Moar story

So this is mostly for Erin since she's the only one that really wants this to go anywhere it seems, so Erin, enjoy.


She had hardly put a foot on the pavement before she was swept off into another black sedan and driven into a bustling city. She had grown up in a small town in England, but had lived in Vegas for years; Sin City had nothing on the amount of people here. After a short drive she was escorted out of the car into a large building.

"Miss Cox, please keep up," Agen Brown barked.

Kayleigh had hardly noticed the sluggish pace she had adopted, but quickly hop-skipped to Brown's side, still basking in the moment. She had finally made it. She was walking the halls that her father had, seeing what he would see, and soon, she would be doing what he had done. Almost. She wasn't working with MI-6, but one day she might be lucky enough to do so. Brown walked her through a maze of hallways before opening a set of double doors and leading her into a dimly lit room. There were voices beyond a wall, and she recognized the foreign accent at once. Australian. Agent Brown lead her around a corner where the voices stopped. Bending over a table were four people, two men, and two women, who had been in the middle of a rather serious conversation when she stepped in. Everyone at the table looked up at her, and the range of emotions on their faces was surprising.

A woman with curly auburn hair and dazzling green eyes held genuine surprise for a brief moment before quickly narrowing at her. She wasn't trying at all to disguise the scorn.

The other woman brushed her long black bangs out of her eyes. Confusion.

One of the men raised one of his brows. He wasn't impressed.

The last held one unmistakable emotion. Lust.

Kayleigh rolled her eyes at the man with the dilated pupils; men are all the same. She thought to herself. Agent Brown did little in the way of introductions, simply saying her name and quickly leaving the room, casting a final glance at the curly-haired woman. Kayleigh stood there, waiting for someone to say something, but when the curly-haired woman gathered a stack of papers off the table in a huff, brushing past Kayleigh with a growl. As if her departure had given him permission, Lusty sidled up to her, a sly look in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

“Kayleigh, huh?” he said, his accent was the same she had pegged earlier. “You must be the cop from Las Vegas,” he extended a hand to her. “The name’s Aidan Kellet.”

Politely she shook his hand and said, “It’s nice to meet you Aidan, and the answer to your unasked question is no. I won’t sleep with you.”

A smile broke across the faces of everyone, save Aidan, in the room and a low chuckle rumbled through.

“I like you,” said the woman with black hair. “I’m Skye Hayes. Get all your jokes out now because I don’t want to hear any of them later.”

Kayleigh smiled to herself, but said nothing. The other man in the room smiled and Kayleigh noticed her heart skip a beat. Had his smile really just done that to her? She smiled politely back, quietly analyzing him. He was taller than her in three inch heels, which put him over six feet. His hair was dusty blonde, falling messily over his brow. It looked as though he had just rolled out of bed for a photoshoot and they paired him with some gorgeous model to sell cologne. He could get a model... Kayleigh thought to herself. His eyes were sparkling brown and watching her as intently as she was him. She felt her cheeks go warm. He had to be giving her a false reading. No one had produced those feelings from her. Ever. Not even when they tried to be charming.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in person, Kayleigh.” he said. “I’m Tyson Koch. The man in charge--”

“--only in this room,” mumbled Aidan, still standing in the doorway with Kayleigh.

“Of this operation.” Tyson finished tersely.

Skye laughed, crossing the room and taking Kayleigh by the wrist and pulling her into the middle of the room by the table.

“Let’s get started, yeah?” she asked, eyeing the men angrily. “Time is of the essence here.”

Tyson nodded, crossing the table to a smart board on the wall and tapping the screen. What looked like a murder board back at the precinct appeared. It was filled with pictures of people and places as well as documents. As Tyson pulled other documents onto the screen Kayleigh stepped toward the board, focusing on the pictures of people. One image had caught her attention. From what she had seen, the mug shots were fairly standard, their faces blank as they were instructed, but one had a slight contraction in his upper lip; the beginning of a snarl. Contempt.

She didn’t know how to use the board, but she tapped the picture, dragging it into the center of the screen. “Who is this?” she asked.

