Smoke & Mirrors

by Rowe, Julie

  “Medic!” he bellowed, putting a hand over each wound and applying pressure. “Someone get me a fucking medic.”

  “So loud,” a wavering voice said.

  His lungs stopped working for the whole second it took to look at her face. “Kini?”

  Her eyes were open a crack but widened with surprise as she looked at him. “What did I do this time?”

  She was awake, talking to him. Then her question registered. “You got shot,” he growled at her. “You ran straight toward that asshole and he shot you.” He leaned down until he was just a couple of inches from her face. “Twice.”

  “Of course I did.” She smiled at him, so beautiful and sweet. “He would have shot you otherwise.” One bloody hand reached up to touch his face. “Love you.” Her hand dropped and her eyes closed.

  “Kini!” he shouted at her. “Don’t you fucking die on me, don’t you fucking dare.”

  Someone put a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away.

  “Smoke, the paramedics are here.”

  All he could see was the ghost of a smile on her face and the blood on her body. If he lost her, he’d go insane.

  “Smoke, come on, man, get your shit together, the paramedics are here!” He glanced over his shoulder at the man who’d handed him the gun instead of handcuffing him. Then at the ambulance and the paramedics running toward them.

  The next few minutes were a blur as the paramedics fought to stop Kini from bleeding any more than she already had. They put IVs in both her arms, loaded her onto a stretcher, and were gone.

  Smoke hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing. All he could do was stare at the pavement where Kini had lain. There was so much blood on the ground. So much.

  Finally, he turned his head and regarded the man who’d stayed with him the whole time. Henry Lee, an ex-Special Forces soldier, currently employed at the CDC as a lab tech. “What are you doing here?”

  “Came with the rest of our people. No one needed me to figure out the pathogen, so River gave me a gun and told me to stay out of trouble.”

  “Dumb.” One did not hand a man like Henry Lee, who’d lost a leg but none of his training, a gun for any other reason than to make trouble.

  “Yep.”

  “So you promptly disobeyed his orders just like he expected you to?”

  “He’s not my boss, but…” Lee shrugged. “Yeah.”

  Another fire truck arrived, followed by more state trooper cars and another generic sedan. None of the people who got out of the vehicles paid them any attention. “Why aren’t I under arrest?”

  “Your grandfather got word to us about the same time the sheriff called in to say the fire alarm was false.”

  That couldn’t be all of it. “What was the word?”

  Lee gave Smoke a startled glance then started laughing. “You live up to your reputation.”

  “Which is?”

  “You get straight to the point and only say what you have to.” Lee shook his head. “Your grandfather said to look into the owners of this place and a property on the other side of the canyon that turns out to be a drug lab. Both places are owned by a development company, that’s owned by a shell company, that eventually leads back to Sheriff Davis.”

  “That asshole sheriff wasn’t just producing meth. This place is a cover for bioweapons.”

  Lee stopped laughing. “No. Really?”

  “Kini told me the sheriff removed some of the pathogens from the building. You might want to check the trunk of his police car.”

  “Shit.” Lee took a couple of steps toward the knot of people talking with the fire chief, then stopped and said, “Don’t go anywhere.”

  At Smoke’s nod, he jogged away, only the slightest limp giving away the fact that he had a prosthetic leg.

  It didn’t take long for Lee’s news to rile everyone up. Shit, he could hear the questions from where he stood.

  Smoke walked over to Lee and the rest, the pain in his calf reminding him that he had to see a doctor about getting that bullet out.

  “You might as well let the fire burn,” Smoke said to the group. “Let the heat destroy whatever shit he had in there.”

  “What the hell is wrong with your leg?” Lee asked, staring at his torn jeans like he’d hadn’t noticed them until now.

  Something told him some of these people were going to squawk. Fuck, he was tired of the noise. Still, maybe he could convince everyone it was no big deal.

