Where There's Smoke (19 page)

“Damn, it looks like him.” He stooped in front of the man and stared. Belatedly the man's eyes opened and looked at him. He whimpered and whined in his throat. Winston reached forward and removed the rag that filled his mouth. “What happened to you, big guy?” Smoke shook his head at Winston's mocking tone.

“They jumped me, beat me, brung me here.” Blood and spit ran from the corner of his busted lip.

“Shit, did they touch you without your permission?” Winston asked watching closely from his stooped position.

The man closed his eyes and nodded.

“Those assholes,” Winston mocked. “Hey, buddy, what's your name?”

The man's head rolled backward, tears ran unchecked down his face. “Hurts, hurts so bad,” he whispered.

“What the fuck's your name?” Winston yelled.

“Ricky, name’s Ricky.” He sobbed. “Please, please help me.”

“Why the fuck should I help you?” Winston asked. Smoke crossed his arms, wondering when his brother would notice the blood running from between Ricky's legs. He almost felt sorry for this punk. Julio's men were ruthless, messing with family was a big fucking deal. It'd be a miracle if the man wasn't castrated.

“Hurts, cut me, hurts.” The words ran together. Ricky appeared on the verge of passing out. Whatever Winston needed to do to get this out of his system, Smoke wanted it done so they could leave. He'd asked Julio to leave this one for him. Something must've gone wrong.

“What the hell is that?” Winston pointed to the dark liquid pooling on the floor.

“Blood.”

“Blood, where's it coming from?” He looked at Smoke and then at the man slumped on the chair. “He's bleeding?” Smoke wanted to laugh at the frightened look that crossed Winston's young face. “But I didn't, I mean I haven't...” He held his hands out and backed up. “I didn't touch him.” He looked lost and confused at Smoke.

“I know. We just got here. The blood's dark, old.” He walked to Ricky and pulled him by the ear. “Why'd you kiss my brother and try to run off with him?”

“Whaaat? Who?”

“That man right there.” Smoke grabbed his face, tilted it in Winston's direction. “You tried to take him off the street. Why?” For a long second the man stared at Winston, finally he smiled, minus a few front teeth.

“Pretty. He's pretty. I wanted to get high with him and have fun.” Smoke shook his face, frustrated that Julio's men had beat the guy to the point he couldn't understand his answers.

“Who sent you?” Smoke squeezed his face. The man blinked owlishly. “Who sent you to talk to him?”

Ricky frowned and tried to see Smoke's face. “Sent me where?'

“To talk to him.” Smoke ground his teeth, losing patience.

“Nobody. He's pretty. I like him, pay him.”

“Fuck.” Smoke said, releasing the man. He'd thought Winston was a hooker standing on the corner. Smoke wondered if his brother understood the implications of Ricky's words. They stared at the man. He'd been brutalized, and would probably never recover fully physically or mentally.

“You're hurting now because you touched me, kissed me, without permission.” Winston sounded like a Sunday School teacher. “When somebody tells you to stop, Bitch, you're supposed to stop.”

Ricky moaned. “Hurts, hurts bad.” Winston turned to Smoke, his eyes full of compassion. Pride rose in Smoke's at the level of maturity his brother displayed and hoped that this event hadn't scarred the younger man for life.

“Can we untie him?” Winston asked uncertain.

Smoke walked around, pulled out his utility knife and cut the rope. Ricky flinched, looked at the blade and closed his eyes before sliding out the chair to the floor. Smoke and Winston picked him up. His pants fell exposing another source of the blood leakage. Thin shallow cuts covered Ricky's penis, balls, upper thighs and pubic hair area. Once healed, he might be able to use his member again, but the scars would always be a reminder of his folly. They dragged him to the sofa in the corner and laid him down. His breathing was shallow, but he had a pulse. Smoke looked at the ripped jeans that were soaked with blood in the crotch and shook his head. He and Julio were going to talk.

“Now what?” Smoke asked Winston.

“I don't know. He's bleeding. Should we call an ambulance?” His brother sounded nervous.

