Farrah picked up the dedicated cell phone to see 'restricted number' displayed on the screen. Only one person called her on this phone; the client who had sent it to her before she arrived here in Japan. She found it somewhat comical he would hide his phone number when he was most likely using a disposable phone as well.
"Good evening, my dear," he greeted her in his smooth, ear tickling voice.
"Good evening, sir," she returned, plopping down on the couch.
"As promised, I have a job for you."
Remaining silent, she waited for the details. A contractor employed by a real estate mogul to restore run down apartment buildings for affordable low rent accommodations had been cutting corners and foregoing safety measure endangering his work crew.
Two construction workers had died when the scaffolding they were on broke apart and crashed, burying them under dry wall and the metal pipes. A third man, the foreman on the site, was in the hospital in critical condition.
This man would most likely die too from his workplace 'accident.' A nail gun misfired shooting a barrage of nails into his body. One nail went through his left eye destroying it before embedding in his brain. His 'accident' happened after he filed a complaint about the poor working conditions and shoddy equipment with the labor committee.
"The man you are looking for has a penchant for the ladies of the night. I will be sending directions to his favorite place to find a cheap date. I have also included a picture of him and his car."
Without any kind of farewell, the client hung up. Seconds later her phone beeped, notifying Farrah she had received the necessary information to find her next target.
~\..'../~
Endeavor examined the still smoking corpse through the blown out front windshield of the car. The fire had burned hot and fast. The incident had occurred less than thirty minutes ago. The body sitting upright in the driver's seat resembled a charred mummy. Water dripped from the roof of the remaining car shell, sizzling when it hit the flesh that continued to burn.
Hawks was interviewing the working women present in the area about who and what they had seen before the vehicle bombing. The questioning was strictly procedure.
Endeavor did not need proof or witness accounts to know who did this. He poked his head through the driver's window vacant of glass but quickly pulled it back out. He could not stand the stench of what was essentially roasted meat inside the destroyed heap of melted metal.
"Well?" he demanded of Hawks when he jogged up to him to report his findings.
"They said there was a new girl on the street last night. One they had never seen before. A blonde with, and I quote, with a big juicy ass and nice tits, a little small though, about a hand full each," he said, smiling broadly. "Interesting description. Other than the hair, most likely a wig, does that sound like anyone you know?"
"Hmmm," the number one hero hummed pensively without cracking a smile. "What other brilliant observations did they impart to you?"
"She was wearing a designer little black dress. Her heels had red soles. The real deal. Not knock offs according to Sinnamon."
"Cinnamon?"
"Sinnamon. With an S," Hawks clarified.
"Shit," Endeavor mumbled resisting the urge to slap his forehead. "Was there anyone else in the area? Any other customers?"
"Just those three. It was a slow night. They said the woman got into the car down there with our crispy critter a little after ten," Hawks informed him, indicating the opposite end of the street where the three women gathered in the pool of light under the streetlamp. "He drove to where it is now and stopped. A few minutes later boom and barbecue."
They both stepped back and studied the scene. Molly the fake hooker and real bomber enticed the man to drive down to the opposite end of the street putting them well away from those three women.
"They said there was a red flash then the explosion. The vehicle was instantly engulfed," Hawks said, studying the wisps of black smoke rising from the vehicle.
She also had him park by a fire hydrant. Another strategic move on her part to keep others safe and the fire contained. The hydrant had been blown over by the explosion allowing for the release of thousands of gallons of water to begin putting out the fire before the first hero arrived. The deluge also doused the building mere feet away which prevented any fire or excessive heat coming from the blast to set it on fire.
"She set off the firebomb inside the vehicle to keep it contained," Endeavor deduced. The number one hero grinned with malice. "She probably dropped the damn thing right in this poor asshole's lap."
"Damn, that's cold," Hawks rejoined, seizing the opportunity for his special brand of ironic and witty sarcasm. "The residual heat continued to burn the car from the inside out despite the water pouring on it. Our witnesses said they never saw our mystery woman exit the vehicle."
"Shit," Endeavor muttered, exhaling noisily.
"There's no second body. You don't think - "
"No," Endeavor cut him off. "She didn't get burned and crawl away somewhere to die. She's fine."
