Page 8 of Ignite

He tied the flat pouch around his waist and tucked it into the spot just below his belly button where his stomach hung over to hide the small bulge. His loose pants should be enough to disguise any telltale sign, and most men wouldn’t dare to look at his crotch. Still, he felt the weight hanging there as a beacon for all to see, like he’d strapped on a target. He took several deep breaths before using the burner phone to call his wife.

“Hello?”

“Fatima, my love.”

“Nassar. Is something wrong? What number is this?”

“Listen and don’t argue. It’s time.”

“Time? What are you talking about?”

Nassar gritted his teeth in frustration. “Fatima.”

She stayed silent, but he heard the slight intake of breath as she understood. “No. Please, no.”

“You know what to do.”

Her exhale sounded as if she’d resolved her thoughts about the coming life changes. “Yes.”

“Go now. I’ll meet you soon.”

Last act, he thought as he took the SIM card from his main phone with shaking fingers. He snapped it in half before stomping on the screen.

The center was still in pandemonium when he exited the building, walked down to the corner, and disappeared.

5

The bell rangover the door for the eleventy-thousandth time that morning. Jazz pulled a tray of sugar cakes from the oven and burned her fingers in the process.

“Be right there!” she yelled.

The morning rush seemed heavier, probably because she was working by herself. Bill had called Madge away with problems when he switched his oxygen tanks. That left Jazz to make coffee, take orders, run the register, and get the pastries out of the ovens before anything burned.

“Take your time.”

The velvety voice sent sparks down her spine, and she almost dropped the baking sheet. “Oh… um….”My hands are full. Just a sec. Coming right up.“Right hand coming.”Oh my God, what did I just say?“Shit! I meant, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Wolf chuckled in amusement. “It’s okay, Jazz. I’m in no rush.”

Jazz. He called me Jazz. Omigod, he knows my name!Her feet stuck to the floor with magic shoe glue, making her few steps to the espresso machine more like a stiff shuffle. “Um… sure. Madge should be back soon.”

“What if I didn’t come in to see Madge?”

Jazz’s heart flipped over, dropped to her toes, and then tangoed back up to her chest. “Um… I guess you want your usual latte?” She packed the portafilter and thankfully slipped it into place without dropping grounds all over the counter. She reached for the milk in the fridge. “Bill isn’t coming over today. Madge said he had a bad night. That’s why she’s getting him set up at home. He can’t do his tanks so well.”Gah! Stop spitting out word salad!

“I came in to get my coffee and Danish fix. To go, please. Mind if I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Jazz popped the top off the plastic jug and filled the metal pitcher. Her heart was pounding. Wolf seldom looked at or addressed her for anything more than fulfilling his coffee order. She was still in awe that he knew her name.

“What do you know about computer scams, phone scams, that sort of thing?”

That brought her up short. Milk sloshed over her hand as she jolted. In her surprise, she forgot to be awkward. “I… uh… some. Why?”

“Do you happen to be called Jazzyhands online?”

Eep! How do I handle this?“That’s one of my names,” she said with caution. The milk frothed under the steam as the machine spat out its fragrant goodness. “I sometimes mess around with scammers. You know, keep them on the phone, screw up their schtick.”Mess up their computers by dropping viruses, erase their data, steal back what they took from so many good, unsuspecting people when I can.“That sort of thing.”

“I need to thank you.”

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