by Jo Davis
“Oh, I know how to use it, tough guy.”
“Prove it,” he challenged with a leer, stalking her like a lion.
“You’ll have to catch me first!”
Bolting, she took off with a shriek, her lover giving chase.
It was a footrace she had no intention of winning.
Twelve
“Daayam, you are the best-looking woman I’veever seen!” “Shut up, Willis.” Glaring over Emma’s shoulder, Ozzie scowled at the other agent, who hadn’t stopped hooting like an owl for the past fifteen minutes. “Wanna trade places? I hear being a girl is kinda natural for you.”
“Not as natural as it is for you, obviously.”
“Aw, sweetheart, no need to be testy,” Blaze drawled. Ozzie was pretty funny when he was flustered, and watching Emma do his makeup while he glared—looking eerily fabulous as a woman—was pretty damned hilarious. “Having a pretty face is a good thing, right?” Reaching out, he squeezed one of Ozzie’s fake boobs. “Unless this is too much for your manly ego?”
Ozzie smacked his hand away. “I’ve got your manly hangin’ right here, buddy. Anytime you want to compare with a ruler and come up short, you just say the word.”
Emma rolled her eyes, dabbing at Ozzie’s lips with some gloss. “Jeez, everybody’s so weird this morning. Didn’t you guys get any coffee?”
“Must be the lack of coffee,” Willis put in with a chuckle. “ ’Cause it sure ain’t the pussy.”
Willis and Ozzie thought that was funny, and Blaze couldn’t resist joining the laughter. Those two were a never-ending source of entertainment.
Emma turned bright red and muttered, “I have a hard time believing either of you is getting any, no matter how you’re dressed,” she flung at Willis.
“Ouch!” Ozzie winced. “She scores.”
“Have you heard from Bastian this morning?” Willis asked Blaze, thankfully changing the subject.
“About an hour ago, right before you got here. Good news—they’re starting to think Michael will pull through.”
“Christ, that’s a freakin’ miracle,” Ozzie breathed, serious for once. “I mean, three rounds to the chest and abdomen at point-blank range ...”
“No shit. He’s just lucky the hit man didn’t take time to aim between his eyes.” A torso made for a lot easier target on the fly. Blaze shuddered at the memory and pushed it aside. “There’s more news, too. They finally ID’d the assailant, one Arthur Lee Burns, an enforcer for the Liberation group. Like the others we captured, he claims no knowledge of where they’re keeping the weapon, but he named a few names. Guess who was on the list?”
“Augustine Kosta?” Ozzie guessed.
Blaze shot an imaginary gun at him. “Correct. And Major Fontaine.”
“Cool. Nothing about the others in Kosta’s band of merry investors?”
“Nope, not a word.”
“Well, it’s something, anyway. At least their names are more than just ‘under suspicion’ now.”
“Right. And if all goes as planned, we’ll soon have some solid evidence of exactly what’s going on and where Dietz and that fucking weapon are hiding.” Blaze continued to observe Emma work and was highly impressed with how easily she transformed a person into someone else.
“Your turn,” she said, straightening to smile at her lover. “Ever wonder what you’d look like thirty years from now? Well, you’re about to find out.”
“Do I have to? That’s not something I have a desire to know just yet,” he said, only half joking.
“Yep. Pull up your big boy pants and get over it. Sit.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He liked the way her eyes twinkled at him merrily when he gave in to her order without more complaint. Sometimes a man’s survival depended on knowing when to shut up and do what his woman said.
He switched places with Ozzie, taking the stool at the makeup station she’d set up in their master bathroom. She tilted his face up and started to work, her cute face scrunching in concentration as she smoothed and dabbed, spreading God-knows-what sort of crap on his face for so long he thought he’d get a crick in his neck.
“Dang,” Ozzie said in amazement. “Wait until you see yourself.”
Blaze tried to turn his head to peek in the mirror, but she stopped him. “Not yet! Now for your hair.”
“Don’t cut—”
“I know, I know. I’m not going to cut it, I promise.”
