Flame (2 page)

Chapter
3

Colton

I can’t get those damned eyes
out of my head.

Big
and brown. Surrounded by thick lush black lashes. Staring up and into me with a
look that says
go-ahead-and-try-it-asshole
.

My
cock twitches in my car seat. I adjust myself and try to re-focus on the road.

I’m on
my way to The Talon Group, crossing the Venetian in the morning sunshine. I’m driving
the 2001 Toyota Corolla I bought to blend in with my destination. AC is off, not
that it works anyway. Windows open. Today is one of those late October days with
a cold blast from Canada that wakes up all of South Florida with its chill.

I’m
smiling. Joyous, actually. Floating on air. Feeling better than I’ve felt in a
long time. I spent all day Sunday preparing today’s assignment for The Group.
Didn’t even think about the Self-Detonation plan that had so consumed me on
Friday. Putting it on hold.

But I
keep getting flashes of those amazing big brown eyes. That black hair falling in
waves. Those thick luscious lips. That strong chin. The fierceness behind her
stare.

And
I’m hard again.

Doesn’t
even bother me today that my tail is right there. I look in my rearview mirror.
Yep, just like always. A light-blue Buick, following me a few cars behind.

I
think I’d miss him if he wasn’t following me. I’m so used to our routine. Just another
Monday. We play the same little game every weekday.

Soon
this will be over, though. The Talon Group will be ready. Soon they will have all
the knowledge that will unleash them onto the world. Soon my legacy will be in motion.

I turn
right onto 2nd Avenue. The plain blue Buick turns with me.

A few
minutes later I turn right into the parking lot in front of the low plaza of stores.
This is where it always gets fun.

Local
headquarters of The Talon Group is here. The outdoor strip mall is in need of
renovation. Unlike the wealthy suburbs who can afford fake “Main Street”-style
mini-plazas built to look like Bedford Falls with palm trees. Always with a
Wagamama
, Starbucks, and Whole Foods Market.

This
one, on the other hand, has an Asian massage parlor, a pawn shop, and a dollar
store. I’m the only white person in sight. I grab my gym bag, walk to the door
under the sign that reads
Asian Spa
in go inside.

“Good
morning, Mr. Smith,” says the girl at the reception desk. Her black hair is tied
up in a bun and she’s wearing a flowered kimono.

“Good
morning, Yoon-
Ji
.”

“The
usual today, Mr. Smith?”

“Yes,”
I say.

She leads
me down the hallway to Massage Room Number Two.

“You
will be having Violet today,” she says. “She will be here in a few minutes.”

“Thank
you,” I say and hand her a C-note.

“Thank
you
, Mr. Smith.”

Alone
in the massage room I know so well, I strip to my underwear.

Then
I open the gym bag, removing its contents. I put each one on as I do. A pair of
corduroy pants. Cheap suede shoes. A checkered shirt from T.J. Maxx. Camel-colored
blazer with shoulder patches. A fake gray goatee. A pair of fake glasses with big,
black frames.

Then
the finishing touch. I take out the spray can and go to the mirror, slick back
my hair, and spray until it’s nicely gray-white. I smile at myself.

Nobody
would recognize me as Colton Stark. Even if somebody were told it’s me, they’d say,
“No way! That’s some old college professor.”

I put
my regular clothes into the gym bag and zip it shut.

The door
opens.

“Good
morning, Mr. Smith,” says Violet as she shuts the door and locks it. “How are you
today?”

Violet
has flowing black hair and wide eyes. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts, both
of which barely exist on her slight frame.

“Better
than ever, Violet,” I say as I hand her a C-note. “See you in ninety minutes.”

“Thank
you, Mr. Smith.”

She
sits in the chair opposite the massage table with a copy of
People
magazine.

I remove
my old, tattered briefcase from the gym bag, zip it shut, and go to the back
door. I open it and pass through. Violet locks it behind me.

I’m outside
behind the strip mall. Directly ahead of me is a tall concrete wall. I turn right,
walking toward the brightly painted building next door.

