“Remember, you don’t have to go in to work until the afternoon, so don’t jump up at six.” Ava had told him that she’d stayed in the office until midnight working on reports the past two days and planned to work half days the rest of the week.
“I don’t want to wake up,” she slurred.
“Don’t say that, Ava. You had a bad day, but come morning you’ll see things differently.”
“See, Kyle? I left a twenty-two-year-old who will never see out of one eye and may lose her sight in the other. Do you think she’s going to want to wake up?”
“Yes, she will, because she’ll be alive. No one, whether blind or sighted, wants to die. Her daily routine will change, but she will continue to live.”
“What are the odds of a blind prostitute making enough money to support her drug habit?”
Kyle blew out a breath. “Very, very slim.”
“How about nonexistent?”
He dropped a kiss on her hair. “Your work isn’t much different than mine. Our clients come to us because they have either legal or emotional roadblocks that disrupt their lives. And it becomes our responsibility to advocate for them.”
“Who’s going to advocate for us when we need help?”
“I’ll advocate for you and you can advocate for me.”
Ava snuggled closer to Kyle, feeding on his warmth. “You will take…take care of me?” She was slurring her words.
“Yes, baby, I will take care of you.”
A silence ensued. “Why, Kyle? Why do you want to take care of me?”
Kyle pondered Ava’s questions. He’d asked himself over and over why he wanted to take care of her and the answer was always the same: because he was in love with her.
“Because you’ve become very special to me, Ava. You fill a void in my life no other woman has been able to do. I…” His voice trailed off when he heard the soft snores. Ava had fallen asleep.
Easing her down to the pillow, he pulled a lightweight blanket up and over her shoulders. He lay completely still, his mind awash with things he wanted to tell Ava. He wanted to tell her he loved her, loved her enough to propose marriage, loved her enough for her to bear his children and loved her enough to want to die in her arms.
* * *
Kyle sat on the side of the bed, leaned over and kissed Ava’s forehead. “I left a set of keys for you on the countertop next to the coffeemaker.”
Ava opened her eyes, peering blurrily at Kyle. He was dressed for work. “Do you want me to set the alarm?”
“Yes. Just set the On button and you’ll have thirty seconds to close the door.”
“Thank you, darling.”
He smiled. “What are you thanking me for?”
“For knowing that I needed not to be alone last night.”
“You don’t ever have to be alone. Any time you want to move in just let me know.”
“Kyle, I can’t—”
“I know,” he said, interrupting her. “You don’t do well living with a man.”
“You’d better get going if you want to get to your meeting on time.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Ava patted his shoulder through his suit jacket. “I’m hoping to get a few more hours of sleep.”
“On that note I’m leaving. I’ll see you later.”
“Later.”
Ava held her expression of indifference until Kyle left the bedroom, and then she let the love she felt for him fill her from the inside out. It was becoming more and more difficult to hide her love for him. The only time she was able to let go was during lovemaking. It was then she surrendered all of herself, holding nothing back. If only he took the time to assess how different she was in and out of bed, he would see the truth.
* * *
Kyle waited for James Hayden to seat his wife before introducing everyone around the conference table. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayden, I’d like you to meet the firm’s associate attorney Jordan Wainwright. Mr. Wainwright will answer any of your questions in regard to your son’s case if I’m not available.” The Haydens smiled at Jordan.
“Seated across from Mr. Wainwright is Ms. Dickson, who will record this morning’s meeting.” He’d asked his nighttime paralegal to come in early with the court stenographic machine. His gaze shifted, focusing on Rashaun, who sat slumped in his chair as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
Kyle glanced down at the typed report in the NY vs. Hayden folder. “I’ve asked you to come in this morning because we’ve come up with some inconsistencies in the evidence gathered by the D.A.’s office.”
James Hayden blinked slowly behind his glasses. “What inconsistencies are you talking about?”
Jordan glared at Rashaun, who sat up straighter. “We have a videotape that will prove Rashaun wasn’t involved in the robbery.”
Mrs. Hayden turned to look at her son. “But the police told us they have pictures of Rashaun with a gun.”
As agreed upon beforehand, Kyle would address Mrs. Hayden’s questions and Jordan James Hayden’s. They’d decided to play good cop, bad cop in the hope that Rashaun would give up the name of the person pretending to be him.
“I had an expert go over the tape and he verified that it’d been edited.” Kyle laid out five photographs. “This is the first shot. Note the time on the clock on the wall. It reads five-seventeen. In the next four photos the same clock is reading ten-twelve. There is a difference of five hours and five minutes between the onset of the robbery to when the perpetrator exits the bodega. The most obvious inconsistency is the hand holding the gun. In the first photograph the supposed Rashaun isn’t wearing a ring and in the other photos he is wearing one.”
Placing his elbows on the table, Jordan gave each Hayden a long stare. “We know who that rings belongs to, and it’s not Rashaun. Someone who closely resembles your son knew he was having a problem with the owner of that bodega, so he decided to put on a hoodie like one that he knows Rashaun owns, and he goes back and holds up the clerk. But what he forgot to do was take off the ring.”
“Who is Boots, Rashaun?” Kyle asked the seemingly shocked teenager.