“Okay.” As she dug in a plastic tote on the floor he could feel the unspoken question hanging between them. She still wanted to know what his deal was, and their two friends were regarding him curiously. Suddenly, for the first time in years, it felt right to confide in friends. Safe.
Clearing his throat, he heard himself say, “When I was seventeen, my father came home early and found me on my knees, servicing his best friend’s son. The guy was three years older than me and dominant. He had a good grip on my shoulder-length hair and was rather enthusiastically telling me how much he loved holding on to it while he fucked my mouth.”
Emma stood up straight, a wig in hand. “Oh, no.”
“Yeah. I’ll never forget the shock and then hatred on my father’s face when he stared at me, seething with rage. Here I was, this young, hot-blooded kid trying to figure out his sexuality, and I didn’t believe I’d done anything wrong. My father thought differently and sought to show me the error of my sinful ways.”
“What did he do, honey?” Emma stepped close and laid a hand on his shoulder. Ozzie and Willis remained silent.
“He beat the hell out of me, and while I lay there damned near unconscious, he left and returned with a pair of shears,” he said quietly. “Cut off every single strand, down to the scalp, and said, ‘Let the bastard hang on to that.’ I still have the scars on my head, which is the practical reason I don’t wear it short. The other is pure rebellion.”
Without a word, Emma hugged him and rested her cheek on his head. For once, Ozzie had nothing smart-assed to say. Blaze had always thought he’d feel too ashamed to tell the story, but instead he felt liberated.
“I’ve never told a soul about it, until now.”
Emma bent and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “I can’t imagine how horrible that must’ve been for you. What happened after that?”
“I left home and never went back. I haven’t seen my father in twenty years.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. My life turned out just fine, thanks to my uncle and the rest of my family.” He gave her a smile to punctuate that statement, and she returned it. “We about done?”
“Almost.”Taking her cue that he’d closed the subject, she worked on stuffing his hair under a rubbery thing fitted to his skull—no easy task.
Next came the wig, styled clean-cut, over the ears . . . and silver. By the time she had the rug situated to her satisfaction and taped into place, he was dying of curiosity. Especially when she stepped back to survey her work and their two friends exclaimed in disbelief.
“Holy crap!”
“No way.”
“Can I look yet?”
She giggled. “You sound like a little boy. Sure, I guess I’m done.”
He stood, turned to the mirror. And his mouth fell open. “That’s kind of freaky. At least I don’t look anything like my father, thank God.”
“I think you make a very handsome older gentleman!”
“I’m glad you think so. You did an amazing job,” he assured her. “Everyone know their part?” Three voices answered in the affirmative. “Good. Let’s get going.”
They filed out, he and Ozzie wearing blue uniforms that included polo shirts stitched with the logo PARADISE CATERING over their pockets. The difference between them was that Blaze wore navy pants and Ozzie wore a skirt that showed off smooth, shapely legs and blue pumps.
“You’d have quite a future as a drag queen should you ever decide to give up dangerous covert op stuff,” Blaze remarked.
“Bite me, Dad.”
He laughed. Oz sashayed down the stairs, and he thought it weird and fascinating that a guy would be able to move like that, so gracefully. But that’s what made Ozzie good at what he did—being undercover and catching bad guys.
In the surveillance van, which Willis had parked in the back so it wouldn’t be seen from the street, Willis took the wheel while Emma sat in back with Blaze and Ozzie. Wouldn’t do for her to be seen, and besides, she was busy outfitting them with their electronics.
“These gold name tags are actually pinhole cameras. The hole in the center is hardly visible to the naked eye. They’ll ensure that Willis and I see and hear everything you do.”
“Cool.” Blaze took his, embossed with the name Bob. “There’s a microchip in here?”
“Yes. It’s not much thicker than a sheet of paper, and it’s no bigger than the nail on your pinkie.”
“Awesome,” Ozzie said, fascinated. His name tag had JANIE on it. “This high-tech stuff never ceases to amaze me. I feel like freakin’ James Bond.”
