Up in Smoke (Firehouse Three, #4)

by Sidney Bristol

“Yeah. I’m...I’m an undercover agent with the DEA. And I shouldn’t tell you that.” She pushed her hands through her damp hair.

  “How...? When...?” He opened and closed his mouth.

  “Sit. I can’t...tell you everything but...I’m sorry. I didn’t...” She sighed.

  Chaz perched on the edge of her old day bed.

  She paced to the window and back.

  “It goes back to Dad.” Like most things, it all started with him. “He...before he and your mom reconnected, Dad was informing on people for the DEA to a guy named Webb. Then Dad disappeared and when Webb found us again, Dad was so sick and out of the game he wasn’t any use to the DEA.”

  Chaz didn’t say anything, just watched her.

  “I was...nineteen? Second year of college. Webb approached me at school and starts pressuring me to talk to some of Dad’s old friends, that if I’d do this, he’d ignore Dad’s...he’d forget Dad existed.” She paced back to the window and peered into the yard. “You can imagine how that went over.”

  “Yeah.” Chaz snorted.

  “Well, I went to Dad. Told him everything. He said to send Webb to him. That all Dad cared about was that I could fend for myself. I had you and Martha, he could go to prison. But Webb didn’t really want to do that. Dad was dying. Putting him in jail only meant the taxpayers footed the bill for his treatments. What he really wanted...was an asset. Someone undercover. Someone connected to Dad’s old friends. I...could do what he needed but Dad warned me. If I did it once, I’d be their bitch forever. And if I didn’t do it, Webb was threatening me with felony charges. Falsifying identities like we did, that’s...it’s bad. It could have completely shut down any chance of me having a future.”

  Payton stared at her reflection in the glass, seeing that idealistic nineteen-year-old. Yeah, she’d fucked up her fair share of times, but she’d had plans. Not great ones, but she’d intended to go to school, get a job and...live. Within the lines.

  “Payton? What happened?” Chaz’s voice was quiet in the silence.

  “I...told Webb I’d do it, but I had to be DEA first. At first, it was all about getting one over on him, but then... I sort of fell in love with it. I changed majors, started training, moved out of the house, made up stories, told you I was taking trips instead of the truth. I was...cramming for midterms and finals and on an accelerated track to graduating. I was good at it. And since Webb needed me in the field fast, I got pushed through. The problem is...in order to do what he needed me to do, I had to be me. But undercover. I had to be Payton, the girl these people remembered, but not.” She turned and perched on the window seat. “That’s...what I’ve been doing. That’s why I don’t come home often. It’s why...bad stuff follows me. I’m sorry, Chaz.”

  “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  “Because...Payton—me—has to be a fuck up. I have to make people believe that...I’m not all good.” And it was killing her. For all the bad guys she helped put away, what was it doing to her?

  “You’re really DEA?” He blinked.

  She knelt next to her bag, finding the seam with her fingers, and ripped.

  “Payton—what the hell?”

  She jerked the lining out of her bag. Her credentials and Alice’s phone lay in a plastic compartment glued to the inside of the frame. She pulled out the slim, leather fold over wallet she kept her federal badge and ID in, and handed it to Chaz. She tucked her holstered firearm into the back of her jeans for lack of a better place to put it.

  He took the worn leather and flipped it open.

  “It’s a terrible picture.” She sat down on the floor.

  “Couldn’t you have at least told me? Or Mom?” He lifted his gaze to hers, his brow creased with more than worry. Hurt. There was a whole world of gray in her life he had no clue about. This was where she’d lose him. Where he couldn’t reconcile her reality with his view of the world.

  “No, Chaz. My...story has to be bulletproof.”

  “Mr. Smoke? Is he real?”

  Payton sighed.

  This.

  “I am Mr. Smoke. Two years ago...I was getting burned out. After... Remember when I came home high?”

  “Yeah.” Chaz’s face went cold.

