EasterSpice Read online

  I showered, dressed and then went to Reed’s office. The door was open and he was sitting with his back to the desk. He spun around and put his hands on the table so dramatically, you would swear he was in a Perry Mason movie or something. It was obvious he’d spent some time rehearsing that. I shook my head. Reed thought about things too hard sometimes. The level of drama he brought to the job was just over the top. I cleared my throat to give him some warning and entered his office. For all I knew, that motherfucker could be just jerking off at his desk or something.

  He leaned back in his chair and put his feet on the desk. “I’m so glad that you could join me.” He used his head to motion toward a chair sitting in front of his desk.

  “I wasn’t aware I had a choice,” I said.

  “Where’s your partner?” His question was rhetorical. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where she was. One thing about the agency, they had a way of knowing. You would swear that they had implanted microchips underneath everybody’s skin. It was as if we were in some sort of Big Brother reality show. We sometimes joked that if one of us turned up dead and without identification, all they would have to do was scan us at the supermarket checkout and our secret bar codes would tell them everything they needed to know. We were all so used to it that we barely paid attention.

  “She’s coming. She takes a little longer in the locker room than I do.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Women are like that.” Reed didn’t even blink.

  Before I’d met Desiree, a comment like that would’ve meant nothing to me. Now, I cringed at the sexism in his statement. The amusing thing was, I knew Reed wouldn’t hesitate to say the same thing whether Desiree was in the room or not, and it drove her crazy. “What’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait another few moments?”

  Just as Reed opened his mouth to speak, Desiree blew in. She was winded and had obviously run down the hallway. Reed still scared her a lot more than he scared me. She was new and still bought into all the drama he added to the job. She hadn’t become jaded yet.

  “I tried to hurry.” She fumbled with her hair as she rushed into the office. We both slid into our seats in front of the desk. Desiree was probably anticipating what Reed had to say as much as I was.

  For months, Desiree had been wrapped up in training and simulations, and she was eager for the real thing. Once or twice, she’d been called in to consult on someone else’s case, but she had not yet been out into the field. I was ready to see what she was really made of almost as much as I was ready to be undercover again. Just a few short months ago, I’d been griping about never being able to be myself because I was always so busy being someone else, sometimes for months at a time. What I realize now is that all those other people were me. I loved it when I got to play the part—any part. It’s as if I could step outside myself and be whoever I wanted to be for a long time. I figured out that if I wasn’t in this business, I might just be an actor. I was good at my job.

  Reed sat up in his chair and opened his desk drawer. He pulled out a copy of a newspaper I’d never seen before and pushed it across the desk at me. It was oversized, like The Wall Street Journal and pink like the Financial Times. He tapped on the paper, rubbing his fingers across the cover story. “What do you make of this?”

  I glanced at the headlines. I could see now that it was an English-language Indian newspaper, the kind they published for ex-pats. “Indian woman found dead in hotel pool.” I read it out loud. Desiree and I glanced at each other.

  “Some woman in India went swimming in a hotel pool by herself and she drowned. Why does that concern us? This happened halfway across the world.” Desiree had that look on her face, the one she got when she was puzzled. One of her eyebrows was higher than the other as she shifted her gaze between the headline and Reed.

  He slid it across the desk so she could get a better look at it. “Ever been to India?” Another obviously rhetorical question.

  She gave him a blank stare. “You know I haven’t.” The agency probably even knew the last time we peed.

  “You’re right, I do know.” He paused. “What do you think this means?”

  I cleared my throat. I wasn’t sure why he wouldn’t just get to the point, but Reed was like that. He loved to drag things out and keep people dangling by a thread. “It means you think there is more to the story.”

  “Absolutely. There’s always more. And you two are going to find out.” He rolled backward and unlocked his desk drawer. Reed flipped through files and extracted two legal-sized manila envelopes. He handed them to us. “Desiree, when we brought you on board, I told you that you would be going somewhere east. This case was initiated by one of our biggest customers. An American company with large foreign concerns.”

