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“That’s what she told me to write,” the barista informs him, shrugging her shoulders. “What was I supposed to say? Sorry, I can’t do—”
“That’s me. Thanks.” I smile as I await my order, the passing of the metaphorical torch that starts my morning. “May I?”
He glances from me to the to-go cup in his hand before nodding. “Yeah. Sorry.”
My coffee is gone, cup thrown in the recycling bin… And Trevor is twenty minutes late. Prickles of awareness bite at my skin, letting me know I’ve been here too long. But just as I stand from my stool, the agent glides into Bean There as if he’s got all fucking day.
“I’d rather have meetings in the evenings,” he tells me, as if I should take his preferences into consideration. “The Flaming Cherry has a much better view.”
“Sure. Next time,” I deadpan, glaring at him. “I’m not interested in strippers, booze, and coke at nine in the morning. You’re fucking late.”
He crosses his arms over his chest as he glances around the coffee bar. “What would you like to talk about?”
“Nothing much.”
His facial features tense, and I smile at him.
“What is in the files you have on the Estradas and the Maldonados? And what are they saying happened in the industrial park with the fires?”
Trevor cuts his eyes at me, mumbling so the surrounding customers can’t hear, “We’re saying the fires are arson, because there’s no way to cover it up. But there are no official suspects.”
“And the files?” I press. “The ones I paid you to make disappear.”
“Are getting thicker by the day despite me keeping them clean,” he answers, a little unsure of himself. “Officially speaking, the FBI thinks the Maldonados are winning this war that blew in from Northern Mexico. They’re leaving bodies from both cartels everywhere, like they’re cleaning house. But the Estradas aren’t lying low anymore. The Maldonados should worry.”
Interesting…
“Worry about what?” I ask, playing the part of clueless middle-man.
“Look, Gemma.” Trevor sighs, shifting uncomfortably on his stool. “You seem like a smart woman. Intense, but nice. With the way things are going, it might be easier for you to put me in direct contact with whoever you report to. And then consider skipping town, getting out of the hot zone.”
I nod, acting as if I’m thinking about his proposition. “I’ll let them know you want to talk. But I make no promises. They’ll think you’re trying to set them up.”
“Understandable,” he agrees, his gaze flowing around the coffee bar in a strangely liquid manner. “I’ll do my best to ease their minds and prove my loyalty.”
“Whatever, Trevor,” I sing, standing to leave. “It’s your throat, not mine. I’ll pass your message along.”
“How will I know if they’ve accepted?” he inquires, an inkling of desperation in his tone.
I smirk at him as I head for the door. “You’ll know.”
Lory stands in my living room, casting a side-eye in my direction as I zoom in and out of the map on my laptop. He huffs twice, and I roll my eyes, knowing he’s about to piss me off.
Pressing buttons is a god-given talent we both possess and like to use on each other. He aggravates me. I exasperate him. It’s a never-ending cycle.
“Has anyone ever told you that tracking your boyfriends is a toxic trait?” he drawls, glancing at his watch.
“Has anyone ever told you I found the tracker you stashed on me and sent it on a trip across the country in a first class box?” I snark, leveling him with a bored stare.
“No,” he replies, an easy grin stretching across his full, pouty lips. “But that would explain why you went to the East coast two weeks ago.”
I gaze at him a moment longer than I should, taking in the wide set of his shoulders in the black suit that hides all his ink beneath. His waist tapers, leading to long, thickly corded legs. Massive scarred and tattooed hands muss his lush, dark hair before he stiffly tucks them into his pockets.
His hair is shorter than I’ve seen it in months, and the way he keeps touching it tells me he’s not sure of his new style. I like the fade around the sides and back, his deep sienna skin visible through the stubble.
But I won’t tell him that yet.
As he removes his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his white button down, I admire the copper tint on his forearms before I realize that he’s smirking at me.
