by Brick
“I told you, you missed me,” he said, arrogantly so.
I ran my hand over the waves in his head, then smiled. “Don’t leave me again.”
“I won’t make you those kinds of promises.”
My heart dropped a little bit, but I understood his position. “Will you at least get a permanent phone?”
He brought his hand around to cup my ass. “I’ll consider the option.”
“Either that or hear my mouth every time this happens.”
He chuckled and said, “I’ll take my chances. Businessmen such as I only need a phone every once in a while.”
“So how will I contact you . . . let’s say . . . if something happens and I need you?”
“Are you expecting something to happen where you will need me?”
I couldn’t readily answer that question as I really only wanted to be able to pick up the phone and call him whenever I wanted. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell him that as Marcel didn’t seem like the type who wanted anybody to keep tabs on him. I cast my glance down; he hooked his finger against my chin and made me look back up at him.
“I’ll always be here; even when you don’t see me, I’m here. And even if I happen to be in another state or out of the country, my presence can and will be felt,” he reassured me.
I smiled, then kissed him again. I moved my hand down his chest and abs, then went to move them around his waist until he winced. I jumped back.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Marcel moaned out a bit, then slowly rolled onto his back. For a minute, I thought I’d done something wrong. He growled out, then slowly sat up. Punched a fist into my bed with one hand while his other arm wrapped around his waist.
I quickly stood, then pressed the remote to turn the light on in my room. I moved around the bed to stand in front of him. Obviously, he was in pain. It was only then that I noticed the purple and blackened bruise that adorned the left side of his abdomen. He had his head down, forehead creased in apparent pain. I also noticed his knuckles were battered and bruised as well. His skin was dark, so for bruises to be visible meant he had been in one hell of a fight.
He looked up at me; then I saw the stitched cut on his jaw. The part that had been hidden by the pillow.
First, I gasped. “Oh my God, Marcel, what happened to you?” I squeaked out.
“Comes with the territory,” was how he answered before standing.
“Comes with the territory? And what territory is that? The kind where you get your ass kicked?”
I think at that moment, I realized I’d started to care about him way more than I cared to admit.
Marcel looked at me and grinned. “You should see the other guys.”
He was making light of the situation. I followed him as he stalked into my bathroom, then invaded my medicine cabinet.
“Got something in here other than this store-brand shit?” he asked tossing around bottles of Tylenol and Advil. I stared at him for a long time. “Sabrina, I’m in pain. Help me out, baby.”
I moved over to the medicine cabinet and closed it. “Yeah, come out here,” I said as I walked out of the bathroom.
I went to my closet and pulled down a small black traveling bag. I looked inside until I found some Vicodin and Percocet from when I had a root canal, then tossed the bottles to him. He didn’t say anything. Popped the top to the Vicodin and poured three in his mouth from the bottle.
“Thank you,” he said, then pocketed the bottles. “I’m keeping these.”
I shrugged. We watched each other silently. “Did this happen to you while you were out of the country?”
He sighed. “For this to work, you’re going to have to stop asking me those kinds of questions.”
I stared him down as I was sure he knew that response didn’t sit well with me. Still, I responded, “As you wish,” then left him in the closet.
I turned the lights out and crawled back into bed. I’d never seen his house, couldn’t ask who left the bruises on him, and didn’t know where he disappeared to from time to time. It was safe to say I knew right then we wouldn’t have a typical relationship. I didn’t ask him anything else about what had happened to him. Just like I was doing more than financially advising the Giulios, that was the night I figured out Marcel’s job entailed more than being an aide and a cook. I didn’t know to what extent, but the pieces were coming together. And as time went on, they would continue to fall into place.
Chapter Eight
Marcel
After taking out Sepriani, my schedule had become busy. Using my cover as an aide, once clearance to travel by plane came back, I had to leave. Paul Watts was out of the city in Cali, so I had to trail after him and use that moment to cross him off my list. After that, I got a notice that another hit of mine was active in Dubai, so I flew to Paris. Checked off some others on my list, then made my way to Dubai.