Smoke grimaced, thinking of all the questions he didn't want to answer. “It's up to you.” He was curious what this new Winston would do.

Winston walked over to Ricky, stared at the man for a long moment, turned, shrugged at Smoke and walked toward the front door. “Let's go, he'll find his own way home.” Smoke knew Julio would be the one deciding Ricky's fate after they left. He'd make sure to tell his friend the assault wasn't a part Geary's slaves. The man just thought his brother was a cute hooker. That information should help spare his life. He turned and followed his brother out the door, ignoring Ricky's whimpering.

Chapter 20

Vianca stuffed the last of her belongings into her luggage. Four glorious weeks had passed since she rescued Smoke from the hotel. He'd surprised her on their first week anniversary with all new surveillance cameras, explaining it was the least he could do since she lost hers saving him. She'd been surprised and touched by the gesture. Denise asked her to be in her wedding, and refused to take no for an answer. They'd had fun poring over magazines and searching shops in Lansing. In short, she'd enjoyed her time in the small town. New friends, an excellent lover, and a close knit group of friends who worked together to ensure each day was good. She'd never experienced anything remotely close before and didn't want to depart. The very thought sent her packing.

“So you're really going to leave?” Denise asked, walking into the room. Red had dropped her off during her lunch break on the premise the two women would share lunch. She'd bought two large salads and a jug of her lemonade.

Vianca snapped her bag shut and placed it on the floor. Nodding, she exhaled.

“It's time. I've been loafing around the gringos too long.” She smiled remembering the heated debate she'd had with Denise and Cherise over her calling white people gringo or any other derogatory names.

“Don't be calling my baby anything but his name,
Chica
,” Denise had snapped at her.

“Mine, either,” Cherise chimed in. Then they had a long discussion about their pasts and challenges they'd faced with other races. In the end, they had a better understanding of where she stood and let it go.

“Screw you and the gringo you rode in on.” Denise chuckled. “You might as well stay until after the wedding. I'm going to need your help.”

“Nice try, the wedding's in six months.” She picked up a pair of Smoke's sweats. “Besides, Smoke and Winston need their privacy.” She grimaced at the wistfulness of her tone.

Denise stared at her. “You love him.” She sounded giddy. Vianca spun around.

“What? No,
Chica
, you're wrong. I just met him a few weeks ago. It is not love.” Denise smirked at her declaration.

“Why’s your face so red, then? Besides time don't mean nothing.” Denise walked over to her, took her hands. “It's okay, he probably loves you, too. It's hard to tell with Smoke.” She squeezed Vianca's hand.

“I hope you didn't say that to make me feel better,” she snapped.

Denise laughed. “You got it bad.” She chuckled.

Vianca's face heated. “I don't have it bad,” she huffed. “He is a good looking man. He has been very kind to me.” She applauded the lie that flowed from her lips.

“Yeah, he's fucked you every which way but loose. I guess it
was
kind of him to do that,” Denise murmured.

Vianca snarled. “You see,
Chica
. That's what I mean. We had a good time. Associates with benefits.” Denise's brow rose at the blatant bullshit, but let it slide.

“Whatever, you keep believing that if it helps you do what you do. I know the truth and it has made me free. Free to tell you to your face, you have it bad for my friend Smoke. You love him, it's scaring your ass, and now you 'bout to run away so you don't have to deal with your feelings.” She flopped on the bed, ignoring Vianca's glare.

“You have your version, I have mine.” Vianca sat on the bed next to her. Neither spoke. “I do like him,” she admitted in a small voice. “But he warned me he wasn't interested in long term. No kids, no marriage, hell not even a girlfriend.” With a pleading look at Denise, she continued. “I cannot stay and be his friend,
Chica
. I would kick ass first and then ask questions if I see him with another. You may find this hard to believe, but I am not accustomed to what I have shared with Smoke.” She swallowed hard. “
Sì,
I love him.” The admission hit her hard, she wasn't prepared for the jittery feeling in her stomach, or the tightening in her throat. Wasn't love supposed to feel good? Why the sudden fear?

“I knew it.” Denise clapped her hands and jumped from the bed.