“I don’t know no Boots,” he mumbled.
“Yes, you do,” Kyle countered. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but don’t you owe Boots for some weed you—”
“You doing drugs?” James shouted. The look in his eyes spelled trouble, serious trouble for his son.
Rashaun shook his head. “I ain’t doing no drugs, Pop.”
“Then what the hell were you doing with weed?”
Kyle knew he had to diffuse the situation or he would have to defend James Hayden for assault. “Rashaun asked Boots for the drugs because he intended to sell it.”
Mrs. Hayden shot up. “Sell it! You were going to sell drugs?”
Pushing back his chair, Kyle rose to his feet. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayden, please try to remain calm. I know this comes as a shock to you, but I need answers from your son as to why he’s willing to take the fall for Boots.”
Mrs. Hayden, her chest rising and falling heavily, sat down again, while her husband changed seats to put some distance between him and his son.
Kyle exhaled an audible breath. “I’m going to ask you this only one time and I expect you to tell me the truth. Why are you willing to do a bid for Boots?”
All eyes were trained on Rashaun as he stared at the surface of the conference table. He was medium height with clean-cut looks that would give him nerd status. There was something about him that reminded Kyle of himself when he’d run with the wrong crowd. He was willing to commit the crime, but just running with the other guys enhanced his street cred.
“I saw Boots pop someone,” Rashaun mumbled. “He told me if I snitched then he would take care of me.”
Kyle felt a chill snake its way down his spine. His informant had finally come through with the information that Boots was recruiting boys in the neighborhood to sell drugs. He started them out with weed, then crack, heroin and cocaine.
“D
id he kill this person?” Rashaun nodded. “You’re going to have to give me the name of the victim.”
“What’s going to happen to my son?” Mrs. Hayden asked, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
“I’m going to talk to a friend who works out of the Brooklyn D.A.’s office. Even though Rashaun didn’t commit the crime, he knows who did, and that means he withheld information. A.D.A. Clarkson knows about the edited tape. He’s launched an internal investigation to see who is responsible. The case against your son is on hold indefinitely. That means if you want to leave the state you can.”
Rashaun looked at his parents. “Where are we going?”
“Never you mind,” his mother snapped angrily. “I don’t know how many times I told you ’bout hanging out with those thugs, but you wouldn’t listen. Now when your ass is in trouble I can’t get you to leave the house.”
Jordan pushed a pad and pencil at Rashaun. “I want you to write down the name of the person Boots shot.”
Rashaun gripped the pencil and scrawled a name on the legal pad. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Kyle shared a knowing look with his associate. They’d solved one crime but had opened another. Murders occurred much too frequently in the city, and the number of those that went unsolved was staggering.
Kyle tried to give Rashaun a reassuring smile. “If the information you just gave us leads to a conviction, then you’re entitled to a reward under the Crime Stoppers program if Boots is convicted.”
Rashaun chewed his lower lip. “Will I have to testify in court?”
“Not if Boots accepts a plea deal.”
“How can you be sure he’s going to cop a plea?”
“I’m not sure, Rashaun. But with him facing an armed robbery and assault charge, he would want to cop a plea with an additional manslaughter charge guaranteeing him a possible life sentence. A.D.A. Clarkson is out for blood, so I don’t know how generous he’ll be once they apprehend Boots.”
“Are they looking for him now?” James asked.
Kyle nodded. “The police had issued a warrant for his arrest. Mr. and Mrs. Hayden, I would like to thank you for your cooperation.”
James leaned over to shake Jordan’s hand, then Kyle’s. “We should be thanking you for keeping our son out of prison. I think he’s learned his lesson.”
Mrs. Hayden glared at her only child. “And if he hasn’t learned his lesson then you’ll have to defend me because as sure as I brought my son into this world I’ll also take him out.”
James put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “It’s all right, baby. Rashaun isn’t going to give us any more trouble. Are you, boy?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, sir.”
Kyle doubted whether Rashaun wanted to go one-on-one with his father; the man was built like brick wall. One blow from his ham-like fist could easily put someone on their back. “I have your numbers, so I’ll be calling with an update. Good luck, Rashaun.”
The teenager ducked his head. “Thank you, Mr. Chatham.”
The paralegal took the tape from her machine and placed it into an envelope to transcribe it later. She nodded to Kyle and left the conference room, following the Haydens.
Kyle and Jordan smiled at each other. “The bluff worked.”
Jordan shook his head in amazement. “I was beginning to believe you myself.”
“Sometimes you have to twist a lie in order to get the truth. I’d like you to call Skyler Clarkson and give him what he’ll need to close the books on a cold case.”
“Are you certain you want me to call Clarkson?”
“Very certain, Jordan. The A.D.A. and I are like oil and fire. Whenever we come together there’s an explosion. I think he took offense when I called him a racist bastard.”
“Is he a racist bastard?”
“Hell, yeah, he is. And he doesn’t bother to hide it.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. What’s with your comment about the Haydens leaving the state?”
Kyle told Jordan that James Hayden had put in a request to the postal service for a transfer to South Carolina. His transfer was approved, pending the early fall retirement of several carriers.
