Page 45 of Loving Smoke

Blood and I continued to communicate with our eyes and five minutes later my suspicions were confirmed. The other cops returned, and harsh, fast words in Spanish were volleyed back and forth, then the cop guarding us dragged me to my feet.

“Where are the guns?” he demanded with his pistol aimed at my chest.

“What guns?”

“Don’t play dumb. We know you’re storing illegal guns here. Now where are they?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You can search this whole place, there’s no guns.”

The cop shouted more orders at the others and they spread out searching. They rummaged behind the bar toppling bottles of booze to the floor, then they invaded the office. The sound of upended furniture and general destruction pissed me the fuck off.

“I’m telling you, there’s no fuckin’ guns.”

“Shut up.” The cop gripped the gun tighter and shouted more orders in Spanish. When the others returned with nothing, more words were exchanged, then the cop holding his gun on me closed the distance between us.

“Just remember you are a foreigner here in this country and the next time you won’t be so lucky.”

I glared back at him refusing to break, but the fucker was right. If they hauled us in, no one would care. Even Jameson might let me swing after all the bullshit in San Diego.

I jerked my head over my shoulder. “Just quit fuckin’ around and cut us loose.”

A few tense seconds passed before he snipped the zip-ties, then he waved his arm at the others and they headed back to their patrol cars.

“Hate those fuckin’ zip-ties.” I massaged the red welts already popping up on my wrists. “Rather be cuffed any day.”

Blood wiped at his brow. “What the hell was that?”

“That was Sandoval fuckin’ with us. They knew exactly where to look and what they were looking for, then got pissed off cause they didn’t find it.”

Blood and I headed down the back hallway.

Two minutes later, we stood in the alley. The dumpster hiding the crawl space was pushed to the side with the door gaping open.

“And since you, me, and Sandoval are the only ones who know this exists . . .”

“I guess we got the last laugh.”

Blood and I replaced the door, and moved the dumpster back in place.

I wiped my hands on the front of my jeans. “The cocky bastard underestimated us.”

After leaving Rita’s house I was determined to speak with my father. I would tell him I was done with this ruse, but first I had to get my nerves under control. I thought my hatred for the men who killed my mother would carry me through, but I obviously wasn’t strong enough to pull it off. Or ignore the combustible passion whenever Smoke and I were together. I reasoned the pain of my loss made me weak and allowed me to fall for the man I was trying to scam.

I’d already called my father and told him we needed to talk, not going into any details, hoping the element of surprise might work in my favor. I squared my shoulders, drew in a deep breath, rapped my knuckles against his office door, and entered.

The austere surroundings of his office always set me back, but I was determined to state my case in a logical way. Leaving out emotions or my ultimate mistake of letting my feelings get in the way.

“I’m glad you ask to speak to me tonight.” He motioned to the chair in front of his desk.

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that response.

“Things have been moving along very nicely. I’ve put some things in motion, and I think we might have our enemies exactly where we want them.”

Wonderful. If his next words were we don’t need you anymore, I was home free.

“That’s what I wanted to talk about.” I bit at my lip, then quickly halted the nervous habit. “I . . . I can’t do this anymore. I’ve gotten too involved in the wrong way and I’m afraid I’ll do more harm than good.”

“Does he suspect your real identity?”

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