suspected was an Armani mini dress cut low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts without allowing them to spill out. She’d kept the rest of the outfit simple with a pair of matching strappy sandals and minimal jewelry. Her hair on the other hand had been teased into a waterfall of flame that spilled over her shoulders and cascaded down her back, swaying with every step she took.
Smoak felt her heart skip a beat when the stunning women entered. She could hardly believe that this person had fallen for her, and she prayed to Gaia that it wouldn’t end badly.
She stood and waved to Blaze, who waved back and joined her at the table. Smoak kissed her softly, working to ignore the butterflies that had started jumping around again.
“Hi, honey,” she said, just loud enough to be heard over a song by Pop Evil. “You look amazing.”
“Look who’s talking,” Blaze said. “Your legs go on for miles.”
Smoak grinned and waved for Texxxas to come take Blaze’s drink order. Blaze sat and they clasped hands over the table.
“How
is Rayne?” Smoak asked once Texxxas had taken their orders.
“She’s doing great,” Blaze replied. “The docs want to keep her for psychological observation, but she will be home in a couple of days.”
“I’m so glad,” Smoak said. “I know what she means to you.”
“She’s the only family I have,” Blaze said. “She can be a royal pain in the ass, but I love her. She has always been there for me, you know?”
“I understand. My friend Ashley is the same. We’ve been friends since we were eight years old. I have no clue what I would do without her.”
Blaze smiled and Texxxas returned with their shots. They downed them before moving to a table closer to the stage, where they could watch a dancer named Cheyenne, who was dressed as a cowgirl complete with antique cap guns.
They were on their fourth shots, and Smoak was feeling brave enough to tell Blaze the truth when the music suddenly stopped. Smoak looked toward Ashley in confusion and saw there was a large Russian man standing next to her with a gun pressed into her side.
Smoak was reaching for the saltshaker on their table when more of the club’s patrons produced weapons and covered the remainder of the crowd.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” someone said. The voice was rich and melodious with just a touch of Russian accent. “Please do not get up and do not reach for your valuables. This is not a robbery.”
Smoak twisted in her seat and spotted the man who was speaking. He was huge, well over six feet with arms like steel bars and a chest like Superman. He was wearing a black tank top and pants and held an old Colt Python revolver in his left hand. The vented chrome barrel was unmistakable.
“What do you want?” the manager, a woman named Maenia, asked.
