Smoke & Fire - Adult Paranormal Romance Series, Book #1

by Michele Wesley

  Sori could care less about gathering intel on Micky because Top had people that specialized in tracking criminals like him. But, the FBI had intercepted intel indicating a drug trade in the twenty-million-dollar range. Therefore, the hit on Micky had been put on hold. It didn’t make sense to eliminate a target that was aligned to lead authorities to a high-level drug distributor and millions of dollars in cash and drugs. The agents knew from good intel that Micky would be selling cocaine, but they didn’t know who Micky’s supplier was or the trade location.

  Although Sori had a few chances to do so, she hadn’t killed Micky yet. She’d spied him twice through the scope of her rifle. Jake was his name, and he was a fine piece of machinery—a .50 caliber Barrett, twenty-five pounds and thirty-two inches of cold steel guaranteed to enforce sudden death. She set aside thoughts of raining down sudden death and stared around the apartment that she and her new co-workers had turned into a makeshift office.

  The thought that she actually liked someone enough to be cordial made her smile. Agent Jones was someone she could abide. Jones was always professional, hardworking, respectful, and unusually receptive to her. He seemed to understand her nature and didn’t take offense when she would let a few curse words fly. Sori was tired of hearing the “ladies weren’t supposed to curse” speech and wanted to strangle the next man to blab it at her.

  Although Jones was an attractive man, Sori wasn’t attracted to him romantically. He was, however, as close as a person will come to being her friend.

  Now, ordered to engage the target, it pissed Sori off that the FBI and Top were using her because she was a woman. But, at the same time she relished that they made her the point man.

  Sori spent extra time getting herself ready because her Spidey senses were telling her that tonight would be the night. She aimed for smart, sexy, and classy but ended up looking like a high-priced hooker. She wore an expensive knee-length light-blue silk dress that was super low-cut in the chest and a five-inch nude pump with embellishments that gave the shoe major attitude. She styled her short hair in an elegant series of pinned rolls and carried a small multi-color clutch bag. Her earrings were nothing more than two slivers of silver metal that somehow managed to look stylish dangling from her ears.

  As she stood in the apartment that doubled as their office, she strapped on her weapons. Sori let her fellow co-agents get their catcalls, stares, and comments out before she stepped completely into character. Projecting a menacing look at her co-agents, all males, she made her announcement. “You all can kiss my ass! When we seize all those drugs and money, you’ll be glad I dressed up like a fucking hooker.”

  The guys made various comments, but most seemed shocked at how well she cleaned up. They usually saw her as just another foul-mouthed guy, and she preferred it that way. She figured, they would be more willing to back her up if they weren’t checking out her tits and ass. Baggy cargo pants, T-shirts, and combat boots were her daily wardrobe.

  * * *

  Sipping scotch, she sat elegantly at the bar. Inside club Sugar now, she very discreetly checked the area for her target. She didn’t have to look long or hard because Micky sat in the VIP booth, a level above her location.

  He sat with a date, an attractive dark-skinned woman that looked middle-eastern. Sori was disappointed to see Micky with a date but glad to see that his file had been right about his preference. When his glance stopped briefly in her direction, she noticed.

  I see you, you murderous bastard.

  Sori waited for his gaze to linger and lifted her drink as a discreet gesture of hello.

  He replied in kind with a very friendly smile and slight nod. Using the small mirrored face of her bracelet to keep watch, she kept cool while sipping her drink. Each sip brought the bracelet up and gave her a peek at Micky. He whispered something in his lady’s ear, and Sori watched as the woman excused herself with a smile on her face.

  Careful not to show too much interest in him, Sori pretended to be interested in what the bartender and the man next to her were saying. She wanted to tell the bartender to shut the hell up and the man next to her to fuck off, but she had a cover to keep, so she maintained fake interest.

  As she looked the bartender in the eye, she used her peripheral vision to see what her target was doing. Seeing him get up, she briefly lost track of his whereabouts. Five minutes later, Micky stood at her side, telling the bartender that he would have what she was having. She watched him take a tiny sip of the drink and noticed he seemed impressed.

  “Macallan 18, I believe.”

  Sori inclined her head to indicate he had guessed her drink perfectly, age and all. Masking a smile, she approved of his rugged good looks. His file hadn’t done him any justice. Micky was tall, dark, Latin, sexy, and to her surprise, very well dressed with a distinguished and sophisticated edge.

  He extended his hand in greeting and introduced himself as Archer. Taking his hand with a smile, her face didn’t reflect the questions in her mind.

  Archer? That’s the same name Top gave me.

  Either Archer was a really good liar or he had just given her his real name.

  Sori introduced herself as Terri, and Micky—Archer—didn’t try to hide the fact that he was interested. It thrilled her to see him fight to keep his eyes level with hers. She smiled inwardly as his eyes kept traveling toward the dangerously low cut of her dress. She used her barely C-cups to the fullest when she needed them, and they were titillating Archer’s senses tonight.

  He politely asked, “Would you care to join me at my table?” Giving him a guarded look, she said, “You already have a date.” Faking concern, she looked around for his date.

