The Scene 3

by Roxy Sloane

  THE SCENE:

  BOOK THREE

  By Roxy Sloane

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  Copyright © 2015 Roxy Sloane

  Cover Design: Perfect Pear Creative

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This is dedicated to my partner in crime. Kisses babe.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Prologue

  I've never been great at lying to people, especially not people who know me well. With strangers, as long as I know the story I want to tell and keep it simple and close to the truth, I can convince them. But people I'm close to? My family? Not so much. It doesn't take them long to figure out that something's up.

  On Eduardo's yacht the other night, I managed to keep it together for the most part, but Xavier knew something was wrong. Agent Barton wants me to get as close as possible to Xavier so I can find evidence to prove he's El Jefe, but how am I supposed to do that while actively lying to him? When I'm with him, I can't convince myself that he's capable of so many awful things. I feel things for him that I can't deny, and the line between truth and lies gets very blurry. Working undercover for Barton takes that to a whole new level.

  Xavier knows every inch of my body and the most intimate sounds I make. Now, despite knowing he might be a murderer, I have to not only act like everything is fine, I have to act like I'm head over heels for him. My body can't pretend. It wants what it wants, and that's dangerous. Because when it's not physical, when he's not ravaging me with those talented hands and that mouth of his, I can't pretend that I completely trust him.

  I don't know how I can keep up the act. But I guess I don't have a choice. First Eli, then Kayla, and now my life is on the line, too. If I want to be safe from El Jefe, whether he's Xavier or someone else, I have to find proof. Proof that either leads away from Xavier so Barton can focus elsewhere, or proof that leads straight to him.

  I'm not sure which scares me more. But there’s only one way to end this and get justice for Eli and Kayla. I have to find the truth, no matter what happens.

  Chapter One

  At dawn, the diner is even creepier and sadder than it is the rest of the time. It's like a refuge for those who have nowhere else to go, or no one to go home to. Drunks and the homeless who have a buck for coffee sit hunched over in the booths. Everyone seems to broadcast their tough life stories on their faces: years of addiction, unemployment, abandonment.

  The sun hasn't come up yet, so the fluorescents cast a pale, sickly glow that highlights the dirt-and-grease-stained walls. As I look around, it seems so surreal. How did I get here? 5 a.m. at a dingy diner with a DEA agent I'm not even sure I completely trust. I know Kayla was killed because she wore my clothes and looked like me. Now I'm agreeing to spy on my quasi-boyfriend who could be the biggest drug kingpin in Miami. The corpse isn't even cold yet, and it seems I can't wait to throw myself into the most dangerous situation possible. Genius move, Nikki.

  "You're not even listening, are you?" Agent Barton's voice pierces my spiraling thoughts.

  "Sorry," I mumble.

  He practically growls at me, but he keeps his voice low enough to avoid prying ears at any nearby tables. "Damn it, Nicole. You need to take this seriously. We've got one shot at getting the evidence we need to prove that your boy is El Jefe."

  "I do take it seriously, I'm just—"

  "No. You will pay attention. If you blow this, we'll never get him." He leans across the table and points his finger in my face. "You won't screw this up for me."

  Anger rises in my body, and I smack his finger away. I keep my voice low, but my words come out like I'm hissing at him. "You think I don't know how important this is? My friend was just killed a couple hours ago. Give me a fucking minute to process it, okay?"

  He glares at me, but I don't back down, giving him an equally pissed off glare. After a few seconds, I see his face transform. He nods at me and leans back in his seat.

  "You're right. It's been a rough night for you."

  He waits for me to relax before continuing.

  "I'm just trying to get you prepared. For your own safety." He pushes his coffee cup to the edge of the table, a signal that the waitress is headed our way.

  "I know. I'll pay attention, I promise."

  The waitress brings over our breakfast and refills the coffee. Barton ordered a Lumberjack plate, and as she went through the choices with him— sausage not bacon, pancakes not French toast, eggs over easy— my mouth began to water. I realized that I hadn't eaten in about twelve hours and ordered pancakes with bacon. As I take my first bite, I realize it was an excellent decision.

  After he takes a few bites, Barton resumes the conversation. "Spend as much time as possible with Xavier. It's important for me to know who he meets with and where he goes. If you're together and he has to leave to take care of business, offer to go with him and wait until he's finished. If he takes a phone call, stay in the room. Things you overhear might not seem important to you, but everything helps me put together his business dealings and a way to take him down."

  Barton takes a bite of sausage and continues, chewing as he talks. "I need to know what's in his papers and on his computer. Look through them when he's in the shower. Better yet, spend the night with him and find a way to stay there while he's gone. Tell him you want to be waiting for him in bed when he gets home. He'll eat it up."

  I recoil a bit at Barton's grin. It's a bit too dirty old man. He takes a bite of his pancakes, and I attempt to shake the image of his leering smile out of my brain.

