Smoked (The Invincibles 5)

“About three weeks, only because I can’t get there before that.”

“Copy that.”

“Oh, and, Smoke?”

“Yeah?”

“Rile said to tell you that you owe him an answer.”

“I’m solely freelance, Deck. Don’t know how many times I have to tell him that.”

“He told me to dangle a hefty discount for your security system as incentive.”

“What’s he got on you, anyway? You were as adamant as I am about staying independent.”

“The Invincibles team saved Mila’s life. Or helped me do it, anyway.”

Mila was Decker’s wife, and I’d heard about the op during which she was held hostage by a man who had assaulted her as a teenager. “They would’ve anyway.”

“You’re right. But it was the first time it was personal for me, Smoke. There’s a different level of gratitude that comes along with it.”

I couldn’t say I understood, since it had never been for me.

“Like I said, look over the proposal and let me know.”

“I don’t need to, Deck. Just schedule it, and let me know what you need from me.”

“You got it.”

I sent Zeke a text, letting him know I gave Deck the go-ahead, started up the ATV, and kept driving.

There was a lot of shit rolling around in my head that I needed to get a handle on. While I understood the reasoning behind Dr. Mansfield’s request that I not come clean with Siren, warning alerts reverberated in my chest. There was no question that her reaction after finding out the truth about us would be explosive.

I was about to head up one of the trails that would lead to the main house when something caught my eye. Tire tracks. Those fuckers had found a way in, and now that I knew where it was, they’d not make use of it again. I didn’t kid myself into thinking that blocking this access would deter them for good, only long enough that we could get Deck’s system in place and operational.

I sent Zeke the coordinates of where I was and asked him to bring a crew down here with him. There wasn’t much daylight left, and I was determined to get this entry blocked before nightfall.

10

Siren

It was after ten o’clock, and Smoke still hadn’t come back to the house. I was sure of it since I was sitting in the dark, waiting for him.

I wished I could understand the dreams I had about him. In almost every one, he was angry at me. Not just that; I was angry at him too. I couldn’t imagine having the heated arguments I saw in my dreams with the man who had been so gentle, so caring, with me since I woke up in the hospital with no memory save for my connection to him.

Given my dreams, I wondered if I was only able to recall part of our relationship. How else could I explain the vivid intensity that flowed from my subconscious? It couldn’t be my imagination; I’d never seen the enraged expression on Smoke’s face that replayed in my mind. I’d live happily for the rest of my life without seeing him so angry outside of my nightmares.

According to Maureen, in two days, Smoke would take me to Asheville, where I would meet with the stroke specialist, the physical and occupational therapy teams, as well as Dr. Mansfield. The idea of it exhausted me. I was about to get up and go into the bedroom when I heard the front door open.

“Smoke?” I called out when he didn’t turn any lights on.

“What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?” Was I imagining it

, or did his voice sound like it did in my dreams?

“Waiting for you.”

“Siren, it’s late. You should be in bed.”