Chapter One

 

Wren spent a good deal of time making sure everything was orderly in her small apartment. It wasn't much, but it was spotless. Every piece of furniture was exactly where it ought to be. There was no clutter whatsoever. The walls were white, as were the sofa and chair. The wall-to-wall carpeting was white, and so were the kitchen cupboards. In her bedroom, her white bedspread was perfectly laid out. Her furniture was painted white.

Everything was spotless. The only color to be found were from occasional plants or fake flowers - and Wren herself, who invariably dressed in black. Her skin was white - very white - and her hair a dark, rich chestnut cut in a medium bob, parted in the middle of her forehead, perfectly even, perfectly straight as it danced on her slender shoulders.

No one would question that this was a girl with more than a touch of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

When she spoke, her voice was invariably soft, her tenor even, accentless, crystal clear, her words unmistakable and precise. Her back was always straight, her stride smooth and her walk determined. Her eyes were deep, limpid pools of ocean blue. And that was invariably the only color found on her body. Even her lingerie was black - or white.

At that moment she was dressed in a tight black tank top which hugged her curves and displayed an ample amount of smooth, firm belly, and a pair of tight white sweatpants which hung low on her hips. She was on her hands and knees in the hall just up from her apartment, the door of which was left wide open.

On the floor before her was a small bottle of water in a holster she had been wearing attached to a narrow black strip around her hips. The clip which held the holster in place had broken and the bottle had dropped to the floor. The cap had fallen off and it had spilled water across the smooth tiles.

She was on her hands and knees, her attractive round bottom pointed invitingly down the hall towards her apartment and the elevator just beyond it. She had a mass of paper towels in hand ready to start mopping up the water. Ready and waiting. But not moving. She knelt on all fours and waited, listening.

The elevator doors opened and she began to carefully mop up the water, not looking behind her. She did not look back. There was a small camera above her door which would record movement. It should, if she had planned things properly, show Daniel Lopez looking in as he passed on his way to his apartment from the elevator.

Anyone would look into the open door of an apartment. And no one could fail to note the monochrome color and feel surprised by it. At least, that was her bet.

And then he would pass by and see her bottom in the air. Daniel Lopez was notoriously heterosexual. And Wren really did have an excellent ass. It was round, firm and taut, for she worked out quite regularly. That ought to be enough.

She waited the proper amount of time, ensuring she would be hearing his footsteps, then turned as if in surprise before abruptly sitting up and back on her heels, then rising smoothly to her feet.

"Hey, beautiful," he said with a certain enthusiasm.

Wren was beautiful by almost any subjective estimate. Her face was oval, with high cheekbones, full, seductive lips, perfect teeth, and eyes which could be quite - arresting.

"My name is Wren," she said in a clipped tone.

Then she thrust her hand out with a slight frown on her face.

A little surprised, Lopez took her hand, still grinning, his eyes flicking down to her chest only once before settling on her face.

"You must be new," he said.

"Yes. I just moved in. And you are?"

"Oh yeah! I'm Daniel. Daniel Lopez! That's my place just there," he said, pointing to the apartment at the end of the hall.

She gave a short, firm nod.

"You uh, spill something?"

She picked up her now mostly empty water bottle.

"The clip holding my water bottle broke and spilled water on the floor. I had to clean it up in case anyone slipped and fell."

"Oh yeah? Well uh, good for you, being a good citizen and all," he said.

It was clear from his tone he wouldn't have bothered.

"You live there, right?" he asked, nodding back at her open door.

She gave another short, firm nod.

"Well, if you ever need anything, like help setting the place up, you know, just ask. I'm available!"

"Thank you very much, Mister Lopez," she said.

She gave his hand another shake, which puzzled him, then turned and walked, straight-backed to her apartment, entered it and closed the door behind her.

That, she hoped, would bait the hook. But it would take time to reel him in, for she had to be careful - very careful. Everything had to seem as if it were his idea.