  "What am I even looking for? I mean, you told me you don't have any actual proof that Xavier is even associated with the drug trade, much less El Jefe." I still can't believe Xavier could be this awful person Barton thinks he is. He's never hurt me. He's never even said anything remotely threatening. Even last night, his tone was frustrated and hurt, not dangerous.

  "You still think he's a good, sweet guy, don't you? That he's going to sweep you off your feet like some prince and you can ride off and live happily ever after?" Barton shakes his head and laughs mercilessly. "You're being naive. He's not a good guy."

  "How do you know that he's involved in all this though? I haven't seen anything suspicious at all." Well, that's not exactly true. I have seen him behave strangely, and caught the end of a couple conversations. And then there's the whole relationship with Eduardo, who is supposedly El Jefe's right-hand man.

  But I don't say any of these things to Barton. Something compels me to defend Xavier. I pour a little more syrup on my pancakes and realize Barton's staring at me.

  "What? What's wrong?" I look behind me, expecting to see someone.

  "What's wrong? Have you forgotten your brother? Eli?"

  This stirs up the anger in me again. "How can you even ask that? Of course not."

  "Well, obviously you have, because Eli went undercover for me. You know that."

  "Yes, and it got him killed."

  "Exa
ctly!" Barton jams his finger down onto the table to emphasize his point. "It got him killed because he was too close to the truth. You can't let your emotions confuse things. Xavier's not your boyfriend. He's a bad man who does bad things."

  He pauses to lean over the table, but this time he doesn't glare or point fingers at me. His expression is serious, and his eyes burn with determination.

  "Take this guy down, Nicole. For Eli's sake."

  A pang of grief stabs my heart at the words. I sigh, but I nod. "Okay."

  Barton leans back again and slides a business card across the table with a number handwritten on it and nothing else. "Program this in your cell under 'Uncle Charlie'. I want you to call it every day. If I'm not available, someone will answer it. If you're with him, make small talk like I'm your uncle. I'll know you're okay if you say 'I'm glad Aunt Kathy feels better.' Got it?"

  "Yeah. What if I get into trouble?"

  "Say 'Is she going in for surgery?’ and tell me your location. Something like 'I'm at my boyfriend's office now but put me on the next flight out.' I'll get there quickly."

  I feel his eyes on me as I put the card in my wallet. When I finish, I look up and find him studying me, as if I'm a lab rat in his experiment. I guess I kind of am.

  “I’m going to put someone on you. To watch you. I can’t have anything happening to my biggest asset, now can I?”

  His words are meant to reassure, but all they do is send a shiver up my spine. I shake it off though. I’m not sure I like the idea of Barton knowing my every move, but I think I’ll feel better knowing someone’s out there.

  "Anything else I should know? Otherwise, I really need some sleep."

  "Yeah," he says. "Don't ever forget he's dangerous. You have to act like everything is normal so he won't suspect anything. You sure you can do it?"

  Can I? I'm still not convinced that I can, and I have no idea how I'm going to double back on what I did last night. But I don't have a choice.

  "I'll figure it out. For Eli."

  #

  I watch Miami come to life as I drive home. As usual, Barton had me take a random bus route, so by the time I got to the car, I was fighting sleep. But as I drive with the windows open, the morning air brings me to life with it. I feel oddly energized, ready for what's to come.

  When I arrived in Miami, I was determined to uncover the truth about Eli's death. I was the only one who didn't believe that he’d died in a random car accident. I knew something more was going on. The more I questioned his death, the deeper I dove into the Miami crime scene. Now, I'm in so deep that I'm not sure how to claw my way out of it.

  I'm in way over my head with the whole spying-on-Xavier thing. But the bodies are piling up. Who knows who could be next? I could never forgive myself if something happened to Hailey. It's bad enough that Karla paid the price for me. There's no way out now. I have to see it through.

  The causeway is practically deserted, like I have the whole city to myself. I breathe in the salty air around me, hoping it will purify me, protect me from everything that could go wrong with this plan. The purple lights of the causeway reflect in Biscayne Bay below me, giving the city an otherworldly feel. As I drive I'm surrounded by water, and also the metal and glass of buildings. Nature and progress competing for attention.

  Miami is a city of these contradictions. Every wonderful thing about Miami seems to have a counterpoint to it. The pristine beaches are marred by tourists. The mild winters barely make up for the extreme humidity. The glamorous nightlife hides an undercurrent of danger. And no one in Miami is more dangerous right now than Xavier.

  Even if he isn't a dangerous criminal, he's dangerous to me. He makes me feel things that I don't want to. That I can't let myself feel. The attraction is too much. It's like there's some kind of force that draws us together and pushes us apart at the same time.

  Xavier is, at best, a distraction who'll burn hot, then rip my heart out. At worst, he's a cold-blooded killer who murdered my brother. My hands tighten on the steering wheel. Neither option is a good one. It's not like I could have known when I met him that he could be behind everything, but it's not like I tried hard to stay away when I started getting suspicious. Now I have to pretend nothing is wrong and get close to him again. But I just blew him off so completely that I'm not sure why he'd even talk to me again, despite saying that our conversation wasn't over.

