Page 65 of The Fire We Crave

When it dawns on me that he just left, I jump up and follow him. “What’s happening? What are you doing?”

“One minute.” He dials another number. “Geoff, hey. It’s Ronan Callahan…yeah, can’t talk about that now. Are both trucks out?”

There’s a pause as he reaches for his holster, then his cut. With his burns and a phone to his ear, he struggles to get it on, so I reach for it and help him get both arms through the holes.

Smoke winks at me in thanks and then unlocks the gun safe in his closet.

“Good. Can you take one without sirens or lights to the bakery on Main Street?” A pause while the person on the other end replies. “Yeah. Just a suspicion that the men who set fire to Whiskey Fever are out back. Pre-emptive measure. I’m on my way there now… Yeah, bringing some of my brothers... Thanks.”

“You called for a fire truck?” I ask when he hangs up and grabs a backpack from next to the gun safe. In it, there’s already a collection of cable ties, tape, and rope, but he also pulls ammo from the safe.

“I did. You know how to use one of these?”

He hands me a gun. I’ve never held one before. It’s heavier than I thought. Colder. “No. Never even held one.”

He takes it back from me and does what I assume is get it ready to fire, then places it on the dresser, the muzzle…nozzle…whatever the bit the bullet fires out of is called, facing the wall. “It’s ready to shoot. Literally point and squeeze the trigger. But, please, Quinn, be really fucking careful; it’s as close to live as you can get, and there’s no safety.”

I look at it warily. “I don’t know if I can bring myself to kill someone.”

Smoke is stuffing guns and knives into various belts and holsters. “If it’s a toss-up between you and anyone else, you fire that thing and don’t think twice. Castle Doctrine means youwon’t face charges for killing what will likely be a male assailant. And your life is worth a thousand times what theirs is.” He turns and looks at me. “You hear me, Quinn? Don’t ask questions, don’t try to aim for a less life-threatening part of their body, because you’ll miss. Aim for their chest—it’s the biggest surface area, so you have the best chance of hitting it.”

My palms sweat and my hands shake at the thought I might have to.

“You’re leaving me here?”

Smoke touches my cheek softly. Tenderly. The move is out of place with the urgency of the current mood.

“Sure as fuck not taking you to a place where we know there are four Russians. I gotta go.”

Then, he shocks the hell out of me by kissing me. It’s soft and brief and nowhere near enough.

“Be careful,” I say.

“You too. There isn’t time to bring someone in to watch over you. Lock the doors after me. Give me your keys to the bakery. And the alarm code.”

“I should come with you.”

He shakes his head and gives me my phone back. “It’s not safe.”

I hand him the keys and tell him the code, then follow him to the door.

Should I beg to go?

Am I a coward if I stay?

Instead, I opt to blurt, “I feel safe with you, Smoke. Not sure why I feel safer with you than with anyone else in the world right now.”

He runs a knuckle down my cheek. “Probably the same reason my thoughts quell around you. We’ll have to finish the conversation we were about to have some other time.”

And when the door slams behind him, I open my phone, and watch the trouble unfold.

19

SMOKE

As I ride into town, I spot Catfish and Butcher as they pull onto Main Street.

If they’re surprised to see me on my bike, they don’t show it. The initial pain when I first pulled off my property took my breath a little, when the curve of the road meant leaning into it to avoid falling off. But it feels good to be riding. Wind in my face; the scent of freedom hovering in the air.

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