Buck was still pissed.

Not the normal kind of pissed — the white-hot, all-consuming, bitter kind of pissed that makes you start plotting crimes in your head.

It had been almost twenty-four hours since he and Eddie had blown up at each other at the firehouse. Twenty-four hours since Buck had said… well, some really unforgivable shit.

And the worst part? Eddie hadn't even called him. No texts. No "hey, man, maybe we should talk." No nothing.

Radio silence.

And Buck was spiraling.

So now he was standing on Eddie's front porch, ringing the doorbell for the fourth time.

Nothing.

He banged on the door with his fist. "Eddie! Open up!"

No answer.

Buck's jaw flexed. His hand curled into a fist.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," Buck muttered.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Eddie's number. After three rings, it went to voicemail.

Buck's jaw tightened. He knocked again. "Eddie!"

Silence.

Buck's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh," Buck muttered under his breath. "You wanna play it like that?"

He took a step back from the door, chest heaving. His eyes flicked toward Eddie's driveway.

His truck was parked there. All shiny and clean.

Buck's eyes darkened.

And then his gaze slid toward the small tool rack on the side of Eddie's garage — where Eddie kept his work tools.

A slow smile crept across Buck's face.

Five minutes later, Buck was crouched next to Eddie's front left tire, holding a sharp screwdriver in his hand.

"This is a bad idea," Buck muttered to himself.

But his hand was already moving.

Hisssssssssss.

"Oh," Buck whispered. "That's satisfying."

He moved to the next tire.

Hissssssssss.

Then the next.

And the next.

Until all four tires were flat and Eddie's precious truck was basically out of commission.

Buck stood up, smiling darkly as he surveyed his work. His heart was pounding. His hands were trembling. His face was burning with adrenaline and petty rage.

"Perfect," Buck whispered.

He slid the screwdriver into his pocket and walked back to his car. He climbed into the driver's seat, pulled out of Eddie's driveway, and drove two blocks down to the nearest Starbucks parking lot.

Buck parked the car, reclined his seat, and sat back to wait.

It was two hours later when Eddie finally emerged from his house, dressed for his shift.

Buck's head popped up. His eyes narrowed as Eddie climbed into the truck.

Buck smirked. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

He watched as Eddie started the truck. It rumbled to life — and then lurched violently to the side.

Eddie's eyes widened. His brow furrowed. He put the truck in park and stepped out, frowning.

Buck could see the moment Eddie realized what had happened.

Eddie circled the truck, his head snapping toward the tires. His mouth dropped open.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie muttered. He crouched next to the front left tire and pressed his hand into it. Completely flat.

Eddie's head dropped back. "Oh, come on!"

Buck's eyes gleamed from his car.

Eddie's eyes scanned the ground — and then his gaze zeroed in on the tiny mark left in the sidewall of the tire.

"Son of a bitch," Eddie growled.

He stood, chest heaving, hands on his hips. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

Buck's phone started ringing.

Buck smirked.

He answered it. "Hello?"

"Did you do this?" Eddie's voice was cold.

Buck smiled lazily. "Do what?"

"You know exactly what."

Buck grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Buck."

"Yes, Eddie?"

"My tires are flat."

"Hmm," Buck said, fake thoughtful. "That sounds rough."

"You son of a bitch."

"Careful," Buck teased. "Christopher might hear you."

Eddie's hand curled into a fist. "Buck—"

"Oh, wait," Buck said. "Christopher's not home right now, is he?"

"You…" Eddie's voice sharpened. "You're playing with fire."

"Oh, I know I am." Buck's eyes darkened. "But you know what? I think you deserve it."

"Are you serious?"

"You blasted me with a fire hose in front of our coworkers," Buck snapped.

"That was an accident."

"Oh, it was an accident?" Buck laughed coldly. "Just like how you accidentally acted like a jealous psychopath for two weeks?"

"You were acting like an asshole!"

"And now?" Buck's voice sharpened. "So am I."

Eddie's chest rose and fell.

"You slashed my tires," Eddie growled.

Buck smirked. "You don't know that."

"Oh, I know it was you."

Buck's smile widened. "Prove it."

Eddie's jaw flexed. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "You are such a child."

"And yet, I'm not the one standing next to a truck with four flat tires," Buck shot back.

"You—"

"Oh," Buck interrupted. "By the way?"

"What?" Eddie snapped.

Buck's car rolled slowly down the street toward Eddie's driveway. He pulled up next to Eddie, rolled down the window, and smiled.

He lifted his hand — and flipped Eddie off.

Eddie's mouth dropped open. "You little—"

Buck winked. "Have fun at work, Diaz."

And then he hit the gas, speeding off down the street.

Behind him, Eddie's voice echoed:

"BUCK!"

Buck smiled as Taylor Swift's Vigilante Shit started playing on the radio.

"I don't dress for women… I don't dress for men…"

Buck turned the volume up and leaned back in the seat. His blood was still hot, adrenaline buzzing under his skin.

He knew he was being reckless. He knew he was being petty. He knew that this was going to come back and bite him in the ass.

But right now? It felt so good.

At the firehouse later that night, Hen sat next to Eddie in the locker room as Eddie scrolled through his phone, fuming.

"You okay?" Hen asked.

Eddie's jaw flexed. "No."

Hen smirked. "What happened?"

Eddie's mouth curled bitterly. "Buck slashed my tires."

Hen's eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because he's a psychotic child," Eddie muttered.

Hen grinned. "And you're surprised?"

Eddie's glare sharpened. "I'm gonna kill him."

Hen laughed. "Sure you are."

"No," Eddie growled. "I'm serious."

"Oh, I know you are," Hen teased.

Eddie's phone buzzed. He glanced down. A text from Buck.

"Thinking about you. "

Eddie's jaw tightened. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard before he typed back:

"Go to hell."

Buck's response was immediate.

"Been there. Got a souvenir."

Eddie's mouth twitched. He set his phone down and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Oh yeah," Hen said. "You're both insane."

Eddie's chest rose and fell.

"And this?" Hen grinned. "This isn't over."

Eddie's eyes darkened. "No. It's not."