Another reason why I was gone so long was that I was laid up in a hospital. My last mark was a beastly motherfucker. He broke my young ass down and made me work for my kill, which was all the more fun for me. Dude cracked my ribs, cut my jaw, left the imprints of his fists in my sides, and had me close to death. However, what I did to him was worse. Gruesome, bone breaking, but I won’t go into all of that.
After disposing of my mark’s decapitated and chopped up body, I then went to the hospital to heal up a little. I wasn’t at any ordinary hospital, of course. I went to where people like me could hide and not be questioned, which wasn’t your typical mom-and-pop’s clinic. The doctors who ran the place were the best in their field, hired by people like boss to keep things low-key and unassuming. From the outside, it looked like a hotel, but just beneath the surface—underground—was a state-of-the-art medical facility like no other.
Once I rested, I flew to France, chilled, drove to Norway, chilled, took the train to London, chilled, and then flew home. Had to cover my tracks. Of course, I found my way in Sabrina’s arms too, but as she said, everything wasn’t perfect or good, but when it was, it was all that mattered.
As time passed, I took her to my crib. Not the warehouse—never there, but the place I laid my head down and tried to live as if I had a normal life. The day that happened was a good one. I believe it was maybe two months or so after we had been doing our thing.
“Why haven’t you brought me to your place before, Marcel? This place is nice,” she said.
The way she expressed her enthusiasm always made me feel good and always amused me too. It had me walking up behind her to slide my arms around her waist while she stared at the skyline of my place. Dropping my head, I kissed the back of her neck right where her hair stopped. I enjoyed that spot. It always carried a light lingering of her perfume, and it always calmed me.
“You know why, baby. Busy, and I like to visit you. It became a routine that was ours,” I said, letting her go. “This is my spot. You can make it yours and take it in while I go chill on the couch.”
“Oh, so you’re not going to show me around?”
While watching Sabrina, I chuckled because she had her hands on her hips and had the nerve to furrow her brows and give me the upset face.
Again, it was why I enjoyed her presence. It was the little things, and it had me reaching out to tilt her head up by her chin to kiss her.
Feeling how easy it was now and how good it felt to have her soften for me, to feel that heat rise between us made me grin against her lips.
I stepped back and waved my hand in a sweeping gesture. “Nah. See, I just figured, since my bedroom is viewable because this is a loft, and behind you is the second bedroom, and behind me is the massive bathroom and shower, that I had nothing to show you.”
I moved to stand close to her with our shoes touching while staring down at her, “My place is simple. Chef-style stainless steel kitchen. Sunken living room. Closed off elevator and parking garage below. Not sure what else to show you, unless you’re trying to see my bed.”
Sabrina gave me a slick smi
rk, then blushed only for me as she reached up and caressed my jaw. “Just your place and I like it.”
Taking the time to incline slowly toward her for a kiss again, I reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You sure?”
Always feisty, my baby flicked her hand out to pop me on my chest. I checked out how her face lit up in humor while she laughed at me.
Looking past me and pointing toward the kitchen, I chuckled as she said, “Since you’re my host and tour guide, where’re your snacks? I mean, may I have some chips, fruit . . . something?”
Since being with her, I became used to her prissy spurts. Whenever I was with her, I learned that she looked forward to whenever I decided to jump into the kitchen. The sentiment made me feel good and fed my ego because she knew that I had a passion for it. Sharing that real part of me and watching how she enjoyed my food always gave me a sense of pride as a chef and as her man.
“Go sit, baby,” I said laughing, then led her to my living room. As I headed to the kitchen, I told her, “I’ll hook you up with some wave.”
“Wave?” she repeated as she sat.
“Swag, sweet treats, stuff.” Now in the kitchen, I rolled up the sleeves of my shirt, then went through my cabinets.
