Kissing Fire Read online

  Preston

  Bangkok...3 months earlier

  I had to get out of this hell hole. Bangkok in the middle of the summer was the worst place in the world. Ninety degrees and surrounded by eight million people wasn’t my idea of fun. I’d been here for three weeks now and my job was almost done. There were about three contacts here which could connect me to one of the largest heroin traffickers. I was undercover and getting information from them. They didn’t know I was a DEA agent. I had finagled my way in with one of them and was pretty close to busting in with the second. If I could get close to the other one and find out who their main supplier was, I could get out of here and head back to the states.

  The only reason I’d accepted this assignment was my life had been threatened and I was a huge target if I’d stayed in the US. I’d infiltrated one of the largest Mexican drug cartels and brought it down, with the help of my sister, and now they were after my ass. Well, they weren’t because all the big players were either six feet under, (having been gunned down in Mexico) or in prison in the US. It was one of the other cartels that wanted me now. They didn’t like a rat and I was a rather large and ubiquitous one. I just wouldn’t go away.

  Luckily, my sister Terri Mitchell had gone under cover in the witness protection program and was now Caroline Cole Middleton. She’d finally gotten to marry the love of her life, Justin Middleton and they were currently living their happily ever after in Seattle. We had orchestrated her death in Charleston, so everyone, including Justin’s family believed Terri had died in a car bombing. Happily, she hadn’t, and was now living as Caroline Middleton. She’d undergone plastic surgery and had changed her identity.

  I needed to pay them a visit soon so I could give them their wedding pictures. They snuck off and gotten married in Big Sur and I went to their wedding, but they didn’t know I’d been there. I had “borrowed” the disc from their photographer. My sister hadn’t been thinking when she’d hired one for her secret wedding. Those damn photographers had a nasty habit of posting their work all over the internet. We couldn’t have Caroline’s cover blown by one small mistake like that.

  Once I finished here, I’d hopscotch my way back home. Well, there really wasn’t anywhere I’d call home. I had a place in Montana, a cabin that no one but a few select people knew about. It was loaded with high security measures so it was “safe.” It was one of the few places I could relax when the need arose.

  I looked around the bar I was in, making sure there was an escape route if I needed one, which I usually did. There was hardly a transaction that took place anymore where a slip out the back wasn’t necessary. Usually, I had to head up a flight of stairs and exit from the roof tops. This place was loaded with women. Damn, it’d been a long time since I’d been with a woman. I normally didn’t allow my thoughts to wander there, but this was Thailand after all, home of the some of the most talented prostitutes. Maybe later...

  I knew exactly when he left. I didn’t see or hear him, but I felt him brush by me. That was enough. Pete Kowalski and I had worked together a lot. He was good. Really good. He had just dropped off my next set of instructions. I downed the rest of my bourbon and headed out the back.

  Once I had safely returned to my hotel, I looked at what he had given me. My contact was going to be at a restaurant the next night with my target. I needed to be there by eight. This was my big chance. I would get my introduction and hopefully, get things all tied up. Making sure I had the proper attire--suit, tie, etc.--I decided on taking Bangkok up on its offering of women.

  Hours later, after being serviced by three extremely talented prostitutes, I went home to bed, feeling empty inside. My mind reflected on the shit life I had chosen for myself. Oh, I had the medals of glory for serving my country and all the other bullshit. But at what price? My father had been murdered by that cartel I had infiltrated, my mom was in the witness protection program and so was my sister. For a time, when my sister had to make her fiancé think she had actually died, I wondered if I had done the right thing. Caroline had suffered so terribly, at times I thought that maybe it would’ve been better to have taken the chances with the cartel. I let loose a long breath as I thanked God that it had all worked out for her in the long run.

