Mine

by Kenya Wright

  I couldn’t think of why he’d done it all, but I knew I would have to kill him. He’d scared Zola. That was enough to pull a gun on my close friend.

  She’s always come first. Always.

  Stone Mason stepped up to accept his award from Zola.

  My heart twisted with the dark future I had before me.

  Then, the fire alarm rang. A collective gasp ripped through the room like a gust of wind. The lights shut off, and red emergency ones turned on high above us.

  No.

  I grabbed Zola fast with one arm and pulled my gun out with the other. There was no way Baptiste would get close to Zola. It didn’t matter what his goal of stalking her had been. He would not win this evening.

  “Everything is going to be okay,” I whispered in her ear.

  She trembled against me. I had no idea if she heard me.

  Chaos ensued. People, chatter rose. Many of the wait staff came out to calm the guests. It was clear that the signal had been a false alarm, but I knew Baptiste had pulled it.

  Where are you?

  I found my answer seconds later. The fire exit door opened twenty yards on my right. My adrenaline spiked, and Baptiste’s silhouette stood in the doorway.

  “Stay behind me.” I moved in front of Zola.

  “Okay.” She held me from behind.

  The craziness continued as I focused on the door. People ran back and forth, at times obstructing my view.

  Red light spilled into the room, backlighting Baptiste’s frame in the doorway.

  “Let’s get the psycho first and focus on the devil later.”

  “Sounds good. Just understand that you will have to deal with the devil eventually.”

  Even at this distance, there was no mistaking it was Baptiste. His silhouette remained motionless. I checked his hand. A glint of metal came from what he clutched. No doubt he held a gun. My heart boomed. My mouth went dry. I gripped my gun harder, ready to raise it and shoot across the crowd, if I needed to.

  This can’t come to that. What happened to you, Baptiste? Did Nakita’s death make you a monster?

  I swore he smiled.

  And then, just like that, he turned around and rushed away.

  Fuck. I’ve got to go after him.

  Stone Mason’s bodyguards rushed to us. Thankfully, I’d caught his director of security up on Zola’s stalking situation earlier that day. Further phone conversations today showed that we shared a few duty stations during our army years. He’d offered two guards at my disposal, if anything arose.

  The director was smart enough to sniff out trouble from the false alarm.

  “Zola, I need you to listen to me.” I didn’t have the time to tell her everything, and I damn sure didn’t want to leave her alone. But this had to end tonight. I couldn’t let Baptiste get away. Only the gods knew if I could find him.

  I taught him too well. He’ll be able to hide from me.

  “Stay here with these two men.” I gestured to the guards that arrived right in front of us.

  “What?” She turned to them and then back to me. “Who are they?”

  “Stone Mason’s guards. I talked to their director earlier.”

  Worry creased the corners of her eyes as she nodded.

  “Listen. Zola, Baptiste is your stalker.”

  “W-what?”

  “I have no time to explain, but if you see him, notify the guards.”

  “Be careful, Hunter!” she called out to me as I jumped off the stage, raced through the crowd, and headed for the door where I’d seen Baptiste.

  Adrenaline burst through my body, giving me rocket fuel energy. People got in my way, trying to figure out where I was going and if they should run too.

  “Move!” I yelled. My legs, my lungs burned. It took no time to get to the door. I opened it and lead the way with my gun. If I spotted Baptiste, I would shoot first and ask him questions later.

  The hallway was empty, silent.

  There were twenty different doors along the walls. I rushed to open several, ducking in the rooms with my gun and doing a quick search.

  Where are you?

  I must’ve checked out ten rooms before I gave up. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. I barely had my breath.

  Goddamn it.

  I'd lost him. I felt defeated. I sucked in air and attempted to catch my breath.

  What the fuck, Baptiste? Why? Why would you do this?

  “Fuck!” I ran my hands through my damp hair, jerked the tie from around my neck, and shoved it in my jacket pocket. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

  Then, I noticed a door in the far back on the right that had been inched open a crack as if someone had rushed through it but didn’t have the time to properly close it.

  There you go.

  I raced that way, burst through the doors into the middle of a wide hallway. Ten yards to my left and I'd end up in the service quarters. I thought about the blueprints I’d studied and ran further forward, remembering there was a hallway leading to a side entrance.

  It would be a perfect place to sneak in and out without too many people noticing.

  In minutes, I hit the exit and pushed through.

  I have to end this.

  Cold air hit me. My heart hadn’t quit pounding. My chest ached from the overexertion, but I wouldn’t rest or stop until I had Baptiste on the ground. He was too dangerous and this all had to end.

  The dark sky showed clear with stars. Wind whipped. The trees swayed back and forth. It was all instinct and a gnawing feeling in my gut.

  If I was him, I would go this way.

  Gazing into the shadows, I kept my gun forward and started down the steps.

  A door slammed.

  Is that you?

  Speeding up, I was half-way down the stairs when I heard the rumble of an engine.

  Fuck! Hurry!

