White Lines by Tom Fowler

Author:Tom Fowler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Widening Gyre Media

Smitty drank a mug of warm milk before bed. His father taught him how good it was for sleep many years ago. Now, whenever he felt stressed as the evening wore on, he heated a cup. It was probably hokum, but in case it actually helped, Smitty kept it up. He’d been raiding the fridge for the white stuff to heat more often ever since the Canadian girl dropped her damn Boxster off at his shop.

The more he thought about it, he realized the added stress began when Jake went on the run. Men soon came calling for him. Smitty didn’t have a way out of the situation until John Tyler wandered into his shop looking for a job. He never knew he was hiring Rambo, but Jake came back safe and sound. Since then, Tyler proved himself to be a good and knowledgeable worker.

Smitty took a sip and tried to relax with deep breaths. For his many attributes, Tyler couldn’t let things go. When the girl turned up dead, he’d taken offense. He couldn’t have been sweet on her—she was barely older than his daughter. For whatever reason, Tyler couldn’t abide her death, and he made it his job to get revenge for her against the cartel. Which was all well and good. Smitty didn’t like criminals. He also didn’t like getting caught in the crossfire, a place he increasingly imagined himself as the cartel sent men to case the shop.

With thoughts roiling, the breathing didn’t do much. Smitty rinsed his cup out and settled in to bed. As he drifted off, he thought the warm milk probably helped. His phone trilling on the nightstand shocked him out of a slumber some time later. He looked at the device as he picked it up—1:33 AM. What the hell could be going on at this hour?

When he put his glasses on and read the alert, his heart sank.

A fire alarm went off in the shop. The system was new. It shouldn’t produce a false positive. Smitty opened the app allowing him to view the security feeds. Flames blazed in the office area of the building. “Shit,” Smitty said. The camera cut out before he set his phone down. The alarm would also alert the fire department. They might be able to save the shop. He’d owned it for years, and nausea gripped his stomach at the thought of losing it now.

Smitty got dressed faster than ever before in his life and hustled out the door.

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