FIVEOne thing Trick Delgado hated was trouble. And he was sensing trouble on the horizon with Ingrid and it pissed him off that he couldn’t figure out the what or why of it.
It’s going to be another hot one, he thought as he pulled his car into the parking lot of Wong’s corner store. It was a run-down little place, its dusty shelves filled with mysterious Asian inventory and overpriced groceries, but Jia Wong always had an urn of good coffee brewing. And he needed a decent one before he faced the day. Trick didn’t have the heart to tell Ingrid her coffee was sludge. Or that it was worse than the crap at the police station. As much as he loved his caffeine, it wasn’t that important. Why make waves over something as trivial as a cup of joe? If he’d picked one room for Ingrid to be good in,
