When the Smoke Clears (Interracial Firefighter Romance) (24 page)

Mama Ganga’s laughter filled the kitchen. The loud shrill knocked me out of my mental rant.

Then the kitchen went quiet for too damn long. The silence set me further on edge. I couldn’t move my body, just breathe in her earthy scent of cloves. I knew she was around me, but she felt near in a different way, like her energy was there, but not her. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but for some reason as the silent seconds passed by, my body calmed.

What is she going to do to me? Kill me? What is this? Is it voodoo? Did she drug me! She must’ve drugged me, but with what? Maybe she gave me a date rape drug. Jesus! She’s fucking insane!

“Get out of your head, little Kassie,” she hissed. “I’ve scared you.”

That’s a fucking understatement.

“Calm down.”

How the hell do I do that, you crazy bitch?!

“I want you to count.”

Count what? Will I be counting the cops that are going to take your ass to jail once I get my movement back.

“No, Kassie.” She laughed, and that scared me most of all. “I want you to count your blessings. I want you to count the books that you will write and the things that you will do. Count the men that you will love and the kisses that you will give to your son as he grows bigger and bigger each day. I want you to wake up in the morning and count the clouds in the sky, then, count the leaves on the closest tree to you and then, count the ants that crawl by and the birds that fly in the air and every breeze that brushes your skin, for that day. I want you to count yourself lucky and remember that you’re a survivor. I want you to go back to your memories and count the times you failed and then, count the times you broke through those barriers to win again. I want you to count.”

And, for some bloody ass crazy reason, I did. I tallied it all. Everything. The failures and successes. The stormy days and the ones filled with sunshine.

I remembered the times Rich told me he loved me and all his little teeth that had fallen out, recently. I counted the days I had left with him and then, counted my blessings for each one.

Low music filled the dining room -- something soft and soothing to the mind. Darkness swarmed all around me along with the fragrance of rose scented candles.

Mama Ganga made no sound and it felt like I had been sitting in there for hours, counting beautiful blessings in my head. The next thing I knew, someone tapped me on my shoulder.

Did I go to sleep?

I shook my head and realized I could move it, as well as my hands. I jumped up and snatched off the blindfold, scanning my kitchen. It took me a minute to get my vision back, but once it came, I discovered that Mama Ganga and all of her things had disappeared, including the blindfold that I’d just taken off.

“Mama Ganga?” I walked to the front and looked outside to see if her car was there. “Mama Ganga?”

Only my car sat in front of the house.

I walked around to the back of my house. I had a feeling I should check out my office. The computer screen was on. My story about Luna greeted me. A sheet of paper lay on the keyboard.

Kassie,

I love the story—keep writing it. Keep learning from life and putting it on the page.

Mama Ganga

(By the way, your office smells like sex.)

Laughing, I sat down at the computer, not ready to deal with what just happened, but ready to put it all on the page. I checked my watch. I only had an hour before I had to grab Rich.

So, I typed as fast as I could. . .

“Where are you?” Lust blinded Luna, but still she called out to her soul mate. Surely, he would appear soon and save her from this demon. “Hurry to me!”

Then the flames went out. Her ancestor’s magic disappeared. Her strong wall, that had been high and burning, transformed into tiny wisps of smoke. The line in the sand that had represented her circle, cleared away into nothing. It was as if she’d never spilled her own blood or scattered the dead’s ashes on the beach.

Everything left. Including the blaze of the fire. Now only darkness and the moonlight remained.

And the red glow of the Demon’s eyes, as he stepped toward her. “Come to me, little witch.”

Her body came alive, even though her mind screamed in fear. Lovely shivers ran p and down her skin as if he’d been caressing her body himself. He stalked toward her. No wall or barrier lay in his way.

“Now you can’t run. You’ve emptied yourself out with all that needing.” The moonlight bathed his dark, muscular skin. Power radiated from him. The whole area blazed with energy. She moistened some more. Her thighs dripped with arousal. She’d never been so turned on before.

“You’re empty, my love, but I will fill you.” And then the creature sang again,
“So sweet. Her soul. It hangs out of her body for me. And my love will set her free. And our hearts are the victory.”

His silver horns sparkled as he prowled around her.
“So sweet. Her soul. Ripe fruit. So heavenly. It bleeds out to me. And our hearts are the victory.”

And so she gave up. One could only fight the inevitable for so long. One could only deny the things that they dreamed of for so long. One could only tighten their ears to the melody, shut their eyes to the beauty, and squeeze their thighs for release, but not for too long.

“And our hearts are the victory.”

High off the demon’s seduction, she opened her eyes and then her legs. “Come to me.”

My phone buzzed.

“Fuck! Leave me alone.” I hurried to check it and sighed, when I spotted the name. “Well, I guess you can bother me.”

Lorenzo:
I’m sorry I yelled at you today and hung up.

Me:
I wouldn’t call that yelling. I would call that being in love with the Coco.

Lorenzo:
So I’m already in love?

My heart stopped for a second as the phone lay in my hand. I decided to take the punk way out and typed him something else.

Me:
Why did you need to go to the car wash?

He didn’t respond. Lorenzo sent a picture instead. It must’ve been right at that moment. He lay in his bed with no shirt on and looking extremely tired. That kindergarten field trip must’ve taken everything out of him. Those muscles rippled under that tan skin.

On the side of his pillow sat my panties.

Lorenzo:
I’m picking you up at eight on Friday night. Is that fine?

