Truth or Consequences

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Malik’s brows drew together. “No, not at all. Why would you even say that?”

  “Because I feel as if you’ve been avoiding me.”

  Malik laid his head back against the seat and pinched the bridge of his nose. These types of conversations were why he didn’t do relationships. Women always wanted to talk. Always wanted to know what you were thinking. He wasn’t a big talker, and he sure as hell didn’t want to share his thoughts. But then Natasha laid her head against his chest, her small hand caressing his torso, stoking the sensual flames already stirring inside him.

  This is how they get you.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” He felt her stiffen in his arms, but Wiz was right the other week when he said that if Natasha meant anything to Malik, he needed to be straight with her.

  “The friend I told you about, Susan, one of Halsey’s victims, claimed that I’m the father of her child.”

  “What?” Natasha tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he told her about his visit from Rosalyn the day he had showed up at the hospital. He also told her about Rosalyn’s insistence that he was the father of Susan’s baby.

  “So you have a baby out there?” This time when she tried to get up, he helped her stand. She had wanted to know what was on his mind, but had no idea that he would tell her something like this. “I knew there had to be another reason you were so invested in this case.” She suddenly felt more tired than she had only moments ago. With the ache in her head and the weariness flowing through her body, instead of looking for him in the basement, she should have opted for taking a nap.

  Malik walked up behind her. When he wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her against his body, she didn’t pull away.

  “The baby is not mine.”

  She turned in his arms. “How can you be so sure?”

  “This is not a conversation I ever thought I’d have with a woman, especially you, but I don’t want any secrets between us.” His large hands slid up and down her back. It was as if he had the magic touch, knowing how to relax her. She leaned into him, appreciating his strength in holding her up. “For one, I haven’t had any slip-ups. Susan and I had a casual relationship, nothing serious.”

  “Malik!” She pushed away again. “That doesn’t mean that you didn’t make a baby with her.” She spat the words. She didn’t know why she was making such a big deal over the news. No, actually she did know why. She was in love with Malik and if anyone was going to have his baby, she wanted it to be her.

  “You know what, Tasha?” Malik said in a low growl. “I didn’t want to tell you about this. At least not until I knew for sure, but you wanted to know what was on my mind.” He turned her around to face him. “So there you have it. Oh, and there’s another reason why I don’t believe the kid is mine.” He was almost yelling. “I think Susan threw my name in the mix, thinking that if certain people knew I was the father of her unborn child, it would protect them both.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Alonso Black, the lawyer behind the underground adoption agency, wanted her to give her child up for adoption. She knew he would go to great lengths to get her child.”

  “I don’t understand. Why’d she give your name? Why not claim someone else as being the father? Why you?”

  “Because I have a reputation of protecting what’s mine … by any means necessary.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Malik, Wiz, and Travis drove through the plush neighborhood outside of Chicago, with its million dollar homes sitting on large lots, ready to take down Attorney Alonso Black. If it wasn’t for the fact that Black had to be stopped, there was no way Malik would have left Natasha’s side so soon after her release from the hospital. Even if she was a little pissed at him. Part of him was glad he’d told her about Susan’s child, whereas the other part of him was thinking he should’ve waited.

  They pulled onto Alonso Black’s block and slowed. The grand estates stood out like twinkling stars against the black of night.

  “We’re going to need to get a little closer,” Wiz said, punching something into his handheld. “The signal’s not strong enough.” Malik pulled the SUV over to the side of the road. Wiz was working his magic using an app that he’d created to jam the home’s security system, including the cameras. With a thunderstorm rolling in, Black’s team would assume it was bad weather effecting their system.

  They all slipped on their gloves and double-checked their communication system. Travis had reported that the lawyer had a security team of four people on site, one at the front gate, and three at the house. The house staff and Black’s assistant had the evening off. By their calculation, the home invasion should go smooth.

  Thunder rumbled and a light rain began to fall. It was early June, and already the average temperature of the season was seventy-nine degrees, and for the last couple of days it included rain.

  “Okay, we’re all set. Let’s move,” Wiz directed.

  Travis exited the truck and headed to the gate to handle that guard. Malik and Wiz would take care of the others. Wiz would handle the guard at the rear of the house. Then he’d enter through the basement, find the alarm system’s main control panel, and deactivate it indefinitely. He was also tasked with obtaining the file regarding the adoption agency.

  Malik ran ahead. Easing up to the front of the house, he caught a guard from behind. Hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his gun, the man fell with a solid thump like a tree cut down in the forest. He then took care of the guard who was smoking on the side of the house.

  “Clear,” Travis said in Malik’s ear.

  “Roger that.”

  “First floor is clear,” Wiz announced. Malik ran to the side of the house where Wiz let him in through the sliding glass doors off the kitchen. Malik nodded and headed for the stairs. The adrenaline running through his veins reminded him of his military days, when he and his team invaded enemy camps. He blew out a breath to steady his pounding heart.

  They had already agreed that Wiz would venture to Black’s office and Malik would find Black himself. If their specs were correct, Black’s bedroom was on the second floor at the end of the hall. Malik checked every room on the second floor, just in case. He saved Black’s room for last.