  “In India, I’m guessing,” I said as I followed Reed’s crumbs.

  “In India and almost everywhere else. It’s a multinational corporation. You two are going to India. Here are your new passports.”

  Desiree fidgeted in her seat. I knew it was hard for her to maintain her cool. From the look on her face, it was obvious she was bursting with questions.

  “Reed, in most of the other cases, it was essential that I blend in. Just how is this supposed to happen in India? It’s not like they have a plethora of six-foot-five caramel-colored black men over there.”

  Desiree nodded. “Or black women. I can’t possibly pass for anything close to Indian,” she said.

  A smile spread across Reed’s face and I shivered. Smiles from him were not always good. “Both of you are correct. You will both be posing as ex-pats working in India on a project basis. Sam, you will be Sam, from Texas, and Desiree, you will be from Ghana.”

  “What? I have no idea what a woman from Ghana even looks like.” Panic spread across Desiree’s face.

  “Don’t worry,” Reed said. “We won’t set you up to fail. We have specialists here who will help you. Most of the work will be in the accent, anyway. Since you are supposed to be a businesswoman, you’ll look relatively Western.”

  Desiree seemed to relax a little.

  Emotions swirled inside me. I knew this day was coming, but I hadn’t really thought about how working with Desiree was going to be. I still struggled with separating the work Desiree from the woman I couldn’t seem to get enough of. Just her scent on my fingers drove me wild. I took my packet with my documents and stood up to leave. Desiree followed suit. “Is that all? I want to go read through this information.”

  Reed smiled again. “One more thing. We’re bringing in a civilian to help you with this one.”

  “A civilian?” I asked. “You know what kind of trouble that could cause? We’re going to have enough problems navigating a new country and a new culture, we certainly don’t need to add any babysitting to the mix.”

  “This is a special case. I don’t think this one will be too much trouble.” Reed turned around and started pecking on his keyboard. He spoke to us over his shoulder as he worked. “Meet Elisheba Sharma.” He spun his monitor around for us to take a look.

  Desiree and I both narrowed our eyes as we stared at the screen. Although I hadn’t heard the name before, the face looked eerily familiar.

  A gasp from Desiree interrupted our stunned silence. “Elisheba Sharma?” Her voice cracked.

  Reed’s smirk got even bigger. “Her transformation is really good if it took you this long to recognize her. Your old friend, Seria Gonzalez.”

  As soon as he said the name, I recognized her. It was Seria, Desiree’s former best friend and coworker. She looked totally different and completely Indian. Her curly locks had been replaced by long, straight hair. A green, mirrored jewel sat in the middle of her forehead. My mouth dropped open. “Reed, I hate to question your judgment. Last we heard from her, she was in the hospital trying to recover from her wounds from the sex ring case.”

  “That’s true, she was. She’s also been undergoing counseling to deal with all her issues.” Reed make quote marks in the air with his hands. “You know I don’t b
elieve all that mumbo-jumbo. Anyway, she owes us big. She cooperated so well in our investigation, she avoided jail time. Instead, this is her sentence.”

  “But how?” Furrow lines appeared on Desiree’s forehead. “If she can pass herself off as Indian, I might as well be Chinese.”

  “Our people are very skilled, as you can tell. You knew her for years and almost didn’t recognize her. Seria is already in place in her job in India. She’s had what training she needs—just the basics—and will be your inside contact over there. She looks good, right? I see you noticed her bindi.” Reed pointed to the jewel between her eyes. “I think it becomes her.” He paused and looked us over. “This is special. She’ll always be wearing it because it contains a tiny camera.”

  “A microchip-sized one? I read about the technology in Wired magazine, but they’re supposed to be well into the future.” Desiree was almost salivating. Other women loved shoes, but Dez loved tech any day.

  Reed grinned. “It’ll be years before they’re available at Walmart, but for people like us, well…” Reed shrugged. “These masterpieces of engineering will allow us to be a fly on the wall in Ms. Gonzalez’ life anytime we want.”

