Smoke & Mirrors

by Rowe, Julie

  “Won’t bother me.” It wouldn’t, but something was wrong with that truth, even though he couldn’t think of what it could be.

  “No,” she said again, a tear clearing a track through the blood splatter on her skin. “Please don’t become one of the monsters.”

  But that’s what he was.

  She put a hand on his chest. “I’m tired and sore and I want to get away from this…”—she glanced around—“horror movie.”

  Reality smacked him upside the head. The Texan would be back soon, and ready for a fight. This time, when she reached for Skinny’s neck, he let her go.

  The smoke coming from the spill site intensified.

  “Still alive, but…”—she looked around the room—“if he stays here, he isn’t going to stay that way.”

  Smoke went to the front door.

  Movement on the road.

  He strode over to Kini and snagged her hand. “The Texan.”

  The smoldering floor burst into active flames.

  He hustled her through the house.

  She sucked in a breath. “What about—”

  “No time.” He kept her moving.

  At the back door, Smoke paused to observe the tent, but if anyone was watching them from inside it, he couldn’t detect them.

  He headed into the desert at a trot, needing to get her away from the burning cesspool as quickly as possible.

  He pulled out his cell phone and swore.

  “What’s wrong?” Kini asked.

  He held out the phone. At some point during his scuffle with Skinny, his phone had taken a hit. The screen had been shattered and the battery case caved in.

  He dropped it in the dust.

  With the dirt bike no longer an option, they either had to flag down a ride back to town, steal a vehicle, or walk. Hitching a ride was out, there was no other car or truck in sight, and Kini was already at her physical limit.

  He needed to find a place where they could hole up for a couple of hours or more. Somewhere the ass-wipe they’d left behind, who was inside the house yelling like a two-year old, and firing his gun like he had shares in Remington, wouldn’t find them.

  Unfortunately, the area they were in wasn’t noted for its abundance of hideouts.

  Except for one.

  He guided her down into the canyon that formed the northern border of the Rogerson property. Though the creek bed was dry right now, it saw enough water to support more robust brush and trees.

  Better cover.

  Behind him, Smoke could hear Kini’s breathing, fast and deep. He was pushing her, all but dragging her down the steep slope, but they had to get some distance between the Texan and them.

  He stepped over a rock sticking out of the dirt.

  She tripped over it then tried to hide a pain-filled noise as she attempted and failed to stay on her feet.

  Smoke planted his boots in the sandy earth and caught her on his back.

  An uncomfortable “oof” came out of her, but she didn’t move for a couple of seconds.

  “Hurt?” he asked her quietly.

  “No, just…give me a second to catch my breath.”

  They didn’t have a second, but if she passed out and he had to carry her, his hands would be too busy to use his rifle. So, he waited.

  More rifle shots, then a flash of light so bright he could see it halfway down the canyon, and a boom.

  “Was that…” Kini began.

  “The house,” Smoke finished for her. “Yeah.”

  “There were two men in the tent out back,” Kini said, her voice strained.

  “Doubt we have to worry about them anymore.”

  She made a sound, something sad, angry, and afraid all at once.

  Smoke was about to move when running footsteps became audible from the lip of the canyon above them.

  “Fuck.” The Texan hadn’t spoken all that loud, but it was still clearly audible.

  Damn it, he’d hoped the Texan had been a victim of the explosion. If he was going to try to catch them, they weren’t moving fast enough.

  Kini sucked in a breath then managed to lever herself off his back and stand on her feet. She touched his shoulder, patting him a couple of times. A signal she was ready.

  He began walking again, watching for, and avoiding, footing problems. The farther they went down, the denser the foliage got until they were at the bottom. The vegetation was thick enough here to easily hide them from anyone searching for them from above, but they were a long way from safe.

  “Okay?” he asked as he picked a way through the prickly trees and undergrowth.

