A Dark Horse

by Cooper, Blayne

  “It’s Angry Birds,” Adele enticed, smiling so wide anyone but a child would have known it was unnatural. “You can try to beat your daddy’s score. If you’re good enough, that is.”

  Monique’s dark eyes narrowed. She hadn’t missed the challenge in Adele’s voice. “Okay,” she finally agreed, taking the phone in one hand and Damien’s hand in her other.

  When the children were tucked safely in the car, Adele wiped the rain from her eyes and ducked her head inside. “Now stay here and wait for us.”

  “In the dark?” Damien asked, clearly realizing this might not be so fun.

  “When you’re playing with the phone it will light up the car. See?” She quickly turned on the game. “You need to stay right here, or your daddy is going to be super mad.” She pinned each child with a serious glare. “Got it?”

  Two sets of wide eyes gazed back at her, and the children nodded simultaneously.

  Unable to stop herself, Adele pressed a kiss to each head. Eventually those trusting eyes would be filled with nothing but hatred for her. She would be the woman who destroyed their family.

  “Have fun and be good.” She locked the car doors, knowing that Monique could probably open them without any trouble, but praying that she wouldn’t.

  For a moment she thought about calling the NOPD, but she didn’t know whom she could trust. She should have called Landry and had him come back right away, but she hadn’t and now it would take him too long to get here for her to wait.

  Alone and with a sickening sense of déjà vu, she hurriedly slipped back inside the house, gun at the ready.

  * * *

  Al ushered Natalie into his house with a blindingly white smile that instantly put her at ease. He looked more casual than she’d ever seen him, in a pair of dark jeans, a black cashmere sweater, and designer shoes so shiny she was sure she could see her reflection in the Italian leather.

  The house was immaculate and more impressive on the inside than it was on the outside. Maybe he got that from Adele.

  “C’mon in.” He clasped her shoulder like an old friend and gave it a tiny shake.

  She laughed. “I’m glad you invited me, Al. I was hoping we’d get a chance to talk.” Natalie breathed an inward sigh of relief. She was worried he’d be angry about Adele’s late night phone call to his wife, but if his bright smile was any indication, he wasn’t holding a grudge.

  Al took a moment to introduce his kids, and then he whispered something in Monique’s ear before she nodded and headed back to her brother and their Lego tower.

  “C’mon, Natalie, let’s get comfortable. Oh, and would you mind turning off your cell phone? Mine’s been going off all day and if I hear another ring I’m going to strangle someone.” He flashed her a boyish grin. “I don’t want us to be disturbed. I’ve been waiting forever to have an ally that I could talk to about Ella.”

  Natalie nodded politely. She had to remind her students to turn their phones off every single day, and understood how annoying the constant interruptions could be. She punched the power button and tucked the phone back into the purse Amelia had loaned her. Al hadn’t offered to take her jacket, so she unzipped it in deference to the cozy warmth of the house.

  They passed by a living room with two overstuffed leather sofas and Natalie’s brows drew together.

  Al motioned for her to walk in front of him. “Like I said on the phone, I was hoping to talk to you without Ella so we could discuss her injury. Did she tell you about how she up and quit rehab and never had the last surgery her doctor recommended? Her asshole ex never even encouraged her to go back. Said it was her decision and to leave her be.” Al extended his arm and pointed. “Turn here. We’re headed upstairs.”

  Natalie felt a prickle of unease. Al’s kids were busy playing and Ella wasn’t with her, so why the need for more privacy? Then again, she knew these old homes had lots of interesting nooks and crannies. Perhaps there was a den that Al especially loved upstairs. “She’s mentioned rehab, but not in detail.”

  “Ahh…if she didn’t tell you about it, then she doesn’t trust you.”

  “Excuse me?” His blunt words dragged her from her thoughts. She stopped at the top of the stairs and gave him a strange look.

  “You can’t think you can just breeze back into town every few years and expect to be top dog. You gotta earn that. And that takes more than a drive-by. Looks like she doesn’t trust either of us.”