  I was stunned. This kind of thing was unprecedented as far as I knew. I could only imagine what Desiree was feeling. She’d found out more about her former friend than she wanted to know before, when we’d saved her from the deranged man who had been holding her hostage and using her in a crazy, bondage sex ring. The lies Seria had told and the information she’d withheld from her friend, whatever the reason, had been too much. Desiree had been so upset that she hadn’t talked with her since.

  Reed continued. “You’ll find more information in your packet, and Desiree, you’ll find some passwords that will make you a very happy geek. Please excuse yourselves. I have another appointment.”

  Desiree and I stood again and silently left Reed’s office. I tried to gauge her mood, but couldn’t. Desiree didn’t speak to me, or even hint that we might be able to pick up where we had left off, as I’d hoped. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her to the side of the hallway. “You okay?”

  She shook her head as she tried to fight back the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “Job seems to be full of more surprises than I bargained for.”

  I searched for the right words, but couldn’t find any. I had never been betrayed by someone I thought was my friend the way she had. There was nothing that I could say about that, so I defaulted to just talking about the job, even though I knew she meant the whole picture. “I’ve been pretty surprised, too.”

  She pulled her wrist free and I watched as she made her way down the corridor. It was best that I let her go. She needed time. I understood how she felt. The woman had been her best friend of many years, and although her intentions might have been good, she’d basically stabbed Desiree in the back. There were rules about some things, both men and women had them. Sometimes, they were different, but both sexes pretty much agreed that friends should never get involved with each other’s exes, no matter how far in the past the relationship was. Seria had stomped all over that rule. I know I’d be put out if my best friend did that to me, especially if I’d had a serious history with the woman involved, the way Desiree had with Seria.

  Chapter Three

  Desiree

  I tried not to pout as I walked away from Sam, but I stomped down the hall as if I was three years old, fighting back tears the whole way. I inhaled sharply, then let it out. “I will not cry. I will not cry,” I mumbled to myself over and over, as if the words would provide some kind of gate for the tears trying to escape. I was a big girl now and could take whatever they threw my way. I just hadn’t anticipated this.

  Seria and I had been friends for years until she fucked my boyfriend. It was that simple. We’d met at work, and then had followed each other from data entry job to data entry job. We were besties. Or we had been. She was beautiful, stunning even, but she had a way of making me feel as if I was beautiful too. When she walked into a room, everyone, women included, flocked to her. And that benefitted me.

  I could admit now that I’d used her as much as she’d used me. She had looks, but I’d had the personality. Everywhere we went, people were drawn to her like a moth to flame, but when they got close, Seria hadn’t been warm at all. For all her hot, model-looking exterior, she was shallow, boring and self-centered. And that is where I’d come in. I let Seria reel them in, and then I would charm them. I’d never had as many dates as I’d had when the two of us had hung out together. And then I’d met Philip.

  He’d been easy to love and only seemed to have eyes for me, until he’d asked me to commit crimes for him. He’d wanted me to change numbers in the data entry system. Small numbers really, but the end result would be that lots of money would mysteriously end up where it didn’t belong—directly in his pocket, funding the crazy schemes that hid behind his cousin’s sex toy store. I’d refused, and we’d broken up, but somehow, Seria wound up fucking him quite regularly. She ended up dead smack in the middle of his crazy sex club too. When she was busted, she’d claimed she was sucked in trying to protect me, that he’d forced her to participate. I say that was bullshit.

  By the time I got to the locker room, I’d tucked my feelings back into my pocket. That had all happened months ago, but seeing her face on Reed’s screen had ripped the wound open again.

  I was a professional. I could work with anyone. This was a new life for me. Just business. I could deal with Seria for a short period of time, just as long as she stayed away from my personal life. And she damn sure better stay away from Sam.

