Page 41 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

God

God floored his truck into his driveway as though he was trying to outrun his rage.

He slammed the gear into park and lifted the garage door with his remote.

He froze, his heart sinking when he didn’t see Day’s Mustang.

He said he was going home.

God looked at the clock on the dashboard.

That was three fuckin’ hours ago.

He’d said his head was hurting and he needed to take some Tylenol and lie down.

The taste of infidelity flooded his mouth, putrid and tangy.

Hart rolled in behind him as he exploded out of his truck.

He rammed his key into the lock and threw the door open so hard the knob punched a hole in the drywall.

Hart was right behind him.

“Cash—”

“Don’t.” God’s voice was hoarse as he choked on his emotions.

He stalked through the house, scanning the dark rooms. The place felt cavernous and cold. There was no light jazz playing or the scent of woodsy citrus that permeated the house whenever Day took a bath. No snoring coming from their bedroom.

Just silence.

Hart’s voice echoed behind him, calm but urgent. “Cash, listen to me. Day wouldn’t do this. You know he wouldn’t.”

God spun around. “I thought I knew a lot of shit, Ivan. But clearly, I know fuck all.”

God’s skull pounded with signs he should’ve noticed long ago. He was a detective for Christ’s sake.

His mind became a whirlwind of images: Day always leaving the office early to run errands.

Insisting they take separate cars all the time.

Slipping out of their bed at night, never wanting to make love.

The showers they used to share that were now solo affairs.

The way Day’s laughs and jokes had faded over the last several months.

The hurt on his face when God declined ninety-nine percent of the things he wanted to do.

He dropped into the leather chair in the den, feeling as if he’d lost everything…for nothing. All he’d had to do was pay attention.

Hart hovered nearby, not speaking, just trying to be his brother.

God’s gaze drifted to the photos on the walls. Snapshots of him and Day, smiling, arms wrapped around each other.

Their wedding photo.

Pictures with the guys .

Ruxs and Green, always laughing and in each other’s space. Syn and Furi, always touching. Tech and Steele, leaning into each other like magnets.

All of them paying attention and taking care of their men… except me.

He’d been drowning himself in work, figuring Day would always be there, assuming he’d wait forever while he prioritized the task force over everything, even him.

And now…Day wasn’t in their bed…he was in someone else’s.

A vicious, ugly feeling surged up his spine. He bolted out of the chair making Hart flinch.

“I’m done waitin’ around. I’m about to fix this shit right now,” God bit out. “But first, I need to eliminate my competition.”

Hart’s eyes widened. “Cash—no.”

God jabbed at his watch. “Free. Find Day. Right-fuckin’-now. But don’t alert him.”

Hart lunged forward, trying to grab his arm. “Cash, don’t do this—”

“ Free !” God roared into the comm.

Free’s voice came back a second later. “Uh…sure.”

“Find him!”

“You’re makin’ a mistake.” Hart grabbed his shoulders. “I’m your brother, and I’m not about to let you go off half-cocked and blow up your whole life.”

God shoved him off.

Seconds later, Free pinged back. “Got an address. He’s in Sandy Springs, a neighborhood on the north side.”

Of course it is.

God’s nostrils flared. “Load it up on the GPS in my truck.”

Free hesitated. “Um, Ruxs and Green are listening in. They said they’re rolling with you.”

“Good,” God snarled. “Saves me a call.”

“Cash, I swear, if you break a single law, I’ll arrest you myself.”

God ignored Hart as he barged back out of the front door. Hart barely managed to jump into the passenger seat before he had his truck in reverse.

Two minutes later, he was flooring it up I-85 to the northside.

He squealed tires into the Sandy Springs community, that looked as if it was its own world.

Professional manicured lawns, towering pine and magnolia trees, and six-hundred-thousand-dollar homes that shone like platinum jewels in the dark, lined the winding streets.

“Oh, is this what you prefer, Leo?” he snarled under his breath. “I don’t make enough money for you anymore. Our fuckin’ house ain’t big enough now.”

Hart let out a long sigh.

As they flew up the street, God’s headlights swept across the driveways.

There it was.

Day’s black Mustang parked in front of a huge brick house with elegant stone columns and mahogany double front door with large glass panels.

Hart tried again. “Cash, just talk to him first. Don’t—”

God was already out of his truck.

Ruxs came up to him. “What the fuck is goin’ on, G?”

God pointed at the house. “This is where the man lives, Leo’s cheatin’ on me with.”

“Oh hell fuckin’ no!” Ruxs shouted.

He and Green stormed back to their truck and returned a moment later, gripping steel baseball bats, and Ruxs toting a 5-gallon can of gasoline in his other hand.

