Smoke & Metal (New York Crime Kings Book 3) (12 page)

Joel Stone

Emily

My nerves are heightened.
Really
heightened. It’s dark and I can’t see a damn thing. Not a wall or a piece of furniture, and it throws my senses off. What are the odds of a power failure on the night Jai leaves to steal his brother back from Skull? Either someone knows I’m here or the universe is fucking with me. I hold the gun out in front of me, but it shakes tremendously, following the movements of my hands. Why didn’t I go with them? Why did I think staying here, in a strange house, all alone was a good idea? I press my back against the hallway wall and shut my eyes. The trees outside are blowing in the wind. Some brush against the house while others creak, groan, and tease me. Where the hell are they? They’ve been gone for hours. I’d sleep the endless minutes away, but I can’t. I can’t sleep peacefully knowing they’re out there. They could be injured. They could be dead.

Next comes a sound that chills me to the bone. The sound of squeaky brakes and the gentle hum of an engine. My heart stutters, stops, and then picks back up at an erratic pace. What do I do? I glance down the pitch black hallway to the back door. I can’t make it there safely. God knows what I’ll impale myself on. I swallow hard, then exhale through my nose. The house is dark, meaning whoever enters won’t be able to see a thing either and I’ll bet a lot of money whoever it is didn’t bring a flashlight with them. I creep toward the front door. If I can get the drop on them there’s a good chance I will survive. If I don’t…then I’m as good as dead.

Pulling the white, lace curtain aside I peer out into the yard. Under a murky storm light I see the car that pulled up. A black SUV. My blood runs cold.

That’s not their car. The doors open and I jolt away from the window, pulling the gun into my chest as if it will stop my heart from beating its way out of my chest. I stick my hand out and run my palm along the wall as I make my way back towards the kitchen. I stop at the end of the hall and squint, desperate to see what’s between me and the back door.

In no time the footsteps are on the front porch. They’re heavy and uneven, but full of purpose.

“Why are the lights out?” Someone asks in a throaty, pained groan.

I don’t recognize the voice. I whip around and point my gun to the front door…or wherever I think the front door is. My finger trembles on the trigger. My stomach and heart fight their way for the prime position in my throat. I’m going to fucking puke.

The crappy metal handle jostles and I nervously lick my lips as I lock my elbows—just like Jai taught me. The door opens. Soft light floods in. In panic, I shut my eyes and squeeze the trigger. The shot rings out and the gun kicks back.

“Fuck! Emily!”

That voice! I know that voice.

I gasp. “Jai?”

“I can’t see anything.” And there’s Ted.

“The lights went out a little while ago.” I breathe, unable to put a lid on my excitement.

“I’ll check the box.” Ted announces.

I hear a pained hiss before Ted’s boots on the porch again.

“Is everyone okay?” I ask through the darkness.

Huss laughs once. “More or less.”

Anxiety rises in me. What will I see when the lights are turned on? There’s a heavy panting in the background somewhere—it’s thick and filled with pain.

“More or less?”

The lights flick on and just about burns my eyes out of their sockets. Squinting, the men in front of me come into focus. The first man I see is unconscious. Jai holds him upright as best he can, but there’s nothing to stop his chin from touching his chest. A torn, gray tank top, covered in mud and blood and a pair of black, ripped jeans caked in more blood as its busted hems hang over the top of worn, brown boots.

Joel. I assume.

His appearance isn’t what I expected at all…where Jai has clean, un-inked skin Joel is covered. A human canvas.

He’s leaner than Jai…but that could be because he was held as a prisoner for God knows how long.

My stare flicks to Jai. He’s in one piece—just the way I like him.

“Huss might need your help.” Jai says, taking a slight step to the right.

My mouth drops open and I clench my chest. How does he look worse than Joel? He looks as if he barely escaped an industrial sized blender.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s just a scratch.” He squeezes out, his eyes shut tightly.

I place the gun on the kitchen bench as Jai drags Joel’s body down the hall towards the couch. Huss attempts to follow, but he can’t do much with only the wall as support. He shouts in pain, making me jump. I rush down to help him, but Ted beats me to it.

“You need a damn doctor.” Ted orders as he supports Huss’ waist.

It’s good to see Ted in perfect health. How did Huss cop the most damage?

Huss shakes his head. “No doctors, asshole. How many times do I gotta tell you?”

“I’m no doctor—actually, I’m barely a nurse—but I’m sure I can help.”

“Better than nothing.” Jai states.

His hand slides around my waist and I turn to face him as he pulls me into his body. He’s covered in blood…and I couldn’t care less.

“You did it.” I utter, making him smile.

I wrap my arms around his neck and stand on the tips of my toes. I go to kiss him…only there’s a warm, sticky liquid clinging to my forearms. I lower myself and pull my arms back. Fresh blood.

“You’re bleeding.”

He reaches behind his head and touches it. “I hit my head.”

“You hit your head? Are you okay? Does it hurt? Is your skull still intact?”

“Well, I didn’t fall into a coma at any point during the drive so I’d say I’m all good.” He plants a quick kiss on my mouth. “I’m gonna shower.”

Shower? Doesn’t he want to sit first and, I don’t know, maybe have a beer?

“Emily, over here.” Ted calls and I turn towards the kitchen bench.