  It took so long for her to answer, he stopped to take a good long look at her. Blood was splattered across her shirt and some of her cuts had lost their bandages. The bags under her eyes were so deep and dark that, in the moon shadows, they made her eye sockets appear empty.

  Her hands shook and she was limping.

  She wasn’t going to stay on her feet for very long. He needed to find a place for them to hole up until she’d gotten some rest, water, and food.

  A gunshot echoed through the canyon. Another and another, along with the thunk, thunk, thunk of bullets hitting trees and dirt.

  Damn fool might end up shooting them despite not knowing exactly where they were.

  “Come out, come out, where ever you are,” the Texan called. He was on the canyon floor now, too. “I don’t know who you are, dirt bike guy, but you’ve got yourself mixed up in some very bad business. I’ve got more guns coming and when we catch you, we’re going to make you pay for making such a mess in my house.”

  Smoke kept moving, trying to recall the topography of the canyon floor. It had been at least four years since he’d last been down here.

  Texan sent a few more random shots in their direction, one of them ending up in a tree trunk a couple of feet from Smoke’s head.

  Yeah, he was going to have to do something about that moron.

  A rocky outcrop became visible and, if he remembered right, it was concave on the other side, a place where water pooled when it ran. A protected place to hide.

  He led Kini into the shaded hollow. “Stay here. Got to lose the paparazzi.” He pulled out his backup weapon, a Berretta, and handed it to her. “Do you know how to use this?”

  She checked the safety and held it in a two-handed grip. “It’s been a couple of years, but yes.”

  Watching her hold the gun, handling it with confidence despite the pain and exhaustion he knew had her at her breaking point, made him hard. That was all kinds of messed up. “Don’t shoot unless you have to.”

  “Right back at you, big guy,” she said with one eyebrow raised and expectant.

  If ever there was time for a justified kill, this was it.

  She snagged his hand before he could move, and, still panting, whispered, “Be careful.”

  He nodded once and tugged his hand free. Not what he wanted to do. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her while they both slept.

  More random gunshots.

  First, he had an asshole drug dealer to deal with.

  Locating the Texan wasn’t hard. The moron made more noise than an entire class of kindergarteners with all his shouting, shooting, and swearing. None of it made sense beyond the promises to kill Kini after he hurt her and hurt her and hurt her.

  The bastard needed to die. Needed to pay for Nate’s murder and terrorizing Kini. Needed to pay for bringing poison into Small Blind.

  So many sins, too little time.

  He managed to circle around and get behind the Texan, who was stumbling around like a drunkard. Was the dude high on his own shit? His clothing was sweat stained, dirty, and…fuck, he smelled like he’d gone swimming in a shit lake.

  Getting rid of him wasn’t going to hurt the world one bit. The memory of Kini’s face, bruised, battered, and cut reminded him of his first priority: keep her safe.

  Smoke aimed his rifle and fired.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kini had
to admit, the spot Smoke had found for her to rest and wait for him was a good one. Sheltered and relatively safe, she was able to roll back the hypervigilant state she’d been in since those boys had put a paper bag over her head.

  Why was the world so full of stupid people?

  Bruce was still making all kinds of noise in the trees, shooting off his mouth and his gun. In the trees. He’d made it down into the canyon.

  A single shot rang out, different than all the ones that had echoed through the canyon before. This one had a deeper pitch. A different weapon.

  Smoke.

  Had he killed Bruce? He hadn’t made her any promises, and maybe he didn’t have a choice, but the thought made her want to scream at the injustice. The first man she’d met who made her inner demons go quiet was now the man with the gun.

  Nausea rolled over her, making her muscles ache and shake, and a light sweat to break out over her skin. No, Smoke. He didn’t need the cost of another soul on his conscience.

  A high-pitched scream echoed around her then was cut off abruptly. Who was that?

  Seconds turned into minutes before a figure, tall and broad shouldered, came around the outcrop. Full dark had descended, and it made him look more like shadow than a man.

