Some kids look at me strangely as they set up for a baseball game.
Transponder? I don’t believe it.
Wait, could Sofia have planted it?
I move over to the passenger side door and nearly take it apart. Nothing. I look under the seat. Nothing. I put my hands under the seat and feel a loose piece of plastic clipped onto the piece of metal that runs underneath it.
I pull it off and look at it. A flimsy piece of plastic in the shape of a clip, fully bendable.
Then I look closer. A tiny protrusion of a copper wire is barely visible, but it’s there.
Hm.
I replace it.
Then I get back into my car and head home.
Hm.
Chapter 5
Sofia
“It looks green,” says the female voice over the speaker. “Is it supposed to be green?”
“Don’t know,” says the male voice. “How’s this?”
“What the fuck are they doing?” says Mike Everly, munching from a bag of Doritos. “Applying lube?”
“Why is it always sexual with you?” I say, tuning my binoculars. “He could be adjusting the color on the TV screen. Or they could be examining pickles. Or a million other things. Jackass.”
We’re sitting in an unmarked car away from the streetlights under a banyan tree. The glowing numbers on the dashboard clock say 9:53pm.
“Oh, like it isn’t always sexual with you! Remember the Horse-Man?”
I laugh. “That was... disgusting.”
“Ha! Not what you said that night. You had never seen a bigger cock, you said. Bet you still fantasize about it. Oh right, you’re not into cock anymore, right.”
I get a flash of Colton Stark’s cock stretching my insides wide again.
“Shut the fuck up or I’m leaving right now! I don’t even need to be here, Mike. This is your gig.”
“I know. Thanks for keeping me company, by the way. Looks like you had the night free.”
We sit in silence for a while, Mike’s chomping the only sound in the dark car. Our targets have stopped talking. Sounds like they’re exercising or something. Fuck, maybe Mike was right.
Like I need to listen to that in my current state of horny confusion.
“This is great,” says Mike. “Just like old times. Four-Victor-Eight is alive again. God, we had some fun.”
I smile. “Yeah we did.”
“Remember the guy you were chasing and the old woman came out of her house and kicked him in the balls, knocking him to the ground? The expression on your face was priceless. Didn’t think you were going to stop laughing.”
“Yeah.”
Mike looks at me. “I like it when you laugh. You never laugh anymore, Sofe. You used to laugh a lot. What’s up?”
“I’m fine, Mike.”
“Whenever you say ‘I’m fine, Mike’, you’re never fine. Something is up. What is it?”
I get a flash of Colton Stark’s tongue pressing on my clit.
“Nothing,” I say. “Can we just focus on the surveillance please?”
“They’re not doing anything. Besides, we’re recording this.”
“Then why are we even here?”
“My informant said somebody is coming by with a delivery. I want to see his face.”
Mike’s eyes catch mine. We hold eye contact a little too long. I close my eyes and lean back. He goes back to munching.
We remain in silence for another short while. Then I take a calculated chance.
“Mike, what do you think about Frank?”
“Frank? Salt of the earth. One of the best men I know. Why?”
“Just asking.”
“You think Frank is on the take?”
“What?! No! I didn’t say that!”
“This is part of your secret deal with LaTashia, right? You think Frank is on the take.”
“Mike, what makes you think I’m on a secret deal with LaTashia?”
“Because I saw your napkin from The Betsy Hotel. Funny, one was on her desk too.”
Fuck. Mike is very observant.
“Okay, Mike, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“So what’s it about?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
We sit in silence for another while. Nothing moves. The palm trees blow in the night breeze.
“Can I tell you a secret too?” Mike says.
“Sure.”
“Jen and I are... on a break.”
I sit up and face him.
“Oh Mike, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“The usual. Me. I happened. You know me. But we’re working on it. We’re in counseling, which is a load of bullshit. But we want to make it work... you know... for the kids.”
I feel like bugs are crawling all over me. I raise the binoculars to look at nothing but dull flashes indicating a TV set.
“It’s just that... Jen and I are different. She’s all homey, baking cookies and on my case to mow the lawn. I’m not... that guy. I’m... this guy. Here in this car. Listening in on a suspected drug dealer. With you. This makes sense to me. That does not.”
“But you love your kids.”
“Of course I do. I just... can’t get used to... being the guy my dad was. All he wanted was to be home, to work in the garage. Why can’t I be like that? All I want is to be out here. It’s like I’m in love or something.”
“In love?”
“Yeah.”
I look at Mike. He turns and glances at me. Quickly his Dorito-flavored lips are on mine, his tongue in my mouth.
I’m so horny I start to kiss him back, but then I get control of myself and leap back, pushing him away.
“Mike!” I say. “What the fuck?”
He stares at me, his expression frozen. His eyes are wide and his breathing is hard.
“Sorry,” he says, then looks down. “Sorry. I–”
“It’s okay. Forget it. Look, I don’t think your guy is showing. They seem to be asleep up there. So I’m going to go, okay?” I grab my bag.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll stay a while longer, just in case. Thanks for keeping me company.”