Vianca rolled her eyes. “I would have your promise never to tell him or anyone else.”

Denise froze. Their eyes clashed for a moment. “No one? What about Cherise?” Her voice ended on a long whine, as she returned to the bed.

“Okay, just Cherise.” Denise's face lit up.

“But only in answer to a direct question.” Denise frowned.

“Shit,” Denise huffed. “Cherise doesn't ask personal questions.”

“I know.” That earned her a girl-please look from Denise.

“I promise.” Her voice softened. “But Vianca, anybody watching the two of you can see it. Smoke doesn't hang out with anybody this long and no one that I can remember has ever stayed at his house longer than overnight.”

Vianca rubbed the sheet between her fingertips. “It is because I took him from the hotel. That's why I'm here. He promised I could hide until the danger to me passed.” Her lips curled. “It passed once Veronique turned in the tape to the Feds and they picked up the men.”

“I think you're letting your pride lead you wrong on this, but I'm selfish and want you to stay. I'll respect whatever you decide. But for the record, I think you're making a mistake by leaving.”

Tears filled Vianca's eyes as Denise pulled her in for a hug. They sat quietly for a moment offering and receiving comfort.

Chapter 21

Instead of returning Denise to the office, Denise asked to go to Red's jobsite. She claimed the need to drop off some important information. Vianca knew it was a ruse, her sneaky friend didn't want her to skip town without saying good-bye to the men in general and Smoke in particular. What Denise didn't know was she and Smoke had already said good-bye last night and this morning. He'd been hesitant, but he didn't ask her to stay. And that's what it would take for her to remain.

They pulled up to the curb. “Wait for me, I'll be right back,” Denise said, holding onto a manila envelope. Maybe she did have information for the guys. Leaning back against the headrest, she closed her eyes, refusing to search for him. It was over. She pushed the finality of those words into her conscience. It balked. She tried reasoning with her hurting heart. He didn't ask me to stay. I've never chased behind a man before, never had too. Not going to start now. He was just a man and the world was full of them. The walls of her vagina pulsed in disagreement.

Voices floated toward her. She filtered out the hammering, pounding sounds from general construction and zoned in on the people. Ross said something. She squinted in concentration to identify the other voice. It was female and unknown to her. But the next voice was embedded deep within her—Smoke's. Her eyes flew open and she searched the area. What was a woman doing here? And who was she? She stepped out the car, her feet moving in direction of the sound. On autopilot she headed for Smoke and the woman. The two of them stood apart from the general work activity. It looked too cozy for her. The woman, a Latina, leaned forward, close to his ear and spoke before laughing. She touched his shoulder. He laughed along with her. Vianca fumed. All her reservations flew out the window. Without a clear-cut plan, she walked toward them. The woman looked over at her. The smile left her face. That's right, bitch, I'm coming for your ass. Smoke turned, his brow raised at her approach. Now was not the time for him to say anything half-cocked, she hoped he had enough sense to recognize that.

“
Hola
,” Vianca said, stopping short of becoming a part of their intimate circle.

The woman watched her carefully before she returned the greeting.

“
Hola.
”

Smoke remained silent, his face blank. No one spoke. Her anger spiked. Relaxing her jaw, she stuck out her hand to the shorter woman. “Vianca Marino.”

The woman took her hand and shook it. “Lieutenant Garcia.” Her eyes squinted. “Do you work here, Ms. Marino?”

No, I'm just in love with the man you were touching.
“No, I brought Denise to drop some papers off. Is Smoke in trouble?”

The woman looked surprised and glanced at Smoke. Like the smart man he was, he remained silent. “Why would you ask or assume he was in trouble?”

“It's the middle of the day, crime is rampaging around us and you're here on a construction site. I assumed it was business, but I could be wrong...” She left the implication hanging, not concerned at all by the red tinge climbing the other woman's face.

“And this is your business, why?” The woman faced her head on.

“I saved his life once, I'd hate to know it's in jeopardy again.” Her voice hardened.

Surprise spread across the Lieutenant's face. She looked at Smoke and grinned wolfishly.

“So you
have
been keeping secrets.”