Hawks stared at the man who did not appear concerned at all. Funny he had been jealous of two gangsters she was about to murder but was not the least bit worried about her now.
"How can you be so sure?"
Endeavor could feel his companion staring at him. Hawks wanted an answer to his question. It was not rhetorical. His eyes, blazing like the flames around them and angry as ever, met the much shorter blonde's golden eyes.
"Because I know her." He raised a fiery eyebrow. "Worried much?"
Hawks shrugged, adopting a blank expression. He appeared beyond nonchalant as always. Unconcerned, almost bored, he acted as if the entire investigation no longer interested him.
"Hey, you hungry?" he asked Endeavor to change the subject. "I'm craving grilled chicken. What do you say?"
"I say you're disgusting."
~\..'../~
Farrah opened the door to her room allowing the white uniformed employee to roll in the room service cart.
"Good morning, ma'am," he greeted her cheerfully.
"Good morning," she returned, noticing the bouquet of a dozen white daisies with one big yellow daisy in the middle of the cart beside the silver cloche covering her food. "I didn't know such beautiful flowers were a part of room service."
"They're not. You must have an admirer," he said, pausing to hand her the card.
White daisies meant innocence or new beginnings. A yellow one symbolized friendship. A white daisy was the first flower ever given to her by a boy. That boy was Enji Todoroki.
They were walking along the river on their way to her house on a rainy spring afternoon. The school year was almost over. She looked forward to spending long summer days with the love of her life uninterrupted by school and homework.
Suddenly he dropped his books on the gravel path and started down the grassy hill toward the riverbank. Tripping and sliding on the rain slick grass, he did not seem to care how silly he looked because he was a man on a mission. What had caught his eye she had no idea but she giggled uncontrollably, often snorting, as she watched him.
Eventually loosing his footing completely and falling, Enji rolled to a stop at the water's edge. He plucked something out of the tall grass there, and charged back up the slope, slipping and falling some more until he was covered with grass stains and mud. Good thing he would not be needing that uniform much longer because he had completely ruined it.
"You are crazy! What were you after?" she giggled as he ran toward her holding something behind his back and panting open mouthed from his treacherous journey.
Dragging the back of hand across his sweaty forehead, he left behind streaks of mud. So red faced his skin almost matched his hair, his shoulders rising with each heaving breath, he pulled his arm from behind his back to proudly presented to her a single, small white daisy.
The stem was bent causing the daisy to droop forward. Droplets of mud marred the pristine white petals. He had nearly destroyed the delicate flower due to one or more of his many falls up the slope.
It was the most beautiful flower Farrah has ever seen. That pitiful little daisy could not have been more meaningful to her if it had been a dozen red roses. Her fingers shook as she took it from him. Her entire body heated with happiness as if the sun shined on her instead of the chilling rain drenching her clothes and soaking her to the bone.
"Farrah Calvin," Enji said, shifting from foot to foot like a shy little boy.
Tilting her chin up so she could look up at his face, the lovely sight of his sweaty, flushed, and muddy face blurred behind her tears of joy. She opened her mouth to say something, but he leaned down to kiss her, placing his mouth square against hers. His lips always did fit so well wiith hers.
Backing away only millimeters, he whispered, "I love you," before pushing his lips firmly back to hers.
Farrah was sure her heart would explode in that moment.
"Ms. Smith?" the young man called to her, bringing her back to the present.
"Uh, yes?" she responded, her brain a little muddled as she shook off the remnants of the warm fuzzy memory.
He lifted the cloche for her to check her order for correctness. Eggs Benedict. Fresh fruit. A mimosa and coffee. It looked great and absolutely delicious.
"Is everything to your liking?"
"It looks fantastic," she said, flashing him a smile. She took the slip from him and signed it to confirm everything was as it should be.
"Thank you," he said when she handed the paper back to him. "Please enjoy."
"Sure thing," she sighed. Too bad she no longer had an appetite.
Then she remembered the card in her hand that he had given to her earlier.
"Meet me at our place in the park. Ten tonight," she read aloud. "Hmmm...maybe Enji will actually make it on time."