“Make that Janie Bond,” Willis snickered.
“Shut up, asshole.”
Blaze smothered a laugh. It really looked funny to hear that masculine expletive coming out of a “woman’s” mouth. “I sure hope you can halfway talk like a girl if you’re forced to say anything.”
“I can when I need to, hot stuff,” Ozzie replied in a sultry falsetto.
Blaze blinked at the younger man. “God, that was creepy. But good.”
“Thanks.”
Willis made a scheduled stop at a restaurant, picking up the catering they’d pass off as their own. Ozzie helped Emma load the white boxes of food onto the silver cart they’d stowed in the back of the van, and then but one crucial detail was left. Blaze palmed several tiny bugs and handed some to Ozzie.
“You know the drill—once we locate Kosta’s office, plant them wherever you can.”
“Got it.”
The rest of the ride progressed in silence, and the tension stretched taut. Each of them knew the dangers involved, but the risk must be taken. They couldn’t count on gleaning enough damning evidence simply from infiltrating Kosta’s group at the Velvet Underground. A good agent never put all his eggs in one basket, so to speak. The bugs would provide extra likelihood that they’d gain information they could pass on to Bastian and the president.
The building that housed Kosta’s company was twenty stories, the company itself taking up several floors. A bit of recon by Willis and Ozzie the day before had revealed Kosta’s office and conference room to be not on the top level, as they’d feared, but on the fourteenth floor. If they were stopped, it would be much easier to make the interrogator believe they’d gotten the wrong floor than if they had to go to the top.
Willis parked the van in the front drive and then got out and walked around back, casually helping him and Ozzie remove the serving cart before climbing in the back and closing the doors. A glance told Blaze that few people were about and none were paying them any attention. Lunch was still an hour away, and nobody would care about a pair of caterers setting up for a noon meeting.
He hoped.
Ozzie pushed the cart inside, and Blaze smiled at a pretty receptionist in the lobby, who gave him a blank stare and then completely ignored him. Shit. He’d forgotten he looked to be nearly seventy. Being old must suck. Though it was better than the alternative.
Once in the elevator, he let out a deep breath. They didn’t speak as it ascended, and when the door slid open, they found themselves in another lobby area facing a slightly more curious receptionist.
“May I help you?” Polite, but to the point.
“Why yes, young lady. We’re from Paradise Catering, here to set up lunch in the conference area,” Blaze said in his most fatherly voice. Like he’d know shit about being fatherly.
The lady frowned. “Um, I’m not aware of Mr. Kosta ordering lunch for his meeting today. Hold on just a minute while I find out.” She picked up the phone, punched in an extension. “Mr. Kosta? There’s a—my apologies, sir. I just need to ask—yes, sir. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Is everything all right, dear?” Blaze asked politely.
“Yes, I suppose so. He told me to handle it, so I’m guessing it’s fine for you to go ahead and set up in the conference room.” She waved a hand down the hall. “Third door on the right, across from Mr. Kosta’s office.”
“Excellent. Janie?” He waved a hand for Ozzie to follow and breathed a sigh when they were out of the woman’s sight. Another hurdle crossed. At the conference room door, Blaze held it open. “After you.”
Once they were inside, he closed the door behind them, and they set to work. Quickly and efficiently. They didn’t speak as they set out the catering boxes, pretending to take great care with the presentation of the food even as they placed the bugs in strategic spots—under the conference table, under two chairs, and one in the phone.
This done, Blaze nodded at his companion. They’d planned for Ozzie to remain here and protect their cover while Blaze tried to slip into Kosta’s office to plant the rest of the bugs. Easier said than done. Moving to the door, he eased it open a crack and saw that at some point in the last few minutes, the man in question had left his office. He wouldn’t get a better opportunity.
