Flame

by Skylar Cross

  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.

  Chapter 5

  Colton

  It’s happening. I feel it. The Talon Group is making strides. Things are changing. I’m making an impact.

  My veins pump with happy healthy blood and I laugh out loud.

  Life is good.

  I’m back on 2nd Avenue, today’s assignment for The Talon Group now in motion. Disguise back in my gym bag, blue Buick back in step behind me.

  I love fooling people. I so do.

  Something tells me I’m going to have a hard time fooling this Sofia, the girl with the face I need to paint.

  Whose rocking body makes me hard, even now as I drive this crappy old car.

  Talked to my buddy, Goffman, about her over the weekend. Tough girl. Grew up right here in Wynwood. Dad used to work homicide. Gay brother owns a floral boutique on Collins.

  She was suspended for a week for being too rough with a suspect four years ago. Discharged her weapon twice. First time was at a standoff with about twenty other cops. Second time was injuring a man running from a domestic disturbance. Sent for a full psych evaluation two years ago for unknown reasons, then returned to duty after a six-week leave. Promoted last year to the Organized Crime Section. Bisexual. As I picture her face, I can’t help but feel a jolt of electricity.

  And that kiss.

  Man, that kiss.

  It was on fire.

  As I’m about to turn left onto the Venetian, my phone rings. It’s Tommy Nero.

  “Tommy!” I say as I pick up.

  “Colton,” he says. “Want to come by for lunch?”

  “Perfect timing,” I say. “I’ll be there in ten.”

  Tommy Nero owns Leonetta’s, the best restaurant on Miami Beach. Right on the water with a spectacular view.

  Big, bald, and thick, Tommy looks like a tank. Although, I never look at him for long because he’s always surrounded by girls in bikinis. Tommy is my kind of guy.

  We became friends as semi-pro boxers. He worked as an enforcer after detaching his retina in a fight, then went legit with this restaurant. Maintains his contacts in the underworld, though.

  We’re sitting at one of the octagonal cabanas that are part of the outdoor dining room. Leonetta’s is packed, as it always is at lunchtime.

  Tommy is wearing what he calls his “tourist costume,” a flowered blue shirt with white pants and flip-flops.

  “How’s that place you run?” he says as he takes a bite of shrimp cocktail.

  “Abundant,” I say with a smile. “You should come over some night, grab a chica or two.”

  “Too loud for me. Plus when you open your doors, I’ve already been asleep for two hours. What can I say? I’m a morning guy.”

  The waitress brings us a feast of lobster fra diavlo and steak with horseradish mayonnaise. I cut off a piece of the rare sirloin, dipping it in the horseradish mayo.

  “So what did you want to talk to me about, Tommy?”

  Tommy takes a bite, wipes his mouth, and sits back in his chair. His eyes cut a swath into mine.

  “Known you a long time, Colton buddy. But I heard some things lately. Things I don’t like.”

  I chew my steak. Delicious. “Like what?”

  “Guy asks me where he can get some action. Young action. Too young action, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sounds like a real sleaze. Hope you taught him a lesson.”

  Tommy smiles. “I did.”

  I take a piece of lobster tail, dip it in butter, and eat it. “I’ve been on the other end of that right hook. I don’t envy him.”

  Tommy drops the smile and stares at me, which is enough to make most mortals have a bowel movement. I stop chewing.

  “Okay Tommy, I’ll bite. Why are you telling me this?”

  “This guy was under the impression that the owner of Heat can supply him a Lolita or two.”

  “Lolita?”

  “Underage girls, Colton.”

  I feel a wretch in my stomach as I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Tommy, that’s ridiculous.”

  Tommy leans forward. “Colton, I’m serious.”

  I throw the napkin down and stare back at Tommy. “And I’m serious when I say that’s ridiculous. You know me. I like girls. Lots of girls. But they’re all of age. One hundred percent of them.”

  We stare at each other for almost a full minute, neither breaking our expression. Then Tommy’s face relaxes a little.

  “You don’t know, do you?”

  I stop eating and lean back. “Know what?”

  “Colton, I believe you. But I had to test you. I’m relieved. If you knew, I’d bury your body parts in several places.”

  “Tommy, it’s me, Colton! What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Tommy looks out at the ocean and leans his elbows on the table. “Well, all this made me curious. Couldn’t believe my buddy Colton Stark could be involved in anything like this. So I did some digging on Stark Worldwide and came up with some interesting info on your buddy Jasper van der Voort.”

  “He’s not my buddy. He’s my dad’s best friend. Runs the company while I play on the beach and smile for the cameras. You know that.”

  “Colton, he has a reputation abroad. Takes lots of trips to South America.”

  I eat another piece of steak. “I know. I love it when he’s gone.”

  Tommy’s eyes dig into me. “You don’t know what he does there?”

  “Frolics with women, I assume.”

  Tommy’s face contorts into a frown. “Not women, Colton. Girls. Little girls. Some boys, too. We’re talking young here. Sick young.”

  As I swallow, the meat gets caught in my throat. I gasp, then chug some water to wash it down.

  Everything stops. We freeze frame. My skin feels clammy.

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” I say, glancing over at the waves. “He is the Emperor of Sleaze, but I can’t imagine him pimping out little girls.”

  “Colton, he brings them here.”

/>   My hand now shakes. I seem to have broken out into a sweat too, even though there’s a cool breeze.

  “How do you know this?” I say.

  “Can’t say. Let’s just leave it as I know. He’s got a stash of them here somewhere. A little harem, apparently.”

  I feel another wretch beginning in my stomach, stronger this time.

  Suddenly a lot of things make sense to me. Things I hadn’t consciously noticed before. Plus a series of images flash in my head.

  Jasper in Costa Rica sitting on a boat with a group of kids. Jasper at that party many years ago, emerging from a room. The day he wouldn’t let me onto his yacht. Plus forty-six or so other signs I missed.

  Shit, I’ve been blind.

  Oh, God.

  I believe it.

  I do.

  The wretch in my stomach expands upwards.

  “Excuse me,” I say as I bolt to the men’s room.

  I barely make it into a stall before I vomit into the toilet.

  I stay there for a few moments, shaking and sweating.

  The guy used my name. Colton Stark.

  My name!

  I can’t let this happen. I may break the law to steal money from an evil man so I can do good with it, but I can’t let my name be tarnished like this.

  I grit my teeth and clench my fist as I lean on the toilet seat.

  I refuse to allow my name to be tarnished like this!

  I’m suddenly infused with a powerful desire to kill Jasper.

  I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and flush the toilet.

  A plump tourist in a yellow flowered shirt washing his hands stares at me as I emerge from the stall and walk to the sink.

  “You okay, buddy?” he says.

  I nod yes, and then he leaves.

  I put my hands under the faucet and splash cold water on my face. Then I look at myself in the mirror.

  I don’t like the man staring back at me.

  This needs to change. My Self-Detonation plan has just been reactivated.

  But if I do this, I’m going to have to nuke my life. The unfortunate truth is that, with this knowledge, there’s no choice anymore. Human trafficking of minors is over the line.