~\..'../~
Enji sat on the top of the picnic table, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He impatiently checked his watch. It was seven minutes after ten. She was purposely running late in retribution.
His eyes scanned the smooth and freshly varnished top of the new table. Many years ago, he had burned their initials into the wood of the table positioned in this exact spot. Needless to say, that particular picnic table had been replaced many times over since then.
The clicking of high heels on the concrete sidewalk drew his attention. The street light behind her made her look like a living shadow. Her silhouette was unmistakable; wide ribcage cinching in at the waist and rounding out at the hips.
Farrah walked straight toward him, slowly coming into clear view under the next street lamp ahead of her. She was wearing a knee length pencil skirt and sleeveless purple silk camisole top. Simple but expensive. Nothing but the best for her. The princess still wore her favorite color of royal purple. What a spoiled brat.
Her dark pink lips covered only in shiny gloss, stretched into a smile when she saw him. His heart instantly picked up the pace, bumping into his sternum. Damn she could still get to him with that smile and those fetching little indentations in her face. Why the hell did she have to reappear in his life now? Or ever for that matter.
He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, glaring at her which did not dim that thousand watt smile of hers.
"You're late," he growled.
"I had to make a stop for something." She extended a rectangular white paper package to him.
He knew that wrapper. Inside was his favorite popsicle. Blue raspberry. He had not eating one of these in decades. His insides warmed with nostalgia that she remembered his favorite treat which they always stopped off to buy at the convenience store before coming into the park and sitting at 'their' picnic table.
Enji snatched the package out of her hand. She bought the damn thing. The least he could do was eat it before it melted.
Farrah always picked the watermelon popsicles flavored, shaped, and colored like a wedge of watermelon complete with chocolate seeds. Taking the paper from him, she unwrapped hers as well and threw away the packages in the nearby trash can. Sitting behind him on the table with her feet placed on the bench, she proceeded to devour the treat.
"Farrah, you need to stop," Enji said, biting off half of the rapidly melting popsicle.
"I can't stop," she replied flatly.
"You have to, or I will have no choice but to arrest you," he warned her.
"Something needs to be done about these assholes before they can destroy anymore lives."
"Let me do my job. I will take care of it."
"Some things are even beyond you, number one hero," she said bitterly, tossing her popsicle stick into the trash can from where she sat on the table. "These men don't operate by your rules, and don't care about your laws."
"Farrah..."
She hopped off the table in order to walk around and face him. Her eyes were fiery, burning with a righteous indignation, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and sweet like the icy confection filling his mouth.
"Did you know that one of the men he killed left behind an elderly mother who can't care for herself? She will now be placed in an institution, confused and afraid, to be ignored and die alone."
Enji inhaled deeply but said nothing, choosing to finish off the popsicle instead. Besides, he did not want to interrupt her and waited intently for her to continue speaking. Her voice had always been like a soothing balm to him, calming his heated temper and troubled mind. Her ability to commit murder so easily seemed so incongruous with the parts of her he loved - had loved - so dearly.
"The other young man who died was supposed to be getting married this coming Saturday. Instead of crying tears of joy on her wedding day, a woman will be mourning the death of the man she loves."
Enji allowed a flame to extend from his fingertips to incinerate the wooden stick held between them. The flames reflected in the layer of tears covering Farrah's eyeballs giving off an eerie and beautiful illusion of them being on fire. Suddenly a very real and morbid fear gripped him. One day he might have to use his flames against her.
"The man who is still in the hospital has a little boy and a baby girl due any day," Farrah continued after he extinguished his flames. "If he lives, he will be severely brain damaged. He will be on the same mental level as his toddler. Did you know that?" she asked, her voice warbling with emotion.
Enji exhaled and pushed off the table to stand up straight and tall in front of her. Gazing down at her, he ran his fingers through her ebony hair that was as silky soft as the shirt she was wearing. She always had been kind to a fault, caring and thoughtful, putting others ahead of herself.
Farrah would have been a marvelous hero. Actually, she is a hero in her own misguided way. However, he is a pro-hero, the number one, sworn to uphold the law and bring lawbreakers, including murderers, to justice. But where is the justice in putting someone like her behind bars?