  I increased my pace, grasping at every ounce of energy I could find. When I made it to the parking lot, I spotted a white car. I checked the front window as it headed my way.

  Baptiste.

  With no hesitation, I pointed and shot at the window. Screeching, he swerved a little, but continued to speed. I shot again, pulling the trigger fast. The car raced out to the wide entrance gate in a spray of gravel.

  Fuck you!

  He sped away, but not before throwing a small red object out of the driver’s side window. It fell into the flower bed outlining the side entrance.

  What is that?

  Panting, I ran over to the place where Baptiste had thrown it.

  It was a small box. Red satin covered it. I opened the damn thing. A crumpled note lay inside. I read the sentence out loud, “If you want Zola, meet me in Montego Bay.”

  Baptiste had signed the card as Brokenhearted.

  What the fuck do you mean, if I want Zola?

  And that was when my heart exploded.

  I shouldn’t have left her.

  I ran back around and sprinted to the ballroom.

  No. No. Please, say no.

  31

  Adrenaline

  Hunter

  I had no energy, but I found it.

  Damn you, Baptiste.

  He knew the only way I would leave Zola’s side was if I could grab him. When I entered the mansion, screams erupted from the ballroom. I was there in seconds with my gun out, shoving people out of my way. “Move!”

  The guards I’d left with Zola lay groaning in pain on the ground. Both men each had a knife stuck into their thighs. It was Meridian’s signature thing when he didn’t want anyone running after him.

  At least Meridian didn’t kill them.

  It was a good sign because, in that moment as I scanned the stage, I knew with all certainty that Meridian had Zola.

  I roared at a bewildered Stone Mason. “Which way did they go?!”

  Mason pointed to the back exit with shaking hands.

  For the hundredth time that night, I sped away. My legs were damn near gone. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing ma
ttered. Meridian could still be on the property with Zola. If I could just get to them before he drove off, there would still be a chance.

  I’ll race down the fucking car if I have to.

  After minutes of running, my heart was close to exploding, but I was out the mansion on the other side.

  The wind buffeted my face. Sirens wailed in the background. The parking lot was massive—hundreds of cars and limos.

  Are they here?

  A female screamed off in the distance.

  That’s Zola. I know it is.

  I still couldn’t get a direction on where it came from.

  Meridian and Stark had to be transporting Zola somewhere.

  But why and where?

  Due to her scream, they were still in the process somewhere around the parking lot. Instead of racing all over the lot, I needed a car.

  I need a car, just in case.

  I checked the cars in the parking lot. Almost all were new and high end, but further in the back near the security booth, an old car was parked. The old thing looked like it had been manufactured in the mid-nineties.

  I’ll take that one.

  While I could get into most cars, I had no minutes to waste. A quick hot-wiring only worked on the old ones. Newer models were equipped with a whole host of locking mechanisms to keep thieves out.

  Sorry, man. I’ll get you a new one later.

  I ran to the car and bumped it. An alarm didn’t come on. I broke the window, stuck my hand inside, and unlocked the door.

  Scream again, Zola. I’m here. I’ve got you.

  I jumped in the car, pushed away the broken glass, and put my gun on the passenger seat. No sound came from the parking lot.

  Goddamn it!

  I went to work on stealing the car.

  Yahweh. Odin.

  I removed the plastic cover on the steering column and yanked out the access panels. A roil of electrical wires appeared. I grabbed the blue wires leading to the battery, ignition, and starter.

  Loki. Buddha.

  I started the car. The engine roared. The owner had loved the vehicle and had taken good care of it.

  Thank you.

  Keeping the headlights off, I checked around me. If Meridian had Zola in the parking lot, then he had a car he would be leaving in. And if I was Baptiste, I would have Meridian bring Zola to me.

  I considered the options for them to do the exchange. Baptiste hadn’t wanted Zola dead yet. There was something he needed. I had to believe that was why he’d kept her alive. Zola still held some importance. She would be safe until we met next.

  But where would they do the exchange?

  If I was Baptiste, I would know that Meridian couldn’t be trusted around Zola too long.

  My gut kicked in.

  I whispered to myself, “You didn’t leave, did you? You drove around.”

  He knew I would be in one parking lot, searching for him. That gave Baptiste enough time to drive over to this lot and meet Meridian.

  Come on. Where are you?

  Another car started off in the distance.

  I prayed for a switch. Meridian was a sick motherfucker. I’d only let him stay because Baptiste promised to watch him. That, he did.

  Now I see why you had him come, Baptiste.

  A screech of tires on asphalt came next. Then, a burst of floodlights danced in the dark.

  There you go!

  I spotted the same vehicle Baptiste had driven off in.

  My adrenaline spiked at the pursuit.

  Zola wasn’t completely gone from me. I still had a chance to get her. The car I’d stolen wasn’t an automatic. Going fast through the gears, I backed up out of the parking light and sped Baptiste’s way. The huge exhaust echoed.

  Baptiste rounded the corner and hit the main road.

  I stayed behind him but tried not to make it obvious. If Zola hadn’t been in the car, I would’ve run it the fuck over. For now, I had to play it safe.

