Page 15 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)
Wesley (Wes) Drake
Next day...
Wes slammed his assigned locker door hard enough to rattle the hinges.
Everything he’d just seen still bit at his skin like static electricity.
They’d been confined to the task force briefing room all morning. Just them, Syn, Ronowski, Steele, Free, and Hart, and hours of grainy, adrenaline-laced body cam and drone footage from the past three years.
Closed case files, confession videos, tactical break-ins. Insane raid after fucking raid.
It wasn’t just violence and mayhem. It was cinema. The kind Hollywood wished they could replicate with stunt choreography.
God and Day moved like warriors that shared the same soul—coordinated and ruthless. Day would breach low, and God high, and the moment the target went for a weapon, it was as if the world paused to give them both the perfect opportunity to execute.
One shot, and they never missed.
Even through computer screen speakers, God’s guns firing sounded as though Hell had a voice, roaring through flesh and bone.
Then the enforcers. What in the actual fuck?
Ruxs and Green were straight-up untamed animals. No plan, no fear, just raw instincts.
Wes’s mouth hung open when Ruxs dropkicked a suspect through a plate glass window, laughing the whole time as another guy jumped on his back, kicking and screaming. Green swung a crowbar at the man’s head, knocking him unconscious as he slid off Ruxs’s back and hit the ground.
That footage was from two years ago, and Wes could guarantee the guy was either dead or still in the ICU.
And Steele—holy shit—he was a one-man wrecking crew, except he wasn’t. Tech was always close by him.
Steele walked calmly into danger, a Swisher Sweet cigar sticking out the side of his mouth and four of his fingers wrapped around a wicked knife handle. He barely used his gun as he sliced at tendons, muscles, and ligaments with surgical precision.
Wes had suspected Syn, the commander of the team, hung back and managed the situation from a nearby unmarked van, but Syn was right there in the thick of it, coordinating the attack through a comms system they were all wired to.
Free had called out positions, redirected flanks, timing each movement down to the second.
They were amazing.
Wes sat down hard on the bench in the gear room, still trying to breathe like a normal person, pulling on the tactical vest that didn’t feel like it belonged to him.
Because it didn’t.
This wasn’t a stunt set. There were no foam walls or safety wires, no cut or reset.
This would be life and death every time they burst through a door.
“You didn’t respond to my text last night. I was hoping I could come over.”
Wes ignored him.
“I wanted to talk, Wes, that’s it, promise.” Law glanced around, lowering his voice so the admin stocking the shelves couldn’t hear him. “I just wanted to hold you.”
Wes didn’t look up. He couldn’t. He already knew Law was watching him with those eyes that were always a bit warmer when he was being tender.
“These guys are insane, Law.” Wes shook his head. “You saw the videos. They like this shit. They laugh while getting shot at.”
“I think it’s inspiring. They’re a real team.”
Wes turned, scowling. “You really think this is the way to show Hollywood that we’re not reckless? Blowing shit up for a city-funded hit squad.”
“Don’t exaggerate. You always do that. They’re the good guys, Wes. They’re cleaning up the streets…the ones we both grew up on, unless you forgot.”
Wes gritted his teeth. “I don’t wanna help clean up anything.
Fuck this, I’m calling Forest. I don’t care how early it is on the West Coast. I’m gonna tell him to get me outta this fuckin’ city, out of the entire state on the next thing smokin’.
I belong on a set where my colleagues don’t possibly end up in body bags. ”
Law gripped Wes around his waist and backed him against the locker.
“You are not calling him,” he growled.
“I’m dialing him tonight.”
“And when you do, I want you to put him on speaker so I can remind him who the hell you belong to.” Law held on tighter. “No matter how much you scream, curse, and fight, I’m not letting you go.”
Wes turned furious, his breath shortened, heating as if he were about to ignite.
Law grinned. “There it is. There’s your love for me.”
Wes stared hungrily at Law’s tongue when he dragged it slowly over his bottom lip.
Wes’s dick jerked hard in his tight jeans. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Goddammit.
Law leaned in until they were inhaling the same breaths.
“We can get through this, Wes. You know I’d die before I let anything happen to you.” Law stroked the back of his hand down his cheek, and before Wes knew it, he was leaning into the touch.
“ There you are,” Law whispered against his lips. “Don’t leave me.”
“Like how you left me when our careers blew up. You say we need each other, but you bailed when shit got too messed up, even for you.”
Law closed the last couple of inches and kissed him. Slow, tender, with the slightest tease of heat. His lips lingered, coaxing rather than taking, and Wes’s fury began to melt away.
“Don’t call Forest, please.”
Wes moaned against his will, and just as Law eased his tongue inside, someone cleared their throat.
“Time to get started,” Syn rumbled, not batting an eye at their closeness. “Let’s go.”