I pulled down some plates, then went into the refrigerator looking around. Red wine was Sabrina’s favorite, so I grabbed that with some glasses, setting them to the side. Searching through the refrigerator, I threw some stuff together. Fruit, cheese, some meat, pita bread, hummus, pickles, and carrots were all placed on a platter for her.
Our time of intimacy together was good. We relaxed, watched movies, talked about stupid stuff, then when the mood hit, we spoke on political things as well, especially what was going on with the Giulios and her father. It was while I was going upstairs to grab her one of my shirts to sleep in since Sabrina didn’t want to leave, that things got funky. While I was in my walk-in closet, the sound of my work cell went off, causing me to grunt aloud. I had told Sabrina that I didn’t like to be tethered to a cell, but that was far from the truth. I had one cell that had to be linked to my boss.
That annoying ring drew me out of my closet and to my nightstand where I had it in a drawer strapped to the underside of it. Pulling it out of its sleeve, I hit answer and stepped back into my closet. My life was important to me. So was keeping my identity to myself. I had to make it a priority to keep Sabrina from ever finding out the real deal.
Listening closely, I heard several coded messages come my way, and I stored them all to memory before hanging up. Exhaling, I stepped out of the closet with a shirt, running into Sabrina. She stood there looking sweet faced and beautiful with many questions floating behind her eyes. Dropping my head, I rubbed the back of my neck, then looked back up at her.
“Work is calling. I know that it’s late, but I need to leave,” I said with a toneless voice.
Checking out how she just stood there watching me, I assumed that she was about to go off on me, but she didn’t. She nodded, then turned to head back down to the main level of my place.
I caught up to her on the stairs where I reached out to grab her arm gently. “I’d like you to stay here.”
“Okay,” was all she said in a strained, quiet tone.
Damn, I could feel the vibe coming off her. She wasn’t hitting me with anger, but there was a lot of disappointment, along with a feeling that she wanted to question me. I had hoped that we didn’t come to this, so I was doing all I could to keep her from walking down this road of my real work. I saw that she still had that peculiar look on her face as she hovered near me.
As I got ready to turn, she stepped forward, then paused and turned to look up at me on the steps. “Take me with you. I want to get some air.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, finality in my tone.
Dipping back upstairs, taking them two at a time, I tossed the shirt on the bed and sat down to put my kicks on and switch out my top for a black, long sleeve compression shirt.
“Marcel,” I heard her say while I moved around my room.
I could see Sabrina from the corner of my eye watching quietly, and it made me nervous suddenly.
“I can’t do that, Sabrina,” I said again, putting more bass in my voice.
Yelling at her and getting heavy handed with her was something I didn’t want to do. I wasn’t going to put my hands on her ever, and I wasn’t going to batter her with words to the point that she shrank away, but fuck, I had a hardheaded woman on my hands. Since our time together, it had been crazy how easily I had shared half-truths about my life, so much so that I had told her things that just didn’t add up to the life of an aide. The fact that she never vocally questioned it amazed me and had me digging her even further. However, now, I could sense that something had changed just that fast between us.
“Yes, you can, so take me,” she said coming to my side. “It’s as simple as that. You’re just doing some aide work, right?”
Clearing my throat, I moved past her, down the stairs, then to the door, while grabbing my coat. “Yeah. But I’m not taking you. Damn! You’ll be good here, I promise.”
As I gripped my coat, Sabrina was hot on my heels, and I knew that there was no shaking her.
“I’ll be good with you; I promise you that too. Let’s go,” she said, ignoring me completely.
“Shit, Brina,” I spat out, shaking my head and walking through the door.
I knew that yelling at her had shaken her a little, but her determination had her following, and I didn’t have the time to break her spirit and cause a huge blowup, so I let it slide. I just knew that I had to think of how to divert what I had to do because she was not giving up. Especially, no matter how many times I said stay at my place. The more I yelled, the more it only pushed her to come with me. Which is exactly what happened.
We were both in my car when I whipped it over several lanes and had us heading to Giulio’s. The cords of my mark had me needing to be in the same area, so I figured that I could head to the restaurant and have her chill there while I “excused” myself to Senior Giulio’s office, then crept out the backway. That was my intent, and I felt good about that as we pulled up.