  He reassured her, “She was a distraction for tonight. She knew exactly what I wanted and was willing, but I told her to call it a night. She left here a very happy woman, trust me.”

  “So you’re trying to make me your second distraction for the night?” Sori said it like a question, but she really didn’t care what his answer would be.

  He had a huge smile on his face now. “Terri, I believe you are a lot more than a distraction.”

  She raised her eyebrows and gave him a huge smile. “Well, in that case…” She grabbed her drink, tucked her little purse, and reached her hand out for him to assist her down.

  Her face didn’t show how excited she was on the inside. She didn’t have to work hard to get his attention. Judging by the way he checked out her tits and ass as she stood, she could tell he was impressed. As she walked, she put a little extra wiggle in her hips and didn’t have to glance back to know his eyes were glued to her ass.

  She thought to herself, This is how you use tits and ass.

  Despite his wandering eyes, Archer was the perfect gentleman. He held her hand and escorted her to a private table. He initiated polite and intelligent conversation, inquired about her hobbies and interests, but never mentioned anything concerning jobs or work.

  Micky was straightforward in informing of his attraction to her. He spoke charmingly and seductively over his drink. “Terri, you are a beautiful woman. I can tell you are also smart. I am damn near intoxicated by your presence.”

  She had heard a lot of lines, but this was a new one.

  He continued, “You’re the kind of woman that men start wars over.”

  You have no idea how right you are. Her actual reply was, “And you’re the kind of man who can make a good girl want to do bad things.” Sori was keenly aware that fellow agents were listening. She could only imagine what they were saying about her flirting, but unlike most females, she didn’t give a damn.

  * * *

  The FBI agents listening in on Sori—Agent Nora Nelson—now Terri, were staring around in awe of Agent N’s performance. A voice announced, “She definitely knows how to work a target.” Agent Simpson added, “She is smooth. It hasn’t even been an hour, and she has him wanting to propose marriage.�
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  Another agent added, “If you’d seen that dress she had on, you would understand why.”

  Agent Jones looked around with a scowl on his face, “Be quiet, before we miss something important. The woman’s doing her job. How would you all like to put on a dress, some fuck-me heels, and go play nice with a mass-murdering drug dealer?”

  None of the agents seemed interested in that idea; a few dropped their heads in defeat.

  * * *

  The couple’s conversation continued as a second round of drinks were brought to the table. Sori could tell from his demeanor that Archer wanted to tell her something but didn’t quite know how to say it. She laid the charm on thick, wanting him to feel like he was the finest thing walking, the sexiest man on the planet. She stroked his ego with well-played words and subtle seduction.

  Reluctance showed on Archer’s face as he informed he had a prior engagement to attend. She wasn’t surprised to hear him ask for her number, but she hid shock when he asked for her phone, punched in his number, and saved it. She wasn’t naive enough to think that he would make himself available to her, but stranger things have happened.

  “This isn’t a fake number, is it? I would consider it a great loss if I never see you again, Archer,” She spoke in a playful tone, but all she really wanted was confirmation.

  “Try it out,” He smiled a delighted smile as he spoke. To her surprise, she found he had actually given her the number to what appeared to be his personal phone.

  Is he crazy, or am I that convincing? This was too good to be true. How could he be so careless? He must have another phone somewhere. Her eyes quickly searched his body for signs of another phone.

  She knew from experience that everyone had a weakness, and right now, she might be Archer’s. If he didn’t ditch his phone the first chance he got, she could have him tracked the minute her itchy fingers sent the number to the team of agents currently listening to their every word.

  Archer reached across the table, lifted her hand, and kissed the back of it. He looked at her like he wanted to have her for dinner, but there was also something sincere behind his eyes. Sori hid the sudden shock he threatened to pull from her. He was a very attractive man, and if she wasn’t who she was and he who he was—what in the fuck am I thinking?

  Both stood as Archer excused himself from the table, but he didn’t walk away quickly. He walked into Sori’s space, only taking his eyes from hers to kiss her lightly on the cheek. He lingered near her face for a few seconds. “I would love to see you again, Terri.”

  Sori flashed a devious smile he couldn’t see and asked for a good time to call him.

  “Tomorrow morning,” He whispered in her ear, letting his warm, soft lips brush her earlobe.

  Well, I’ll be damned if that shit didn’t just turn me on. She kept her cool. “Tomorrow then. You have a good night, Archer.” She smiled up at him, keeping a hint of mischief behind her eyes.

  As she watched Archer walk away, she spoke just loud enough for the agents listening to hear, “I’m in, bitches!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Spooning with Death

  A month later—a got-damned month later—Sori and the team of FBI agents had put in countless hours and sleepless nights, with fifty-gallon drum-loads of coffee. She had not only befriended the target as planned, but she had also gotten his personal phone number, which allowed agents to track his every move.

  She earned enough of Archer’s trust that she was practically living with him. He allowed her fully into his world, and she took advantage by gaining information about his business dealings. She had never gotten anything out of him about the head of the Truleta Cartel and was almost tempted to water-board his ass to save the government time and money.