My nerves frazzled. A little sneaking of fun made me excited, but a full on sit-down with him had me anxious as hell.

Me:
I’m not sure I can make it. How about next Friday?

Lorenzo:
No, I’m picking you up at eight. Did you need a babysitter? I know several.

Really? You’re just going to tell me that I can’t say no.

Me:
No. I’m just a little sick.

Lorenzo:
I make the best chicken soup in Florida. It heals the body. I can make some up, bring it by, and have you good to go by Friday.

Me:
Fine. I’m scared to go on the date. Not sick.

Lorenzo:
Good. What a quick recovery? Be ready at eight.

For several minutes, I stared at the screen and wondered what I could say to slow him down. He’d said he would take his time. I told him I wasn’t ready. Yet, he bulldozed his way into my Friday evening, and a large part of me jumped in anticipation.

What if the night goes bad? What if he’s just a douche bag after all? A hot one, but still another man that should be neutered.

My phone buzzed. I pressed on his message.

Lorenzo:
I only want to see you. We don’t have to call it a date.

Relaxing, I typed.

Me:
Okay.

Lorenzo:
No pressure. No expectations. Just you and me.

Me:
I’ll make sure to wear panties.

Lorenzo:
Hmmm
.

Remember. Count the blessings and. . .something else. Oh yeah, and don’t ever drink or eat anything around Mama Ganga. Maybe even consider pressing charges against her crazy behind. And. . .count the blessings and stop being afraid.

I texted him back.

Me:
Friday night sounds good. I have tons of questions to ask you, too. I hope you don’t mind a little book research while on a date. It’s one of the disadvantages of dating a writer.

Lorenzo:
That’s fine. You’re in need of a sexy hero, and as always, I am here for you. Steal all of me, if necessary.

Me:
You’re so humble
.

My phone buzzed again. I checked the message and groaned in disappointment. It was my ex-husband.

Ellis:
I’ll be up there sometime this weekend.

Me:
When?

Ellis:
Sometime this weekend. Let’s not pretend like you have plans.

Chapter 16

Lorenzo

O
n
Wednesday night, I drove down Tamiami Trail. My gut said to check on Cicely. The week had been going well. I’d started back to work with no problems. No major fires. No death. Everything flowed beautifully. The girls stayed with my mom and enjoyed the new bras I bought them, while doing my best not to vomit in the department store.

Life was great.

But, guilt continued to tug at my heart, and even with all the amazing conversations I’d had with Kassie, I still couldn’t get this dark feeling out of me. One night, I took a break and went for a late drive lasting until the wee morning hours.

Gray clouds shielded the moon. It was darker than ever in Sarasota. Although a beach town, most places closed by midnight. Almost the entire city appeared abandoned, except for Tamiami Trail. Dealers prowled the pavement. Hookers waved at cars. Truckers honked their horns at a few blowing by. Men scurried in the shadows, moving their heads from side to side hoping no one would see them, right as they dipped back into the darkness.

No one sensible would be around there. Yet I drove up and down the trail for about an hour.

I needed to check on Cicely.

“Where are you?” I rounded the corner again and did a quick U-turn.

Other cars zoomed by. Few took their time like me. Some even stopped in front of a girl or two, spoke very fast, and picked a female up. Then they’d pull up into one of the shabby hotels that outlined the trail and probably finish their business transaction.

“Why would you do this, Cicely?” I rolled down the window. The stench of despair filled the car.

Several women dragged themselves down Tamiami appearing more like zombies than human. Their clothes hung from their skeletal bodies much like Cicely’s had. There was no mistaking what they were.

I swallowed.

What the hell can I do for my girls to make sure they don’t end up this way?

Further, down the road, a black man sat in a wheel chair and read from a book with a flashlight. He wore an army jacket and black hat with buttons pinned all over it.

Sure, buddy. You’re reading in the dark as you sit in your wheel chair parked on the sidewalk? You probably got a gun on you or something. Whose pimp are you? Do you even really need a wheelchair or is it just a seat?

I slowed, put on my hazard lights, and stopped in front of him. “Excuse me? Have you seen a woman named Cicely around here?”

He didn’t look up from his book. “Why?”

“I want her.”

“For what?” He flipped his book.

I knew I couldn’t say to have sex with. I was sure everyone out there feared the cops, and I was definitely not a regular on this road. “I owe her some money.”

He paused from reading and looked at me. “You got cash for her and me? I get a little finder’s fee, right?”

“Of course.”

“How much?” he asked.

“Twenty?”

“Fifty.”

From the streets myself, I decided to call his bluff. “Naw, man. I don’t need to give her this money that badly.”

I pretended to drive off. He raised his flashlight at me, before my hands touched the steering wheel.

“Okay. I’ll take twenty.” He gestured behind him. “Pull into the parking lot.”

I turned off the hazard lights, took the parking brake off, and did just what he’d said. In the rear view mirror, his image greeted my eyes. He took his sweet time wheeling himself down the sidewalk and then over to me. The closer he got, the more I realized he had some big arms.

I don’t know if he’s paralyzed, but he definitely has upper body strength.

Once he got to my window, his rancid body odor assaulted me. I shifted to breathing out of my mouth. “Where is she?”

A walkie-talkie rested on his legs. The guy flashed the light into the car while taking my measure.

You don’t want this, buddy. I don’t care how many muscles you’ve got on your arm. If it’s you against me, it’s going to be me. I’ve got more to live for. Girls to take care of and a woman to love.