  “Wiz, I need a status,” Malik said.

  “No sign of Black below, but looks as if he’s been doing some shredding. I’m downloading his hard drive and pulling files. We’re right on schedule.”

  “Roger that.”

  Malik had already agreed that he wouldn’t cause any physical harm to Black, unless he had to. Yet, he wanted to make sure Black knew who he was dealing with, and tonight would be his last night of freedom.

  This is too easy, Malik thought as he eased around a corner and checked a bathroom on the second floor. He and Wiz hadn’t expected to have much trouble getting in, but this was almost an uncomfortable easy. Either Black was arrogant enough to believe that no one would have the balls to infiltrate his property, or he wasn’t as smart as Malik thought.

  A crackle of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder, shook the house and snagged Malik’s attention. He couldn’t have asked for better weather. The energy in the air, mixed with the adrenaline rushing through his body, created a magnetic vitality that he couldn’t explain.

  “One of our sleepers is stirring,” Travis’s voice sounded in Malik’s ear. “We’re running out of time.”

  “Take care of it, Travis,” Wiz said.

  “Roger that.”

  Travis was right. They needed to hurry things along. Malik had left a sleeping Natasha with Stan a couple of hours ago, and had hoped to be back before she awakened. No chance of that since he’d gotten a text from Stan almost an hour ago saying that she was asking about his whereabouts.

  A bolt of lightning shone through the tall hallway window, followed by another loud crash of thunder clapping overhead. Malik had checked every room on that floor, including the elevator. The only one left was
Black’s suite. He leaned against the door, listening for any movement. When he didn’t hear anything, he tried the doorknob, not surprised the door wasn’t locked. This is definitely too easy. It was as if someone had been expecting them. But how?

  Malik raised his gun and pushed the door open, hugging the side as he entered the semi-dark room. A quick scan just inside the bedroom revealed an unmade bed and a lamp on the side table emitting a small amount of light. Malik moved in farther. He knew someone was there, he could hear them breathing.

  The bedroom was as big as the great room on the lower level and …

  “I had a feeling you’d be visiting soon,” came a voice from the other side of the room. Malik aimed his gun, despite being barely able to make out the figure. However, with his training, he knew he could shoot him with his eyes closed.

  “Malik Lewis,” Black said as if they’d met before. The lawyer moved into the path of light, giving Malik a better view of him. “If you’ve made it upstairs to my suite that means you’re as good as the rumors I’ve heard.”

  What surprised Malik more than anything was the man, the almighty Lawyer Man, was sitting in a wheelchair.

  “She warned me that if I did anything to harm her, or your kid, that you would come after me.” He shrugged. “I called her bluff, but here you are.”

  “So you’re admitting to having Susan killed and stealing her baby?” Malik asked, repulsed by Black’s arrogance and itching to pull the trigger.

  “Yes. I’m admitting to having over a hundred and forty women killed in the last seven years, all over the country. And that includes my deceased wife. It’s been a long run. I’m tired,” Black said with little emotion. He adjusted the folded blanket across his lap, which is when Malik noticed that his left hand was deformed. It looked as if he’d been asleep; his scraggly gray hair was flattened on the right side and his pajamas were wrinkled. His startling gray eyes looked like glass marbles as he met Malik’s gaze. “If you’re going to shoot me, go ahead. The doctors are only giving me three months anyway.”

  “That would be too easy. I’d rather beat the hell out of you.”

  Black chuckled. “You wouldn’t beat a man who’s in a wheelchair, would you?”

  “Well, if you don’t think I will, you obviously haven’t heard all of the rumors about me. I’m more than willing and able to take out anyone who murders innocent women and then steals their babies.”

  “I see.” Black’s right leg shook uncontrollably until the old man gripped his pajama-encased leg with his right hand.

  “What I don’t understand,” Malik started, “is why’d you do it? Why did you have innocent women killed?”

  “Why does anybody do anything? Money. Those women had something I wanted. When they didn’t accept my generous financial offer, I figured I’d take what I wanted.” He let out a rough, smoker’s cough, before continuing. “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve made over the years selling babies?” He acted as though stealing babies was something to brag about.

  “You sick bastard,” Malik mumbled, unable to say more due to the way his stomach knotted in disgust.

  “I also wanted revenge,” Black continued as if Malik hadn’t spoken. “I was robbed of a child that I wanted more than anything in this world. A child who had my blood pumping through their veins. That whoring wife of mine got knocked up. I wasn’t raising someone else’s bastard kid. The closer she got to her due date, the closer I got to laying out a plan for My Child Adoption Agency.”

  The longer Malik stood there, the madder he got. He couldn’t believe someone could live with themselves day after day doing what he had done.

  “So go ahead and kill me.” Black laid his wrinkled, pale hands on the arms of his chair, as if preparing to meet his maker. “I deserve to die and you’re the best person for the job. It’s perfect revenge, especially since I sold your son to the highest bidder.”

