“Uh-oh,” he says. “Looks like I said the wrong thing again. That never happens.”
“I’m tough, Dad. What happened two years ago could have happened to anybody. It wasn’t cuz I’m a girl.”
“Uh-huh,” he says in that damned condescending tone as he takes a sip of his beer. “But you had to spend a lot of time with that shrink afterward.”
Here it comes. I can’t help myself. It just bubbles up and over.
“Why do you always do this, Dad? For once, why can’t we just have a nice quiet friendly meal together? I am what I am. That’s not going to change. And I’m damned good at it too! I’m not some emotional girly girl who’s going to cry every time she...”
I’m about to say misses the chance to save a girl’s life but I check myself.
My dad’s eyes meet mine with the same coldness from that day on the front stoop ten years ago.
Five million rants are swimming around in my head. But I know from experience that all of them are a waste of breath.
I need to hit something!
I finish my beer, grab my purse, and head to the front door.
“Bye,” he says. “Thanks for the pizza.”
I have my hand on the knob, but I turn and walk back into the kitchen.
Another speech hits me, and again I stop myself. There’s no point. I’ve said it all too many times.
“Come back soon, now,” he says.
I put my head down and turn back to the door.
Then I walk out without saying goodbye and head to the gym.
Chapter 7
Sofia
Maybe parking four blocks away from Heat was a mistake. My feet just do not work in these goddamned heels.
Whatever. I’ll deal. I do whatever it takes. I’m on assignment. Well, sort of.
Halle Berry walking out of the ocean, Sofia. Swing and sway, swing and sway.
Worst part of this whole thing is that I had to leave my gun at home. I feel truly naked without it.
Had no choice. Won’t fit in my purse... and certainly not anywhere else on me.
Fine. Shouldn’t need it anyway. This isn’t a bust.
I’ve already gotten ten whistles and one deadbeat hitting on me as I walk along Ocean Drive toward the club in this... I don’t know what to call it... thing I’m wearing. Not enough material for a dress really.
Do hot girls really want this much attention? They must if they walk around naked like this. I’m the opposite. I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone.
Whatever. This is the job. I am a predator, and if it means wearing heels to get to my prey, I’ll fucking wear heels.
I hear the thumping music from inside as I stand on the same corner Jorge and I walked past yesterday. I notice a side door with a little ramp leading out onto the cross street.
My heart is beating a little fast. So fucking ridiculous. I wasn’t this nervous the night a thug locked me in a storage container behind a mall and I had to wait for Mike to get me out.
Relax, Sofia. Chill.
I clutch my ridiculous little purse, take a deep breath, and head to the door.
There is a line stretching around the corner. Three large bouncers are stationed at three strategic spots while the doorman, who is the biggest, plays the silly please-oh-please-let-me-in game.
Three guys in a tricked-out red 1984 Olds Cutlass shout various phrases simultaneously as they pass me heading north. I can make out “ass to take home,” “beautiful,” and “lick it sideways.”
I give them the finger. They’re lucky. I’m really in the mood to slam my fist into somebody’s face tonight, but I’m focused on my job.
“Oooh, tough mamí,” says the driver, as their ridiculous car bounces along to their next target.
Have I mentioned I hate South Beach?
Now, the line... I’ve never understood the fucking line. I don’t wait to get into any place where I need to be on a guest list or pre-approved in any way. Fucking club bullshit never made any sense to me.
I have a plan all worked up for the door. I’m going to walk to the head of the line, tell the doorman that I was here earlier and went in with my friends but somehow got out the side door.
He’ll buy that, right? Probably not, but it’s worth a try.
I picture Halle Berry walking out of the ocean again and head toward him, ready to start my line of bullshit. Swing and sway. Swing and sway.
I’ll never know if it would have worked or not because he just smiles at me, opens the door, and motions me in.
No shit, really?
“Thank you,” I say, clipping my words as I walk inside.