The blue
Buick boys, epic crime-stoppers that they are, always park in the lot out front.
From their angle, they cannot see me as I walk to the side door of the adjacent
building.

I knock
twice. Eduardo knocks back twice from the other side. The door opens.

Eduardo
is a good-looking, young man, twenty years old. Full of passion. Vigor. Energy.
Just the kind of young man who is best suited for The Talon Group’s mission.

He locks
the door behind me.

“Good
morning, Professor,” he says with a smile.

“Good
morning, Eduardo.” I follow him upstairs and down another corridor. He motions me
into the meeting room.

There
they are. My army.

As I
walk in, I’m so proud.

“Good
morning,” I say. “Today, we’re going to cover some very important material. Open
your folders and turn to Section B.”

I
look at the faces. These are my people. I can’t wait to see what they
accomplish.

Chapter
4

Sofia

I can’t get those damned eyes
out of my head.

Big
and blue. Piercing pupils that cut through me like a laser beam. Thick eyebrows
above, high firm cheekbones below.

Not
to mention that kiss.

Colton
Stark’s tongue in my mouth.

God!

All weekend
long, I smiled every time I thought about it.

Okay
fine, I did more than think about it. I may have rubbed one out while looking at
those Google images again.

Okay fine, three times, okay? I did it three times!

But that’s
it. No more. Today is Monday. Today is the day I reclaim my dignity as a police
officer.

As I
get off the elevator and head to OCS, I feel happy. Lighter than air. I think I
might be smiling, which is strange.

As I
near the big door, I see
LaTashia
at her desk through
the glass.

Shit, she’s in! Fuck, what do I do?

I thought
she would be in Doral at the big “New Tech Summit” meeting all day, but there she
is at her desk.

I turn
and duck into the ladies’ room. There are two other people in there having a conversation,
which abruptly stops when I come in. I walk into a stall and lock it.

This
is ridiculous. I’m hiding.

What’s the big deal, Sofia? Just tell her you made
contact and you have a date.

Right.
She doesn’t need to know I completely blew my cover. She certainly can’t find
out I beat up Barry
Wendtler
of Coral Gables.

Fuck,
Sofia, why couldn’t you control yourself better?

Because I couldn’t let that girl get raped, that’s
why! I’d do it again!

Okay,
Sofia, breathe. Here’s the plan. Walk in, go to your cubicle, and go about your
day. When
LaTashia
questions you about Colton Stark,
just say you made contact and you have a date. But in the meantime, no need to
purposely seek out
LaTashia
.

I take
a deep breath and walk out, head held high, to my cubicle.

Tons
of assigned work to do today. I have three official investigations that need
attention. Just going to focus on those. My “date” with Colton Stark isn’t
until three this afternoon. Plenty of time to get some work done.

I log
in and begin my day. After about an hour of reading a long document that makes no
sense, I go to get some coffee.

“Good
morning, Sofia,” says Frank
Scarpelli
at the ancient
Mr. Coffee machine that somebody really should replace soon.

“Morning,
Frank,” I say.

Frank
is a good friend of my dad’s. They worked together on many cases throughout the
years. We’re the only ones in the break room.

“How
is he?”

“Oh,
I think you know. There’s nobody quite like my dad.”

Frank
adds powdered cream and sugar to his coffee. “He
is
proud of you, you know.”

“Funny.
He’s never said that. Or done anything to show it.”

“He will.”

“Well,
I’m not holding my breath.”

“Give
it some time. He’s a good man.”

Frank
purses his lips and nods. Then he smiles and pats me on the back as he returns to
his cubicle with his coffee.

I
like Frank. Always did. Lots of nights he would end up crashed on our couch
after fighting with his wife. Looks a lot older now. Lost most of his hair. Suspended
for drinking. Nasty divorce. Pulled it together, though. Seems to have become one
of those guys who’s just accepted his life and made peace with it. Doesn’t ruffle
feathers anymore.