  Currently, Sori sat in a penthouse suite that was about to be filled with drug dealers and murderers. Archer trusted her enough to allow her into this part of his life. She had asked to see what he did for a living, and surprisingly, he obliged her request. The mother of all drug deals was about to occur, and she had earned a front-row seat.

  Sori’s seat hadn’t come without costs. She had been saddled with Archer for a month, and in that time, she’d had to employ questionable tactics to keep her cover, including sleeping with him. Sleeping with Archer wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was doing it while the rest of her FBI coworkers listened. She rarely gave a damn about what people thought of her, but even she had limits.

  Archer rented a penthouse suite in the Grandish Hotel, the same hotel that housed Club Sugar. The penthouse suite was three thousand square feet of expensive furnishings and well-showcased pieces of fine art. The living room seemed endless, as it was offset on two sides by large near-floor-to-ceiling windows accented by expensive-looking white-and-cream-colored lace and silk drapes.

  Patiently sitting on snow-white leather, she watched one of the two hired female servers open large doors and ushered in their guests.

  She maintained a poker face when none other than Harrison Johansson emerged, along with six of his henchmen. Two of the henchmen dragged luggage behind them, undoubtedly containing some form of currency. Bulges on varied parts of the men told Sori they were armed better than the gun room at a mob house. Harrison wasn’t on Top’s kill list, but he was one of the key drug dealers in the nation, with territory in at least three states. He had dodged several indictments and murder charges and had more people in his pocket than a sumo wrestler’s daily calorie count.

  Sori had planted a wire inside one of the love seat headrests, an area she believed wouldn’t get any attention during the exchange.

  Watching Harrison shake Archer’s hand, she noticed he’d purposely ignore her. The drug dealer took his seat on the sofa across from her and Archer’s. Harrison’s men stood around the room like huge sentries, which made Sori wonder why Archer hadn’t hired a few armed men. Harrison spoke nonchalantly. His words meant for Archer, but he eyed Sori. He said, “Hope you don’t mind, I need to spray for bugs. I can’t take any chances, especially now.”

  Things started to go horribly wrong when one of Harrison’s henchmen started scanning the interior of the room for wires and bugs. When the device beeped at the love seat’s headrest, like Sori expected, things went from bad to worse in seconds.

  Harrison and all six of his henchmen drew and aimed their weapons at Sori and Archer.

  Pointing his weapon at Sori’s head, Harrison said, “You fucking bitch! You set me and my man up.”

  Archer shook his head as he spoke with calm ease, “Whatever you found must have already been in here.”

  Harrison remained in place, unconvinced. “It’s her! This bitch has you so whipped you can’t see straight. She is the fucking law. I smell it all over her like the stench in a rest stop bathroom.”

  Once the henchmen disabled the headrest wire, Sori had to find a way to speak the words that would send help and backup into the room. Sooner or later, Harrison would disarm her and make her strip, and it would expose her backup wire. Instincts told her that she wasn’t going to be able to talk her way out of this one. Harrison wore a seriousness in his eyes that she knew well enough not to push.

  Sori let death fill her eyes as she slowly stared up the barrel of Harrison’s gun. She let her eyes creep up to his face. Her voice was just as menacing as her stare. “When I clean, I clean well.” Clean was her code word. She’d said it twice, which meant that backup needed to be in the room stat.

  Death surrounded Sori like a burning blanket. From the moment she spoke, every action in the room seem to transition into slow motion.

  Archer looked over at her like he had never seen her before, probably just realizing he had been playing house with the devil.

  Two seconds.

  Harrison walked up to her, slapped the taste out of her mouth, and swiftly ripped her top open, exposing the second wire.

  Four seconds.

 
The criminals knew the drill, knew that after seeing the wire, the only reason Sori spoke any words at all was to signal for backup. Harrison, his men, and Archer all stared at the door.

  Two seconds.

  The sound of weapons being charged filled the dead silence of the room.

  Two seconds.

  The two servers both ran for cover as dead silence filled the air once more.

  Four seconds.

  Harrison made the muzzle of his weapon kiss Sori’s head as everyone in the room continued to stare and point weapons at the door.

  Three seconds.

  Sori, thankful Harrison’s eyes were on the door, discreetly reached into the back of her pants for the 9 millimeter hidden there.

  Two seconds.

  Her thumb touching the trigger as her hand wrapped around nickel-plated handsomeness was like touching the chiseled abs of a sexy man; the shit just felt right.

  Two seconds.

  Harrison grabbed a handful of Sori’s hair and pulled her up from her seat.

  Four seconds.

  Every window in the suite came crashing in; backup had arrived.

  Three seconds.

  Coming through the door would have been too obvious, so waiting FBI agents came through the windows.

  The next sixty seconds came to life as they were filled with gunfire and mayhem. Agents and criminals alike were diving behind objects and firing weapons. Expensive shit was being shattered and destroyed as all manner of glass, plaster, blood, and bodies flew through the air.

  Sori spun out of Harrison’s grip, did a jump-tuck-and-roll over the couch, and dived behind a large statue. Harrison and his crew were shooting at agents as agents shot back at them. Archer shot at both Harrison and his crew and the agents.