SHOTS FIRED

SMOKE'S POV

I woke up to an empty bed and the faint scent of strawberries. Lena was gone. No note, no goodbye. Just silence and that sweet trace of her on the pillow. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, smirking to myself.

Smart girl.

I grabbed my phone, checked for messages — nothing. I dialed Charles. He picked up on the second ring.

“Boss,” he answered, voice steady like he’d been up for hours.

“Pull up,” I said, tossing on my clothes.

“On my way,” he replied. No questions. That’s why I kept him around.

Fifteen minutes later, Charles pulled up outside the hotel. I slid into the front seat, eyes scanning the street. Quiet. Too quiet.

“Where to?” he asked, hands firm on the wheel.

“Jimmy’s spot,” I said, leaning back, eyes still watching the road.

Charles raised an eyebrow but didn’t say much. “Thought you already handled him.”

“Business ain’t about handling,” I said, watching the city roll by. “It’s about control.”

He nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. “Control, huh? You plannin’ on takin’ more than weed this time?”

I turned my head slowly, giving him a look. “Drive, Charles.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, sir.”

We hit a red light at an empty intersection. No traffic. No noise. Just the hum of the engine. I scanned the street out of habit. Can't turn off instincts like mine.

Then I saw it.

A white sedan creeping up on our right, windows tinted darker than the devil’s heart. It moved too slow, too smooth. I don’t trust smooth.

“Charles,” I said, eyes locked on the car.

“Yeah?” he asked, eyes flicking to the rearview.

“Stay sharp,” I muttered.

He glanced at me, then at the car. He saw it too. His hands shifted on the wheel, ready for whatever.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Gunshots shattered the air. Glass exploded as three rounds tore through the passenger-side window. Charles didn’t flinch — no scream, no panic. He ducked low, hand still on the wheel.

“Move!” I barked, grabbing his arm and pulling him down harder. I leaned forward, peering out through the broken window.

The white sedan peeled off, tires screeching.

“Boss, they just shot at us,” Charles said, face calm but eyes sharp.

“I noticed,” I growled, already sliding into action. “Switch seats.”

Charles shifted fast, climbing over the center console. We didn’t even have to say it out loud — he knew what was next. I took the wheel, foot slammed on the gas. The engine roared like a beast unleashed.

We shot forward, eyes locked on the white car ahead.

The chase was wild.

The white sedan snaked through traffic, weaving like it was born on these streets. I stayed on it, closing the gap with every sharp turn.

Charles kept his eyes on the rearview. “You sure about this, boss?”

“Only one way to be sure,” I said, eyes on the car.

We sped past strip malls, gas stations, and fast-food joints, barely missing cars that honked and swerved. The white car cut a hard left, nearly clipping a mailbox. I followed, tires screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

“They don’t want to get caught,” Charles said, eyes on the sedan.

“Nobody ever does,” I muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas.

We hit an intersection. Cars crossed in front of us. The white car shot through, barely missing a red pickup. I cut right, dodging a delivery van by inches.

“You tryin’ to kill us, Smoke?” Charles asked, steady as ever.

“If I was, you’d know,” I said, swerving around a sedan.

“Fair point,” he muttered, eyes still scanning.

The white car sped up, taking a sharp turn into a side street. I followed close, heart steady, mind sharp. They weren’t getting away. Not today.

Then fate decided to play its card.

A semi-truck pulled out of a side street like it had all the time in the world. The white car swerved, squeezing through the gap just in time. I wasn’t as lucky.

“Truck! Truck!” Charles shouted.

I yanked the wheel, tires screaming like they were in pain. The car spun sideways, sliding to a hard stop inches from the back of the truck. I slammed the wheel with my palm, teeth clenched.

“They're gone,” Charles said, eyes tracking the space where the white car disappeared.

But I got the car plate boss charle’s said Good I muttered

I sat still for a moment, breathing slow, letting the frustration settle.

“Next time,” I muttered, gripping the wheel tighter.

Charles glanced at me, nodding. “Yeah. Next time.”

We didn’t make it two blocks before the police showed up.

Two cruisers boxed us in, lights flashing, sirens cutting through the air. Charles sighed like he’d seen it a hundred times before.

“Here we go,” he muttered.

“Out the car! Hands where I can see 'em!” a cop shouted, stepping out of his cruiser with his hand on his holster.

Charles opened his door slowly, hands raised, calm as a monk. I stepped out the same way, eyes steady on the cops.

“Easy, officers,” I said, hands raised. “You’re looking at the victims here.”

“Victims, huh?” one cop said, walking up with his eyes squinted. “Funny, you don’t look like one.”

“Yeah, well, appearances lie,” I said, glancing at Charles. “Ain’t that right, Charles?”

“Preach, boss,” Charles muttered, hands still up.

They patted us down, found nothing but bad attitudes. They ran my name, and that’s when the shift happened. They pulled my file. They knew who I was.

“Smoke,” one of them said, tapping his badge. “Didn’t expect to see you out here. Thought you were still in the east.”

“Life’s full of surprises,” I said, tilting my head. “What’s the charge, officer?”

“Reckless driving,” he said. “Evading.”

“Evading? I’m the one chasing,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Or you forgot how red lights work?”

“Don’t play smart,” the cop muttered.

“Can’t help it,” I said, grinning.

Another cop stepped forward. “What’s a guy like you doing in Oklahoma?”

“Tourism,” I said, leaning forward like I was sharing a secret. “Heard the hospitality’s top tier.”

They didn’t like that. They never do.

“Don’t leave town,” one of them said, pointing at me.

“Wasn’t planning to,” I said, grinning wide. “Too much to see, too much to do.”

Ten minutes later, I was back in Charles’ car, rubbing my wrists. The cuffs had left a mark.

“You always like pokin’ bears?” Charles asked, glancing at me as he pulled onto the street.

“Bears poke back,” I said, flexing my fingers. “I just poke first.”

He chuckled, hands firm on the wheel. “Where to, boss?”

“Jimmy’s,” I said, eyes on the horizon. “We got unfinished business.”

He nodded, lips tight. “Alright. But if we get shot at again, I’m charging overtime.”

I looked at him, smirked, and leaned back.

“Overtime’s already on the clock,” I said, eyes on the road ahead.

“Bet,” Charles muttered, and the car rolled on through the city that didn’t know what was coming next.