“You taste good,” she said.
“You taste like more,” he replied.
In the bedroom, she strapped her cell phone to her armband, curled her fingers around her switchblade. G-ma, Jazz, and Luciano were on the porch, so she headed out.
Engulfed in July’s heat and humidity, she took off, increasing her speed after a few minutes. She rounded the corner and continued toward her townhouse, turning left at the end of the street.
A silver two-door coupe was parked near her house.
Slash took off in an all-out sprint, but the driver sped away. She eyed the Virginia license plate catching the last two numbers.
One and five.
Anger jumped to the surface.
Who are you and what do you want?
Pushing hard, she continued running full-tilt to the intersection. The silver car was gone. As she finished running her route, frustration replaced her runner’s high. Back at Carrera’s, the kitchen was bustling with activity. Elsa and Jazz stood at the stove while Luciano was grilling on the deck.
“Hi guys,” Slash said.
“How was your run?” Elsa asked.
“Good. I’m gonna take a quick shower.”
Rather than head upstairs, Slash entered Carrera’s office, extracted her ALPHA laptop from her computer bag, and logged in. She opened the familiar site, requested all Virginia tags ending in one-five. On her way out, she pulled the office door shut.
“Computer lock the office door.”
“Hello, Slash,” said the computer. “Office locked.”
She went upstairs to shower before dinner.
Twenty minutes later, everyone was seated outside on the porch, and the conversation quickly turned to Jazz’s wedding.
“Where are you living?” Luciano asked.
“In my apartment,” Jazz replied. “Russell hired a contractor to upgrade the bathrooms and kitchen before I move in. The house is forty-years old and he said it needs a face lift.”
“Do you like his house?” Slash asked.
“I’ve only seen it from the outside,” Jazz explained.
What?
“He’s never invited you in?” Carrera said.
“No, but it’s not like we spend a lot of time hanging out,” Jazz replied. “We’re busy campaigning, going to events, meeting and talking to constituents all the time.”
“Have you met his family?” Slash asked.
“He and his dad haven’t talked since his parents got divorced, and his mom died while he was living in Boston,” Jazz explained. “But now he has my family.”
The conversation remained light all through dinner. When they finished, Jazz took off.
In the kitchen, Elsa and Luciano sat huddled around her laptop at the table while Slash and Carrera cleaned up. When they finished, they retreated into his office. She logged into her laptop, checked the results of her license plate search. Carrera pulled a guest chair around, sat beside her.
She started to get up. “You sit in your chair.”
