“What happened? Are you okay?” She stared at the long, puckered, purple scars curling over his knee and down his shin. Just looking at those hurt. “Chaz...”
“I’m fine.” He braced his hands on the floor.
“No, you’re not, Chancelor Fairchild.” She straddled his leg and bent forward, examining the brace. “On or off?”
Chaz stared at her, the stubborn set of his jaw issuing a challenge.
She’d waited out perps more stubborn than him. She could wait him out, too.
“What? You sleep with the brace on too tight?” She tilted her head, her stomach clenching.
How bad was the injury? How was he walking? Why...why hadn’t he told her?
They talked every week. And he hadn’t mentioned it. It must have been recent, which meant she had her head buried so deep in this case that she was oblivious to the subtleties, the things he didn’t mention.
“Yeah,” Chaz said gruffly.
“So, off?” She knelt, straddling his shin and loosened the brace.
Chaz didn’t confirm or deny her assumption.
Payton gently worked the straps loose and the brace off. He hissed a time or two, but otherwise sat there watching her.
She rocked back onto her heels and took his foot in her hands.
“Feel this?” She pinched his big toe.
“Yes,” he hissed.
“Just checking. You need one of those pills in the bathroom?”
“No, I just need blood back in my foot.”
“Stop.” She tapped his ankle when he tried to pull out of her grasp.
Chaz gritted his teeth.
“What happened? You try to rescue the wrong girl?” She’d had a front row seat to Chaz’s misguided sense of chivalry a time or two. Not all women wanted to be saved from their poor choices.
“No.”
She started at his knee, stroking her fingers down his calf, finding knots and gently massaging them.
Damn.
She’d seen this before.
If she had to guess, his ACL and...what else?
Scars like these meant surgery. The intensive kind. Come to think of it, he’d been very punctual and available for their calls as of late. Not a single shift interference whatsoever.
What’d happened to him?
She sat back on her bottom and pulled his foot into her lap. He’d stopped hissing like a grumpy snake, at least.
They’d missed a few calls a couple months ago. He’d said it was because of a bad fire, that things were crazy.
If she’d known...she’d have come home. He was all the family she had besides Martha. The only thing that grounded her to the real world. The case would have been postponed; she’d have had to make up some excuse to Alice. But Payton would have been here for him.
“How much of your leg is metal now?” She glanced up to his face.
“Enough.”
That was all he would tell her.
It...hurt.
No, she wasn’t the best family. She let him think the worst of her...and he still cared for her. He didn’t know the truth, and he couldn’t. That would put him in danger, he’d worry, and she’d have so many other truths to tell him that would...change things. Things he didn’t know. Like—the fact that their parents had never truly been married. Her name hadn’t always been Payton.
The lies exhausted her.
She didn’t deserve his truth. Or his trust.
“Want a hand?” She pushed to her feet.
Chaz seemed to consider it for a moment.
He hadn’t needed her before, what made her think he’d need her now?
“Sure.”
She thrust her hand out, blinking at him.
Chaz grasped her wrist. She braced her foot. He pushed and she pulled.
He wavered a bit, still holding tight to her, but otherwise stood on his own.
His face was lined, not from frowns, but pain. Or the expectation of it.
He blinked a few times.
“That...feels better. Thanks.” He glanced down at her, his thumb swiping across her pulse.
“No problem.” Payton swallowed and stepped back, breaking the contact.
She was at a vulnerable point in the undercover process. Not that she’d ever had any real armor to protect herself against Chaz.
She needed to get out of here.
Away from him.
Clear her head.
Payton turned and walked out of his bedroom, the one their parents had slept in once upon a time. She paced into the living room, then the kitchen.
She needed to do...something.
Being domestic had been a disaster.
Going out wasn’t ideal.
Movies bored her.
She needed to do...something. Or someone.
Chaz.
That bed.
Nope.
She shut down that line of thought. It would only lead to one place, and sexual frustration was a bear to work out any other way except against a wall or between the sheets. Yes, Chaz was hot, he’d always done it for her—something about the cave man she saw lurking behind his eyes and his protective streak—but he had that stick shoved so far up his ass she wanted to throttle him.
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
She turned at the sound of his voice.
Chaz stood in the open archway to the kitchen, sweatpants hanging low on his hips. When had he become the half-naked kind of guy? Not that she minded the view. He was built like a linebacker, all wide shoulders and muscle. As a teen, he’d always been the kind of guy to cover up, from neck to toes. Of course, she’d teased him, because why not?
If she had to put up with his grumpy face today, she could at least admire the view.
Payton crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the counter. Worry? How about trusting her?
Chaz stared at the floor.
“This new job’s made you so happy... If I’d told you, you’d have come home. I didn’t want you to do that on my account.” He flexed his hands and glanced around, probably ensuring she hadn’t caught something else on fire during her point-0-one seconds in the kitchen.