Jordan smiled. “In other words, he’s trying to get his family the hell out of Dodge.”
“It’s either that or his son will end up in Boot Hill. You did good, Wainwright.”
“I learn from the best.”
“You’re really lobbying for that partnership, aren’t you?” Kyle teased.
Jordan sobered. “Making partner isn’t that important anymore. Helping people like the Haydens or the tenants’ committee has become my focus.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to be a partner?”
“I don’t care one way or the other.”
Kyle knew he would ask Jordan to become a partner. There was enough brashness in the young attorney that he was sure to make a name for himself in the Harlem community.
“Have you heard anything from your grandfather?”
“Not yet. But the longer he waits the more he’ll have to pay, and the payment will not necessarily be monetary.”
Kyle wasn’t going to touch that because he didn’t want to become embroiled in a family feud when it wasn’t even his family. He sat down when Jordan left the room, flipping through the folder on NY vs. Hayden. The case wasn’t closed but he knew it wouldn’t be long before all the charges were dropped. He had to follow up to make certain everything to do with Rashaun’s arrest was expunged.
* * *
Ava focused on Kyle as he motioned for her to come closer. She’d maneuvered into the carriage house next to the Jaguar and cut off the engine to her Maxima. Reaching for her weekender on the passenger seat, she got out.
Lifting her chin, she wasn’t disappointed when Kyle brushed a kiss over her mouth. “Hi.”
Kyle kissed her again as he reached for her bag. “How was your day?”
“It was good. I went back to the hospital to see Julie.”
“How is she doing?”
“The doctor says she’s the same. They have her in a drug-induced coma because of the swelling in her brain.”
Holding Ava’s hand, Kyle led her up the steps and into the kitchen. “What about her family?”
“What family she has is in Seattle. Even when she was my client she refused to talk about her family. Her street name was Rain because she said it reminded her of home.”
Dropping her bag on the kitchen floor, Kyle pulled Ava to his length. “I’m glad you decided to come over tonight rather than tomorrow.”
“I didn’t want to stay home and think about Julie.”
“Here I thought you wanted to see me.”
Ava stared up at her lover. She noticed several new lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before. His cropped hair was perfect, as if he had it cut on a weekly basis. And despite the feathering of gray in his hair he projected a boyish look.
“I did want to see you.”
“Not as much as I want to see you. I never get enough of you.”
Ava buried her face between his neck and shoulder. “I think we’d better get out of this kitchen before we end up in a compromising position.”
“You didn’t like making love in the kitchen?”
“Of course I enjoyed making love with you. It’s just that I’d never made love in the kitchen before.”
Pulling back, Kyle smiled at Ava. “I’d like for us to make love in every room in the house.”
“Your fantasies are getting the best of you.”
“No, they’re not. Let’s try it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your bed.” Ava let out a shriek when Kyle swept her off her feet and carried her through the living room to the staircase leading to the upper floors. He didn’t stop on the second floor. He continued to the third floor and stalked into the first guest room.
She wasn’t given the opportunity to catch her breath before she found herself on her back
with Kyle pressing her down to the mattress. His fingers were deliberate when he divested her of her clothes in under a minute.
Going to his knees, Kyle stared at Ava as he undressed. He didn’t think he would ever get used to seeing her naked. Each time his gaze caressed her body it was a visual feast he longed to imprint on his brain.
He sat down, supporting his back against the headboard. Tonight he planned to get his wish. He would watch her as they made love. Reaching for her, he settled Ava to straddle his thighs, hardening quickly when her breasts brushed his chest.
Ava closed her eyes, gasping when she felt the erection pulsing against her belly. Kyle Chatham had become her drug of choice. The more they made love the more she wanted him. She leaned closer, rubbing her breasts back and forth over his solid pectorals.
“I don’t want to wait,” she whispered hoarsely.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Kyle lifted Ava as he eased his blood-engorged penis into her. They both sighed in pleasure. Twin desires rose quickly, spiraling out of control.
Ava rose and fell over his erection, taking as much of him as she could before raising her hips to establish a rhythm that had every nerve in her body screaming.
Cradling her waist in his hands, Kyle tried to establish a slower cadence to delay the rush of passion rushing headlong through his body. He’d wanted a prolonged coupling, but it was not to be.
Pressing his head to the headboard, he closed his eyes, groaning as if in pain. The pleasure Ava offered him took him beyond sexual satisfaction. Her eager response to his lovemaking had become a raw act of possession. She was passion, desire and love.
The hysteria of delight seized Ava as gusts of ecstasy swept over her. She loved him, she loved him so much, and if her lips couldn’t tell Kyle then her body would. Raising her hips slightly, she held on to the sack cradling his testicles and squeezed gently. She wanted to touch him—all over. She wanted to taste him—all over. Ava angled her head and suckled him as he’d suckled her.
Kyle bellowed as if he’d been branded by a heated iron. “No! Please!” He was pleading with Ava to stop, but she was relentless. Seeking respite from her exquisite torture, he flipped her on her back. He held her ankles and rested them on his shoulders. He entered her again, riding her like a man possessed.
Man of Fate Page 18