  He shrugged. “I sort of got shot.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Kini floated on an ocean of cold pain. Her whole body hurt. Stupid sheriff had done something; she couldn’t quite remember what. Oh yeah, he’d shot her. Twice.

  It was Smoke the sheriff wanted to shoot. There would have been no talking him down from the moral ledge he’d teetered on; he’d been determined to jump.

  She’d felt the impact of the bullets, but didn’t recall any pain until after she’d rammed him, knocking him down.

  No wonder she hurt.

  That was okay, because Smoke was okay.

  He was okay, wasn’t he?

  She lifted eyelids weighing fifty pounds each, looking for him, wanting to know where she was and what happened. The sound of an active heart monitor and motorized IV pump beeped and hummed next to her left ear. Hospital bed. Hospital room.

  Which hospital?

  Kini turned her head to see if anyone was around to answer her questions and found Smoke sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair, asleep.

  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing someone else’s clothes spattered with blood and burn holes. Now, he was wearing scrubs and hospital booties on his feet. The edge of a bandage peaked out from under one of his pant legs.

  “Smoke?”

  She couldn’t seem to make her voice box work.

  Putting as much strength as she could into it, she said, “Smoke.”

  His eyes opened and he stared at her, his expression blank for a long, horrible second. Then awareness and relief flooded his face and he sat up abruptly in the chair. “Kini?”

  “Hi,” she said, trying to smile, but her face hurt a lot, too, so she gave up on it.

  “How are you feeling?” Smoke asked. Then closed his eyes and grimaced. “Dumb question.” He opened his eyes again. “Any difficulty breathing? Headache?”

  What? Why would he ask all that? She had a heart monitor attached to her chest and a blood oxygen saturation monitor clamped to her right index finger. Not to mention more cuts and bruises than she could count along with the two bullet wounds.

  She made an isn’t the answer obvious noise. “Everything hurts,” she managed to whisper. “How are you?”

  “Fine.” There was a thread of pain, of something unhappy in his voice.

  She didn’t like that, not at all. “I hope you punched the sheriff repeatedly in the face,” she said, trying to smile. For the two of them to be in a hospital and not under arrest, the sheriff’s illegal activities had to have been uncovered.

  Smoke pressed his lips together so tight they were no more than a thin white line. He stared at her for so long she became concerned.

  “He was caught, right?”

  One of the muscles over Smoke’s jaw flexed. “He didn’t get away, and he’s in no position to hurt anyone anymore.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “Davis was selling biological weapons on the darknet, black market internet. The FBI is trying to piece together who his buyers were from what’s left of the computers at the marijuana farm, but they’re not having much luck.”

  “Damn,” she whispered.

  “Given what he was doing, the CDC thinks the farm was the source of the hantavirus outbreak. Not sure how yet, but—”

  “I think I know,” she interrupted. “Blackwater put a body through a wood chipper. What happened to Blackwater? I think he may have done the same with some of the people producing his biological weapons. If he mixed the results with compost or soil then used it as fertilizer or even dispo
sed of it at the nearest landfill, the result could be an increase in rodent carriers all over this area.” Out of breath, she found she couldn’t keep her head up any longer. “Ask him what he did with…the bodies.”

  He got to his feet, limped over to the bed, and kissed her on the forehead. “I wish I could,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” She smiled despite the pain, so damned happy they’d both survived far too many people trying to kill them. “You kept your word, kept me safe.”

  He recoiled as if she’d shot him point-blank in the chest.

  What? “Smoke?” Kini reached out with one hand, but he slid away, out of reach.

  He swallowed hard, agony and loathing reflected on his face. “I killed the sheriff.” His voice sounded like it had been sliced over and over by the words he forced himself to say. “Shot him in the head. I had no choice, he was going to use that axe to…I had no choice.”

  Oh, Smoke, no. He’d had to kill for her. He’d had to relive all the horror he desperately needed to put behind him in order to have a life. A good, happy life.