  Now me, on the other hand, I was another story. There was no hope for redemption on my part. My mind was a twisted mess. First, there was my dad’s death. He had died thinking I was a fucking drug addict. He never knew the truth about why I had gone to prison. Yeah, there was that little thing. I had spent time in the big house...the state penn. It was all part of my cover, but that didn’t matter. I had the shit beaten out of me daily. I’d been burned, cut, stabbed, punched, kicked, branded and you can probably figure out what else. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to do that. That’s why I didn’t mess with regular women anymore. I was what you might call tainted. Dirty. Disgusting. And certainly not fit for proper society.

  I’d also lived on the streets as a “drug addict.” I wasn’t really, but I had to play the part. Hell, the most I’d ever done was smoke weed. I had to shoot up saline to make it look real. My life consisted of living in squalid conditions, being filthy and going for weeks on end without bathing. Living like a normal human being was not gonna be easy. My body was on full alert all the time, tense and edgy, waiting for something, anything to happen.

  My thoughts shifted back to Caroline and Justin and I felt envious of what they had together. Damn, you could just look at the two of them and see it. They were so soft toward each other, always looking at each other in that certain way...like not thinking anyone could see them, but giving each other those secretive glances. And they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, always constantly touching in some way, holding hands, or having their arms around each other. Those two were the perfect match and it was quite something to see. Well, I could pretty much count on the fact that I wasn’t ever gonna see anything like that in my life. I would never allow myself to get close to a woman. Not with the psycho shit I was carrying around in my head. Huh uh, no good woman deserved that. I wouldn’t dare put anyone through that.

  Lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, I figured with the direction my thoughts had taken, I was in for another sleepless night. Whenever I thought about my past, I had this urge to scrub myself until I felt clean again. It didn’t really work, but it gave the illusion of that. I dragged my naked ass into the shower and stood under the spray, turning it as close to scalding as my skin could stand. That was my routine when I felt the nastiness invading my mind, as it did fairly often. There was no running from it. Those bastards had done one hell of a number on me and it wasn’t going away as far as I could tell.

  When I’d scrubbed myself as hard as I could, without taking my skin off, I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. As I stood naked in front of the mirror, I stared at my marred torso. The varied scars from my time in prison were everywhere. So were my tats. I was adding more by the month now. Every one had meaning though. They weren’t just random things I took a liking to. No, all of my ink had significance.

  Like the heart that was in four pieces...it represented how my stupid line of work had torn apart and destroyed my family. Or the cross on my arm that was turned sideways. I still had faith, even though it was a bit tilted at times. Then there was the sunburst that was covered with a cloud of darkness...pretty obvious that one. There were various ones of all sizes but my favorite was the one across my lower back. It was in large old English letters right above where they had held me down and carved the word “Slave” into my skin. Directly above it, I had “NO ONE’S” tattooed. That one was the most meaningful, but it was also the most private of all of them. Most people thought it was the equivalent of a tramp stamp, because they never saw what was directly below it. They didn’t know how those bastards had bound and gagged me and then...I gave my head a viscous shake in an effort to free that memory from my mind. I abhorred those painful thoughts. It didn’t take long for the nausea to arrive
and within minutes I was standing over the toilet, puking my guts up. It never failed. Years from now I was pretty damn sure I would still be doing this, dealing with this shit. That’s why I would never taint a woman’s life with the filth that was my own.

  I brushed my teeth and headed back to the bed. For what, I couldn’t tell you. Sleep would evade me so I turned on the TV and stared at it until it was time to get up.

  A couple hours later, I was headed down to grab a bite to eat, when my phone went off. It was a text from Skip. That was one of Pete’s work names. It just said one word: showtime. That meant we were on for tonight.

  My gut tightened but I forced myself to down my caffeine and eat. I needed to have a clear head and eggs seemed to do the trick for me. I was in a full fledged danger zone here and one tiny mistake could cost me my life...not that I really gave a damn, but it could ruin this op I was on and lots of personnel were counting on me. I still couldn’t figure out why I was so damned loyal to this organization. Maybe one day I would.