  Natalie frowned. His voice was calm and pleasant, even though what he was saying wasn’t. He didn’t seem angry at all. He seemed jealous. “I don’t think anything like that. I know Adele feels horrible about calling your wife and asking about you. She was just worried for me.”

  He shrugged a massive shoulder. “She wasn’t always like that, you know. Distrustful. Things were different before.”

  “Her injury must have been very hard on her.”

  “I’m not talking about her getting hurt. Yeah, that was a bitch. I mean before she married Landry.” He said Landry’s name as though it was a curse.

  “Their divorce—”

  “No!”

  Eyes round, she automatically backed up a step.

  “Landry’s been trying to control her since before they even got married. It got worse after they did, and then worse again when Logan was born.”

  Something dark invaded Al’s expression and a chill raced down Natalie’s spine. “What does that have to do with her injury, Al? I’m not here to talk about her marriage. That’s not my business. Or yours.”

  He gave her a curious look. “I assumed you two were close. She’s helping you. She’s risking her life for you.”

  “We are close. But…I don’t understand.”

  Al smiled sadly. “That’s too bad. That you’re close, I mean. I hate that she’s going to hurt even more. Though it does work out well for me today. Here we are.” Al reached around Natalie and pushed open a door with an arm so thick with muscle that it reminded Natalie of a large boa constrictor.

  The shift of his muscle struck a familiar chord in her and suddenly she didn’t feel well.

  “Natalie?”

  Natalie didn’t move. She glanced past Al and back down the stairs, but he was blocking her path. She was more than uneasy now. Something was very wrong. “I-I think we should go back downstairs.”

  Without answering, Al roughly grabbed her by the elbow and shoved Natalie into the room in front of him.

  “Hey!” she shouted and lurched forward a few steps, only barely able to keep from falling flat on her face.

  Al snatched her upright by the lapels and snarled so close to her mouth that she could feel the heat of his breath against her lips and smell the stale odor of coffee. “Be quiet and don’t move.” He yanked her purse from her shoulder, snapping the leather strap like a rubber band. Carelessly, he chucked it behind her.

  Shocked and confused, Natalie glanced around the large room that was obviously the master bedroom.

  Keeping one eye on her, Al pulled a pair of matching duffel bags from the closet and began stuffing clothes into one of them. “Tell me what Morrell told Ella.” The look on his face was warning enough for Natalie to know that she should obey him without question. His eyes had gone from welcoming to dead.

  “I have no idea.”

  He rooted around in his sock drawer, distracted, and unable to find whatever it was he wanted. “Where is it?” Al wondered aloud.

  The tiny hairs on Natalie’s body stood on end and a primal fear so ferocious it was nearly debilitating ripped through her veins like a speeding bullet. Those exact words and the feeling of his powerful hands brought back the night of her attack in stunning detail.

  A hot rush of adrenaline made her tremble. “Oh, my God. Y-you?”

  Out of the top drawer of his dresser, Al pulled a pistol with a long cylinder attached to the end. Natalie had seen something like it before in movies and assumed it was a silencer.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry ’bout that. It wasn’t personal. I
f you hadn’t fought like a fuckin’ wild hellcat, I could have just broken your neck and it would have been a lot less painful for you in the end.” He actually seemed a little impressed by her, or maybe just amused.

  Natalie bolted for the door. Just as she was about to reach for the knob, a hand flew out of nowhere and exploded against her face, knocking her clean off her feet and onto her back, stealing the air from her lungs.

  When her head hit the wood floor it felt like the business end of a sledgehammer.

  “I told you not to move.”

  Everything was fuzzy: her sight, how things sounded, even how she felt lying on the floor when she tried to lift her hand. Like she was trying to push her way through a thick sea of molasses. Was Al speaking? It was hard to understand his angry rasp over the sound of her phone ringing and ringing and ringing. It took her a full minute to realize the sound was coming from inside her head.

  “Don’t get too comfortable down there. We’re not staying.”

