Page 29 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

Lawson (Law) Sheppard

Back at headquarters, it was chaos.

Law sat with Wes damn near on his lap as they watched God glare unblinking at one of the screens Free had enlarged so they could replay the entire operation.

“We weren’t supposed to have all this activity.” Day pointed at men speeding up to the front of the building, in SUVs, with weapons ready. “Somehow, Mercer was tipped off.”

Law slumped in the chair, sweating, hands still shaking.

While the lieutenants had a heated conversation with Hart and some guy called Fox on a FaceTime call, Syn was going over the information they were able to retrieve from the warrant.

“God, things may’ve gotten louder than we wanted, but we got some seriously incriminating information.” Free was printing out some documents. “Shipping logs, collection routes, drops…it’s all here. They were tipped off, yeah, but not early enough to get in and get the evidence out.”

Day turned back to the handsome man on the screen. “Fox, see if you can find any outgoing calls or emails from the precinct within two hours of our go-time.”

“You got it,” Fox said. “I’ll also check all personal phone records if any calls were sent to burner phones.”

“That’s illegal,” Hart droned in the least authoritative voice ever.

“Yeah, yeah,” Fox nodded before he disconnected.

Law wondered who that guy was, but he chalked it up to God and Day having unlimited personnel and resources at their disposal.

Speaking of disposal…

“Hey.” Law leaned over and whispered to Ruxs. “What happened to the last consultant who worked for y’all…um…the crime scene specialist?”

Ruxs frowned. “What scene specialist…? Someone from forensics?”

Wes shook his head. “No, he didn’t work for the department. He was someone you guys brought in…a student.”

“Oh, he’s talking about Scott Jacobs.” Green answered. “That weird, super smart, Adrian Monk dude who graduated Penn State?”

Ruxs laughed.

What was so damn funny? The guy was murdered under their watch.

Like he and Wes were going to be.

Law scowled. “So much for compassion and decency for the guy.”

“Decency?” Green frowned. “If you call a two-hundred-thousand-dollar-a-year salary just decent , then okay. I guess that would be considered crumbs to two men who are about to make triple what you used to make in Hollywood when you go back.”

“Wait, the forensics guy isn’t dead?” Wes sat up taller.

Tech turned from his computer. “ Dead ? No, he’s not dead. God got him an intel clearance level job at the DOJ in Washington.”

Steele climbed down from the side of Tech’s desk, staring hard at them with those cruel, assessing eyes.

“Why would you think Jacobs was dead?” he asked darkly. “How do you even know that name?”

Before he could respond, God barked, “Law, Wes, get out of your gear and go home. I want you both back here at zero eight hundred. Shit got crazy tonight. I need you to decompress and get your heads right before tomorrow’s debriefing.”

Back by eight…? It’s already four!

Law grabbed Wes by his bicep and pulled him out of the door behind him, feeling Steele’s frightening gaze on the back of his head.

“What the hell did we do, Law?” Wes asked when they were inside his truck. “Did we get played by that other cop? What was his name? Um…Vasquez. Did we—”

“Couldn’t’ve been him. That guy was solid. There are tons of police officers in this precinct. You saw all those people out there when we came out. Anyone could’ve said something. There’s no way we caused any of that.”

“Then why’d Vasquez tell us that forensics guy was tortured and killed when it was obviously a lie?”

Law thought of Vasquez’s smile when he’d turned and left the breakroom.

I have no fuckin’ clue.

The familiar metallic stink of Wes’s basement had never smelled so good.

He nor Wes had said another word since they’d left the parking lot.

The seriousness of what they’d just walked away from— barely —weighed heavily on his shoulders until he felt they’d dislocate.

We should be dead. He didn’t know how the hell they weren’t.

Wes flicked on the overhead bulbs, illuminating the workbench that glowed like a monument of the last few days.

He scowled at the half-assembled prototypes, the half-full fog canisters, flame packs that might never make it back onto a Hollywood set. The blueprints taped to the walls. A future they wouldn’t have if they stayed on this path.

Law stood with his arms limp at his sides, staring blankly around the room

Wes was pacing. He always did that to burn off adrenaline. But Law didn’t move. He couldn’t.

He could still hear the bullet that whizzed past Wes’s ear, the one that would’ve split his skull if he’d been three inches to the left.

The terrifying sound Wes made and the raw panic that’d transformed his beautiful face would haunt him forever.

Wes could be in a body bag in the morgue right now, because of his out of control ego.

“I really fucked up this time…” Law’s voice cracked.

Wes stopped midstride. “What?”

He shook his head, staring down at his dusty boots.

“Us back in this godforsaken city. This fuckin’ task force. Forrest probably could’ve gotten you a gig in LA by now if I’d stayed out of your life. You’d have options. But I begged you to stay…desperate to keep you like always. And now my selfishness almost got you killed.”

Wes tried to approach, but Law backed away, chest heaving.

“Don’t try to tell me what just happened wasn’t my fault.” His voice hitched as the pressure inside his chest burst like a corroded pipe.

Law swiped the soldering tray off the table with both arms, knocking it into the wall where it clattered into a dozen pieces.

He kicked the chair and sent a stack of flashbang capsules crashing to the floor, then slammed his fists repeatedly into the metal locker until the door caved.

“Every time!” he bellowed, tears falling hot and unstoppable down his cheeks. “Every time I think you’re gonna leave me for good, I do something stupid to pull you back in! Those fuckers tried to kill you!”