  “Smoke?” she asked, barely above a whisper, terrified she was wrong. Again.

  “Who were you expecting, Mary Poppins?”

  What?

  Her jaw had dropped. She closed it, trying to grasp why he looked so angry. At her.

  She hadn’t done anything but sit where he put her and wait for him.

  “It was an honest mistake,” she said with a fake smile. “I mistook your rifle for an umbrella.”

  He’d been moving toward her at an even pace, but at her words, he stopped and stared at her from underneath his eyebrows. And said nothing.

  She sealed her lips shut, determined to make him say the next word.

  He’d had a lot more practice than she did at this particular contest, though. His face never moved.

  Finally, she couldn’t stand it. She leaned forward and hissed through clenched teeth, “I thought you might have gotten shot.”

  Now he frowned. “Oh.” He glanced away then cleared this throat. “I didn’t kill him. Just shot him through the leg a little.”

  I didn’t kill him, four little words, one big result. Smoke hadn’t killed. His moral compass hadn’t been destroyed. Dented, dinged, and dirty it might be, but he still had it.

  Warmth spread out from her chest through her entire body, wiping away the pain of her lacerations and bruises and the fuzzy edges of exhaustion. He hadn’t killed.

  Then the full meaning of his words registered. “You shot him through the leg a little?” she asked, incredulous. “How does one do that? I mean…a little, what…” She sputtered and waved her hands around. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means he’s alive, and he’ll stay that way.” Smoke tilted his head to one side and considered the ground thoughtfully. “Probably.”

  “Bleed to death kind of probably?”

  “No, I bandaged the bullet wound, but…” He glanced away with a distinct guilty expression. “The bullet fractured his leg.”

  “So, by probably you mean he needs someone to find him and take him to a hospital.”

  “Yep.” Smoke gave her an almost smile. “But not for a couple hours. Maybe even three or four. The asshole deserves that much.”

  Well, this was better than just murdering the man.

  “Fine.” She huffed out a breath as the endorphin rush began to ebb. “Can we go now? I’m so tired I don’t even know what day this is.”

  Smoke opened his mouth, looked at her, then closed it again without saying anything.

  Smart man.

  She extended her hand, offering him the gun he’d given her. He took it and holstered it—tucked inside the rear waistband of his jeans.

  She grabbed his outstretched hand, and he pulled her to her feet. Dizziness made gravity optional, and she found herself plastered up against Smoke’s body, his arms around her as he held her up.

  “Sorry,” she said, breathing deep, trying to stave off unconsciousness. “My knees have apparently gone on strike and the negotiations for a new contract aren’t going well.” Damn it, she couldn’t fall apart now; they were in no way safe.

  “Would an incentive package help?” he asked.

  She raised her head to meet his gaze. “Wha—”

  He kissed her. A long, lingering slide of his lips against hers. He sucked on her bottom lip, coaxing her mouth open, then licked at her tongue. Slowly, like they had all the time in the world.

  She hung on to him, her hands gripping the back of his shirt to keep herself upright, to keep him close.

  One of his hands cupped her butt, pulling her into full contact with the erection inside his jeans.

  She wiggled and was rewarded with a groan emanating from deep in his chest.

  His breathing grew as fast and choppy as hers. He ended the kiss and rested his forehead against her. “Good to go?”

  She chuckled, still trying to catch her breath. “My knees have voted to accept your incentive package on the condition that it’s delivered on demand.”

  He laughed out loud. Then he took her hand and they continued down the canyon.

  After a few minutes, the adrenaline wore off to such an extent her muscles shook with the effort to keep her upright. A couple of times she caught herself falling asleep while walking, waking only when she began to list too far to one side.

  “Smoke?” Her foot caught on a root and she would have fallen if it weren’t for his grip on her hand. “I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.” Disappointment in herself turned to despair. She was going to get him killed. “I’m slowing you down. It will get us both caught. You should lea—”

  He spun, got within a couple of inches from her face, and said in a low growl, “No.”