Well, that was just way too fucking easy now, wasn’t it?
As soon as I get inside, I understand why.
The line outdoors was mostly guys and blondes. In here the girls are 95% Latina. Orders from Colton Stark, no doubt. The ratio is more even for the smattering of guys inside, about 50-50.
Guess all you really need to get into Heat is to look like... well, me, I guess.
Never thought I’d say that. A tiny part of me smiles, but I squash it.
I move through the thick crowd. Place is packed. Music is way too loud. Multi-colored laser lights bounce around the ceiling. Models in fetish-wear pose as Eastern European police while... frozen?... in blocks of ice . They can’t be really frozen. They’d die. Must be a visual illusion. How do they do that?
Off to the sides are small lounge areas with long low couches. All around the top, accessible by a glass staircase, are the VIP rooms.
Ridiculous. Can’t imagine living my life going to places like this.
There are drugs in here too. My cop nose smells them. I notice one girl swaying in the lounge area, rolling her eyes into her head as a guy chats her up. He’s tall and skinny with an expensive haircut, wearing a leather blazer and designer jeans. His hands travel all over the girl. She seems to be trying to push him away. Dickwad. My fist clenches.
To my right are the rest rooms and a ramp that leads around the corner to the side door I noticed from the outside. I’d be willing to bet there’s another door on the other side of the club in almost the same spot that opens into the hotel next door.
I start scanning the far wall for it. As I do...
I see him.
I gasp.
Our eyes meet.
Damn! Colton Stark is looking right at me.
And I’m looking right at him.
Fuck.
Wait, that’s good. That’s what I want. That’s what I’m doing here, right?
Just didn’t think it would happen so fast.
I can’t help but look at him for longer than I should. He’s wearing a dark shirt and pants with a navy blazer. His clothes seem to glisten, or maybe it’s the lights.
The stubble is in place. His hair is messed up without being messed up, if that makes any sense.
His eyes are deep. His posture is commanding. Much taller than the pictures suggest. 6’3” I’d guess. Maybe 6’4”.
Zing!
No, Sofia, not here! No zings!
He says something to one of the girls he’s with. They’re all Latina party girls. Naturally, right? The one to whom he whispered shoots me an evil look.
Now I’m sweating. I feel it in the small of my back.
I avert my gaze and head over to the bar. A chubby blond guy in a shiny purple shirt falls into step with me.
“Excuse me,” he says. “Can I get a female opinion?”
Not that old chestnut, please.
“Guys,” I say.
“Huh?”
“The answer to your question.”
His eyes go big and wide. “Wait, how did you know what I was going to ask?”
We reach the bar. There is a throng ahead of us, several people holding up large bills trying to get the bartender’s attention.
“You were going to ask me ‘Who lies more, guys or girls?’” I say. “It’s called an opinion opener. From there, you would have gotten me talki
ng about social dynamics between guys and girls, which is a universal topic hot girls supposedly enjoy. Then you’d move into the attraction phase, ‘negging’ me and teasing me. This would establish that you’re a fun and challenging guy. Next, you’d isolate me to one of the couches over there and move into the ‘Comfort Stage’ where we’d share our favorite flavors of ice cream, a ‘Future Projection Scenario’ where we’re on a vacation together, and some childhood stories. Then you’d ‘Up the Kino’, as they say, kiss me, then lead me out to your place. I’ll give you some ASD ‘Anti-Slut Defense’ and a little LMR ‘Last-Minute Resistance’ but you’ll run ‘Two Steps Forward, One Step Back’ until we’re having sex. That was your plan, wasn’t it?”
The last time I saw such a shocked expression was the high school math teacher Mike and I interrupted while he had a student’s dick in his mouth.
“How do you know all that?” he says, visibly knocked off his game.
“I knew a so-called ‘pickup artist’ who overcharges forty-year old virgins at seminars promising they can get any woman into bed by learning a few tricks.”