I
head back to my desk. Mike
Everly
is sitting in my
chair reading my paperwork.

“That’s
it,” I say. “I’m putting a firefly on you. Then I’m going to show Jen where you
actually go. Up!”

He doubles
down, stretching out with his hands behind his head while chewing gum.

“Up!
Now!”

“Make
me,
chica
dura
,” he says.

“Mike,
I don’t have time for this.”

“Hey,
I got a surveillance tomorrow night at ten. Not too far from your place. Should
only take an hour. Keep me company?”

“Only
if you get up now, asshole.”

Mike
chews his gum and smiles at me, then makes a show of getting up and motioning
me back into my chair. I sit, putting my coffee on my desk.

Mike
leans against the cubicle wall and folds his arms.

“So,
rumor has it you’re working on something special,” he whispers.

“Go away.”

“You
can tell me. What is it?”

“Mike,
I will hurt you. You know I will.”

“Something
between you and
LaTashia
, huh? Off the record stuff?”

How the fuck does he know that?

I
take a sip of my coffee and put it down again, then I turn to face him. I’m
almost about to admit I’m working on something but out of the corner of my eye I
see
LaTashia
walking past the whiteboard. I hear her
voice in my head warning me not to talk about it.

“Well,
okay,” I say in a low voice, “but you need to promise me you won’t tell anyone.”

“
Sofe
, c’mon, you need to ask?”

I bite
my lip dramatically and lean into him, looking around and whispering. He leans down
to me.

“Well,
you know the new Jalapeño Double at McDonald’s? We suspect they’re not using
real jalapeños.
Shhhhhhh
. Don’t tell anyone. This is
fucking
huge
.”

“You
know,
Sofe
, sometimes you suck.”

“Thought
that was your specialty.”

Mike
stands up tall and lowers his tone. “Well, look, everybody’s talking. Rumor of
a rat. Just want to let you know I’ve got your back if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

“Sofia!”
LaTashia’s
voice cuts across the room. She’s standing
at the door to her office.

“Bye,”
says Mike as he slinks away.

LaTashia
motions for me to go in her office.

Fuck
me.

I grab
my Ops Folder. Hopefully, this is just a normal Monday briefing.

I
walk in and close the door.
LaTashia
does her usual
make-the-other-person-sweat
routine,
which involves ignoring you while she does trivial paperwork. Good
psychological tactic.

“What
are you working on?” she finally says without looking up.

“The
Vasquez case,” I say. “Still can’t find a lead on Bill
Hendley
,
but there’s an auto dealership in Hialeah that he used to work at. Going to check
that out as well as trace a bus ticket to New Orleans back in March.”

“What
about the truck in North Miami?”

“Still
no ID. Plates nowhere to be found. Waiting on a phone call from the guy that owns
the lot.”

She still
hasn’t looked up at me, making notes while occasionally typing something into one
of her three laptops.

“Good,”
she says after a long silence.

“As for
the other thing–” I begin to say.

“Have
a donut,” she says, handing a Dunkin’ Donuts bag to me.

“Huh?
Oh, no thanks, I–”

She looks
at me for the first time with her deadly eyes and an evil smile.

“
Have a donut
, Sofia. It’s good. Pumpkin spice.
I bought two but could only eat one. You’ll like it.”

“Oh.
Of course. I’ll have a donut.” I take the bag.

“Have
it after lunch for dessert,” she says. “Before your appointment at three. Make sure
you park several blocks away.”

How
did she know? Why does she want me to park several blocks away? Shit, there
must be a lot of eyes on Colton Stark. Not to mention a lot of eyes on
LaTashia
because she won’t even let me mention my secret
assignment in the office. I wonder what’s in the bag.

“Feel
free to go back to work now,” she says, turning her attention back to her screens.

“Thanks
for the donut,” I say as I get up and walk out.

Back
at my cubicle, I scrunch up the bag and put it in my case. No donut in there. Something
solid. Then I focus on my work.