  His grip was cool and painful on her wrists as he hoisted her up by her hands and her ponytail and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. She let out a painful squawk. It hurt like hell, but it did make the world come into slightly sharper focus. Natalie couldn’t tell whether she’d lost consciousness or not. She assumed because she wasn’t sure, that she had.

  It seemed like no time had passed, but Al had already finished packing one of the bags and was now quickly working on the second. A picture from the wall behind him was on the floor, and when he dug into the wall safe, his hand emerged with several thick stacks of cash and papers.

  She swallowed and gagged on the bitter taste of blood. Her tongue tentatively swept over her badly cut bottom lip. It would need stitches. Awkwardly, she pushed herself into a seated position, dizzy.

  “Jesus, don’t bleed on Latisha’s bedspread!” He tossed Natalie a clean white T-shirt to wipe her mouth. “She will kill me.”

  Natalie clumsily caught the shirt and blinked a few times. The room was draped in fog again. Al was only a couple of inches taller than she was, but he was made of solid muscle. The thought that he was afraid of his wife made her want to giggle. An inward voice that sounded very far away informed her that wasn’t quite the appropriate response to her situation, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.

  “Al, you have Josh’s phone…you have wh-what you wanted. Why am I here?”

  Al pulled Josh’s phone out of the safe and dropped it into one of the bags. “This baby is leverage. You never did hear what was on it, did you? I nearly shit my pants when I took it from you and then found out it wasn’t even working. I thought we’d busted it wrestling around your room. Luckily, it just needed a charge.”

  His full lips turned down in a sympathetic frown. “Somehow that skinny bitch Misty accidentally recorded audio from the night your brother was killed. The storm drowns out a lot of it, but you can still hear all the voices. Did you know computers can identify voices the same way they can fingerprints? It’s all CSI and shit. Trust me, since it’s your brother, you don’t want to listen.”

  Blood dripped down her chin and Natalie wiped it with the T-shirt. “Your voice is on there?”

  “I didn’t kill your brother.”

  Natalie tried her best to remember, but she couldn’t recall Misty saying anything about Josh’s phone. “How-how did you even know Misty had it?”

  “Ha! She called into the Tremé Police Station and asked to make an appointment to talk to whoever was in charge because she had some sort of evidence of a big crime. Bad luck for her, she ended up talking to Morrell. Afterward that fat moron said I was supposed to grab her phone…once I took care of her.”

  Natalie shivered at the casual tone of his voice.

  “So I took Misty’s phone, and it turned out to be the wrong one. Morrell said her phone, not Joshua Phillips’s phone. The dumbass! I went back for it, but it was gone. I knew you’d taken it.”

  Natalie spit into the T-shirt, blasting it with red spray. She angrily tossed it aside, trying not to throw up, darkness edging the corners of her vision. “But you have what you want! Why do you still need me?”

  “I’d like to know the same thing.”

  Natalie’s head jerked sideways at the sound of Adele’s drawl. She’d never been so glad or horrified to see anyone in her entire life. It was too dangerous to be here.

  Adele walked slowly into the room, limping, gun gripped expertly in two hands and pointed straight at Al.

  Not thinking, Natalie stood and took a quick unsteady step, putting herself directly between Adele and Al.

  “No!” Adele shouted, but it was too late.

  In a flash, Al grabbed Natalie and yanked her against him by the hair, his own gun pointed at Natalie’s temple.

  “My kids?” he growled to Adele, his breath tickling the side of Natalie’s head and cheek.

  Adele looked insulted. “Safe in my car.”

  Al breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. “For now only. They’re coming with me tonight.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Al?” Adele asked softly, sadly. “Why have you done any of this? How could you have put your hands on her?”

  “Fuck, Ella, you really got Morrell to tell you everything, didn’t you?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “You always were the best.”

  Natalie could have sworn she heard a smile in his words. “Al?” she spoke up, surprising both him and Adele by speaking at all. “Your wife said you were home the night I was attacked. I don’t…I’m confused. How could you have been b-both places at the same time?”

  “Damn, bitch, you think my girl doesn’t know when to lie to the police when she’s asked about where I’ve been? Adele Lejeune may not be wearing a badge anymore, but she will always and forever be a cop.”