  “But—”

  “No.” There was no give to him. No compromise. A muscle in his jaw jumped, telling her he was good and angry. At her.

  She swallowed and blinked away the burning sensation in her eyes. “What do we do?”

  He stared at her a moment longer, as if daring her to suggest he leave her behind again. When she just waited, he relaxed a little.

  “There are a couple of spots along the canyon where we could rest for a bit.” He took a step closer. “No complaining if I decide to carry you.”

  She rolled her eyes and started walking again. Smoke caught up and passed her, but kept within a few paces, checking on her often as he scanned the way ahead and monitored for activity behind them.

  After about fifteen minutes of walking, Smoke went down into a crouch and pulled his rifle up so he could look up through the scope at the north edge of the canyon. Though it was dark, it was a clear night and the moon was bright enough to allow him to see.

  Kini joined him, crouched a foot or two away, listening hard. At first, she couldn’t hear anything that might have set off his alarm bells, but within a few seconds, distant but distinct voices sounded. Male voices.

  “…repeated gunshots,” one voice said.

  “It’s probably a local out hunting,” another said.

  “Hunting what?” the first man asked. “There’s nothing out here but that broken-down farm on the other side of the canyon.”

  Kini glanced at Smoke. She’d bet a year’s salary he’d find something to hunt, other than people, out here.

  So, what were these two city guys doing out in the desert?

  “It’s probably that asshole at the farm, then. He likes to think he’s middle management rather than a number on the factory floor.”

  The voices sounded close. Through the foliage, two men stood at the top of the cliff face, looking out over the canyon and beyond.

  “I don’t hear anything now, but something is burning,” the first man said. “Is that smoke?”

  “I’ll give the asshole a call, make sure h
e isn’t fucking around,” the second said. “And I’ll tell him to stop shooting at shit for fun. We have enough to do.” The two men turned and disappeared.

  Smoke didn’t move from his crouch, didn’t so much as breathe for a couple of minutes. His hands remained steady, his rifle pointed at the space where the edge of the canyon met the sky.

  The muscles in Kini’s thighs and butt burned from holding one position for so long. A trickle of sweat ran down her back. The temperature had gone down with the sun, but she was still thirsty. At least now she didn’t feel like every molecule of water was being yanked out of her throat every time she opened her mouth.

  Eventually, Smoke relaxed and stood. He held out his hand and helped her get to her feet all while scanning all around them and above them, for…what? Enemies? Bad guys?

  A phone rang. She’d heard that song coming out of Bruce’s phone. Though they’d been walking a while the sound carried a long way.

  She stared at Smoke, the bottom of her stomach gone and gravity pulling the rest of her into a black hole.

  He met her gaze, nodded once, and set off at a ground-eating pace she doubted she could keep up with. Her whole body hurt and every laceration stung, thanks to the sweat coating her skin. Her feet seemed to weigh twenty pounds each, and every step pushed her closer to unconsciousness.

  She stumbled, but caught herself and kept going. The second time she stumbled, Smoke caught her.

  She put her hands on his biceps and stared at her shaking hands like she’d never seen them before. “I think I’m tapped out.”

  Smoke didn’t say anything, didn’t make a sound, just picked her up and cradled her close to his chest.

  “I know you’re in shape, but…how long do you think you can carry me?”

  “Long enough,” he said, his breathing perfectly normal.

  Show off.

  He walked along the creek bed at the base of the canyon and somehow managed to not lose his footing once. She dozed off, put to sleep by the steady rocking motion of his stride and the safety in his arms.

  Never had a man felt as safe as Smoke did. Safe, dependable, and strong—qualities she’d never expected to find in a man, not after the betrayal of her childhood. Maybe she was so desperate for hope, for a good man, she was seeing things in Smoke that weren’t really there.