Aidan was right behind her, speaking into her ear. “He’s called Etzio, but his given name is Carter Sattiotori, why?” His voice had been so close to her she jumped backward, straight into his chest. “Mmm, if you wanted to be close to me all you had to do was ask.”

Kayleigh took a deep breath, smiling slyly to herself. She flexed her back, rubbing it against his chest as she straightened her posture, glancing over her shoulder, portraying the emotion of desire.

“You’re right,” she said, turning toward him, noticing the confusion of Skye and Tyson, smiling again, tracing patterns up Aidan’s chest. “I want to be close...” she leaned toward him, her lips inches from his, when suddenly she turned back toward the board, putting instant distance between their bodies. “to this man.”

Aidan glared. “Why?”

“He’s got information that you need.”

“How can you know that from a picture?”

Kayleigh smiled proudly. “It’s what I’m paid to do, Aidan. I know he’s got information that you need, and I would like to speak with him.”

“He’s being held down the hall.” Tyson said, “We’ve already questioned him. He isn’t speaking.”

“Words don’t mean a thing to me. You can ask questions, all I need to do is watch.” she stared intently at the picture. “I will be in need of a video camera. That’s all.”

After ten minutes of searching, Kayleigh had a camcorder in her hands and was following Tyson to the room where they were holding Mr. Sattiotori. When she entered, she set the camera on the tripod and angled it directly at his face. His eyes were dark, unamused, and dangerous.

“This is Kayleigh, she’s consulting on this case.” Tyson said, opening a file. “Mr. Sattiotori, you were found on the scene of a highly radioactive warehouse. This is where the bomb was assembled, correct?”

Concealed smile. No answer.

“Mr Sattiotori, answer the question. We know you were involved in the production. Everything you were wearing had traces of radiation on it. Where did the bomb go?”

His eyes dropped to the left, staring at the ground for a moment. Shame.

Kayleigh cocked her head to the side. “You weren’t involved in the production. But you found the bomb. You didn’t know who had built it, and you didn’t stick around long to find out.” His eyes widened. Surprise. “But when you came back, the people who built the bomb were there. Weren’t they?”

He nodded. “I came back for the car I had seen in the back of the warehouse. When I arrived there were five men, all of their faces covered, I did not see them. They saw me, knocked me out and when I woke up, there were feds all over the place asking me where the bomb had gone.”

His voice had remained constant. He broke eye contact twice to remember details that were fuzzy, but had ended holding her eyes. He was telling the truth.

“Thank you, Mr. Sattiotori, a few more questions.” She smiled, putting him at ease. “Did you hear anything while you were in the warehouse? Names, places, times? Anything that would help us find this bomb? I know you don’t want to go up in flames, none of us do.”

Lip shrug. He knew, but wasn’t telling.

“Mr. Sattiotori, this can all be quite easy if you would just tell me what you know. I know you’re hiding it. I can see it in your face.”

“Wednesday. They said something about Wednesday and that now the people of New York would finally understand their power. They could destroy their lives and not bat an eye. There, I’ve told you everything I know. Can I go? You have no reason to hold me here.”

Tyson looked at Kayleigh, who nodded. “You may go,” he said.

Sattiotori stood, leaving the room just as the curly-haired woman opened the door.

“Tyson,” her voice was tense. “Boss wants to see you. He sounded... upset.”

Tyson’s hand went to his brow, rubbing his temples. “Thank you Zooey. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

Zooey nodded, her eyes drifting to Kayleigh and narrowing before she left the room.

“I hope he was telling the truth. For both of our sakes. We just let our only suspect walk out the door.” Tyson said, standing and leaving the room.

Short Story...

I know I haven't posted anything lately, and I apologize for that. I'll try and get some more Perfect Strangers up soon, but for now, please accept the beginning of my new little short story inspired by the most intense dream I've ever had, minus my nightmares... It doesn't have a title yet, so if any of you think of something, let me know!