***

Wren had been working at an insurance company since she left high school. She had started as a receptionist, been promoted to billing clerk, since she had demonstrated a startling proficiency in numbers, and in the space of no more than another year, been made senior clerk.

Her parents had died in an automobile accident when she was fourteen. She had inherited the money from their insurance policy, and the equity on a bungalow outside the city which had been about half paid off. She had recently sold it to move closer to her job. This apartment was a short ten-minute bus ride away from the Atlantic Insurance Company and her job.

She was the youngest clerk there in her group. Most of the rest were twice her age or more. And she was not one to gossip. No one there really knew she'd been bored and unhappy. No one knew she'd been recruited by the DEA, the Drug Enforcement Agency. She'd done part of her training on weekends, then the rest on her vacation.

She still worked as an insurance clerk. It was not a cover. And she had made sure there was not a single thing in this apartment which connected her to any law enforcement agency. Nor were there any emails or computer records suggesting the least interest in such things.

And she really was OCD, if not to the extent her apartment suggested. She was precise, orderly, careful and had a great deal of self-control. She didn't have to pretend to be a little odd. Everyone who knew her thought she was strange, to one degree or another.

There was absolutely nothing suspicious about her.

She spent the next several days working, as usual, at her regular job, in her normal cubicle. She had been given a list of Lopez's usual schedule of activities. He worked the night shift, came home in the early morning hours, then got up in the early afternoon. And when he did, he ate breakfast and relaxed on his balcony, which, unlike her own, faced the beach.

The beach in front of the condo where they both lived was generally not very busy during the week, especially not when most people were working.

Wren had arranged to take afternoons off from her clerk job every now and then to 'enjoy the summer'. She waited several days after their first meeting before taking an afternoon off. She went home at noon, put on her sunscreen, then a black bathing suit. It was a bikini, of course, but not a thong. It was restrained in at least that much. The cups did expose a generous amount of smooth, ivory skin, however.

She took the elevator downstairs, crossed to the rear of the building, went out onto the patio area, then down the stairs to the beach. She walked closer to the water, then set down her towel, her bottled water, her sunscreen, and a book. She peeled off the wrap she'd been wearing, slipped out of her sandals, and walked down to the water.

She wasn't sure how long it would take before Lopez noticed her. She knew that he had a telescope on his balcony in order to more closely examine attractive women. And there were few of those on the beach just now, aside from her.

Wren waded out into the water until it was up to her thighs then drew a deep breath and dove in. She swam smoothly underwater, holding her breath before angling back up and coming to the surface. She caught her breath there then did a lazy backstroke, traveling along the beach. She stopped when she would've gotten out of sight of the building then turned and swam back.

She hadn't been far out into the water. If he was not distracted by something else, he would hopefully have noticed her and perhaps be taking a closer look. She waded out of the water slowly, the water streaming down her body, then reached up into her hair, ringing it out, thrusting her breasts out as she pulled her head and hands back as the water cascaded down her back.

She carefully did not look towards the fifth floor of the building to see if he was there. She didn't expect to get lucky the first time, anyway. But it wasn't like this was all that unpleasant, and she could repeat it as often as was necessary. She was being paid twice for her time, after all, once by the DEA and once from the insurance company.

She walked over to her towel, picked it up, soaked some of the water out of her hair, then out of her body before tossing it back down and laying down atop it. She lay for some minutes on her back, her feet toward the waves.

Then she rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows, and reaching back to undo her bra strap. She pulled over the book, opened it, and began to read. No one was in front of her, and so there was no real reason for her to be particularly careful about who might see how much as she lay there.

She was fairly sure from what she had read of Lopez that if he saw her, his eye would be glued to his telescope fairly quickly. And, lech that he was, oozing with self-confidence, he might perhaps decide to hurry down to the beach to accidentally bump into her a second time.

If not, there were other ways she would set up to ensure he saw her again, such as meeting him in the lobby of the building as she waited for a ride. She would give him every opportunity to smooth talk her.

