Page 57 of Controlled Burn
And when he did?
He meant to keep them—even if it destroyed them both.
And as Dean watched her disappear into the shadows, he wondered if the smoke would ever clear—or if they'd both be swallowed by the fire.
Chapter 21
Blackmail
Talia
She should've trusted her gut the second she saw Jake in the turnout room, leaning against the lockers, one boot kicked up like he'd been waiting just for her.
"You're not even gonna say hi anymore?" he asked, that smug smile already curling at the corners of his mouth.
Talia stopped short. The gear room was hot and close, thick with the sour bite of sweat, old rubber, and machine oil. Her skin prickled. She crossed her arms.
"I'm not in the mood."
Jake clicked his tongue and pushed off the lockers, casual, deliberate. The air between them vibrated with something ugly.Over his shoulder, she could see Watts at the far end of the room, arms crossed, eyes glittering. Watching. Always watching.
"Shame," he said. "Because I've been thinking. Maybe we could come to an… arrangement."
Her stomach dropped.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
He stepped in, too close. The aftershave he wore was sharp and cheap, stinging her nose—like he was trying to scrub off the fact that he reeked of sweat and smoke. His voice lowered, eyes flicking toward the door. A muffled cough from Brooks somewhere in the hall, a quick look, and a coward's retreat.
"Watts is talking. And the crew's not deaf. Doesn't take much to connect the dots between you and Maddox."
Her hand tightened around the strap of her turnout coat, fingernails digging into the canvas. A cold rush of dread slid down her spine. She felt like the walls were closing in—gear racks hemming her in, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like a broken interrogation room.
Jake smiled like he'd just drawn a full house.
"You want to keep things quiet? Maybe give me a reason to keep my mouth shut."
No mask. No pretense. Just blackmail.
"You're pathetic," she snapped, trying to push past him.
He blocked her path with a hand on the locker, body angled just enough to trap her in place. She could feel the heat coming off him—stale, aggressive, male.
"Maybe," he murmured, "but I've got ears. And a mouth. You want me to keep them shut, you'll use that sweet little one of yours."
Her fist curled before she realized it. Blood roared in her ears. When she spoke, her voice was low and lethal.
"Go to hell."
Jake just grinned. "You first, sweetheart."
She shoved past him with enough force to knock his shoulder into the lockers, fury and nausea clawing at her throat. As she escaped into the hallway, Watts's voice floated after her, honeyed and poisonous: "I told them you didn't belong here, Cross. Guess they're finally listening."
Her breath came fast and shallow. She didn't stop walking until she reached the back hallway, where she leaned against the wall, fists clenched at her sides, trying to ride out the storm tearing through her chest. She pressed a fist to her sternum, fighting the acid burn of fear and rage that churned in her stomach. Above her, the PA crackled—someone laughing, a voice echoing down the corridor, but it felt a world away.
She couldn't tell anyone. Not officially. Not without risking HR turning it into a circus.
If she reported it, Jake would burn her down with just enough spin to make it stick. If she told Maddox—