  Soon, Baptiste was out on the highway.

  Following, I pushed on the gas, passing others, but remaining no more than one car behind, always keeping Baptiste’s backlights as my guide.

  I won’t let you hurt her.

  32

  Good Help Is Hard to Find

  Baptiste

  I kept the duct tape on Zola’s mouth because I knew she would try to talk me out of it, and I needed to keep my mind focused.

  She sat in the back seat. Her body trembled. Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Zola, but you’ll understand later.” Letting out a long breath, I gripped the steering wheel and focused on my breaths. “That’s a beautiful gown, by the way. Sorry about the blood drops.”

  Blood had been smeared on my hands too. I would have to wash it away before we entered the airport.

  Meridian hadn’t followed my plan. All he was supposed to do was bring Zola outside and wait for me to pick her up. Then his debt to me would be done. Instead, he had Zola in the back seat of his car. Meridian’s right hand had been touching her thigh. He’d had her dress yanked up over her head, legs spread apart, and a plastic bag over her head.

  What is wrong with him? Now the devil has called him home.

  I didn’t have time to ask questions or further explore what Meridian had planned, so I stuck a knife into him, entering from the back and letting the point stick out his chest. Blood sprayed onto her gown.

  I’d yanked off the plastic bag.

  She spotted my face and screamed.

  And then I’d duct-taped her mouth, finished tying her up, and carried her over to my car.

  What else could I do?

  Back in the car and speeding down the highway, I glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  She widened her eyes.

  “I’m really sorry about, Meridian.” I cleared my throat. “That’s the reason why I don’t work with psychos. And don’t worry about his spirit following you. I have his hair. I’ll burn it when we get to the airport.”

  Zola tried to speak under the duct tape.

  “Shhh.” I returned my view on the road. “This will all be over soon. We just have to get to Jamaica.”

  Zola tried to make some sort of noise as if to talk to me.

  “No. No.” I waved her away. “I’ve been planning this since the day Nakita died. If it wasn’t for Hunter being so goddamn stubborn, I wouldn’t have had to involve you.”

  I passed a car, switched into another lane, and checked the cars behind me.

  Is he there? Did he see my message? Does he know she’s gone?

  33

  Suicidal U-turn

  Hunter

  I hurtled round the bend, controlling the car with an easy sway.

  He’s heading to the airport.

  It was the direction and message that clued me in.

  But once we arrived at the airport, then what?

  If I’d been Baptiste, I would’ve already had a private plane ready. Baptiste knew Zola had this charity event. He had access to her passport.

  I can’t do this all by myself.

  I pulled out my phone and dialed York.

  York answered on the first ring. “Hunter, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you.”

  “Good, because I need you to book me a flight from New York to Montego Bay, Jamaica. Have a car ready for rental. I don’t know if I’ll need it but have it ready.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Zola is gone. My friend…my partner took her.”

  “Why?” York asked.

  “He’s the stalker.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sped down the road. “Just get the goddamn plane ticket for me. I’m heading to the airport now. I’m right behind them.”

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Jesus won’t help us now, but the tickets will.”

  “Okay. Okay. Just let me get something to write this down.”

  Up ahead, Baptiste took an exit. I ambled the
car slowly behind another one that was going in the same direction.

  York came back on the line. “Okay. Montego Bay, Jamaica?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll catch you up later. Just send the details to my phone. Get the first plane out of here.” I hung up, hoping I wouldn’t have to use the ticket at all.

  I have to get her back.

  My chest rose and fell at a rapid beat. I considered the note’s lines over and over as if it could help me understand everything even more. If Baptiste wanted revenge, he could have had it many times. He could’ve killed me long ago. If he wanted Zola dead, then that too could’ve happened without any problem. But he’d done neither.

  I scanned my head trying to gain some clue as to what was going on in Baptiste’s brain. What was the result he was hoping to get?

  “Zola’s the one that you always sent bright pink roses to. I just realized it.”

  “You didn’t. You know that I have a small…obsession for her.”

  “One that you think is dirty,” Baptiste said.

  “I’ve never said that.”

  “But you do. She’s not your sister by blood.”

  “I know.”

  “What I’m trying to say to you is this.” Baptiste looked my way. “Have some fun, Hunter. After Nakita…”

  Baptiste’s car continued down the new route at a decreased pace. It made me think he hadn’t seen me following him.

  “That’s right.” I tapped at the steering wheel. “I’m still at the ballroom, fumbling my dick around and confused. Just take your time, Baptiste.”

  I’d taught him too well.

  He’d planned out everything with meticulous attention to detail.

  Baptiste had been the one to find the gift box with the eyes in it. I’d figured that someone on Zola’s makeup staff had brought it in.

  But it was him.

  “This was on Zola’s bed.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “That’s not mine.”

  “When I’d scoped out the room,” he said, “I saw it, but figured it was Zola’s hat box. But when I set the box on the dresser, I noticed how heavy it was and…the smell can’t be denied.”