As it happened, it didn't take multiple journeys to the beach at all. Lopez showed up within twenty minutes of her walking out onto the beach. He was wearing a bathing suit to expose his well-muscled body.

"Hey there, Five Oh Four," he said with a smile as he stopped next to her.

Wren made a show of putting her hand over her eyes to shade the sun as she glanced up at him.

"Wren," she said, as if he had mistaken her name. "Wren, McLeod, Mr. Lopez."

"I remember. You can call me Daniel," he said with a grin.

When carefully brought her arm across her breasts, cupping her right breast with her left hand before half rising, then thrusting out her right hand to him to shake again. As before, he seemed puzzled, but reached down and shook her hand anyway.

"You'll have to excuse me, but I was getting a little sun," she said.

"Hey, baby, believe me you have nothing that needs to be excused," he said enthusiastically.

She lay down once again, pulled her left arm out from under herself, then did up her bra strap before pulling the strings up behind her neck and tying them. Then she sat up again as he threw down his towel and quickly sat down across from her, still grinning as he let one of his hands rest on his crotch, covering the partial erection she had already noticed.

"You don't work in the daytime, Mr. Lopez?"

"Daniel," he said, "Nah, I mostly work nights. I don't like it, but the pay is fantastic. What do you do for a living, Wren? Let me guess, you're a model?"

"I'm only five feet eight inches tall," she said with a frown. "Models have to be at least five feet eleven. No, I work for an insurance company."

"That sounds kind of boring," he said.

"I like numbers," she said. "And I'm very good with them."

She lifted up the book and let him see the cover. He grinned for a second then frowned in confusion. The book was called naked statistics. No doubt the first word had excited his interest even as the second had dampened it.

"That don't sound like a romance," he said.

"No, it's an advanced primer on understanding statistics."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I like numbers. The book explains a lot about how to understand the abuse and misuse of statistics."

"Baby, someone like you should be reading a more exciting book. Like something with a lot of romance and sex and violence."

"Why?"

"Because you're only young once, you know. Someday these beautiful bodies we got are gonna be old and wrinkled and worn out. You can read about math then. Now is the time to have fun and party."

"You don't seem to be doing much partying," she said dryly.

"Oh, baby, baby, baby! I am a party animal!"

"How do you do that if you work at night?"

"This is Miami Beach, baby. There's always parties on. You just gotta know the right people."

He winked and then pointed at his bare chest. "I am the right people."

Wren tried to decide how hard to get she should play it. The problem was, Lopez really was an attractive man, with a great body. He did not have enormous difficulty finding women. She didn't want to appear too distant, too unobtainable. But of course, she didn't want to seem too enthusiastic, either.

Because the truth was, he definitely was not her type. And no intelligent man would think he was. Not that Lopez was dumb, exactly. He was just looking at a beautiful girl in a bikini. A white girl, someone definitely not in the game, not in the know, not from his world.

And male hope sprang eternal.

He ought to know that she was out of his league. But he was young and male and horny and far too prone to listening to his little head over his big one. What she needed him to do was to try to impress her somehow.

"I'm not really a big party animal type," she said doubtfully.

"You're only young once, baby!"

"That is, of course, indisputable. And we should learn as much as we can when young so that we can earn a good income as we increase our skill set."

He blinked in confusion for a moment. "Baby, you would not believe how much money I make. And I don't need to read no books to make it."

"You didn't say what you did for a living, Mr. Lopez."

"Daniel. Call me Daniel! I work for... An import-export firm."

Wren took the opportunity to look impressed and then speak wistfully about a desire for foreign travel, which allowed him to brag about all the places he'd been. She listened with apparent interest before making a show of suddenly noticing the time and grabbing her things because it wasn't healthy for her skin to stay out in the sun for very long at a time.

Since he hadn't even had a dip yet he couldn't very well find an excuse to follow her back to the apartment, so she was able to leave him behind as she went back inside. She was content with how things had gone. She wanted to move this slowly in case he or others smarter than him suspected she might be a plant. Which, of course, she was.