"I'm only murdering people who deserve what they get, Enji," she whispered, her eyes blinking rapidly when he cupped her face in one of his huge hands.
"I won't be able to look the other way and pretend you're not killing these people for much longer," he warned her. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sighing when she pressed her cheek into his palm.
"You do what you have to do, hero," she whispered, gazing up at him. "But I have to continue doing what I need to do."
Her eyes glittered in the muted light reaching them under the shelter of the pavilion. The corners of her mouth turned upward slightly, but she still looked so sad.
Enji held her feline green eyes as she stared into his without saying another word.
"You captured my heart with those aquamarine eyes, Todoroki. Whether you know it or not, I never could break free from your spell," she said, stepping forward to press her body ever so slightly into his.
His hands lowered to rest on the swell of her hips as she eased a little closer to him. He inhaled her trademark scent of lavender. A sense of tranquility washed over him like a bucket of warm water being poured over his head. Her mere presence as much as her perfume calmed him.
"Enji," she whispered, resting the tips of her fingers on his cheek.
Though her fingertips were cold, it was like a stinging zap of white hot electricity from the skin to skin contact. It had always been like that they touched. A deafening hum like a million bees buzzing in his brain filled his skull as she leaned into him, her breasts flattening against his chest.
His eyes went to her mouth, and he bent down to taste those luscious lips. Smooth and soft as a rose petal, her lips brushed against his. Barely a graze, her kiss ignited that old fire deep inside of him.
"Don't tempt me woman," he murmured, barely separating his mouth from hers as he cradled the entire back of her head in one of his hands.
"Or you'll what?" she asked teasingly, digging her fingers into his meaty shoulders.
The tip of his tongue darted out to touch her bottom lip. A sweet watermelon flavor spread across his tongue. Whether the flavor was imparted by her lip gloss or the ice cream he wasn't sure. In high school she wore cherry flavored lip gloss.
To determine the origin of the sweetness, Enji took another taste, tracing her entire bottom lip with his tongue then flicking it through the small opening between her lips to touch her tongue. She moaned, her fingernails poking him through the thin cotton material of his dress shirt.
"Oh, fuck you still taste sweet as sugar," he whispered.
"Enji, you shouldn't - "
Before she could say another word, most likely a plea for him to stop, he pulled her head forward to smash her lips to his. If she did not say the words, he would not have to cease kissing her.
He always loved kissing her full pouty lips. They were soft and plump, always yielding to him. His searching tongue slipped into her waiting mouth, exploring the still cold inside and picking up more of the flavor of the creamy watermelon ice cream coating her tongue.
Enji hooked one arm around her waist, keeping the other hand firmly on the back of her head to prevent her from breaking the kiss. A hardness formed below his belt stretching the limits of his dress slacks and pressing into her belly which made her whimper and push her nails deeper into the knotty muscles of his shoulders.
He smiled around their writhing tongues, groaning into her mouth when the kitty retracted her claws. His hand on the small of her back slid down to her ass and cupped one entire cheek, pulling her tightly against him. He moaned into her mouth as the friction of her body rubbing against his erection through his pants offered a little relief from the desperate ache.
He was playing a dangerous game with her body and her mind. He always had. Nothing had changed between them despite time and circumstances. He still wanted her though he knew he could not - and should not - have her.
A laugh echoed through the park. They were no longer alone.
Enji relinquished his grip on her, and she pushed against his chest to distance herself from him, placing herself out of his arm's reach. They glanced down the path to see a young couple, teenagers, walking and talking, their fingers interlaced between them.
"Ah, those were the days," Farrah murmured wistfully. "To be so blissfully and stupidly in love."
"Yeah," he muttered, straightening his shirt and shifting his hard on so he could walk away without being any more uncomfortable than he already was. "I'm leaving first."
"See you later, Enji Todoroki," Farrah said as he moved past her, his arm brushing against hers. Goosebumps raised along her entire right arm from the casual but intentional touch.
"Not if I see you first," he returned without looking back while raising his hand in farewell.
Please, Farrah, Enji begged silently, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he strode away quickly before he turned back to pull her into his arms once more. Don't let me see you again. If you do, you won't like what I do to you when we meet.