  Malik knew he was trying to goad him into shooting him, but he wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to dirty his hands for this sick sonofabitch. “Nah, I’m going to let you go to jail. I’m sure when word gets out of what you’ve done, one of your cell-mates will probably take your ass out.”

  “Do it!” Black yelled. “Pull the damn trigger!” His pale skin now held a reddish tint to it.

  “I have another question for you. Who is the Enforcer?”

  Black laughed that same cough-infested chortle that came out more like a rumble. “Ah, yes, the Enforcer. He came to see me a few years back when he was dishonorably discharged from the military. All he knows is how to kill. In exchange for a new life, including a new identity and cash in his pocket, he takes care of those who get in my way.” The smug look of satisfaction on his face only angered Malik more.

  “Tree … we have a problem,” Wiz said through Malik’s earpiece. “I know who took out Halsey, Tessa … and the social worker.”

  There was a pause. Wiz pausing was a bad sign. A very bad sign. Either he was in trouble and couldn’t speak, or the information to come was something Malik wasn’t ready to hear.

  “You were right. Ray Newton is not a records technician. His real name is Eric Van and he’s our killer, and not just any killer. He’s a former marine sniper.”

  Malik felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. A rage so deep clutched his soul. It took every ounce of control he had not to pull the trigger on Black and end the life of this worthless piece of shit. Black’s enforcer was Ray. The same man who had been alone with Natasha. The same man who had his hands on her. The same man who attacked her.

  Malik cocked his gun. His internal battle was getting the best of him. Should he put a bullet in this guy’s head the way Ray did to the doctor? Or should he let Black suffer in jail for the rest of his miserable life?

  “Do it … go ahead and do it!” Alonso Black taunted. “Shoot me!”

  He could easily put a bullet between Black’s eyes and not feel an ounce of remorse. But then he would be just like him and Ray Newton … killers.

  He lowered his gun and spoke into the small mic attached to his shirt. “Travis, in three minutes, make the call.”

  “Roger that, boss.”

  “Just pull the damn trigger!” Black yelled, his chair rocking from the force of his anger. “Do it!” He fell into a coughing fit, sounding as if he had been a three pack a day smoker and was about to cough up a lung.

  Malik couldn’t believe he was actually going to walk away from the opportunity to kill the sick bastard. Instead, he’d turn him over to the authorities.

  “Where’s Ray Newton?” Malik asked, his voice raspy with emotion.

  Black glared at him, his eyes shone like crystal glass. “You want to know where Newton is?” he spat out. “I’ll tell you where he is. He’s probably wherever your woman is.”

  Malik’s heart leapt into his throat and he bolted for the door. Tearing out of the room, he ran down the hall, but before he could make it to the stairs, he heard a single gunshot come from Alonso Black’s bedroom.

  Rest in hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Are you going to tell me where Malik is?” Natasha asked Stan. She sat at the breakfast bar sipping a cup of tea as Stan watched her. “It’s after ten o’clock at night and he hasn’t called, nor is he answering his cell. That’s not like him.” This was her second time asking in the last three hours about Malik’s whereabouts. Malik probably thought she was mad about his news, but she wasn’t. Disappointed, yes. Mad, no.

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

  “That’s what you said three hours ago.” She had awakened from a nap to find Tank sleeping on the floor next to the bed and a note from Malik lying on the pillow next to her.

  Have to take care of something. Be back soon. Love Malik.

  Love. It was the first time he’d said anything about love, although he showed it in everything he did for her. In the way he treated her, his protectiveness, and even the way he looked at her.

  She glanced
at the clock on the microwave again. She knew he was doing something she wouldn’t approve of. No doubt it had something to do with that underground adoption agency. She should’ve known there was more to his covert investigation than he was letting on. The thought of him having a child out there was a little disappointing. Yet, the thought of his child being stolen and sold by some ruthless person was even more troubling. He insisted the child wasn’t his, but Natasha knew there was a chance. A good chance.

  “Do you know how to use a gun?” Stan asked out of the blue, still standing in the same spot near the door that led to the garage.

  “I don’t like guns, but Malik insisted on showing me the basic operation of his 9mm.”

  “You don’t have to like them, but it’s a good idea to know how to use one, just in case.”

  “Yeah, that’s what he said.” Natasha noticed that Stan kept peeking at his cell phone. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one worried. Although Stan hid his concern well, he suddenly seemed on edge. “So where is this coming from? Why’d you ask me whether or not I knew how to use a gun?” He didn’t answer right away, and Natasha knew for sure that something was wrong. “Should I be worried that I haven’t heard from Malik? Has something happened to him and you’re not telling me?” Her insides twisted in a knot.

  Stan shook his head and pushed away from the wall. “No. No, nothing like that. I’m sure he’s fine, but …” The lights flickered and another boom of thunder erupted.

  “You’re scaring me, Stan.” Trying to get information out of Malik was sometimes impossible, and now here she was going through the same thing with Stan. “Just be honest with me. For the last few hours, you’ve been hovering around me. I assume that’s because of instructions from Malik. But in the last hour, I’ve noticed a shift in your behavior. You’ve checked the doors, the windows, and your cell phone several times. Tell me what’s going on.”