Page 31 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

Lawson (Law) Sheppard

God and Day stormed out of the room and went in opposite directions. Inspector Joshi turned to Syn and said in an easy, clipped voice, “I’d like to see you in my office, Sergeant.”

Syn’s expression was unreadable as always.

The captain stared at them for a long moment.

“I hope you two are sure about this because God plays in the big leagues. The men he chases…they all know him, fear him, despise him. And when they see him coming, they do like y’all did. They go into fight or flight. And ten times outta ten, they choose to fight.”

Law swallowed a lump of dread that hit the bottom of his stomach like a brick.

“You may be the shit in Hollywood, but now you’ve seen that none of this is scripted. It’s real life. You both signed waivers, so there’s no crying to a lawyer if something happens.” He paused to let that sink in before he jerked his chin toward the door. “Go.”

They exited the room together, shoulders brushing.

Wes’s obvious outrage was radiating off him in waves, his presence behind him like flames licking up his spine.

Here we go.

So what else is new?

They fought.

Then they made love as if the world was coming to an end.

Then they fought again.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Law was well familiar with the cycle.

He also knew this might be his last shot—felt it down to his marrow—so Wes would just have to be pissed.

He’d decided what was best for Wes again, talked over him, cut him off, answered for both of them as though they were some kind of combined identity.

But he’d done it because of what’d happened last night…or what hadn’t happened last night.

Wes hadn’t said “I love you too .”

Law confessed it so many times. Voice raw, body aching, soul split wide open, and Wes met it all with silence. Tenderness, sure. Passion, yes. But no vow. No whispers of forever. No, “I’ll never leave you, Law, no matter what.”

And fuck if Law hadn’t needed that.

Because when he got scared— really scared—that he might lose Wes, he did what Wes hated most.

He got reckless. He made decisions that yanked both of them into serious shit.

Law shoved his hands into his pockets as they made their way down the hallway. He could hear Wes grinding the hell out of his teeth.

He didn’t apologize. Didn’t defend. He already knew the verdict.

Unforgivable and guilty.

Yet, he didn’t regret it.

God had said something in that room that Law clung to like a lifeline.

Just one more chance.

That was all Law needed too.

One more shot to get it right.

Just one perfect execution of this last warrant, but he couldn’t do it if Wes was in that kind of danger. He’d gotten them into this. He’d get Wes out.

He’d always toed the line, but last night had been too damn close for comfort.

Law would help the team stay invisible in the field, and Wes could help with designing and readying the other prototypes.

And in return, God would restore them to glory and get them back in good standing with LA execs.

He’d heard about the crazy pull God had with city officials all over the country.

Once the raid made national news, directors would be fighting over them. Throwing money their way, flying them out to sets, and treating them like they were geniuses again.

If he could help Wes get his life back—the one he loved—maybe he’d love him too.

Really love him. A love full of trust, loyalty, respect…and never-ending.

It was a gamble. But Law had never been afraid of high stakes.

He’d take the chance—even if it meant Wes stayed mad at him for weeks—because if the reason his heart beat, died, it’d be far worse.

When they’d been separated for that year, Law had begun to suffocate. He’d lost a little more oxygen with each passing day until he could barely breathe, as if his heart couldn’t beat without him .

That kind of panic—that kind of love—wasn’t rational. It was wild. Ugly. Devouring.

He knew what he’d done—what he kept doing—wasn’t fair.

He knew it.

He just hoped Wes would see this last offense for what it really was.

A last-ditch effort to earn his love.

Back in the department, everything had returned to normal, as if they’d been bowling last night, instead of dodging bullets.

Ruxs and Green were in gym shorts and compression shirts, shooting hoops at the portable net in the corner. Their aim was spot-on, their trash talk too damn loud.

Tech and Steele sat at a small table, locked in a game of chess that looked more like an intellectual battle for dominance.

Steele made a move without breaking eye contact, and Tech licked his lips before he returned fire with a bishop. The sexual tension between them could’ve set off the damn smoke alarm.

Michaels was half-reclined in a leather gaming chair, playing Call of Duty , hammering at the controller. He had a headset on, barking obscenities at some other gamer—who was most likely some fourteen-year-old kid in another state.

And Free… Free was back at his multi-screen setup, typing like a possessed pianist, one monitor covered with scrolling code, the other playing a muted episode of Squid Game .

The chaos of the raid, outrage of the precinct captain, stress of their lieutenants, the threat of IA, the inevitability of it all happening again soon seemed to be buried under a grim reality of “just another day at the office.”

Law’s stomach twisted. It was like stepping out of a burning building and realizing no one else had felt the heat but him.

Beside him, Wes stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth parted in disbelief, eyes wide and locked on the scene.

He didn’t say a word, just spun on his heels and stalked through the bullpen with angry, purposeful strides.

For a split second, Law thought he was leaving. But he veered toward the elevators and punched at the up button repeatedly.

Law didn’t chase him. Even though everything in him screamed to.

He shoved his fists in his pockets, chest aching—battered and bruised—but he didn’t move. He couldn’t show remorse or fear. Not now. Not here.

Free narrowed his eyes at him before he pulled his lunch bag from under his desk and left the office, disappearing inside the same elevator Wes had taken.

“Yo, Sheppard’s back!” Ruxs blurted. “When I saw you run out of that building like Forrest Gump, I thought I’d never see you again.”

Law felt that joke like a punch to the stomach.

Ruxs jogged to him and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Bring it in close, man, come on. I thought you were a goner when you ran away screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Law stood there stiff and pissed off.

Ruxs rubbed his back affectionately, but Law knew he was only trying to embarrass him more than he already was.

Ruxs reached down and pulled Law’s arms up and put them around his narrow waist.

“That’s right,” Ruxs sighed. “Chest to chest, tip to tip.”

The team laughed as Law shoved Ruxs away.

“Fuck off,” he said, then gestured for the ball, doing his best to play off the humiliation. “I don’t scare so easily.”

Green tossed the ball to him. He caught it, dribbled a few times, and spun it in his hands before he tossed it towards the basket.

He didn’t feel like playing. Didn’t feel like moving.

He shot an airball, and Ruxs gave him shit for that too, but he didn’t care.

Nothing mattered except that Wes wouldn’t stay mad for long. He’d recognize Law’s selfless sacrifice and help him.

He played for five more minutes. Maybe ten. Not really keeping track. Just moving, sweating, existing, faking.