“But...really? A job’s not... I don’t know what to think right now.” What wrongs had she committed that he thought a job mattered more than him? That...God, how much had she fucked up? In her effort to protect Chaz from what she did, had she really made him think he ranked so low? The most important person in her life didn’t even know how much he mattered to her. That hurt. Hurt because for once, Chaz had needed someone around and he hadn’t let her return the favor.
Did he have any idea how many times he’d been there for her? How his calm, steady voice had talked her off so many ledges?
“It was nothing.” He shrugged.
“Nothing? Nothing doesn’t leave you with twelve-inch scars, Chaz.” Her voice rose. Yeah, she was angry, because she could have lost her anchor. Her person. And then what? Where would she be without Chaz? He was part of her, that part of her that was all Payton. Losing him would be...worse than death.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times.
“I...didn’t want you to worry?” he finally said.
She shook her head, too angry for apologies now.
“Payton, I’m...sorry.”
“Yeah, right. You’re sorry you got caught. So, what happened?”
“We were cleaning up a wreck. I was with the hazmat unit.”
“Christ.” Of course, it went back to hazmat. She rolled her eyes. He just had to be the ultimate hero. As if being a firefighter wasn’t dangerous enough, Chaz also worked on the hazmat team. Dangerous chemicals. Spills. That accident could have killed him, and she didn’t even have to know the details. He could have breathed in fumes, burned to death, been crushed, a dozen different things—and yet here he was. Alive, breathing, fairly well off.
“I was getting this kid out of the wreckage. An oncoming car swerved, someone hit them and there was a wreck. Some sparks caught. It�
�s all a blur, but I got pinned under some metal. Tore my ACL, broke both the bones in my lower leg. They repaired me pretty fast, but healing’s slow.”
Payton just stared at him.
She walked across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face against his chest. Did he have any idea what he was to her? How much he meant?
No. He didn’t, because she couldn’t tell him.
But, God, she could have lost him.
“I didn’t want to worry you.” He patted her shoulder. “Sorry, I’m running late.”
“How are you still on the job after all that?” She thumped him on the shoulder.
“Light duty. Today I’m drawing up the holiday schedule. Again. And doing paperwork.”
The ninth circle of hell, as far as Payton was concerned.
“When you get back I want answers. Real answers.” She prodded him in that big, muscular chest of his.
“Nothing else to tell.” He held up his hands and shuffled backward.
Right.
Nothing, her ass.
Payton circled the kitchen, hovering around while Chaz got his things together and left. She watched him pull out of the driveway the same moment a maroon sedan rolled on by.
DEA agents.
She had to leave. To get away from Chaz. He was still healing and she was a liability. Besides, their regular chats were clearly one sided. He meant the world to her and she...didn’t even register as anything more than a routine checkmark. She needed...away. To figure things out. Yeah, she’d always known that Chaz would move on, do something with his life and she’d be left at odds. She just...hadn’t been ready for it to be now.
Payton grabbed a coat and jogged down the street, pulling it on as she went.
The maroon car was parked a couple houses down.
She approached slowly. These weren’t agents she was familiar with. She didn’t know what Webb might have told them, if he’d informed them of anything.
The passenger window rolled down.
She glanced up and down the sidewalk then leaned into the car.
“Tell Webb I need to be moved. They haven’t found Alice, have they?” She stared at the two men’s blank expressions.
Fuck a duck.
Webb hadn’t imparted the fact that she was an undercover agent, had he? It wasn’t all that uncommon for undercover agents to be kept a secret, even from other people working in the same office. She’d been in the game and undercover so long she had no idea what the hell Webb’s office even looked like anymore.
“Tell Webb to call me, or I’m going to ground somewhere he won’t be able to find me.” She pushed off the car and continued her walk around the block, to clear her head and get some air.
She had her credentials. They were sewn into the lining of her suitcase. She could prove who she was. But the moment someone outside of the need-to-know knew, the risks multiplied. The danger would increase. All the more reason to get away from Chaz.
Her heart couldn’t take it if he was hurt further because of her.
Alice pressed her phone to the side of her face. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and flinched.
That was going to take some getting used to.
Payton looked so good in salt and pepper. Alice, not so much. She missed her honey blonde locks already, but until she claimed the name Mr. Smoke, this was going to have to work.
“What?” The voice on the other end of the line barked.
“Dion. It’s Mr. Smoke.” She crossed her arm over her chest and paced the length of Brent’s suite in downtown Houston. Dion was one of her buyers from Dallas. An intelligent, enterprising young man she liked. He also happened to be set-up not far from where Payton used to call home. It was a long shot, but it stood to reason she might return there given the circumstances.
“Hold on.” The phone rustled. Voices were muted.
“Mr. Smoke?” a second, more familiar voice asked.
“Letting lackeys answer your phone?” She let a note of scorn drip in.
