by Kenya Wright
“The world is lucky to have someone like you. What do you think the spraying me with red paint was about? Is he saying that he’s going to kill me next?”
I didn’t want to tell her the truth, but I’d promised. “I think so.”
“So, if he’s trying to kill me, then this isn’t about intimacy or anything like that?”
“I won’t know for sure until I have him in my hands.”
And I’m crushing his fucking windpipe between my fingers. If this is about me, then I might just take his family too. He should’ve never brought her into this.
23
Leave No Rock Unturned
Hunter
When we arrived at the hotel suite, I took samples of the paint from Zola’s skin and then had her shower. Something was bothering me about the paint. I’d smelled it before. I kept the sample in my pocket, wanting to handle it first. The stalker was getting bolder and bolder with each new move. I had to outthink him and keep everything to myself from now on.
Where was it? When was it?
Baptiste and two of my men arrived later—Stark and Meridian. Seeing their faces made me think more of my world. I’d trained all three of them, taught each one how to assess and evaluate targets, how to snipe, how to hide, how to always stay within the shadows even though they were right in front of the person.
Did any of them do this? Or am I just being suspicious?
Filled with unease, I greeted and led them to the suite’s living room.
Stark sat down and scanned the area. He was a short guy, barely hit five feet. He had no muscle to speak of, but his strength lay in his head. He always came up with the best strategy and could find a solution out of any dilemma. He also could hack into any computer and take whatever he wanted.
Stark placed his glasses on his face as if he was about to read, and then continued to study the suite. “Why did you pick this place?”
“It’s nice,” I said. “Zola likes nice.”
Stark squinted at the piano. “She should be moved somewhere else. This is too flashy.”
She deserves flashy.
Agitated, I nodded. What was the point of arguing with his opinion, if I’d asked him to come and give it? There was no time to be stuck in my ways. The stalker shot Zola with red paint. There could be no more slipups or mistakes.
I held in my annoyance. “I’ll move her tonight.”
“Where to?” Baptiste asked.
“No.” Stark held up his hand. “Hunter should take her away to a location only he knows while we run around and do the rest.”
“And if he needs help?” Baptiste turned to Stark.
“Then we’ll run to them.”
I turned to Meridian. “Your thoughts?”
The man’s gruff voice came out of his rough face. “I don’t think. I kill. Tell me who to kill, when the time comes.”
I nodded.
Meridian always remained quiet. He had long black hair that covered the huge scar on his right cheek. He had a Native American woman tattooed on his arm who was supposed to be his great-grandmother. Other than that, I assumed he took his heritage seriously since he never really spoke or shared anything.
Baptiste ended my scrutiny. “I caught Stark and Meridian up on everything.”
“Good.” I checked their fingers as if paint would’ve been on the tips.
There was no reason to think they had anything to do with it, but at this point, I got what Stark was saying. No one could be trusted. Everyone had to be suspected, even the men I’d brought on to help.
“What do you want us to do?” Stark put up his glasses and rose.
“Anything more on the sperm bank robberies?” I asked Baptiste.
“Yes. You were right. Someone broke into a clinic the night before Zola’s place was ransacked. They stole 25% of the sperm bank’s specimens.”
I looked at Stark. “Why did he do it?”
Stark shook his head. “Confusion.”
Meridian chose that moment to speak. “Or he’s calling her a whore.”
I was sure my expression showed my thoughts on that because Meridian looked somewhere else. I went back to Stark. “Confusion? Explain.”
“This guy could’ve killed Zola. That’s the truth. He’s had plenty of opportunities.” Stark rose and walked over to the piano, slipping his fingers along the polished surface. “Why hasn’t he killed her all these times?”
“The goal may be something else,” Baptiste chimed in. “He needs something done, and Zola is just the tool to get that done.”
“Interesting point. The stalking doesn’t come off as love, even with the whole mine letters and Brokenhearted signature.” Stark headed to the balcony and examined the doorway. “The elements in each event have been dark, macabre symbolisms for love, but it is not love. The guy’s depressed, that’s for sure.”
I rose and followed Stark onto the balcony. The rest of the men came too.
Stark checked out the ground and sniffed the air. “You’re still smoking?”
“A little bit.” I spotted the tiny bit of ash near a plant and figured that must’ve been his reason for how he knew. “Tell me more about the stalker.”
Stark glanced at the table and then analyzed each chair. “Could I talk to Hunter alone?”
Baptiste rolled his eyes. “I need a break anyway. I’m going to cook up something. Anyone else hungry?”
Meridian nodded and they left.
The balcony door shut behind them.
I turned to Stark. “What’s up?”
Stark didn’t spare any time. “I haven’t been here long, but we need to start thinking of new angles to this situation.”
“Like what?”
“Could this deal with you?” he asked.
I didn’t even want to think of the possibility of my enemies going after Zola. “I’ve taken great care to hide my connection to Zola.”
