Up in Smoke

by Tessa Bailey

  Her brain commanded her to pull out of his grip, but her body wouldn’t obey. She focused back on the window, zeroed in on the patch of gray sky visible through the glass. “Please let go,” she whispered, furious when her voice shook.

  He dropped her hand like it was on fire. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Eyes seeing too much. Discarding theories, thinking of new ones. Like he knew a damn thing about what was wrong with her. Half the time, she didn’t know.

  “My name is Connor.”

  Erin went still. Inside and out. She felt warm all of a sudden, like someone had draped a fleece blanket over her shoulders. If she thought she’d had him at least partially pegged, she’d been wrong. He didn’t have to give in to their silly name war. He’d done it because she’d shown a chink in her armor and he wanted to give her a victory.

  Connor.

  “What about a tiny little kiss?” Shit. Where had that come from? “No tongue.”

  “This isn’t summer camp.” Those hands clenched. Unclenched. “If you want to kiss me, you’ll get everything. I’m not going to hold back.”

  His gruff tone made her shiver. That voice held promises she couldn’t begin to interpret. It had been so long since she’d let a man touch her, but she knew instinctively that Connor would be a whole new experience. One she definitely wasn’t ready for and never would be. Still. She felt…gravitated to him. She’d originally leaned across this conference table to unnerve him. It worked with most people. Invade their personal space until they back off for good. Now that she was this close to him, though, she found herself wanting to stay there. It didn’t hurt that he’d released her hand without hesitation. Maybe it was premature or bad judgment on her part, but his action had made her feel safe. She didn’t feel safe very often, if ever.

  Deciding to trust the instinct that rarely failed her, she climbed onto the table and crawled on her hands and knees the remaining distance. Connor’s facade slipped just a little, lips parting on a gravelly exhale, broad chest shuddering as he watched her. “That wasn’t a challenge,” he grated.

  “Everything we’ve said so far has been a challenge.” Erin knew he liked what he saw as his gaze ran the length of her back, snagging on her ass. She gave it a quick shake. He groaned low in his throat, and she was shocked to find herself excited by it. “Kiss me. Just…don’t touch me, okay?”

  “Jesus.” He dragged both hands down his face. “You’ve got the wrong guy for that, sweetheart.”

  Of course, that made her want the kiss even more. She was drawn to fire. Connor had enough inside him to burn down a major city. The fact that he kept such a tight leash on it only made her want to watch it crackle and race. “I didn’t say I couldn’t touch.” She gripped the collar of his shirt and dragged him forward, bringing their mouths an inch apart. “Just you.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’ll make you beg for my goddamn hands on you.”

  Ah, Connor. You have no idea what you’re up against. “You’re welcome to try.”

  As if he wanted to reassure her, but the need to do so pissed him off, he seized the table’s edge with such obvious strength, the wood groaned beneath her. After a blistering perusal of her body, he brushed their mouths together once, before running his tongue along the seam of her lips. The room blurred around them. Oh. Oh wow.

  Out of the corner of her eye, a figure loomed in the doorway. “Well I guess the ‘getting to know each other’ phase is under way.”

  Chapter Two

  Connor shot forward to block the girl from the newcomer’s view. She’d gotten up on that table for him, and no one else got to enjoy the scenery. No one but him. His hands reached out of their own volition to drag her off the table and set her behind him.

  They grasped at thin air.

  Panic flared for two reasons. One, he didn’t like taking his eyes off the man framed in the doorway when his identity hadn’t been established. He’d been told to expect a roomful of convicts, after all. He needed to know who posed a threat and he wanted to know immediately. Especially now, when the threat could be directed at the girl. Two, not being able to touch her made him anxious. Ridiculous, really, since he’d only held her wrist and she’d nearly had a full-blown breakdown. It had only made him want to touch her more. Smooth out the fear with his hands. Gentle her. Tame her.

  Connor whipped his head around, needing to get eyes on her. She gave him a pinkie wave from her chair. How had she moved so fast? And dammit, how could she look so serene when the barest hint of contact with her mouth had shot electricity down his spine?