Hart gaped at them. “Have you two lost your fuckin minds!?”

Steele and Tech leaned against Tech’s tricked-out truck, watching the scene like judges at a talent show.

Tech pfft’d, “I don’t believe for a second Day is cheatin.”

Steele took long drag of his cigar before he asked, “where’d you hear this bullshit, God?”

“Vasquez showed me a video.”

Tech scoffed. “That’s all the reason I need. I don’t believe it.”

“I saw it with my own eyes!” God barked.

Tech glared at him. “We’re talking about Vasquez. If his mouth is moving, he’s lying. Period.”

“I’m done talkin’,” God said, stalking up the long cobblestone path with Hart jogging warily beside him.

Hart gritted, “Knock. Do not—”

“I’m gonna knock real soft and politely,” he smirked.

Ruxs fell in step beside him. “After we beat the hell outta this dude—”

“We’re gonna raid his fridge,” Green finished. “Rich people always have the good stuff. Fancy cheeses and Genoa salami, shit like that.”

“Definitely some Wagyu steaks,” Ruxs added.

Hart groaned. “You two get dumber by the second.”

Before Hart could get in front of him, God bent and grabbed a huge stone from the garden and hurled it through the glass doors.

The crash was deafening.

Ruxs and Green barreled inside, bats up and ready to swing.

Steele and Tech took up positions at the doorway, silent and cool, keeping watch on the street.

“Cash! What the fuck are you doing!” Hart shouted. “Did you forget you’re a cop?”

God couldn’t hear his friend’s reasoning over the ringing in his ears as he charged into the fancy foyer.

Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, the brilliant lighting making his head hurt even worse.

Green smashed his bat into a giant vase, sending water and blooms cascading across the marble floor before he flipped it around like a pro MLB player and slammed it into the crystal figurines on an inlaid shelf.

Ruxs kicked a large table over, roaring like a Viking pillaging a village.

Hart grabbed Ruxs by the arm. “Knock it the fuck off!”

But Hart should know by now, once those guys turned on, nothing could turn them off. There was no stopping a battering ram mid-swing.

God didn’t care if they burned this motherfucker to the ground… after he got his husband out.

Day suddenly appeared around the corner, weapon drawn, hazel eyes as wide as saucers.

“Cash!” he shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

God didn’t stop until he was nose-to-nose with his husband.

Behind Day, a group of about a dozen men were crouched behind a long table loaded with fancy foods and top-shelf liquor.

God locked eyes on the man from the video, standing on the other side of the room, looking sexy and terrified.

God lunged toward him, but Hart caught him in the crook of his arm.

Day got in between them, shoving God’s chest with his free hand. “Stop it! What the hell is this?”

God was panting, fury trembling through every muscle. “This the motherfucker you been sneakin’ around with!”

Day blinked up at him in absolute horror. “Jesus Christ, Cash. This is a husband’s support group! Look around . ”

The men started to slowly stand back up, some of them clutching their chest in obvious relief.

Ruxs squinted. “Is this some kinda classy orgy?”

Green leaned closer, whispering, “I think it’s a circle jerk for like, rich guys.”

Day barked, “It’s a support group, dumbasses! Callum’s the organizer. His husband is in the guest house!”

Ruxs grimaced. “Oh.”

Green cleared his throat. “Our bad.”

Ruxs pointed over his shoulder. “Yeah…uh…we’ll pay for all of that.”

Day spun on them, eyes blazing. “You can’t fuckin’ afford it, idiots!”

God stood there, chest rising and falling like a bull about to charge, his glare still focused on the man who’d embraced and kissed his husband before ushering him into his shiny car.

Meanwhile, Ruxs and Green made a beeline toward the buffet table.

Ruxs picked up a chunk of soft cheese and bit into it. “Mmm, is this Brie?”

Day slapped it out of his hand. “Are you two fuckin’ serious right now?!”

Ruxs huffed. “Shit, man. We came all this way.”

“Y’all got any Wagyu sliders or brats?” Green asked, with a plate in his hand.

Day closed his eyes as though he was praying for strength. “Get. The fuck . Out. All of you.”

Ruxs and Green backed out of the room, awkwardly sweeping shards of glass to the side with their boots and propping tables up on the legs that weren’t broken.

“We’ll…uh…we can see ourselves out,” Ruxs muttered.

“Sorry ’bout the vase. You really do have a lovely home.” Green waved. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

God stood there, silent, fists clenching and unclenching, still staring at Day, trying to figure out what the fuck he’d just done…and how the hell he was supposed to explain it.