Smoked (The Invincibles 5)

“You call that a kiss?”

His face was still close to mine, and he scrunched his eyes. I pursed my lips, and he brushed them with his.

“Better than nothing, I guess.”

He stood and turned toward the door. “Yep, back to yourself in no time.”

3

Smoke

“What are you doin’ up this late, old man?”

“Fuck you, Hammer. you’re older than I am, and it’s midnight.”

“I’m older than you by a week, asshole. Hey, how’s Siren?”

“That’s what I’m calling about.”

“Who.”

“Siren.”

“Right. She’s not a that; she’s a who.”

“Jesus Christ, why did I call you?”

“Because you wanted to talk about Siren.”

I looked longingly across the street at the pub that was already closed.

“Smoke? You there?”

“Yeah. I’m here. I need a drink.”

“That bad?”

“Worse. A lot worse.”

“Are we gonna play this two-, three-word game all night, or are ya gonna tell me somethin’?”

“She has amnesia.”

“You’re kidding.”

He said it in such a way, I knew he didn’t think I was. The other thing I knew, was that Hammer wouldn’t tell a soul anything I said in this conversation. He was a lawyer. My lawyer. Actually, he was the lawyer for everyone who worked for the Invincibles. Not that what I was about to tell him counted as attorney-client privilege.

“Smoke?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” I sat down on a bench outside my hotel. “She doesn’t remem

ber much of anything. Not even where she was born.”

“But?”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “We were both given a job by Rile DeLéon. Asset protection. He teamed us up.”

“I know about the op, Smoke. What happened?”