“I’m going to be a minute while grabbing some things from the boss’s office,” I said while guiding her inside. “You just chill in the dining room, and I’ll get you when I’m done.”
Still sizing me up, Sabrina took my hand and squeezed it. “Okay. Don’t take too long, though. Being here off-hours always make me think about working.”
Chuckling, I kissed her lips and let her hand go. “I promise I won’t be too long. Just sit back and relax. I can get you wine if you want.”
“Sure, that would be great,” she said pulling off her coat and sitting down while nervously looking around.
Nodding my head, I went to the back and grabbed one of the best red wines we had. The killer in me thought about lining her drink with a sleeping agent, but I had left that back at the crib, so that was out of the question. Setting the empty glass down, I poured some wine, then set the bottle down.
“I’ll be back,” I said with a gentle smile.
I headed to the office, stepped in, closed it, and locked it. After changing out of my clothes into something to blend in with the environment where I was going, I tapped on a panel, slid it to the side, then walked into a dark corridor. Closing it back, I followed the narrow passage to a hidden door behind a wall of ivy. Once outside, I headed to the car, climbed in, then pulled off. I flipped on some music to get in the zone. Drake spit a hook that had me nodding my head. Making it away from Giulio’s, I turned to a neighborhood called Red Hooks. Slowing down, I glanced around, parked, and got out of my ride. Popping the trunk, I dug and released a lever that let a drawer slide out. A handgun with several silencers lying beside it greeted me, along with a hunting knife.
Taking them both, I closed the trunk, then jumped back, pointing my Glock. In front of me was Sabrina. She stood staring at me in fear and confusion. While notic
ing her, I saw her hands shaking, and I inwardly cursed, dropping my gun and looking around.
“How’d you get here?” I asked, snatching her by the arm and moving her back to the side of the car.
Pulling her arm from my hand, she looked up at my face, her eyes blazing, and she hissed low, “I knew that you weren’t coming back when you said that. Knew you were trying to trick me, Marcel, so I went to your car and got in the backseat. You were so busy trying to get me in the restaurant that you left the doors unlocked. I lay down and kept quiet, just watching you.”
Exhaling, I pushed the side of the door, then moved back. Music was going on at a club a block away from us. The club had an outside dance floor which was often more crowded than the inside. It was where I needed to go, and now I wasn’t sure if I was going to take down my mark. This kill was on a time frame, and Sabrina was fucking it up for me, which was apparent because I should have caught her in the back of my ride.
She had me fucking up.
“I don’t have time for this. Stay here,” I ordered in a harsh voice.
Tugging at the cap that was on my head, I pulled it down where it covered my face. Running with a low gait, I held my gun close to me and waited near a car. In this area, cameras didn’t exist, so I knew that I could go at this guerrilla style with no problem, except that there was a problem. While I waited, I saw Sabrina in the distance. She kept herself hidden, but I still saw her watching me.
This part of my life was never supposed to cross over with her. We had been doing so good, now . . . Now, things were going to change drastically. Rough, strident laughter began, and it had me peeking over to see my mark in the middle of a large crowd on the outside dance floor. Nigga was cackling and shit, with the scent of blunts saturating the air. Feeling anxious because Sabrina was here, that fact had me pissed and had me pushing off the car. Kneeling, I unloaded my gun on the people in the crowd.
My orders were to spray rain and make it look gang related while singling out my main target. As I shot off rounds, I saw who I was after. Glancing back over my shoulder, I shook my head and got up, then rushed my mark. Hunter knife in my hand, I tackled him and slammed the blade in his skull. Surrounded by fallen bodies, blood was all around me. Some survivors screamed, and I kept slamming that blade in the guy’s head before leaving it there on purpose as a symbol. Quickly standing, I took my gun to finish off the few that were still alive, and then ran off in the opposite direction of where I came from.