I leave out the fact that I was on a stakeout at the time.
“Wow... um... um... you’re cool.” I try not to laugh as he attempts to regroup. “I just... want to forget about all that and start again. Can I buy you a drink? My name is David.”
He puts out his hand as the crowd opens up in front of us and we touch the bar. I look behind him.
Shit, Colton Stark is coming over here.
No, don’t say shit! This is good! This is what you’re here for, Sofia!
“Hi David, I’m Michelle.” I decided to use a bar name like Jorge advised. “And David, if you had just started with that I would have liked you more. You wouldn’t have had a shot, but I would have liked you more. Right now, though, I think you’d better go.”
“Why is that?”
I make a small pointy gesture behind David. He turns around to see Stark.
“Oh,” he says as he turns bright red then purple. “I... uh... right... didn’t mean... to... I’m just off, then. See you later.”
And he’s gone. Leaving me alone with Colton Stark. Up close. Face-to-face.
The room seems to freeze-frame as we look into each other’s eyes. A strange calmness washes over me. The music stops. My breathing stops.
I get a flash of climbing up his massive chest and shoulders to kiss that sharp mouth, feeling the stubble brushing past my cheeks. Past my ear. Hot breath down my neck.
Oh God, I’ve got a full-on flow down south. The last time somebody did this to me with nothing but a look was Zack Braden back in high school.
Stop it, Sofia! He’s a thief slash trafficker. You’re not attracted to criminals! Ever!
“Hola.” His one word lifts me up off the floor a little.
“Hi,” I say but it comes out as a croak. I clear my throat. “I mean... hi.”
He just looks at me. Yep, that’s Colton Stark. Undoubtedly Colton Stark.
Big and tall. Eyes definitely blue. Skin like rock. Carved. Chiseled. Deep cheeks. Gutsy chin. And that goddamned stubble.
Something else too. A presence. Like he’s in command. Of fucking everything.
I stare too long, then catch myself.
Head tilt, giggle, and twirl hair! Go, Sofia!
I do it. He just looks at me strangely and... was that a snort?
“Are you okay?” he says.
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“Oh, nothing. Let me buy you a drink. What do you like?”
“Mojito,” I say in my best Halle Berry voice.
He motions to the bartender.
“Enrique, dos mojitos, por favor.”
He continues to stare at me. He’d better stop soon or someone is going to have to mop me off the floor.
“I’m Colton Stark,” he says. “What’s your name?”
Who the fuck am I?
“Sofia...” Fuck no! “Um... I mean Michelle.”
Shit. I was supposed to use my bar name. I notice my foot is tapping wildly on the floor. I feel a pool of sweat forming against the weird tight fabric at my lower back.
“Well, which is it?” He smiles.
God, what do I do now?
“Sofia. Michelle is my bar name, you know. But I think I can trust you, so I just told you my real one... not my bar name... the one that girls make up to use at bars.”
“Got it. I know what a bar name is, thanks. Did you pick it because you look like Michelle Rodriguez?”
Fucker.
“Who?” I say.
“Movie actress? The Fast and the Furious? Avatar? TV show Lost?”
“Hm, no. Doesn’t ring a bell.” I reach into my purse for my wallet. As I do so, I catch a glimpse of the drugged-up girl swaying even more. Dickwad is kissing her neck. I can’t see his hands.
Two tall sparkling glasses with mint leaves appear on the bar. I take out my wallet.
“Put that away,” Stark says. “It’s my club. Drinks are on the house.”
“Your club, huh?” I say as I take my drink. “Impressive. What are you, a billionaire or something?”
I try sipping my drink all sexy while not breaking eye contact with him. I miss my straw.
He snorts again.
What the fuck?
“Something like that,” he says. “I’ve never seen you here before.”
“Are you sure?”
He chuckles. “Oh... I’m sure.”
