Page 13 of Avenging Kelly

I stood in front of a bodega down the block from Chelsea Market, waiting for my ex. The reunion was going to be short and likely not sweet. He’d been the one who’d cheated, not me, but it still pissed me off that I hadn’t seen it coming. It had happened a long time ago, and I was over it: well, mostly. I’d thought we’d been exclusive, but he hadn’t known the meaning of the word.

“London, I was glad to get your call. Let’s grab a coffee and sit somewhere inside so we can catch up. It’ll freeze the balls off a brass monkey out here,” Ryan Fortner… Dr. Ryan Fortner… suggested as he touched my shoulder.

Ryan was a top-notch research chemist who worked for the US DEA analyzing the drugs seized in various raids and sting operations around the country. His job had been to record the compounds and origins of the impounded substances in case new drugs were being introduced into the American black markets.

Ryan was in his mid-forties, and the guy was absolutely smokin’ hot. He could also suck the chrome off a tailpipe, as I’d learned during our relationship. He had a problem with fidelity, as I’d also learned.

For six glorious months, I’d followed the man wherever he’d gone and had allowed me to join him, just like an excited puppy. Sometimes, Ryan had had plans, and I hadn’t been invited to go with him, which had always crushed me.

One night, I’d followed him, anyway, and had seen him take a twink into the bathroom at a club, having confirmed my biggest fear—I hadn’t been good enough to keep him happy.

We’d had a huge blowup when Ryan had swaggered out, still zipping his pants, with the twink trailing behind him applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

That night, for the first and only time in my life, I’d pitched a hissy fit of epic proportions. I’d thrown drinks, had cussed like a sailor, and had punched a bouncer in the jaw as he’d tried to get me out of the bar. It had gotten me banned for life from Club Fire in Harlem.

The part I’d hated the most was being shamed for my lack of trust in Ryan and my stalker-like tendencies—which had actually made me an excellent agent—even though he’d just proven to me he hadn’t been worth trusting. The irony of the situation hadn’t been lost on me.

I shook off the memories of what I’d done to forget him—going undercover with the Mangello family and risking my life to try to bring them to justice, though unsuccessfully—and took a deep breath to steel my nerves.

“Ryan. How’ve you been?” I asked. We hadn’t spoken in a long fucking time. After we each got a coffee from a nearby food truck, we went into Chelsea Market and took a seat on a bench not too far from the door.

“I’m well. Got married last year, and we’re expecting our first child this summer,” Ryan told me.

I felt the impact of the blow as if he’d physically struck me, but I knew that was exactly what he’d wanted… to show me what I could have had if I’d had more faith in him and turned the other way when he found his pleasure elsewhere.

“Congratulations on both counts. Let me be clear: this isn’t a social call. You’re the best chemist at the agency, and I need information. Have you ever heard of anything called Poker Chips?” I needed to be sure he understood it from the git-go—I wasn’t trying to get back with him. We were over and done.

Ryan sipped his coffee and glanced around the marketplace. “Officially or unofficially?” he asked without glancing my way.

I fought hard not to roll my eyes, but I was there for a reason, and if I was able to get a straight answer from him, it would be a fucking miracle. “Let’s say officially.”

“That answer is no. I’ve never heard of anything called Poker Chips,” Ryan replied, still keeping his eyes forward.

I took a sip of my coffee, burning my fucking tongue. “Ow!”

“Always quick to dive in without thought,” Ryan said, smirking at me in a far too familiar way.

“How about if I say unofficially?” I asked, ignoring his smartass comment. I’d need a stiff drink after dealing with him and his bullshit.

“Unofficially… maybe. Where’d you hear about it?” Ryan asked. That was where things got a little sticky.

“A friend of mine mentioned it once in passing. I was curious about it and tried to find out more, but came up empty,” I replied, skirting the truth.

Ryan chuckled. “You just happened to hear about it? That’s hard to believe. What I can tell you is asking around about it can get you into a lot of trouble. The military doesn’t like anyone poking around in their business.”

That confirmed for me what I didn’t want to believe. Kelly’s comments were more fact than fiction. “This alleged drug, is it addictive?”

“If there was anything of the sort, I’d imagine it is. I do not know of its chemical composition if it exists, but I’m sure the Army wouldn’t do anything to harm its soldiers, even if they were convicted of crimes,” Ryan answered.

I could tell he’d chosen his words carefully. Plausible deniability was one of the first things they taught us in the agency.

Just as I was prepared to continue my pitiful interrogation of a man who was light years smarter than me, my phone rang. I glanced at Ryan and he smiled, turning to take in the bustle of shoppers in Chelsea Market.

I saw it was Dallas. “Hey! Everything okay?”

“No. We need to get him outta here and into hiding.” That had red flags waving like the Star-Spangled Banner.

“How much of that Poker Chips crap you got with you?” I heard Dallas ask Kelly, I was sure.

---