  He split his attention between her and the new guy. Although “guy” seemed an informal moniker for someone who held himself as if expecting to own the room’s attention. Not a con, then. Captain Derek Tyler? He’d been told back in New York to expect a man who brooked no bullshit, and the description fit. Most importantly, he wasn’t a threat to her.

  Connor lowered himself back into his seat. He thrived on control. Always had. What she had inspired in him since entering the room didn’t compare to anything in his thirty years of experience. He’d watched the girl vacillate among terrified, curious, and confident so many times his head was still spinning. So many things seeming to war for precedence in her head…and he’d found himself wanting to battle them all. What would it be like to harness all that vitality?

  Initially, she’d wanted him to back off. Her admission that she liked to “set things on fire” was meant to scare him away. Instead, his mental response had been, it’s a good thing I know how to put them out. He’d been doing it for the last two years. Cleaning up after his volatile cousin, who’d preferred to solve matters through violence. Guns, intimidation, fists. You name it. Connor’s life had been filled with violence. Images imprinted on his brain since childhood, then the navy. He’d fit seamlessly into the Brooklyn operation without a hiccup and he’d resented that. Resented that a place had been carved for him there all along, waiting for him to screw up and go the hell back where he belonged.

  Resented how easy doling out pain had become. Feeling too easy, too…good. A numbing distraction from the direction his life had taken.

  He’d found a way to get free of it, though. Finally. For that very reason, this pink-haired pyromaniac should not appeal to him. Chicago was supposed to represent a new start for him. For his ailing mother. The word “complicated” didn’t even begin to describe “she who still had not been named.” He had issues of his own to solve. He sure as hell didn’t have time for this. For her.

  For Chrissake, she didn’t like to be touched. His hands were everything to him. Whether they were being used as weapons or to give a woman pleasure, they were always at the ready. Being on the receiving end of her come-ons without being able to touch would be pure torture. She tested his restraint while simultaneously demanding he exercise more than ever. No, he needed to set aside his fascination with her and focus on the job. This one would drive him straight out of his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t get what he wanted. He’d survived every time. He’d survive without having the girl beneath him. Probably.

  But God help anyone else who tried to get her there.

  Connor gripped the edge of the chair and reeled back the irritation produced by that thought. His attention landed on the presumed captain who’d interrupted them before he could get a satisfying taste of the girl. The man looked slightly perturbed, but the faint frown lines between his eyes gave Connor the impression he looked like that most of the time. He was splitting his attention between Connor and Fire Girl, looking more than a little fascinated.

  “See something interesting, Captain?”

  The other man took his time answering, opening up a manila folder and thumbing through some paperwork, although he looked suitably impressed by Connor’s deduction. “That’s how you talk to your new boss?”

  “I do when he’s late.”

  “I have a city to run.” He threw an irritated glance toward the door. “Not sure what everyo
ne else’s excuse is, but I intend to find out.”

  “Maybe they were delayed by your goons at the front desk.” The girl spun her chair around in a circle. “And I don’t have bosses. Merely oppressors.”

  Derek didn’t blink. “You’re free to leave at any time, Ms. O’Dea.”

  O’Dea. Connor tried not to show a reaction to that piece of information. Across the table, she tossed her pink hair and laughed. “If I wanted to leave, I’d be halfway back to Florida by now.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of your specialized skill. It’s why you’re here.”

  She spun around again. “I love when my reputation precedes me.”

  Florida. Specialized skill. Connor didn’t have time to ponder what exactly Derek meant by that before another girl walked into the room. Marched, actually. She tucked her short jet-black hair behind her ears again and again, curious brown eyes landing on all three of them in the space of a heartbeat. “They took my laptop at the front desk. I want it back.”

  “Have a seat, Ms. Banks.”

  “Polly. Polly Banks.” she corrected, taking a seat beside O’Dea. “Since we were all blackmailed to be here, we should dispense with formality.”