With a last glance at Ozzie, he peered right and left, then hurried across the hall and eased Kosta’s office door shut. Faster than he’d ever worked, he placed the devices in the phone, into a potted plant, and under the desk and a guest chair. He couldn’t do more to ensure success, and if Kosta held a single damning conversation, they’d record it. He’d just thought they might get away clean when Blaze heard raised voices from across the hall. One was Ozzie’s, exclaiming in a frightened woman’s voice.
Shit!
Blaze hurried back across the hall and into the room to find Kosta well into Ozzie’s personal space, fingers wrapped around the agent’s arm.
“I asked you a question,” he hissed. “What are you doing in here?”
Ozzie stared at the man, eyes wide. “We’re from Paradise Catering, and we were just setting up for your luncheon! Please, let go of my arm.”
“I didn’t order any damned—”
“Excuse me,” Blaze interrupted in a chilly, cultured tone. “Is there a problem?”
Realizing the “lady” wasn’t alone, Kosta let go and stepped back, pinning Blaze with a glare. A glare that narrowed as he tilted his head, as though trying to work out a puzzle. “I didn’t order any luncheon for my meeting, so perhaps you can explain all of this food.”
That stare. Blaze’s heart did a slow roll in his chest. There was no way the man could possibly recognize him. “Obviously there’s been an error. Allow me to call my office and we’ll get to the bottom of this.” Extracting his cell phone, he placed a call to Willis and made the rehearsed speech, explaining that they’d delivered an order to the fourteenth floor of the Sands Building, and waited an appropriate length of time before exclaiming. “Oh, no! What are we going to do? Yes, all right.”
“Well?” Kosta demanded.
“It seems we have the wrong address! We’ll be lucky if we don’t lose our client over this,” he lamented. “Please accept the luncheon as our apology. We can’t possibly serve it to our first client now. We’ll have to go fetch another order for him.”
Kosta seemed placated by the idea of free food and smiled. A crocodile smile. “In that case, you’re forgiven. You can show yourselves out.”
The man turned and walked out, leaving them alone. They took the cart and split as fast as possible without attracting attention. Mission accomplished.
“Jesus, that was close,” Ozzie whispered as they exited the building and headed for the van. “That dude doesn’t have a soul in his body to be found.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He kept thinking about Kosta’s appraising stare. The recollection gave him goose bumps.
And then it hit him.
Despite their care and the s
uccess of their mission, they’d made a grave error today. One that might doom them all if Kosta figured it out.
When altering Blaze’s appearance, they’d completely forgotten to use colored contacts to hide his golden eyes.
“We didn’t use contacts.”
“What?” Emma studied Blaze’s grim expression. He settled across from her in the van and leaned his head back against the side, looking drained.
“We forgot about my eyes. Didn’t color them.”
Emma felt the blood leave her face. “Oh, crap. That’s all my fault! Do you think he recognized you?”
“No, but if he thinks about it, he could figure it out.”
“I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I made such a crucial mistake,” she said miserably. God, she’d placed his life in danger. Unforgivable.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t think of it, either.”
“It’s not your job to think of those details. It’s mine!”
“We’re a team, Emma,” Ozzie reminded her. “We all dropped the ball on that one, but there’s no help for it now. We have to go on as planned.”
“That’s right,” Blaze agreed. “No choice. Tonight we keep our date with Kosta and his group, see what we can learn.”
A lump of ice settled in her gut. She wanted to call the whole thing off, but as he’d said, what choice did they really have? They had to find that weapon, period. There wasn’t time to bring in another team.
Their mood was pensive on the drive back. Worried. In under an hour, they’d bid good-bye to their friends with plans to be in motion that evening by nine. Everyone was to rest up for a long night.
Once inside, Blaze took her into his arms and held her tight. “It’s going to be all right, baby.”
She wasn’t so sure. “Make love to me. I want to forget all this for a while.”
“My pleasure, always.”
Upstairs, they shed their clothing piece by piece, never taking their eyes off each other until he disappeared into the bathroom.
“I’ll be just a minute.”
True to his word, he returned shortly, the wig gone and hair loose, most of the makeup washed from his face.