  “I got into a bad situation. Either I did a line of coke or they were going to kill this undercover cop. Our investigations crossed paths. I made him, I mean I identified him, tried to warn him off, but he wouldn’t listen and the people I was working on grabbed him. He turned on me, told them I was a fed. They decided that... See, even as undercovers we can’t do drugs. We just can’t. Most feds in my situation...they’re done for. That’s it. But...I did the coke. First drug. Ever. I never even smoked pot. I started with coke.”

  “Shit—Payton—”

  “Don’t. Just—don’t. They killed that cop in front of me. I called Webb. He was—is—my handler. He told me to disappear for a couple weeks. I...didn’t know where to go.”

  “You came here, and I...fuck.”

  “You took care of me. You always have. Whenever I’ve needed you, you pick up the phone and you’re there. I’ve used you, Chaz. I’m a terrible person, even if I do it for the right reasons.”

  “No. No, you’re not.” He crossed the room and sank down on the floor next to her. “You’re not a bad person. Maybe you like to think you are because it gives you an out or it’s guilt, but you’re not bad.”

  “I’ve done things, Chaz. I know I had to do them, but...this job. It’s killing me. I’m not cut out for undercover work like this. I...I love what we do, but...I’m tired.”

  “Then—stop. Leave. You can do that, can’t you?”

  “Not until this case is closed.”

  “With Mr. Smoke? How are you Mr. Smoke?”

  Payton leaned against his shoulder and sighed.

  It was all so twisted.

  “The less you know the better,” she said.

  “Payton. Tell me.”

  “You shouldn’t know this much.”

  “Tell. Me. Please?”

  “Chaz, please don’t make me play the it’s an on-going investigation card. Please don’t ask.”

  “Then tell me this, if you do this, if you finish this one, can you stop? Can you...switch to a desk job?”

  “Probably.”

  Webb would lose his shit, but...she wanted to move on. Take what she’d learned being in the field like she had and start making the calls herself. The problem was Webb. He was an old-school character who trusted no one, least of all her, and the only thing that mattered to him was closing his cases at whatever cost. Which meant she very often had to pay the bill. She was done being his bitch. And she just knew she had it in her to be a good case agent. To be what she’d needed so often in a handler.

  “I wish you would have told me sooner.” Chaz squeezed her, his face buried in her hair.

  “I’m sorry, Chaz. I shouldn’t have come here. Just...you’ve always been my rock. When things were bad I could call you, and remember why I was doing this stuff.”

  “Hey.” Chaz cupped her face in his hands. “I’ll always be here for you.”

  “I’ve lied to you. I’ve kept you in the dark. I’ve used you.”

  “Payton. Hey.” He stared into her eyes. “I wanted to be there for you. I want to be that person for you.”

  He pressed his lips to hers.

  Very shortly, he’d get pissed. She knew him. She knew how he was. Right now, he was just relieved. Soon, he’d be angry because she had lied to him. He’d been kept in the dark. She’d been in danger. But for right now, he was her rock. And he knew it. And he was all in.

  Payton leaned into him, hugging him tight.

  A knock at the door reminded her that they weren’t alone. The outside world and the consequences of her decisions were right outside. Waiting for her.

  “Agent Harris?”

  Payton sighed.

  “That sounds so weird.” Chaz shook his head.

  “Yeah, I don’t get called that very often.” S
he pushed to her feet then turned and gave Chaz a hand up.

  Did he realize that he was moving his leg easier? His limp wasn’t as bad. She’d seen it in agents benched for injuries. They sat around too much, letting themselves stiffen up so when it was time to get back to work it took them twice as long to be field ready.

  She let him precede her through the door. The two agents at least looked sheepish and apologetic.

  “Ma’am, we have been directed to relocate you,” the blond man said.

  “By who?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Wait—you’re not going anywhere,” Chaz insisted.

  “Guys!” Talk about a pissing contest between boys. She was going to lose her voice arguing over these people.

  A beat of silence.

  Down the street, a tire squealed.

  She flinched, because there’d already been too many close calls this year.

  “You’re staying here,” Chaz said.