“That’s true. I didn’t even know about her until this week. I had no idea you had a black sister.” He winked at me. “Not funny?”
“No.”
Stark switched back to serious. “Listen. Can you think of any of your enemies or maybe dissatisfied clients who would’ve known about Zola?”
“None.”
“Maybe they hacked into your communication—”
“I’ve barely talked to Zola in the past few years.”
“Hmmm.”
I sighed. “I’m not saying don’t look further down this path. I want to find this guy fast, so look into anybody who could despise me so much, they’d want to bother Zola. That’s fine. But do it fast, and if you hit a dead end, go back to checking her friends.”
“I can do both.”
“Good.”
“Did any of our guys know about Zola?”
“No. Not really?” I glanced over my shoulder at Baptiste and Meridian in the kitchen, going through the cabinets. “Baptiste knew there was someone I cared for, but he never knew her name until about a year ago. He also knew I sent her roses for her birthday.”
“Did he know the color?”
“I can’t remember, but it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find out.” I didn’t enjoy this direction of conversation.
“What else did Baptiste know?”
“After a job in London, I had to get a locket fixed. Baptiste paid off the jeweler for me while I cleaned up a body.”
“Did he see the locket?”
“I don’t think so. The locket was delivered to me days later.”
“However, Baptiste had the opportunity to look at it?”
I scowled. “Yes.”
“Don’t look at me that way. We’re considering all options.” Stark blew out a long breath. “Baptiste loves you. You both have been close for so many years. I can’t see him going there. It would need to be a significant reason.”
“I’ve tried not to give Baptiste a reason, but maybe…with Nakita’s death…” My hands shook. “He could believe I was guilty. Sometimes I believe I was guilty
myself.”
“Hey, I’m the one looking into this. We don’t need you getting depressed and psychoanalyzing every friendship you’ve ever had.”
I stared at the city lights. “This can’t be Baptiste.”
“I know.”
I turned back to him. “That would hurt.”
“I know, but you brought me here to look at everything. You want the stalker caught.”
“I trust your judgment.”
“Good.” Stark’s expression relaxed as he shook his head. “Besides, I hope it has nothing to do with Baptiste or Meridian too. I can’t kill either one. I’m leaving if it does.”
“Don’t worry. If it’s them, I’ll handle it.” I pulled a small vial out and handed it to him. “Take the top off and smell this.”
Raising his eyebrows, Stark grabbed the vial, took it off, and sniffed. “This smells familiar.”
“I thought so too, but I can’t figure it out. You?”
He sniffed again and closed his eyes. “Damn…this brings back memories…hmmm…I was covered in this stuff once. What is it?”
“I don’t know. The smell is familiar.”
“Where did you get this?”
“It’s the paint that was on Zola.”
Stark sniffed it again.
“Get this checked. Use a private lab.”
“Why me?” Stark asked. “You usually use Baptiste for this.”
“I’m switching it up now that you’ve brought this new theory to the table. What if this is about me?” I patted his shoulder. “I trust you, Stark. You’re loyal.”
“And I’ve been in jail for a year election hacking and just got out weeks ago, so even if I had paid someone to stalk Zola, there would’ve been a trail.”
“That too.”
“If I had time to plan and plot against somebody, it wouldn’t be your model. It would be the damn government.”
“Hey, you know they’re listening. Focus on Zola’s stalker and we’ll discuss your thoughts of overthrowing the government later.”
Stark studied the vial in his hand. “I’ll get a fast track on some lab results. I should have the info to you by the morning. I’ll also have everyone checked. What will you be doing?”
“Crossing t’s and dotting i’s. I’ll be checking on my brother’s staff this week and further closing in on Zola’s team. This guy gets taken down this week.”
Stark placed the vial in his pocket. “What’s your plan for tonight? Are you going to move her?”
“Yes, and I want to clear Zola’s head. She’s had a rough week.”
“You’re taking Zola out?”
“Yes.”
He scrunched his face in confusion. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I’ll let everyone know I’m taking her out to eat. We just won’t come back.”
Stark nodded. “And while you’re gone, I’ll watch Baptiste and Meridian. Do a little snooping into their luggage and try to make sure neither one kills me.”
I looked through the glass and didn’t even want to suspect Baptiste of anything. Meridian would be easy to kill. I barely knew him. But Baptiste, I couldn’t.
“We’ll talk in the morning.” I walked off the balcony. “I’ll call you.”
“And I hope to have some answers.”
I thought of something. “I need you to do another thing for me. A quick assessment.”
“About what?” Stark asked.
“I want this night to be perfect for Zola.”
Stark smirked. “I’ve got you. One perfectly designed date coming up.”
We talked more. I gave him Zola’s stats and then rushed off to shower and change. I’d told Zola I would take her out, and I would be true to my word. She’d been rattled and shaken for the past few days. I had to give her some good memories within the darkness, and most of all, I had to get her somewhere safe.