While Payton had been the face, Alice had been the voice for long enough she knew how to play this game.
“It’s called a secretary. You should let that pretty blonde thing handle me. What’s happening, Smokey?”
“I heard you got cleaned out a few months ago. Just wondering if you’re going to make good on your payment.” She sighed, her nonchalant words nothing of the sort.
“I’ve got everything under control.” His voice was lower, quieter now. Didn’t want his secretary to overhear?
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Well, you heard wrong.”
“Please, Dion, we both know you owe a deep debt to me, the Mexicans and the Columbians, so cut the shit. I’m prepared to offer you a deal that will work out to both of our advantages.”
The line remained silent.
She waited another beat before continuing. She had him by the balls and they both knew it.
“I’m having my man send you a picture of that pretty blonde thing. She has a case of an inflated ego and I need your men to pick her up for me.” Alice stared at the slightly-doctored image of Payton that Brent would send along shortly to Dion, plus her particulars.
Alice had picked Payton not only for her unique hair, but also because she and Alice were of a similar build and coloring. Throwing Payton under the bus would be an easy thing. Except for this look.
“What do I do with her when I find her?”
“I don’t care. You’ll receive the details shortly.”
Alice ended the call. Dion didn’t deserve pleasantries. He’d cost her money, but she could use him. With Payton in hand and Alice’s phone back, she could figure out how to recover her merchandise. Then, with Dion being so hungry to turn a profit, she could flood the Dallas market on his time and take more than her regular share of the net gain in exchange for credit owed. It was a rather neat little deal. In as much as a few weeks, she could establish an international trade through one of the easiest cities to access.
If Alice didn’t want to kill Payton so much, she might just thank her.
4.
Chaz’s whole body hurt. He’d left feeling so good that he’d gone to town in the kitchen, scrubbing and cleaning after the guys were called out on a two-alarm call. His physical therapist was right, he hadn’t been moving enough and getting the limb loosened up was harder because of it. Those therapy sessions were killing him, but maybe if he got a massage like what Payton had done to him more often...
He killed the engine and eyed the distance from his truck to his front door.
A figure moved past the windows.
Payton.
His stomach tightened.
She was...different. He couldn’t put his finger on what was up with her, but she wasn’t the Payton he remembered. And she hadn’t answered a single damn question he’d posed to her yet.
Well, tonight she was going to, damn it.
He just never knew what to do with her.
She wasn’t a friend.
He’d never viewed her as a sister.
She was...
He sighed.
He didn’t know what she was, but she was in his life, she was important to him and he was sure as hell going to figure out why she was randomly dropping in on him for Christmas.
Chaz hauled himself out of the truck. He still had a good six weeks until he could be cleared for active duty. If he wanted to be back in uniform, he couldn’t have another day like today, no matter what he thought. Physical therapy had to be his focus. Getting back to regular activity and not laid up in his recliner feeling sorry for himself.
The front door opened and Payton stood there. She’d changed into some sort of knit dress thing that hugged her curves while looking snugly warm.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t cook anything.” She tilted her head to the side, seeing more than he wanted her to. “Sit. I’ll grab you some food and one of the pain pills.”
That was the last th
ing he wanted, but the way his knee was throbbing, it was likely a good deal. And here he’d been pretty proud of himself for going this long without taking anything. It’d been—what? The Christmas party? All he remembered was Nate talking at him about something or another. Probably about Allison, which meant Chaz didn’t want to remember.
He flipped the lock on the front door, hung his coat on the rack and set his sights on the sofa recliner. His mother hated the thing and never failed to complain about it when she came over, but the way he figured, it was the best of both worlds. Besides, he lived alone and liked it that way.
Chaz propped his feet up. He grabbed the remote, then thought better of it. He’d let Payton distract him by virtue of simply being there. It was strange, being under the same roof with her again.
“Here. I picked the most worn menu in the drawer and guessed.” She handed him a plate full of Mongolian Beef.
“Damn.”
“Here’s a drink and your pill.”
He glanced from the cup of tea to the pill then to her face.
Why was she being this...helpful?
What was wrong?
He sat the cup in the armrest holder and ignored the pill.
“How was your day? You going to eat?” He stabbed some of the beef with a fork.
She perched on the sofa, his medication in hand.
“I ate earlier.”
She wasn’t even answering simple questions about her damn day.
Did he come right out and call her on her shit? Payton was smart. That was the problem. She could think circles around other people. Him included. He just wished she’d use her head for something other than...he didn’t want to know what she did. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.
“You go out?” He took another bite.
“No. You want to watch the news?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, okay. I saw that new action movie was out—”
“What happened to that girl that lived down the street? The one you were friends with?”
Payton glanced away and shrugged.
“What’s going on, Payton? You don’t answer questions, you shrug them off. So far, all I know is that you’re here. You’re alive. You seem to be breathing. Other than that, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”
Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4) Page 3