The sun blazed overhead making the road something of a mirage in front of the car. The haze made the black asphalt ooze and melt in zig-zags in the distance before dropping out of sight completely. The radio was on in the car, playing the only station she could pick up, a thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead. She cursed the beater of a car she drove, but instantly forgave it for being a piece of junk, stroking the steering wheel fondly.
Kayleigh had the money to get a new car, but she couldn’t bring herself to part from the lunker her father had driven for what must have been his entire life, and now Kayleigh was determined to run it into the ground when it died. That’s how her father would have wanted it. They had brought it over seas with them when they moved from England for her father’s job. She never knew what he did, he wasn’t allowed to give her any specific details, but she knew what his job title was. MI-6 liason and Deception Specialist for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. When he was killed the week before Kayleigh’s seventeenth birthday she swore she would continue his legacy. He had always taught her what he knew, and she flew through her schooling, quickly ranking at the top of her class.

Finding work, however, was a new challenge.

Eventually she  landed herself a menial job as a cop for the Las Vegas police. She hated her job. Everything her father had taught her had been very valuable to her, and enabled her to put some of Vegas’ most wanted criminals behind bars all before she was twenty-two. The precinct was impressed by her skill, and as such, everyone wanted her on their squad, but as the director wanted, she became more of a floater, moving from case to case as her skills were required. Sure, this allowed her to dip her toes in every pool, seeing what she was best at, but it wasn’t fulfilling to her. She wanted more. She wanted to be just like her father.

Rolling into the parking garage for her apartment complex brought immediate relief from the heat outside. Despite that fact that it was nearly sundown, the temperature was still well above eighty degrees. She made her way to the elevator, stripping her blazer off of her, the material from the lining sticking to her skin as she peeled it off. When she stepped off the elevator, she was in nothing but her bra and jeans. Her door was directly across the hall; it took her two steps to reach the door, keys outstretched, when someone called her name.

“Kayleigh Cox?” the voice asked, deep and official sounding.

She looked over her left shoulder to where the voice had spoken. There was a man in a crisp black suit leaning against the wall by the elevator. His posture was rigid despite the casual pose he had adopted, his arms locked over his chest, head erect. She couldn’t see his eyes because of the dark Ray-Bans he wore, but she didn’t need to see his eyes to read him. His mouth was drawn into a thin line, lips pressed together tightly. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, his nose crinkling and brows drawing together for a fraction of a second before relaxing again. Contempt. Why was he showing her contempt?

Raymond Lezario.

This man was probably one of his cronies here to kill her because she had just put him away for life.

Her hand moved slowly to the gun at her hip.

“Are you Kayleigh Cox, Las Vegas PD?” he asked, his mouth hardly opening to speak the words.

She debated answering him, watching his face. Another flash of contempt and rising annoyance. “And you are?” she asked, her accent catching him off guard.

“Agent Brown, FBI,” he replied, relaxing only in the slightest. “I need to speak with you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Please, come in,” she said, despite the fact that she had yet to enter her home herself.

When they entered, she invited him to sit while she went to her room to throw on a t-shirt. She knew that she was taking a risk. She hadn’t asked the man for any identification, but when he had stated his name there were no signs that he was lying. When she returned he had removed his glasses and was staring intensely at her wall. She rolled her eyes; to anyone that didn’t know her occupation, she would come off as a serial killer. Her entire wall was covered in photos of faces of various people, people she knew, famous people, political figures, and random people caught on servelance photos. She had circled things in the photos, indicated their poster, facial expressions, and in each photo, determined if there was deception.

She cleared her throat. “You needed to speak with me, Agent Brown?” she asked, sitting on the sofa directly across from him.

Tearing his eyes away from the wall she couldn’t help but notice the slight fear in his eyes. “Yes, I’m here because the Bureau is in need of your skills.” he said, and her face lit up, which she quickly concealed. “We lost a great asset when your father was killed four years ago, and we’ve been watching you closely. You’re just as good as him, and we need your help on an especially puzzling case.”

“I’m listening,”

“Ever since Nine-Eleven there have been so many bomb threats and attempts we can’t keep up with them. But this particular case is different. We have the culprit, but don’t know where the bomb is. At this point time is of the essence. It’s been twenty-four hours since we apprehended him, and we have been running in circles. We need you to figure out where the bomb is before it’s too late.”