  Light reflected off a windshield whipping into the driveway.

  A car she’d seen once before.

  “Down!” she yelled.

  It was too late.

  A figure stepped in front of the house, an automatic rifle in hand. The muzzle lit up, blasting round after round through the front windows, tearing the pretty Christmas tree to shreds. She shoved Chaz back, into her bedroom, and drew her weapon.

  In all her years of working in undercover, she’d never had to fire her weapon.

  But she didn’t hesitate.

  The blond agent lay in the floor, his partner crouched over him.

  She sighted, exhaling and squeezed the trigger.

  Unlike target practice, the man thirty yards away was a living breathing person—who was putting Chaz in danger. She fired twice, hitting the shooter once in the arm and then in the leg before he hurled himself out of view.

  Payton crept forward.

  This wasn’t training.

  It wasn’t a drill.

  This was real life.

  Every shot put not only herself but the people around them at risk.

  It was her job to protect people, and her very presence was what had put them all in danger.

  The car rolled backward, out of the driveway, both driver and passenger hunched down. She ducked behind the wall. The passenger squeezed off a shot without aiming, then the car was gone.

  “God damn it,” she muttered.

  Just because that car was gone didn’t mean there wouldn’t be others.

  This went back to Alice.

  “How bad is he?” Payton whirled and jogged to the hall.

  The blond agent lay propped up on his elbows. A deep gash on his forehead bled profusely.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.” He groaned and rubbed at his ribs. “Vest took the hit.”

  “Good. You good?” She looked at the other man, dark hair, Hispanic if she had to guess.

  He nodded, already on the phone.

  Chaz stood in the doorway, eyes wide, staring at the destruction a few moments had done.

  “I—I’m sorry, Chaz.” She lifted her hand, wiping away a drop of blood here and there.

  He winced.

  “I think you got some splinters,” she said.

  “Who were they?” he asked.

  “I...don’t know, but...it’s my fault. I’ll take care of this.” She’d...pay someone. Then leave.

  Back when she’d still had her training wheels on, learning the ropes, the more experienced agents had warned her that she hadn’t really made it until someone put a bounty on her head. Last she’d checked, there were six. Not that they’d go through with it. Killing a federal officer was bad for business. The bounties were more like a warning shot. Even if she left the DEA, there were people who’d want to see her dead. Get their payback. It was the nature of the job. And the last person she wanted caught up in it was Chaz.

  12.

  Chaz sat in his kitchen, staring at the table, listening to glass crunch. People moving around his house. Taking pictures. Digging bullets out of the drywall. It was a disaster.

  A couple hours ago, he was wondering how to get Payton to trust him to fix her problems. Now...he was an accessory to whatever investigation she was part of.

  She didn’t need him.

  The officers walked through the scene, Payton and the other two DEA agents talking them through it. Arthur would be here soon. Then what?

  “Hey, man.”

  Chaz looked at the guy’s scuffed, black boots.

  “Fairchild, you get knocked around, man? What the hell happened?”

  Chaz glanced up.

  Fuck.

  His luck.

  Spencer.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Chaz asked.

  Spencer’s ambulance was attached to Firehouse Three, because of the hazmat unit. In addition to being a retired combat medic, Spencer had both EMT and fireman training. He was a one man, first responder army.

  “Heard the call. Figured I’d get off my ass and do something.” Spencer pulled out the other chair and sat facing Chaz. “Look at me.”

  “I’m fine.” Chaz waved Spencer off.

  “You’re bleeding. Let me do my job or I’ll make the recommendation they put you back on the disabled list.”

  Chaz glared at Spencer.

  He’d do it, both because it would chap Chaz’s ass and because when it came to safety, Spencer had priorities.

  He dug splinters out of Chaz’s face and shoulder, applied ointment and only one bandage.

  “Do I want to know what happened?” Spencer asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  Payton rounded the half wall into the dining and kitchen area, eyes wide. She recognized Spencer, and there was no forgetting Payton. Chaz could see the concern plain on her face.