Then, when we were enclosed and alone, I would not only deal with that lush body I yearned to taste, but I would think more on this stalker and how he appeared to be using Zola to get to me.
But for now, I’ll leave thoughts on the stalker to another time.
I’d survived war and attacks from criminals by following my instincts. But, around Zola, my gut had been off. Far away on vacation somewhere. And it was all because I’d been letting my sexual desire for her fog my head.
I won’t wait anymore. I’ve got to have more.
24
L’excellence
Zola
Hunter brought me to L’excellence—my favorite restaurant.
What? No way.
Shocked out of my mind, I looked at him as he opened the door for me. “How did you know?”
“It’s my job to know.” He took my hand, and together we entered.
“You’re good. I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“Three weeks to be exact.”
“How did you know that?”
“I had Stark do an assessment on you while I was showering. He analyzed all of your credit card bills and which restaurant you spent the most time at.”
“So…you had someone hack into my statements to discover my likes?”
“Too much preparation?”
“A smidgen.” I grinned. “But thank you so much. I really love L’excellence.”
He laughed. “Good. And lucky for you, French cuisine is my favorite.”
“No surprise. You’re that type of guy. You like the best.”
“French gastronomy has long been considered the pinnacle of culinary excellence in the West.”
“True. I’ve also found the best bakeries in a city tend to be French.”
“I don’t know about that. I think you’re too into the culture to think clearly.”
“Touché.”
Beautiful smells greeted us. The first thing people noticed at L’excellence was that there were no printed menus. Every dish was scrawled across chalkboards on the back wall, just as it was done in France. The typical selection featured everything from salted meats to fresh fish and scallops, to a tantalizing steak tartare, perfect with ultra-crusty bread.
The front part of the place had an even-toned balance of Art Nouveau and industrial design. There was exposed brick and concrete pillars right next to tables covered in French lace and crystal chandeliers dangling above. The narrow corridor at the back of the main dining room opened up to a massive, sophisticated room.
We walked inside the back dining area where all the décor shifted. The space was small and dark, lit only by candles in gold candelabras. Warm light reflected in gold-framed wall mirrors. Dark red stain coated the walls. The chairs and tables were plush white. In the far corner, a trio consisting of a piano, guitar, and saxophone played a relaxing groove, setting the mood for romance. Seduction dripped and throbbed in the air.
Shocked, no one sat inside. Only a few waiters stood by.
“I didn’t want anybody around.” Hunter squeezed my hand. “With others here, I would be too busy guarding you.”
“How did you empty out the whole restaurant?”
“There was a decent-sized price tag to go with my request.” He led me to the table and pulled out my chair.
“Thank you.” I sat down.
“I had the chef do a tasting menu of everything. I need to know why this is your favorite place to eat.”
“You’re in for a treat. Everything is excellent here.”
“It better be with that name.” He gestured to the sommelier.
The slim built man brought over a list of wines and walked us through our experience. We would have special pairings with each dish and pretty much eat like a king and queen. The first waiter arrived with a large plate of fresh, hot bread piled with caviar. Champagne appeared next on a plated wine-cooler beside their table. Hunter poured us two full glasses. Later, L’excellence’s signature pâté arrived with crisp French bread and thick squares of yellow butter.
Groaning, I feasted on the pâté. Everything melted in my mouth. “
I needed this.”
“Good.”
Our dinner date began perfectly. Hunter kept filling our glasses. We ate like kings and chatted away. Hunter talked about how successful his security company had become.
“Did you ever give it a name?” I asked.
“No. I’ve found that no name has worked out for us nicely. At this point, if someone comes to us, then they’re highly connected.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you love modeling?” he asked.
“It pays well.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I sighed. “The job isn’t difficult. There’s things that come with it, but every job is like that—”
“Again…that’s not an answer, Zola.”
I took a sip of my champagne. “Okay. Fine. I’ve been having a ‘crisis of identity’ ever since the stalker has come around.”
“The stalker didn’t just do that. York has mentioned that you’ve seemed unhappy these past years.”
“I haven’t really been depressed.”
“But you’re not that social.”
“Because my job is super social. I need a break. I’ve always been happier sitting and reading a book while it’s raining outside. I was never the girl that wanted to run in the sun and rush out to the all-night party on the beach during the summer. And those things were fun too, but…I like chilling.”
“That’s fair.” He took my hand across the table. “I like chilling too.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “And you’ll be moving to New York now?”
“Yes, so we’ll be chilling together.”
“I’m pretty shocked that you’re just going to move.”
“I’ve also been dealing with a ‘crisis of identity’ too. This move is just what I need, and you back in my life, that’s a necessity.”
I blushed. “What made you go into crisis?”
“One of my partners—Baptiste’s wife—was killed around two months ago.”
I held my hand to my chest. “He told me that, but I had no idea it was so soon.”