“No problem.” I have my hand on the door handle.
“Sofe,” he says, putting his hand on my arm.
I stop and look at him.
“Sofe, did you ever think about it?”
“About what, Mike?”
“About you and me.”
“Oh, Mike... Mike, you’re like my best friend.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Sofe. You get me. You understand me. I just...”
“Mike, don’t. Just don’t. Not right now, okay?”
“Okay. Good night, Sofe.”
“Good night, Mike.”
I walk back three blocks to my car.
That was fucking awkward. I love Mike, I really do. I practically lived with him for four years in that damned patrol car. I’ve probably spent more time with him than any other human being on earth.
But it’s not like that with Mike. It’s just not.
Shit, now I feel like the world’s biggest loser on top of being the world’s worst cop. I’d never want to hurt Mike, but looks like I did. Never meant to.
I get in my car and bang my head on my steering wheel.
“What the fuck?” I say out loud.
Chapter 6
Sofia
As I ring Colton Stark’s doorbell, I can’t believe I’m wearing a lime green Forever 21 dress that I picked out myself.
Okay, okay, I got some help from the sales clerk. But I did put to good use some valuable tips I picked up from Jorge last week.
I also put my hair in an updo with long earrings and curls framing my face.
The door opens.
“Wow!” he says as he stares at me. “You look... no, you are... stunning.”
Tonight his hair is perfect, not that it ever isn’t. Thick strands of dark locks waving themselves to crisp-cut corners in the back.
He’s wearing a white dinne
r jacket with a blue shirt and blue tie.
I feel like we’re going to prom.
But no, this is far from prom. This is adult dinner with a billionaire at his mansion.
He kisses me. Soft and gentle, but with a hint of losing control.
Then he pulls back and smiles at me.
“Come in.” His words cut through the ever-present magnetic field that vibrates between us.
As he motions me in, I realize I’m not the same person I was before our eyes met that night at Heat. Something has changed. I’m not sure what. Just something.
“Nice,” I say as I look around. He disappears around the corner.
It’s truly a man’s house. No frilly curtains, lacy pillows, or flowered wallpaper. Everything is sparse, sleek, and understated. The art on the walls is abstract, but unpretentious as it blends into the muted tan tones.
A giant wall of two-story windows look out onto the sparkling lights across the water.
“Nice,” I say. “Decorate it yourself?”.
He returns, smiling with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in his hands. “What do you think?”
“I think you can afford an interior designer or two.”
He pops the champagne bottle and pours. “You think correctly. I’m not much of a color coordinator, but I did cook dinner.”
“Mmm, smells good. Smells like home.”
He hands me a glass of champagne. “Arroz con pollo. From scratch.”
“Por supuesto.”
He clinks my glass. “Por supuesto.”
We drink.
I put the glass down.
He moves in and kisses me.
It’s glorious. I want to sink my teeth into his flesh as I melt in his arms.
But an alarm bell goes off and I push him back.
“What?” he says.
I must have a distressed look on my face because he’s staring at me quizzically.
“I can’t do this,” I say.
“Do what?”
“It’s not right. It’s just not right. The other day... we... it was...”
His fingers go up to my lips, pressing them shut. His right hand grabs my left and leads me.
“Come on,” he says as he takes me through the door onto the outdoor patio.
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me.”
I wish people wouldn’t say that to me.
We’re out on his deck by his pool. The bright city lights reflect a blue-pink glow up into the dramatic clouds.
He walks past his yacht over to the Go-Fast boat and leaps in.
“You want me to get in that?” I say.
“You don’t like boats?”
“Girls from Wynwood tend not to date boys with boats.” I glance at his yacht. “Or two boats.”
“How about a guy with three boats?”
“Three? Where’s your third?”
“Hidden under camouflage. Oooh, how do you like that, detective? I just gave you a clue. Come on, get in, and you might get another one.”
I laugh. He smiles. God, that’s a killer smile.
But I just stand there.
“Get the fuck in,” he says.
Oooh, I like the way he says that in such a commanding tone. He can tell me to get the fuck in any day of the week.
I get the fuck in.
He starts the engine. The twin Mercs and my pussy both roar together.
He unties us and soon we’re heading west toward the city. The wind is warm but strong, the water choppy.
I give in, putting my arm around him as he steers the boat. He doesn’t seem to notice, like he expects it.
Damn, how many girls has he taken on this thing? The thought sends an irritating zap to my head and I take my arm back, leaning on the windshield instead.
He shoots me that look.
“Get back here,” he says.
Oh damn, I can’t help but comply. I snuggle into him.
God, he’s like granite. A wall of chiseled rock.
We pass under the MacArthur and along the port. We circle south past Brickell Key.
The view out here is amazing. The last time I was on a boat was after a party with some friends back in high school.
The city looks so clean and pristine out here. Multi-colored lights glowing and glistening, hiding the seething streets I know so well. How can a place be so beautiful and so ugly at the same time?