  “It’s okay,” she croaked. Her voice was giving out along with her strength.

  He turned away, running one hand through is hair like he was going to pull it out. “It’s not okay. I promised not to kill anyone, and I broke my word.” He turned back to her. “It looks like I’m really good at two things. Killing people and letting the ones I love down.”

  “You didn’t—” she whispered, no longer strong enough to do more than that.

  “I did,” he said with complete conviction. “I wasn’t here for Liam, and I shot that fucking asshole Davis only a few inches from your head.”

  A horrified squeak came out of her. She didn’t remember any of that.

  He recoiled again, then his entire body changed, and he stood at attention. “I’m a warrior, always have been, always will be. If I have to kill to protect myself and those I’ve sworn to protect”—he gave her the saddest smile she’d ever seen—“I’ll kill.”

  What was he trying to say to her? It didn’t sound like an apology. He didn’t have anything to apologize for. “I don’t understand.”

  “I gave you my word I’d keep you safe.” His gaze swept over her body. “I did a shitty job.”

  “Anyone else would have had a corpse on their hands. You did an amazing job.”

  “You nearly died,” he snarled. “Blackwater was right. Bloodshed follows me around. If I stay near you, it’s going to happen again.” He met her gaze, his own filled with anger, regret, and determination. “I won’t put you through that.”

  “Smoke, no—” she tried to say.

  “I’m a ticking bomb. I don’t know when I’m going to go off. I don’t know what I’ll do when it happens, but it will happen.” His gaze drilled into hers, holding her still and silent. “I’m not safe, and you…you need someone who is safe.”

  He left the room before she could say anything.

  “Smoke?” she tried to call, but her lungs didn’t seem capable of pushing out the necessary air. “Smoke!”

  He had to come back, had to listen to her. She didn’t blame him, didn’t fear him. She grabbed at the wires and tubing within reach. There was a call button somewhere, right? She could get the staff to stop him, bring him back.

  The button was clipped to her pillow. She pressed it, pressed and pressed and pressed.

  A disembodied voice said, “Your nurse is on her way.”

  “Get security to stop Smoke from leaving,” she said as loud as she could.

  “There’s smoke in your room?” Alarm now in that professional voice.

  “No. Lyle Smoke.”

  “Someone will be right with you.”

  Damn it. He was going to be gone before anyone understood what she needed. She needed Smoke.

  He used to be good at reading her mind.

  At least he looked healthy, well, aside from the limp. But she wanted to know what happened. Had he really shot the sheriff? Did they find all the bacterial and viral samples he’d removed from his secret lab? Were Smoke’s dad and grandfather okay? Was the outbreak still going strong?

  She had so many questions, but Smoke was gone.

  A nurse came in, but she was in that hazy place between awake and sleep. The nurse changed the dressings on her wounds, giving her the outstanding news that both bullets had done very little damage. She’d lost some blood and had been given a couple of units while in surgery, but she’d make a full recovery in a few weeks.

  “Smoke,” she said to the nurse. “I need Lyle Smoke.”

  “He’s left the hospital,” the nurse said. “Is there anyone else I can call for you? Family?”

  “No.” She didn’t have anyone else.

  …

  The next morning, after having her first cup of coffee since waking up, Henry Lee came into Kini’s room. She’d met the lab tech a few times and liked his no-nonsense attitude, but he didn’t look like a tech right now. Dressed in black jeans and T-shirt, and wearing a gun in a shoulder holster, he looked like a modern-day gunslinger.

  “How are you doing, Kini?”

  “Okay, I guess.” She’d be better if Smoke came back, but she wasn’t going to whine at Henry. She’d give Smoke a piece of her mind when she caught up to him. When, not if. She didn’t care how long it took to track him down, she was going to have her say, and then have her way with him.

  “Smoke shot the sheriff,” she said. “Do you know how it happened?”

  He studied her for a moment then nodded. “The sheriff had a chokehold on you and wouldn’t release you. I slipped Smoke my backup gun. He shot Davis before he could get you to his car.”