  “Hi, Payton. Let me look at that?” Spencer stood and gestured to the seat.

  “It’s not mine.” She gestured to the smear of blood on her jaw. “Jones bled everywhere.”

  “Ah, yeah.” Spencer nodded.

  “Can you...Spencer, I need to ask you to not talk about this. To anyone.”

  “Sure thing.” Spencer glanced from her to Chaz and back.

  Yeah, how long would that last?

  “Okay, well, Chaz—I’ll see you at the station. Payton, I never saw you.” Spencer packed up his bag.

  Neither Chaz or Payton spoke. They both watched him exit by the front door and join the rest of his unit at the curb.

  Payton sank into Spencer’s chair and scooted forward, her gaze on him.

  “Listen, the guys are going to help clean this up. They’re going to put me in protective custody. I’d like...I’d like for you to come with me. Just for a little bit.”

  “No.” Chaz shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around a room while everyone else got to do something.

  “Chaz, think about it, please. It’s not a big leap to figure out who you are if they know who I am. Then that makes you a target.”

  “I can’t. I’m supposed to cover a shift tonight. It’s the holidays. I can’t leave us shorthanded.”

  Payton pushed her hands through her hair.

  She wanted to protect him, the same way he wanted to protect her. They just went about it different ways.

  “Go on. I’ll be fine at the station.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Payton chewed her nail. She never did that. What did it mean?

  “I...I’m going to have to go away for a while until we sort this out.”

  Chaz didn’t like it. Selfishly, he wanted Payton near him, where he could protect her. Only...she didn’t need protecting. When the bullets flew, she was the one who’d acted first. Who’d known what to do.

  Payton didn’t need him to look out for her.

  Probably never had.

  What she had needed was someone to come home to. A place she felt safe.

  He couldn’t help her catch the bad guys, but he could make sure that
when she caught them, she had somewhere to go. A home. Him. The reality of their lives was that...duty came first. He would always be on-call if an emergency happened, just like her.

  He’d never understood Payton more than he did now.

  What he wanted, and what she needed, didn’t line up. Today.

  “Go on.” He nodded at the car that’d pulled up a bit ago. “Get the bad guys.”

  “Chaz, please come with me?” She reached for his hand, but settled for his knee.

  “I’ll just be in the way.” He shrugged. He couldn’t touch her and not let go. For them to be who they were, do what they had to do, she had to walk out that door and he had to go to work. He was on reserve duty now, which meant he could fill in on calls. “Go be an agent.”

  “Please, Chaz?”

  “I can’t leave my crew a man down, and you have to go do what it is you do.” He still didn’t quite know. She had a badge and a gun, but...what did that mean?

  “Agent Harris?”

  Payton’s lined brow, her frown, were so sad it broke his heart. But she could do this. She was strong. And when she was done, he’d have a bigger Christmas tree for her to come home to. Because this was Payton’s home. It always had been, always would be. He wasn’t going to let some punks take that from her.

  Payton finished the walk through of the safe house with the US Marshal.

  Tate.

  That was his name.

  Nice guy. Didn’t pry. Just—here’s the place, let me know if you need something.

  She checked her watch.

  Chaz would be going into the station soon.

  The cops had assured her that someone would help secure the house, that Chaz wouldn’t have to do it on his own, and when the guys at the firehouse got wind of what’d happened, she had no doubt that someone would help Chaz out.

  God, what a mess. What a disaster.

  If she had left this morning, they’d have caught Chaz home alone. He might have died.

  If she’d have done the smart thing to begin with...he wouldn’t be a target at all.

  She couldn’t find it in her to feel guilty for following her heart. For twenty-four hours and some change, she’d had it all. Chaz. The dream.

  Reality sucked.

  She should have known he’d pick normalcy over her.

  Asking him to come with her wasn’t just making sure he was safe, it was asking him to turn his back on everything he was. A fireman. A protector. It shouldn’t be a surprise that when presented with everything she was, all the lies she’d told, he’d picked the thing he knew.