  “Don’t you call her a bitch!” Adele snapped furiously, her lips pulled into a snarl.

  “I apologize,” Al said, immediately contrite, like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar instead of kidnapping and attempted murder.

  Natalie felt like she was in the Twilight Zone.

  Adele tried to move closer, but Al warned her away by pressing the gun harder into Natalie’s head.

  Natalie yelped loudly.

  “Nat, sweetheart, are you okay? You don’t look so hot.” Adele’s keen eyes surveyed every inch of Natalie, her lips compressed in a tight line.

  When Adele focused on her split lip, Natalie could see the unadulterated rage in her eyes, ready to erupt into something deadly. “I’m…my head is…” Natalie’s head throbbed as though her ear was pressed against a rock concert stereo speaker on full blast. “I don’t feel very well.”

  Adele tightened the grip on her gun. “Let her go, Al. She’s obviously hurt, and you must have somehow lost your mind to do this. Twice. It’s all over now. Let me help you.”

  “Help me?” He snorted. “I don’t think so. Your friend is my insurance policy to get my ass out of town. I knew you’d figure things out, but shit, I thought I’d at least be outta New Orleans first. Drop your gun. Let me go and I’ll leave her by the side of the road when I’m outta the city. You’ll never see me or mine again, Ella. I promise.”

  Adele’s eyes swam with tears, then overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. Her weapon stayed as steady as a rock. “Why?”

  The word was pure pain and betrayal, and Natalie felt the stabbing sensation in her own chest.

  Adele looked utterly lost. “I don’t get any of this. It can’t just be the money, Al.” Her voice shook. “You only ever needed to ask and anything I have would be yours. How did Xavier get his meathooks into you?”

  “Do you really care?” Al suddenly sounded much younger than his years, a wounded child, bitter.

  Adele flinched and her shining eyes softened. “Alonzo, I care so much it’s killing me.”

  Al sucked in a quick breath and then hesitated. Natalie caught a whiff of his pungent sweat and her stomach roiled. She fel
t his body tense as he spoke. “I’d only been with the NOPD a few months when he came to me and told me that he’d do me a favor, if I did one for him. And that was the start.”

  “A favor?” Adele swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and flung the tears onto the floor. “What favor could possibly—?”

  “He knew who killed my mother.”

  Adele’s mouth sagged.

  “He’d known for years! But who cares about a dead New Orleans hooker, right? So he just sat on the information, waiting. He does that all the time, you know.” Agitated, Al tightened his grip around Natalie’s chest until it felt like a steel band, forcing her to work to drag in every single breath. “He keeps things quiet and then uses information like a razor blade.”

  “Al, honey, your mom—”

  “Was a whore, but she was still my mother!” he thundered, peppering Natalie’s cheek with warm spittle. The barrel of the gun slid from her temple to her jaw. “My mother, Ella! He knew who killed her, and he told me. And it turned out it was one of my stupid punk friends who was just a few years older than me. He wasn’t even sixteen and he was one of her regulars!”

  “Christ,” Adele hissed under her breath.

  “So right after he tells me, Xavier drives me to this nasty shack in the Ninth Ward and says the guy is inside all alone and getting ready for bed after a long day of doing jack shit and running dime bags for a livin’.”

  “He just gave him to you?” Adele was obviously appalled. “Like a present?”

  “In a pretty pink bow,” Al agreed hoarsely. “Then Xavier asked what I wanted to do. I told him I wanted to kill the prick. He said, ‘Okay. Do it.’ And he pulled a gun from his glove box and said to use it instead of my police issue.” Natalie could feel Al’s heartbeat now, pounding against her back, strong and fast like a steam engine gathering momentum. “And so I-I did. I wasn’t thinking right, and I gave Xavier the gun back when I was finished. He never mentioned it again, but I know he kept it, and he knew that I knew.” Al snorted a little. “I’ve been his ever since.”

  Adele’s eyes fluttered closed for just a half second in misery and she rasped, “Fuck, Al. Why didn’t you come to me? I could have—”