Wes slammed into him from behind, arms like a vise around his chest, pulling him back down to Earth.

“Stop, dammit,” Wes rasped against his neck, breath jagged and warm. “I’m right here. I’m alive. We’re alive.”

Law struggled, gasping for air as Wes shoved him down hard onto the old couch. Wes climbed on top, straddling him as he grabbed his face with both hands.

“Look at me,” he bit out, their noses almost touching. “Look at me, Law. Calm down.”

Law’s breaths began to slowly sync with Wes’s, rough and stuttered. Their foreheads pressed together, hot with sweat and marred with frowns.

“I thought I was gonna lose you,” he whispered, his heart breaking open.

“I’m right here.” Wes sighed. “I’m okay.”

Law stared into Wes’s bloodshot eyes, his body humming with anxious energy, before he grabbed him by the back of the neck and slammed his mouth over his.

It wasn’t gentle. It was starved and fueled by fear. He licked inside as if trying to savor the taste of his soul.

Wes groaned against his mouth, as he took the assault.

He grabbed the hem of Wes’s shirt and yanked it over his head. His appetite became frantic as he clawed their clothes off as if they were on fire.

Wes bent down, kissing him again, slower now, and Law poured everything he felt into Wes’s mouth. He held him tight around his waist and sealed his body to his, needing his bare skin on him.

He continued to heave as Wes touched, mapped, and loved everywhere on him he could reach.

When they paused for a brief gasp of air, he cupped the sides of Wes’s face and stared up at him. “I love you,” he confessed, his voice raw and pained.

The declaration was torn from him like a scream locked behind his teeth for too long. His chest felt as though it might split apart from the pressure of the guilt. From the overwhelming fear of losing Wes tonight—of almost watching his entire world vanish.

Wes’s eyes glistened as he answered with his body, rolling his hips, grinding his pelvis into his.

Law moaned, arching his back off the cushions as the sensations became too much.

He kissed along Wes’s jaw, down his throat, across his collarbone, murmuring repeatedly, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with every thrust, every desperate push of their hips, until it became an erotic dance.

He didn’t want to rush. He needed this to mean something. Each touch was reverent. Every motion dragged out.

Law dug into Wes’s back, kissed him like he’d never kiss anyone else again.

Their rhythm built slowly, bodies locked together, sweat, tears, and whispers washing between them.

They moved as one on the battered couch. Law didn’t care that the springs poked into his back.

“I need you,” Wes breathed. “Now.”

Law reversed their positions and stared down at Wes in awe and absolute terror of how much he loved him.

“Forgive me,” Law pleaded, voice hoarse as he brushed away the last of Wes’s tears.

He reached over and fumbled on the side table for the lube.

He slicked his fingers, his hand trembling.

Wes spread his legs beneath him, his thighs strong and tempting, eyes locked on Law’s face as if he needed to see every emotion breaking through him.

Wes gave him a slow nod as Law slid one finger inside—slowly, carefully—watching every twitch of Wes’s face.

His breath caught as Wes tilted his hips for more. He added a second finger, stretching and working him open with worship.

He was always overwhelmed when Wes gave himself like this, how vulnerable he became to his touch, how he trusted him with his body, his heart, his life .

“Law,” Wes whispered.

His name on those lips, in that tone, undid him.

He over-slicked himself, guided his head to Wes’s entrance, then paused, holding their eye contact.

They stared at each other, barely breathing, the air around them suffocating and charged.

Law pushed in slow and steady, gaze locked.

Wes’s mouth parted in a silent huff, his eyes fluttering closed as he took every inch he had to give.

His heart pounded so hard he thought he might lose control, but he gritted his teeth and held still once he was fully enveloped in Wes’s heat, restricted by the man who owned him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to Wes’s shoulder. “You feel so good, I can’t even…”

Wes wrapped his arms around him as he began to tilt his hips up. His movements languid and shallow at first, taking every inch of him until there was no separation between skin and their souls.

Wes moaned, clinging to him, shifting his hips with every roll, encouraging him for more.

Law obeyed.

He quickened his pace, desperate to satisfy Wes’s hunger.

He gripped the back of his legs at the bend of his knees, knowing just how to angle himself to make Wes shudder.

“There?” Law asked through gritted teeth.

Wes cried out. “Right fucking there.”

Law’s rhythm faltered as the pleasure became too much, but he forced himself to hold on. He had to see Wes unravel on his cock, feel the emotion between them vibrating in every stroke.

“Oh fuck,” Law groaned, his voice shaking as he thrust deeper.

Wes arched, digging his fingers into his back. “Don’t stop.”

Law pressed their mouths together, driving his hips harder, sweat dripping from his forehead, the couch shaking beneath the power they created.

Law’s climax built like a fever, every thrust slicker and hotter.

Wes came first, tightening around him, his name a shattered cry against his lips. Feeling Wes come undone—so completely—sent him tumbling over the edge.

He hollered out, burying deep and spilling inside the only man he’s ever loved.

He collapsed in a trembling heap, Wes’s limbs still locked around him, muscles twitching, chest heaving as he came back down.

He didn’t move, staying nestled inside his heaven with his lips resting against the pulse pounding in Wes’s throat.

Wes ran his hand soothingly through his hair.

He kissed the sweat-slick skin beneath his mouth and whispered, “Swear that you don’t hate me.”

Wes didn’t reply, already dozing off.

Law held him tighter, unable to sleep with such fear in his heart.

He knew now what he had to do.