  Back at home, I did some research. So she was Elisheba Sharma now. I kept running the name over and over in my head so I wouldn’t forget it. Kinda funny that her cover was that she is Indian, and she has a name from the Bible. I looked it up. I don’t know who thought of that one, but did Indians even read the bible? I thought they were all Buddhists or Muslims or some shit like that. Elisheba was the wife of Aaron, brother of Moses. Whoever thought of this shit damn sure needed to do more homework, but what did I know? Both Seria and I were just pawns in this whole thing. The only difference between the two of us was that I was getting a regular paycheck while I was being pushed around.

  Her last name was no better. I’d googled it and discovered that the surname Sharma was everywhere. Had everyone in India changed their name to the same thing or something? Sharma was the Smith of northern India.

  I flipped through the information in the file. She’d been Elisheba all of her damn life, but I suppose that was the right name for someone who was the child of two Indian parents, but American born. That was her story. Elisheba was an American of Indian descent, sent back to India to learn how to be Indian again. She worked for an American company, so technically that made her an American expatriate in India. A character from some damn B movie with D-list stars.

  I stared at her picture. The hardest thing ever about all this was getting past all her heavy-ass, bone-straight hair. She’d always loved her wild, natural curls. It was as if her personality was screaming out, right on top of her head. Now, as I stared at the stranger in the pictures who had once been my closest friend, I could barely recognize her. Her new hair hinted at a restraint that I damn well knew Seria didn’t possess. Neat and orderly was so not the Seria I’d known. The transformation was so complete it was amazing. I had no idea the agency possessed hairstylists who worked magic like this. They could put the New York hair hawkers out of business and the appointment books would fill up so fast you would have to schedule your weave two years in advance.

  The flash of anger I felt, quickly faded. I wondered how Seria felt about herself now. She used to be so cocky. Her appearance was important to her and she’d loved being the black Puerto-Rican princess who had somehow ended up in Texas. I guess it was the price she had to pay for being stupid. She got mixed up in someone else’s scheme, and now, in order to be free and just live the rest of her life, she had to be this Elishe
ba-person—a forced vegetarian, comfy clothes-wearing, fake Hindu returnee with a biblical name, lost in a country of ten thousand gods.

  Not that I was surprised. Her reasons for doing what she had were just plain dumb. The thing is, that type of thing happened to her a lot. Seria was a hedonist, a “feel-good” girl. There were many times she went with what felt good instead of what was the right thing to do. Wasn’t that what had happened between us? I pouted. If things had been turned around, I wouldn’t have slept with her man for any reason. She’d broken one of the cardinal rules of girlfriend-hood. Thou shalt not fuck your friend’s ex. And he just hadn’t been worth it.

  Unlike Seria, I would be able to wear Western clothes, although much more modest than what I might wear in the US. I looked closer at the pictures. All of Seria’s short, cute skirts were gone, replaced by pants with long, tunic-like shirts that covered her ass. In a few of the pictures, she wore longer skirts with hot-ass tights. We never wore hose back in Texas, much less opaque tights. I chuckled. It was as if she was living I Dream of Jeannie, except her midsection was covered and she couldn’t blink herself back to civilization. I could only imagine how hot she must be in those getups. My only reference point was ninety-nine-degree central Texas. It was a wonder we got through any days without our coochies smelling to high heaven. The sweat would pool between my legs and I certainly wanted to be able to air mine out. Part of me hoped she was suffering. Seria had been famous for skirting the dress code at work, wearing the shortest and tightest skirts possible. I imagined her sitting at her desk with her legs spread open, hoping in vain for a cool breeze to come along and give her some relief.

  In order to have charges against her dismissed, Seria was being told what to eat, when to sleep and what to wear. I smiled at the thought. She’d always said that jailhouse orange wasn’t her color, so for once in her life, she was doing exactly as she was told. Her orders were simple—blend in and listen. I knew Seria better than I knew myself. She might be fine for a while, but I was curious how she was doing without any sex. She wasn’t a trained operative, she was just an ordinary woman, with needs stronger than most. She’d found out a lot about herself over the past year and had calmed way down since she’d been busted, but I bet she still needed some dick. I couldn’t imagine her being celibate for too long.