  “I like her.” O’Dea reached over and released Polly’s hair from behind her ear. “Can we keep her, Daddy?”

  For someone who didn’t like to be touched, she sure liked to be on the other end, didn’t she? If they hadn’t been interrupted, would she have touched him? Where? Connor was distracted by his leading thoughts when a man hobbled into the room. He wore an oversize sweater, fisherman’s weave. A wide-brimmed hat was pulled down low on his forehead, and he tipped it at the two girls. When he reached the chair beside Connor, he practically fell into it with a groan.

  Connor sent Derek a questioning look, but the man just stared back levelly, a hint of a smile on his mouth. “Meet Austin Shaw. He’ll be joining you on the squad.”

  Polly hummed. “At least the Chicago PD aren’t ageists, in addition to being thieves.”

  “What she said,” O’Dea chimed in. “Cool hat, Grandpa.”

  “Thank you, dear.” Austin’s voice wavered with age. “I’ve had it years. It was an anniversary gift from my wife, Martha. You likely weren’t even born the first time I wore it.”

  O’Dea’s hands fluttered in a series of claps. “We’re keeping him, too.” She smirked at Connor. “You’re the only one I’m not sure about yet.”

  “Fooled me,” he growled.

  Derek cleared his throat and the room went silent, a fact that annoyed Connor even more. This guy might be a captain with the Chicago PD, but that didn’t mean shit where he came from. He was just another man ruled by the almighty system. Connor knew all too well how the system could hang you out to dry if you didn’t play ball its way. “You have no choice in who you keep. Let’s get one thing straight right away. This is my squad.” Derek encompassed them with a look. “I picked the six of you out of hundreds for a reason. As soon as the final two get here, we’ll talk about what it is.”

  Huh. That’s strange.

  Erin looked down at her chest, wondering if the warm fuzzy she’d just encountered in her midsection was visible to the naked eye. She might hate the idea of being strong-armed into being here, of having her past held over her head and used as a bargaining chip to gain her obedience. But unless you counted the thousand-woman team whose uniforms consisted of orange jumpsuits, she’d never been part of a group before. Yeah, they had a jerk-wad leader who had already felt the need to assert his male superiority over them, but everyone at this table had their rear ends to the fire. They were in this rowboat headed down shit creek together and something about that felt vaguely comforting. As comfortable as a convict could reasonably get knowing her second-class citizen status made her dispensable, and therefore she would be placed in dangerous situations.

  But hey—at least it was for the good of a team. With an adorable old man mascot.

  She sneaked a glance at Connor. He was still looking at her. She wished like hell he’d stop. Also, if he could keep going that would be great, too. It felt like being touched without all the anxiety that came along with it. His mouth had felt so good—

  “Nice of you to show up,” Derek said, giving the two latest arrivals the stink eye. “Now sit down. We’ve got work to do.”

  Erin stared in fascination at the new couple standing in the doorway. And despite their obvious differences, there was absolutely zero doubt that they were a couple. They were tethered in some invisible way she’d never witnessed before. The man was a fighter. Every taut line of his body made that unquestionable. Not only did he look ready to take on any threat to the girl standing beside him, he was dying for someone to try so they could lose. Where Connor was sturdy and unmovable, this dark blond in his worn leather jacket never stopped moving. His fingers flexed, his eyes scanned, his energy sparked. A complete contrast to the girl who’d taken hold of his hand as if to reassure him.

  Erin realized she was openly gawking at the girl, but didn’t care. Two years ago, she’d spent Christmas Eve locked up in Dade Correctional. Bored and restless, she’d found her way to a makeshift church service, an event she’d normally avoid like the plague, but they’d been giving out fruit punch. Sitting in the back row, she’d listened to the story of Mary and Joseph traveling toward Bethlehem, where Mary would eventually squeeze out Jesus. This girl standing in the doorway, casting an air of calm over the room, was how she’d pictured Mary. Still, serene…eyes brimming with warmth.

