Chapter
1
Sofia
According to the flashing
arrow on my laptop, Colton Stark’s Bentley, with its hidden firefly, is still
in his driveway.
I’m
on DiLido Island, parked on the opposite corner from
where his street meets the Venetian, in the unmarked
car I got from the pool.
In
TV shows and movies, cops always drive indistinct, late-model, American cars.
In
real life, we use whatever is available from the pool of confiscated vehicles.
Today I’m in a green 2002 Accord. Rear right door doesn’t quite match the color
of the rest of the car, which adds to the non-cop feel.
My burner
phone rings.
“Hello,”
I say.
“Sofia,”
says LaTashia , “I need a report. You haven’t told me
what you’ve learned from Colton Stark.”
I
take a deep breath. “So far, not much. He hates his dead father. Doesn’t get
along with that Jasper guy.”
“We
know all that, Sofia. Don’t you have anything new?”
Shit.
“There
may be some evidence.”
“What
evidence?”
“I
don’t know yet. Something about a flash drive .”
Don’t
know why I said that. I just needed to say something and I had a flash of
Colton making innuendo about a flash drive.
“Well,
find it, Sofia. And don’t let him get to you.”
I
feel a sting from the soreness in my pussy. “It’s all under control,
Lieutenant. I told you before. He’s not my type.”
“I
hope so.”
Damn,
does she know? Can she tell? Is it that obvious that I’ve been fucked
senseless?
Or
am I being watched 24/7? Shit, what if LaTashia is
the informant herself? What if all this is to set me up to be the informant?
“I’m
still on the job, Lieutenant. I can handle it.”
I
see an old Toyota Corolla directly in front of me across the causeway. The
flashing light on my laptop shows the Bentley still in his driveway.
But fuck, that’s Colton Stark behind the wheel!
I know that outline!
I’m
wearing a black beret and dark sunglasses, but I slink down in the seat anyway.
He doesn’t seem to notice me as he turns left onto the
Venetian.
I
start my engine. I’m about to follow when I see a light blue Buick pull out
from its spot and coast behind him.
I
turn right, following the light blue Buick across the Venetian.
“Lieutenant,
I think I’m onto something,” I say. “I’ll call you later.”
“Just
be careful, Sofia. Make sure you know what you’re doing.”
I
click off.
We
cross into the city proper to 2nd Avenue. Our little parade takes a right,
heading north.
You
know you’ve crossed the line into the inner city when the buildings turn
sharply from white concrete with glittering glass to multi-colored murals.
The
Toyota Corolla turns into a low grouping of stores with a parking lot in front.
It’s
an old plaza from the 1970s, never renovated. Been here a thousand times over
the years responding to incidents. Not too far from my dad’s house, actually. One big block of concrete with the names of the stores in lights. A charter school next door with a big colorful mural painted on it.
Colton
Stark parks and walks into the store marked Asian Spa. The blue Buick is in a
parking spot not far from the Corolla.
Hmm.
I
drive past, turn around, and pull over in front of the cemetery across the
street. There I sit and wait, watching and observing.
Asian
Spa? Really, Colton? Asian Spa? A tentacle of anger
rips into me as I picture some tramp giving Colton Stark a happy ending
massage.
No,
Colton Stark is the last man on Earth who needs to pay for a happy ending
massage. Especially after the release he had yesterday.
Inside
me.
Deep
inside me.
Thrusting,
pounding, assailing my inner walls into a frenzy .
Leading
me into a toe-curling orgasm as he grunts and spews a stream of delicious,
white, salty elixir deep inside me.
I
shake my head, snapping myself back into the present.
No,
there’s something else. He’s doing something else here.
But
what?
The
guys in the Buick are eating donuts.
Shit,
now I’m hungry as well as
1
Sofia
According to the flashing
arrow on my laptop, Colton Stark’s Bentley, with its hidden firefly, is still
in his driveway.
I’m
on DiLido Island, parked on the opposite corner from
where his street meets the Venetian, in the unmarked
car I got from the pool.
In
TV shows and movies, cops always drive indistinct, late-model, American cars.
In
real life, we use whatever is available from the pool of confiscated vehicles.
Today I’m in a green 2002 Accord. Rear right door doesn’t quite match the color
of the rest of the car, which adds to the non-cop feel.
My burner
phone rings.
“Hello,”
I say.
“Sofia,”
says LaTashia , “I need a report. You haven’t told me
what you’ve learned from Colton Stark.”
I
take a deep breath. “So far, not much. He hates his dead father. Doesn’t get
along with that Jasper guy.”
“We
know all that, Sofia. Don’t you have anything new?”
Shit.
“There
may be some evidence.”
“What
evidence?”
“I
don’t know yet. Something about a flash drive .”
Don’t
know why I said that. I just needed to say something and I had a flash of
Colton making innuendo about a flash drive.
“Well,
find it, Sofia. And don’t let him get to you.”
I
feel a sting from the soreness in my pussy. “It’s all under control,
Lieutenant. I told you before. He’s not my type.”
“I
hope so.”
Damn,
does she know? Can she tell? Is it that obvious that I’ve been fucked
senseless?
Or
am I being watched 24/7? Shit, what if LaTashia is
the informant herself? What if all this is to set me up to be the informant?
“I’m
still on the job, Lieutenant. I can handle it.”
I
see an old Toyota Corolla directly in front of me across the causeway. The
flashing light on my laptop shows the Bentley still in his driveway.
But fuck, that’s Colton Stark behind the wheel!
I know that outline!
I’m
wearing a black beret and dark sunglasses, but I slink down in the seat anyway.
He doesn’t seem to notice me as he turns left onto the
Venetian.
I
start my engine. I’m about to follow when I see a light blue Buick pull out
from its spot and coast behind him.
I
turn right, following the light blue Buick across the Venetian.
“Lieutenant,
I think I’m onto something,” I say. “I’ll call you later.”
“Just
be careful, Sofia. Make sure you know what you’re doing.”
I
click off.
We
cross into the city proper to 2nd Avenue. Our little parade takes a right,
heading north.
You
know you’ve crossed the line into the inner city when the buildings turn
sharply from white concrete with glittering glass to multi-colored murals.
The
Toyota Corolla turns into a low grouping of stores with a parking lot in front.
It’s
an old plaza from the 1970s, never renovated. Been here a thousand times over
the years responding to incidents. Not too far from my dad’s house, actually. One big block of concrete with the names of the stores in lights. A charter school next door with a big colorful mural painted on it.
Colton
Stark parks and walks into the store marked Asian Spa. The blue Buick is in a
parking spot not far from the Corolla.
Hmm.
I
drive past, turn around, and pull over in front of the cemetery across the
street. There I sit and wait, watching and observing.
Asian
Spa? Really, Colton? Asian Spa? A tentacle of anger
rips into me as I picture some tramp giving Colton Stark a happy ending
massage.
No,
Colton Stark is the last man on Earth who needs to pay for a happy ending
massage. Especially after the release he had yesterday.
Inside
me.
Deep
inside me.
Thrusting,
pounding, assailing my inner walls into a frenzy .
Leading
me into a toe-curling orgasm as he grunts and spews a stream of delicious,
white, salty elixir deep inside me.
I
shake my head, snapping myself back into the present.
No,
there’s something else. He’s doing something else here.
But
what?
The
guys in the Buick are eating donuts.
Shit,
now I’m hungry as well as
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