  Usually, when I was on assignments like these, the days dragged on. This one was no exception. Eight o’clock could not get here fast enough. I had everything lined up. Pete had hidden a gun in the restaurant, just in case. It was in the women’s restroom. They would search the men’s room but not the women’s, or so we hoped. I wasn’t wearing a wire, because they’d check for that too.

  My dark hair wasn’t shaved any more but it wasn’t long either. It curled around the back of my neck but I shaved so my face was unusually slick for me. I normally kept a shadow of some kind. I suited up and took a taxi to the restaurant. I was met at the door by a group of goons and they escorted me to the table. Once there, they removed my jacket, searched all the pockets, did a complete body search which was quite intimate by the way, and then told me to sit. I was a fairly large guy, over six feet tall and I easily carried about two ten on a light day. When I played the drug addict, I had to keep my weight down to look the haggard role, but now I that was able to pump iron and eat again, I was back to my normal size. I pretty much looked like a dwarf next to these body guards. They were huge. My target, Panit Jainukul, was sitting across from me.

  “So Mr. Shelton, my friends tell me you can be of some assistance to me.”

  “Your friends tell you right.”

  “How so?”

  “I want to expand your distribution,” I explained.

  My target was much younger than I thought he’d be. He was in his mid-thirties, about my age, slightly built and of course, since he was Asian, he had dark hair and eyes. He wore tailored clothing and was very meticulous about it. I knew because so was I. His silk tie was tied to perfection, the knot absolutely ideal. His white shirt was pristine, as was mine, with not a wrinkle or crease in sight. The cut of his jacket made me believe his tailor was on call just for him. When he moved, his jacket moved with him and not against him, almost as if it was a part of his body. For an instant, I was jealous. I loved a good suit.

  Mr. Jainukul looked at me thoughtfully and then said, “I don’t need any more distribution. I am quite satisfied with what I have.”

  “Are you really? Your entry into the U.S. is minimal. I could help you with that. If your presence grows there, it could spell infinite wealth for you.”

  My target nodded and furrowed his brow. His wheels were spinning but he didn’t want me to know that.

  “Mr. Shelton, how would you do that and how do I know that I can trust you?”

  “You don’t. I would have to earn that. I would increase your distribution by introducing you to the right connections.”

  He suddenly clicked his fingers and the ginormous body guards disappeared. Then my contacts showed up. They took seats on either side of me and Jainukul asked them what they knew of me.

  After some lengthy discussion and an eight course meal of some excellent and some not so excellent food, Jainukul decided he needed to check me out further. I gave him my hotel name and room number and he told me he would be in touch.

  Damn, I was hoping this deal would close in a day or so. This could drag on for a while.

  ********

  A week later I got a call. I was told to meet Jainukul at one in the morning at an address in a part of town that I wasn’t familiar with. After a little investigating, it seemed it was a warehouse district of some sort. There was no way I would meet with Pete because I was being watched. I had the hotel send him a message via a courier. It was cryptic and if anyone intercepted it, they would think it was a teenager sending her boyfriend a message through a variety of Taylor Swift songs. It was a trick we’d used countless times, but we always changed the songs. The letters of the words would come from the second word from the line of each verse. It was a huge pain in the ass to figure it out, but it worked like a charm.

  When I arrived at my destination, there were several of Jainukul’s body guards waiting for me. They frisked me up and down, and after they were assured I was unarmed and unwired they both nodded.

  “Mr. Shelton, follow us.” That’s all they said and I didn’t ask them anything else.

  We wove our way through crates and containers and reached a building that was well lit. The door was open so I followed them through it and we ended up in an office in the back of the building. Jainukul sat behind a desk and there were several other men present.

  “Ah, Mr. Shelton. Shall we begin?”

  I just nodded and smiled. No introductions were made, but I made a mental note of what everyone looked like. I had a nearly perfect eidetic memory so it wouldn’t be a problem for me to recognize these guys again.