  “Oh captain, my captain.” The fighter slapped a hand over his heart, punctuating the heavy Brooklyn accent he spoke with. “Try not to endear yourself to me too quickly. We just got here.”

  Derek trained cool eyes on him. “You’re on my time, Driscol. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Driscol kept his smile in place, but it had lost any trace of humor. The Virgin Mother holding his hand whispered something in his ear and after a second, he nodded. Giving them all a suspicious once-over, he led her to the remaining open seats. He guided his girlfriend into one of them gently and stood behind her with arms crossed over his chest. When he jerked his chin at Connor and received a grunt in return, Erin realized they knew each other. Two strong personalities like that didn’t form truces right off the bat. There might be an air of tension there, but there was also familiarity.

  “You were all given a choice,” Derek boomed. “Prison time or my time. One or the other. If you thought I was the lesser of two evils, you were wrong. You each have a skill that landed you in this room and I intend to use those skills to make Chicago safer.” He twisted the gold wedding band on his finger. “There will be a high level of risk involved. If at any point prison sounds safer to you, I won’t stop you from leaving. But if you’re here, you show up on time and work hard. No fucking around.”

  Mean Daddy. Erin raised her hand, but didn’t wait to be called on. “When do we get our guns back? I feel naked.”

  “No guns. No weapons, period, unless it’s cleared by me.” Derek waited for the protests to die down. “We meet every morning whether we’re actively working a case or not. If you fail to show, don’t bother coming back. I’ve made myself accountable for the six of you and I don’t take the responsibility lightly.” Each of them received a meaningful look. “I’m sure some of you share the opinion that police officers aren’t perfect.”

  “Amen,” she muttered.

  “Understatement,” Polly purred.

  The captain paced in front of the table. “It might surprise you that I agree. I don’t think we catch every angle because we’re trained to think a certain way.” He rapped a knuckle on the table. “You were born to think another. I’m going to use that.”

  Everyone remained silent a moment, absorbing that. Erin felt a reluctant twinkle of respect for the captain for admitting his department was flawed, but immediately squelched it, like two damp fingers subduing a candle flame. Dick.

  “Let’s hear everyone’s skill,” Connor rumb
led, sending goose bumps racing up her arms.

  “Seconded.” Driscol rocked back on his heels. “Need to know who we’re working with.”

  Alarm crackled in Erin’s veins. She should have anticipated this. Her particular skill set could potentially give away her weakness and she didn’t like that. Didn’t like anyone having a means with which to defeat her. Feeling Connor’s gaze on her, she turned away and focused on the window.

  She heard Derek flip his folder back open. “I think it’s important, too. Knowing one another’s strengths will force you to utilize one another. In addition to being talented criminals, you each have a tendency to be a lone wolf. That ends now, or this will never work.”

  Polly’s chair squeaked beside her. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Hitchcock.”

  “Yes, it’s almost time for my heart medication,” Austin said, before dissolving into a coughing fit.

  “Fair enough.” Derek sighed. “Even though each of you has signed a confidentiality statement, rest assured I’m only going to define your role, not enlighten the group as to how it earned you a ticket to prison.”

  Erin relaxed enough to face the group again. Connor was still looking at her, so she sent him a tongue-lolling grin. He rolled his eyes.

  “We’ll start with Polly,” Derek continued. “She’s a hacker, but we’ll be kind and refer to her as a tech specialist.”

  Polly nodded briskly. “Hacker will do. No need to soften it.”

  Derek gestured to the Virgin Mother. “I misspoke earlier when I said you were all given the choice between my time and prison time. Seraphina is a trained undercover officer. She’s the only one in this room with experience in the field, so you’d be wise to listen to her.”

  Erin sagged with disappointment. Now she had to hate the Virgin Mary.

  “Bowen Driscol—”

  “I’m here for her,” Bowen broke in, cutting Derek off. He leaned over Seraphina and planted a fist on the table. “I protect her first. The cases come second. Take it or leave it.”