  If that had happened, she would have bled to death. So, why did Henry look so worried?

  “Will Smoke be charged with his murder?” She tried to sit up and had to remind herself she had to go slow.

  “No, there were plenty of witnesses. It was a justified kill.”

  Is that how men viewed it? Justified or not justified? If that was the case, why didn’t Henry look any less worried?

  He met her gaze and what she saw on his face made her stomach clench. “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Something has got Smoke spooked.”

  “Spooked?”

  “Agitated, anxious, unsettled, twitchy, worked up. Completely not Smoke.”

  She glanced at the doorway, hoping the subject of their conversation would appear. But there was no one there. “Talk to him. Ask him what’s wrong.”

  “Nobody can ask him jack shit.”

  “Why?”

  Henry didn’t answer.

  Closed-mouth men were going to drive her crazy. “Henry, just tell me.”

  “He left.”

  “Left?”

  “Disappeared.” Henry surged up to his feet and began to pace. “He sent me a six-word text. Gone fishing. Back in two weeks. ” Henry kept pacing. “No one has a problem with him taking time off to get his shit together. Hell, he’s smarter than I was when I got out, but I’d like to make sure he’s not doing something stupid. No one knows where he is. Not his parents or his grandparents. No one.”

  Hah. His family had lied, because they knew as well as she did where he’d gone. They were assuming he’d come back when he was good and ready. “I know where he is.”

  Henry stopped pacing. “Where?”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Not telling.”

  He stared at her. “Why the fuck not?”

  “He’s doing exactly what you think he’s doing. Working through the shit in his head.”

  Henry frowned and plunked himself in the chair again. “River said the same thing.”

  “Why are you so worried?”

  “I went through a rough patch when I first got home after…” He tapped his prosthetic leg. “If it weren’t for a couple of my Battle, I might have done something stupid.”

  “Battle?”

  “Battle brothers. Men you serve with, fi
ght with, survive with.”

  “I might not have fought with him, but I think I understand why he’s doing it alone. He has to get to a certain point before he can talk about it with anyone.”

  “Smoke, the man who doesn’t talk?”

  “He talks, he just says more with less.”

  Henry rolled his eyes. “Thanks for clearing that up not at all.”

  “If you stop squawking, I’ll show you where he is. After I’m cleared for light exercise, that is.”

  Henry opened his mouth to argue, but she wasn’t finished.

  “Stop. This is important. There was another bad guy at the drug house before it burned down. His name is Gary and he left to drive a very sick man to the hospital.” She could still remember how awful the man’s lungs sounded. “Gary is…dangerous. He hurt me for fun.”

  Henry’s face took on a flat expression. “Skinny dude. Looked like he hadn’t showered in a while?”

  “Yeah,” Kini said slowly, a sinking feeling in her gut. “That sounds like him.”

  “He’s dead.”

  “Did you…?”

  “No, I didn’t kill him. The asshole walked into the ER waving a gun demanding a doctor, and telling everyone to get out of his way. An older lady who’d been calmly waiting in line shot him in the back with a big-assed revolver she pulled out of her purse.” Henry grinned, but it wasn’t nice at all. “I guarantee no one will jump any lines in this town for a while.”

  …

  One week later, she directed Henry to the edge of the canyon, as close as you could get to the kiva Smoke had built as a teenager.

  Kini pointed out the stair rock from above. “That’s how you get in.”

  Henry looked at her like she’d lost her mind then shrugged. “I hope I don’t break my good leg trying to get into that nice hidey hole.”

  “Henry,” Kini said, exasperated with the grumpy lab tech. “There’s nothing wrong with either of your legs, so stop grousing.”

  He blinked at her, the question clear. Are you fucking serious?

  She crossed her arms over her chest. As a heart attack.

  He shook his head then began looking for an easy route down the canyon. He never made it to the bottom.