And yet I love it. We love it. Nothing stopping people from packing up and leaving. But life anywhere else would seem dull by comparison.
Colton Stark smiles down at me. I nestle in closer.
The electrical field is afire with sharp dancing impulses between us.
God, I’m so happy. Everything fades away in the night wind as we pass under the Rickenbacker. All my problems. My dad. Wondering who the mole is. My investigation of this man.
What is happening to me?
The estates on our right are lit up in their gaudy ambience, casting a spell of money across the water. Yet less than two miles behind them a family of five is living in one smelly room.
They got a thing for criminals. They like bad boys. All of them.
Shit, why am I hearing my dad’s voice in my head right now?
I loosen my grip on Colton’s arm.
Is he right? Is my dad right?
No, I don’t think so.
I refuse to believe it. Colton Stark is no criminal.
Shit, now I sound like one of those girls I always had to deal with... always defending her abusive man. Right to the end...
* * *
“Four-Victor-Eight, we have a thirty, possible thirty-one at Flamingo Terrace Apartments.”
My heart sinks.
Fuck.
Thirty is stabbing or shooting. Thirty-one is homicide.
“Acknowledge,” says Mike into the radio as I put the sirens on and turn around, barreling back the way we came.
Fuck.
I believed her. I trusted her.
Soon we’re back on the street we just left. But something has changed. I get that sick feeling I’ve come to know too well.
As our lights hit the side stairs of the apartment complex, my heart sinks.
The girl who just talked to me several minutes ago... who assured me her boyfriend was a good man... who said he wouldn’t hurt her... is lying on the outside stairs leading up to the second level.
In a strange contorted way. Surrounded by a pool of blood.
“Shit,” says Mike as he picks up the radio. “We need backup now!” He slips out of his car, gun held in front of him.
I take out my gun and cover him from the side. The sound of the sirens from the back-up units get closer as I reach the outside stairwell.
As I near Wanda, an anger wells up inside me. It’s an uncontrollable urge. I don’t need to check if she’s breathing. I know she’s gone.
And she’s staring right up into my face.
Saying something to me.
Cursing me for believing her.
How could I have been so stupid?
So pretty. She could have had almost any man she wanted.
But she chose Angel Guerrero-Juarez.
And by doing so, ended her life.
We run up the steps past Wanda to the third door. It’s open.
“Police!” shouts Mike as we enter the apartment.
Angel sits on the living room couch. He’s smoking a crack pipe watching TV, covered in blood. Next to him on the couch is a large kitchen knife, also covered in blood. The sound of a baby crying comes from the bedroom.
“Put the pipe down slowly and put your hands on your head!” says Mike.
Without looking away from the TV, Angel deliberately lays the pipe down on the coffee table and moves his hands to his head.
“On your knees now!” says Mike.
Angel complies. The backup units arrive, bursting into the tiny messy apartment. They leap on Angel, pushing him face first into the floor while tying his hands behind
him with flex cuffs.
I’m not sure exactly what happens next. Everything goes blurry as something bursts in my head.
All I remember is Mike and three of my colleagues trying to pull me off Angel, his face bloody from my boot.
From the descriptions conveyed to me later, I apparently broke his nose and jaw. Dislodged a ton of teeth too.
I probably would have killed him if I hadn’t been pulled off him.
And I probably would have gone to jail if it weren’t for Mike.
The other cops take Angel away, and Mike forcibly yanks me into the room with the crying baby.
Grabbing my shoulders, he looks me in the eye.
“Pull yourself together, Officer Martinez-Vallejos!”
I can barely hear him over the rushing of blood in my ears and the baby crying.
“I’m going to kill him, Mike,” I say, putting my hand on my gun.
He slaps my face.
“No you’re not! I’m not going to let you go to prison because of someone like him! Now, you listen to me. Here’s what we’re going to do. None of that happened out there. None of it! He resisted arrest and we had to force him to the ground. That’s what happened. Nothing else.”
“But Mike—”
“Shut the fuck up! Now take that baby in your arms and carry her out for all the people videoing this on their cell phones. You’re the good guy. Save that baby!”
The blurriness clears a little as Mike reaches into the crib and picks up the little girl. He hands her to me.
Strength finds me again as I take the baby in my arms. God, she looks just like Wanda.
“Now we’re going to walk out there, our heads held high. Do it for the baby, for Wanda.”
“Okay,” I say.
Sure enough, there are several cell phones in the hands of gathered spectators as we emerge from the apartment. Several more cruisers have shown up, including an ambulance.
On the way down the steps, I break protocol. We’re not supposed to touch or disturb a dead body, but I can’t help myself.
Crying baby in my arms, I sit next to Wanda. I bring the baby’s head over to her mother’s cheek and lightly touch her head to it.
Then I get back up and continue descending the stairs.
I’m crying now. Two EMTs approach me to take the baby. I hand her to them and they go to the ambulance.
Blaze (The Stark Affair Book 3) Page 3