Huss is propped up on one of the stools, his broken arm lying flat on the hard surface. It’s set in place. I shiver. Funnily enough, scrapes, cuts and broken bones creep me out. Saliva pools in my mouth, paving way for the stomach acid that will surely follow if I don’t get a handle on my shit. I remember my first day in a hospital ward. I was watching a nurse undress a festering bullet wound. The man had been treating it with alcohol prior to him showing up on the hospital’s doorstep…and not the cleansing kind. I still remember him slurring “
I thought beer’d be ‘nough
” as she pulled off his homemade flannel bandage. I felt my face turn as green as his flesh and I puked all over the floor. His laugh followed me down the hall as I was sent home. I got better at it, but there are certain things that still bother me. Like sliced skin. Shudder.

“Let me grab the first-aid kit.”

If I recall correctly, I saw a first-aid kit in the upstairs bathroom. It wasn’t overly large, but I’m sure it has a needle and thread. For everything else, he should see a doctor. I can’t cast broken bones.

I walk as quickly as I can up the stairs and into the bathroom. Steam billows from the door, the fast jets of water sounding like heavy rain against the tiles. I push the door open and step inside. The air is heavy and warm making the thin, untamed strands of my hair stick to my damp forehead. I cross the bathroom and crouch low at the white basin. In the cupboard underneath, amongst all the strange bottles of moisturizer and other body creams, I find the small, plastic first-aid container. I grab it and leave without bothering Jai. I suspect he might need a little time to come to terms with what he’s achieved.

Downstairs, Huss is looking pale. Beside him, Ted sits, his face slack with exasperation. I offer him a sympathetic smile.

“There’s a spare room by the front door. Why don’t you get some rest?”

His thick, black eyebrows smooth out in relief. “You don’t need my help?”

I shake my head. “Not really. Not unless you want to hold the skin together while I stitch it.”

He slips from his stool. “By the front door, did you say?”

I smile. “Yeah.”

Ted drags himself down the hall without a glance over his shoulder. I sit the first-aid kit on the kitchen bench and slide onto the stool in front of Huss.

“What happened?” I ask, popping the lid of the kit.

I sift through useless bandages and cotton balls. At the very bottom I find a hook and thread.

“The plan was to nudge the van in the ass.” He states. “But it was coming from the wrong direction. I made the choice to slam into it front on.”

I open the needle and thread packet. Then stop. I lift my stare to his. “You risked your life to help Jai save his brother?”

His face contorts in pain and he holds his breath, only to let it go a few minutes later. “I guess I did.”

“Why?” I ask, attaching the thread to the needle.

I search through the kit again looking for some kind of anesthetic or topical numbing gel.

Nothing.

“Because I knew it was our only shot. If I didn’t, he’d never see his brother again.”

“Why do you care? You didn’t know Jai before today.”

“No. I didn’t…” His steel gray eyes bore into mine. “But I know what it’s like to lose a brother. I know the pain that comes with it.”

“You’ve lost a brother?”

He drops his gaze to his legs. “Sargent Thomas Husstel. Afghanistan in oh-nine.”

I swallow. “I’m sorry.”

Huss smiles. “It’s all right. There’s nothing either of us can do now.”

I peel a pair of gloves from their packet and slide them on. I eye the slice on his forearm. It’s the biggest so that’s where I’ll start.

“I don’t have any numbing gel so this is going to sting a little bit.”

He tilts his head and closes his eyes. I guess that’s my cue to go ahead with it. I tear open the foil to an alcohol wipe and dab it along the slice in his arm.

“What will work say about your current state? I assume they’re smart men. They might put two and two together.”

Huss tenses with a hiss and more blood leaks out. “I’m on leave. I go back in—uhh—four weeks.”

Lucky for us.

Holding my breath, I push the hook through his flesh and pull it together. Tuning out his groans, I repeat the step over…

And over…

And over…

And over…until blood stops trickling freely from the gash. I stitch five cuts of varying degrees by the time Jai drags himself downstairs again. When he comes, I’m putting the third and final stitch in Huss’s side. I lift my gaze as Jai saunters over to the fridge and retrieves a bottle of water. When I drop the needle onto the pile of discarded alcohol wipes and foil wrappers, Huss exhales.

“You did a good job at keeping the bone straight.” I say, pointing to the thick stick he chose to immobilize the movement. “But you need to have a cast put on it so the bone sets and heals where it should.”

He nods. “Tomorrow. Any pain killers in that magic box of yours?”

I pull off my gloves and dump them on the discard pile I’ve created. Surprisingly enough, at the very bottom of the first-aid container is a little orange tube. I read the label.

Percocet.

Don’t the owners of the house know they should dispose of any leftover pills? I guess I shouldn’t complain. They’re really going to help him. I pop the lid and spill a few into the palm of my hand.

“Are you allergic to acetaminophen or oxycodone?”

He shakes his head.

“Have you recently ingested alcohol, sedatives, tranquilizers, or other narcotic medications?”

“Just give me the damn pills, Emma.” He grunts, a shaky palm outstretched.

I look to Jai and he nods so I dump a pill into his hand.

“It’s Emily, by the way. Not Emma.”

Huss scowls up at me, ignoring my correction. “One? I was in a bloody car accident and you’re only going to give me one?”

I drop another into his hand as Jai pours him a glass of water. He slides the glass across the bench as Huss tosses the pills to the back of his throat and drowns them with the water before swallowing, He grabs his half full glass and saunters over to the second couch. I watch, feeling a little bad for him while he groans and complains as he lowers himself onto the couch.