  Can I even make him trust me again? And, more importantly, how do I act like his lover and then stab him in the back when he's not looking?

  It feels like a storm of possibilities pounding in my head. I need a hot shower and sleep, maybe not in that order. Fatigue starts to hit again when I'm a couple blocks away from the apartment. I slap my face, pinch my arm, and shake out my head. I'm so close to home.

  I stumble through the parking lot, barely having the energy to carry my purse. After what feels like an eternity climbing the stairs, I'm not even sure I'll make it into bed when I get inside. The couch is looking like an attractive option.

  But sleep is the furthest thing from my mind when I see who's waiting for me outside my door. My heart jumps in my chest and picks up speed like it's running a sprint.

  It's Xavier.

  And he doesn't look happy to see me.

  He picks himself up and stands between me and the door. His eyes seem to bore into me, and a storm rages behind them. His face is unreadable. He's obviously pissed, but is it jilted lover or psychopathic rage? What does he want from me?

  I want to look around for help. A neighbor out for a morning jog, even someone doing the walk of shame back to his car. But Xavier's eyes are locked onto mine, and I can't look away. My muscles tense, and my body seems to scream at me to run. But it's like my brain speaks a foreign language. It's not getting the message to move.

  Finally, Xavier moves. He doesn't say anything, just strides toward me in a purposeful, determined way. His face still has that cloud over it, and I still can't read it. My heart speeds up until it feels like it will burst out of my chest. Would he really hurt me in public? I can't speak, I can't think, and I still can't move. I just watch him advance toward me, waiting for him to explode like a grenade in my hand.

  But the explosion that follows isn't at all what I expected. His hands move to my face and pull me to him. And then he's crushing my lips with his.

  Chapter Two

  Xavier breaks the kiss, but continues to hold my head in his hands. The pressure of his fingers on my cheeks isn't painful, but it is firm. He could really hurt me if he wanted to. Part of me thrills with how dangerous he could be.

  But he’s the type of dangerous that might have killed my brother. And that’s not thrilling at all.

  "Where have you been? I've waited for hours." His tone is demanding, like the kiss.

  When I don't answer right away, his brow furrows. "I asked where you've been, Nicole. It's 7 a.m."

  My voice is shaky, but I manage a response. Unfortunately, I can't also manage to look him in the eyes. "I was driving around. I needed to think."

  I look up at him, and he doesn't appear convinced.

  "I just needed to get away, you know? Put the windows down and get some air." I swallow the lump in my throat and run my hand over the back of my head. "I got a little lost, but then I saw some buildings that looked familiar and found my way again. I just wasn't ready to come home yet."

  I'm not sure why I'm rambling so much, but it seems to do the trick. His expression changes from anger to one of concern.

  "I had people looking for you. I've been calling all night."

  He had people looking for me?

  "I turned my phone off." That actually isn't a lie. "I wasn't up for talking to anyone." Not a lie either.

  "I heard about what happened at the hotel, but they haven't released the name yet. There was a cell phone picture on one of the news channels, though. It was blond hair and the red shirt you wore tonight. I knew it couldn’t be you—her hair wasn’t exactly the same color—but I had to see you
to make sure."

  He moves his hands from my face and takes my arms. He holds me for a moment, studying my face, before he crushes me in a tight hug. I let out a deep breath as he strokes my hair. The anger was just from the concern. He doesn't want to hurt me.

  Xavier still hasn't let go, but I don't pull away. It feels so good after everything that's happened, so safe, which is ridiculous considering my objective. But this can be my way back in. I take a deep breath.

  "After I watched the news, I couldn't shake it. I knew it couldn't be you, so I came here. I knew you'd come home. I knew it couldn't be you in the water." I can hear what sounds like the vestiges of panic still in his voice.

  "Wait, what?" My brain starts to catch up to what he's been saying. "Oh Xavier, you know it was Kayla. Someone spilled on her, so I lent her my shirt. She's the one who they pulled out of the water."

  Xavier pulls back but still holds onto me. "Kayla?" Something flashes across his face but then the concern comes back. "Are you holding up okay? Do you need anything? I know she was your friend."

  My throat tightens. "I'm okay. It's just been a long night."

  "Look, you might not want to talk right now, but we need to discuss some things. Let me in. Just for a few minutes.”

  He actually looks a little worried that I'll say no, but I nod, and he follows me in. My mind races as I set my purse and keys on the table. This conversation could go either way, and I really need it to go in a direction that keeps me close to him. I sit down on the couch, and he sits next to me.

  "I screwed up, Nicole. Last night, I don't know what I was thinking. I put pressure on you and moved things too fast. I know that now."

  Xavier takes my hand and squeezes it in both of his. "I felt you slipping away. You challenge me, and I’m not used to that. I feel such strong emotions when I’m with you, but the way I showed it was wrong."