  “I have decided that I would indeed like to expand my heroin distribution into the U.S., namely the Los Angeles area.”

  You have got to be kidding me. Are you an idiot?

  “Mr. Jainukul, I understand how appealing that market might seem to you, but I was thinking something less conspicuous to start with, such as Seattle or Portland.” I had to say that. If I didn’t, he’d know right away I didn’t know my shit. I didn’t really care where he wanted his crap. It wouldn’t get there anyway if I had any say in all of this. I fidgeted and folded my hands together, rubbing my knuckles with my fingers and thumbs, making it appear that what he suggested made me nervous.

  “Mr. Shelton, you must understand my position. I want L.A. It’s huge and offers me the most potential.”

  Now I rubbed the back of my neck and looked around the room, acting as if I were gauging the others present. Again, I could give a rat’s ass about them.

  “Mr Jainukul, you must realize that L.A. is controlled by the Juarez Cartel. They would not take too kindly to someone invading their turf.” I gave him a shaky smile.

  I was greeted with a solid stare and dead silence.

  “Surely you understand the importance of turf control, Mr. Jainukul?”

  He slammed his hand down on the desk so hard, I actually jumped. It startled me, as I hadn’t expected it. He was not as mild mannered as I had initially thought. I knew he was hardened, but I had made an error here.

  I narrowed my eyes and said, “Mr. Jainukul, is L.A. worth shutting down all possibility of ever getting product into the U.S.?” Then I shut up.

  We had a stare down. He realized I knew my stuff. I knew the first person to speak would lose, so I clammed up.

  After several extremely long and uncomfortable minutes, he finally said, “No. But I want it. So what do you propose?”

  “One small bite at a time. We start with Seattle, then Portland then south to San Francisco. Then, before the Juarez Cartel knows what hit them, we are firmly ensconced in L.A., stealing all of their fucking business. Not only heroin, but whatever else you wanna sell. How does that sound Mr. Jainukul?”

  He slammed his hand down on his desk again, only this time it didn’t startle me. This time I smiled. “Do we have a deal?” I asked.

  “I think we do Mr. Shelton. How will you get product?”

  “Oh, I won’t be getting product, you’ll be sending
it the usual way. We can work out the details. Is that good with you?”

  “That is good with me. How long are you in Bangkok?”

  “Another week. Is that enough time?”

  “More than enough.” He smiled.

  Then I smiled. I rose to my feet and let the bodyguards escort me back to my taxi. My job would be done in a week. Then I would be in the wind for a month. That was how we operated. We would disappear. I had so many aliases, so many passports, birth certificates, driver’s licenses, social security cards that I kept them filed in a safe at my home in Montana. I carried several sets with me when I traveled but they could be destroyed at a moment’s notice. After next week, Mr. Shelton, would cease to exist. When I disappeared, there were only a couple of people that knew how to find me, Pete being one of them. I usually went to large cities where I could blend in with the people, where no one would notice me.

  I left Bangkok ten days later, after Mr. Jainukul, his front men and his connections had been arrested. I traveled to Katmandu, then back to Delhi, and I ended up in Istanbul for a while. When I figured it was safe, I booked a flight to Washington D.C so I could spend some time with my mom. Then I decided it was time to go to Seattle. It was time that my sister Caroline and her husband saw the wedding pictures that they thought their photographer had lost.

  Chapter 3

  Ava

  “Jeez, Melissa, don’t break it! That’s my fine china in there.” She was slinging my boxes I’d filled with china like they were filled with air.

  “Oops. Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I don’t own anything that’s breakable.”

  I’d gotten most of my kitchen things packed up in the morning and all the boxes would be put in storage. My clothes would be moved when I found a place to live sometime in the near future. Or that was my hope anyway. I was mostly worried about all the stuff in my cabinets so that’s why I’d tackled them first.