I glance over at Dickwad and Sway. Dickwad is twisting her arm, dragging her to the men’s room. He slaps something in the hand of the big black attendant and disappears inside with her.
Shit.
“Um... I need to go to the ladies’ room for a moment,” I say.
“Sure. I’ll be right here.”
I walk over to the restrooms. I turn left. The big black guy steps in front of me.
“Ladies’ room is over there,” he says with a smile.
“I know,” I say. “The guy that just dragged that girl in here. She’s high on something. He’s about to rape her.”
The big black guy looks down at me condescendingly. He’s fucking huge.
“I’m sorry, miss. That is the men’s room. You’ll need to go to the ladies’ room over there.”
I raise my right foot and with the pointy part of my uncomfortable shoes I whack his right shin. Simultaneously, I fake with my right like I’m going to hit him in the face but instead land a throat tap with my left. Then my right hand goes down and secures his balls. I gently turn him so we’re around the corner out of sight.
I love when they’re gasping for air trying to figure out what happened. With wide eyes and flailing arms, this big giant has become a bowl of Jell-O.
“I have one question for you,” I say. “Do you like your scrotum? Because it and you may be parting ways very soon.”
I dig my nails in and squeeze. He makes an odd sound.
“Now, I’m going to go in there. You’re going to stay right here while I get my friend, and then we’re all going to return to our happy night, got it?”
He nods yes. I let go of his balls. He bends over slightly, panting with his hands on his thighs.
I kick open the door to the men’s room.
Dickwad has the girl up against the wall. Her skirt and panties are around her ankles. He’s undoing his belt buckle.
I grab his shirt and pull him off her. Easier than I thought. I’m almost able to pick him up with one hand. I smash him into the wall.
“What the fuck?” he says.
I put a jab into his kidney.
“Oof!” he says and then I push him into the wall again, pinning him there face-first with his arm twisted behind his back. I turn to the girl. She’s out of it, but her eyes are wide.
“Are you okay?” I say.
She nods.
“Did he hurt you?”
“N-no,” she says.
“Do you want me to call the cops?”
“No! N
o! Definitely not!” she says.
“I didn’t do anything,” he says.
“Shut up!” I say as I lift him back from the wall then slam him into it again.
“Did he drug you or did you take something?”
“Um... took,” she says as she pulls up her skirt.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You can tell me. I’m not going to arrest you.”
She blinks like that’s very confusing, but then answers. “Just some Molly. And a couple drinks.”
“Are you here with friends?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Can you find your way back to them?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Okay, go. And stop taking that shit. Especially with alcohol. People have died from one hit. You’re taking chances with your life. Now get the fuck out of here!”
She rushes out without even saying thank you.
“Now, listen very carefully, asshole,” I growl into Dickwad’s ear. “You’re my new best friend. We’re going to walk out like nothing happened, got it? Arm in arm like lovers. I’m going to lead you to a side door out onto the street and if you so much as squeak, you’re going to need a team of specialists to reattach your balls which will be rolling around the floor getting danced on? Got it?”
He nods, breathing heavily.
“Okay, then. Let’s go.”
I twist his arm up behind his back, pull him off the wall, and push him slightly ahead of me.
“Ow!” he says.
“Shut up and put your arm around me!”
He complies as we walk out past the big black attendant.
“My boyfriend and I are going out for a walk,” I say.
“Have a nice night,” says the attendant with a big smile.
I lead Dickwad to the side door that I noticed when I came in. In a flash we’re out on the side street in the hot night air. I lead him into the alley behind the club where it’s dark. There’s a white Bentley parked there.
“What are you doing?” he says. “Let me go.”
I let go of him and push him away.
“Fucking bitch!” he says.
I land a right cross right to his nose. Blood spurts out.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he says. “I think you broke my nose!”
He moves toward me with a wide stance and his right arm outstretched. Guy has no clue how to throw a punch.
Heat (The Stark Affair Book 1) Page 5