He Who Is a Protector (Sadik Book 3)

by Love Belvin

  “Obsessed? With me? I mean, how can you be so obsessed with a woman who has emotional meltdowns when violent occurrences happen as they though it’s natural in a world like yours?” I’d been getting better with the breakdowns, but the anxiety was still there. My worst nightmare lately had been having my children witness it. “I’m now beyond sick, I’m desensitized to human life and complicit. I almost killed my best friend last night.”

  After a few wordless seconds, Sadik nodded and gathered the baby into his chest as he stood. “I came to wake you up. There’s someone waiting on you in the garden.” His attention dropped to Sadik, who tried grabbing a fistful of his father’s beard. “This curious tike wanted to say good morning after I told him his old man denied his mother of his presence last night.” My heart smiled at the sight of them together. Sadik wore dark blue trousers, a stark white dress shirt, tie, and brown brogues. The baby’s Connecticut Kings onesie with matching socks didn’t fit his father’s motif. “Get showered and dressed for the day, baby. Time is of the essence.”

  I scooted out of the bed, feeling sore at every corner of my body. Unease washed over me as I padded toward the bathroom wearing nothing but dried soil from my time with Sadik ending just short hours ago.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the two Sadiks. The elder held an ultra-alpha expression of impatience as he peered my way. For that reason, I continued into the bathroom.

  A little more than twenty minutes later, I was finishing my hair. I flipped my wrist using a flat iron on my last curl when I heard the door of the suite open and close. I fingered my mohawk into a pattern then quickly applied lip glass. When I sauntered into the bedroom, Sadik was there without the baby. He held a tea mug and saucer in his hands.

  “It’s for you. You ready?”

  I nodded, dread stirring in my belly. Then I grabbed my phone from the charger and slipped it into the pocket of my duster before heading to him.

  Sadik handed me the tea. “Candy has breakfast waiting for you. Do you have an appetite?”

  We crossed into the hall and he closed the door behind us.

  “I don’t know now,” I answered. Anxiety had overtaken my senses.

  Sadik provided muted support by laying a hand at the small of my back while he directed me to the elevator. Minutes later, we crossed into the garden. It was still early in the day and the heat hadn’t hit sweltering temperatures yet. The month of July had brought with it unbearable heat. No matter how nervous I was about my husband’s enigmatic behavior, the sight of the Elliswoods garden transfixed me.

  The colors, leaf and petal shapes varied, but created a summery theme. There was a mild breeze pulling my sleeveless duster behind. I drank the delicious tea as we strolled a moderate pace. At this point, all I could think of in terms of who I’d be “meeting” with was Iban. He’d arrived last night. I figured there was no need to prolong the inevitable. There were a few things I needed to clear my heart of concerning him. After learning about his struggles last night from Sadik, I’d decided on an approach.

  My attention locked onto the leaves of the smoke bush, a shrub that appeared as tall as a tree. It was one Earl schooled me on during one of our many talks in the garden last spring. Those memories would remain some of the fondest. The shrub had only budded back then and he described what it would bloom into. The visual was better than the expectation.

  My feet halted at the sight of suited men wandering the courtyard set up with food. It wasn’t them, per se, that seized my attention. It was the tall, broad-suited figure with his back to me. His hands were interlinked behind his back as he studied what looked to me as galaxy blooms on a particular shrub. They were big white balls, some with yellow spikes all over.

  “Pastor Carmichael,” Sadik called out to him. The Bishop swiveled an unhurried 180-degree angle. His men moved a lot faster. “Or is Bishop the appropriate title?”

  Bishop Carmichael traversed the courtyard our way. “That is an interesting shrub your parents have there,” he rasped casually. “It’s called a Buttonbush, but formally its name is cephalanthus occidentalis species, and it’s from the coffee family. Buttonbushes reach the peak of flowering around early July. Its rotund-shaped flowers which resemble exploding Fourth of July fireworks make it a spectacular bloom.”

  My eyes blinked then bounced between the shrub and Bishop Carmichael. I had no idea how to respond to that tidbit of random knowledge. It was remarkable and totally unexpected. A smile curved his lips. Next, he offered a nod to Sadik then addressed me. “Let us forego the formalities of titles for this venture. Conventionally, I’d refer to you as Mrs. Ellis. However, due to this crash course in our engagement, we don’t have the time for the stiff introductions. Ezra is far more appropriate.”

  “Nalib,” Sadik called to me while studying Bishop Carmichael. “I reached out to the man of God after seeing how captivated you’ve been by his messages, and how haste you were in visiting his church last month.” He finally turned to me, eyes melting with familiar sensitivity, bravado lost in his voice. “When I learned his background in counseling and therapy, I thought you’d feel comfortable speaking with him.”

  “About?” I was so nervous, I couldn’t recognize my own voice.

  Ezra took a step toward me, disarming me with a soft smile and closer proximity. “Which era of the saga are we in now? Or chapter?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The cinematic experience we spoke of the night I met you in Paterson,” he rasped. “The one found in a fiction novel.” There was a knowing flip in his eyes.

  My chest exploded so fitfully, I almost lost my balance. Breathless, I asked, “I thought you didn’t remember me.”

  “I didn’t.” He took a deep breath, expression filled with humility. “After your husband pushed his way into my office…” He cleared his throat, and Sadik was readjusting the waist of his pants when my neck snapped toward him. “I spoke with my beloved—my wife, Alexis—and Tasche. I had to include her because Alexis mentioned how I’d run into you two at DiFillippo’s a few months back, before you attended our Family and Friends Day at church. As they both recalled things I’d mentioned to you, details began to return. I’ve been praying about this since I agreed to see you. I’m looking forward to getting to know you and seeing what I can do to assist on this journey.”

  “So, you’re going to counsel me?” I was confused.

  “Just for a short while. I’m no longer practicing. My personal and pastoral worlds are far too demanding at this point. Therefore, I’d like to think of it as gaining your confidence. Maybe I can help point you in the right direction for an appropriate solution,” Bishop Carmichael tried to clarify.

  “He’s going to diagnose you, Nalib.” I flinched at Sadik’s blunt words. In an instant, he was in my face, hands clasping mine for comfort, his eyes pleading. “It’s not you. It’s me. You’re not crazy or unstable. I’ve been considering this for while now, especially after your time alone in Macen Beach. You’re perfect for me—perfect for Sadik and our unborn baby—I swear. It’s just my life,” he whispered. “This world of mine that I’m changing, but didn’t in enough time to offer peace to you. There’s nothing wrong with guarding your mental health while you’re still adjusting to this family.” Sadik’s eyes fell. “To me, your ultra-alpha.”

  Still reeling, I nodded, honestly not knowing how I felt.

  “Thank you, Bilan.” Sadik leaned into my ear. “No one needs you more than me, but your well-being will always come before my selfish needs of you.” He pulled back to study my reaction. I had none. His last words to Ezra were “Fix it to where she can’t live without me, because I’m damn sure no good on this earth without her.” Sadik jaw flexed.

  Bishop Carmichael replied, “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a man so eager to tend to his wife. I can learn a lesson from you. However, my endeavor is to awaken in her a godly purpose. If that includes you, then no one will be happier for you than me.”

  Sadik paid a few moments of gaping
to Bishop Carmichael. I was witnessing my S.Q.E. silently sizing up another alpha male. Maybe Sadik could sense the dominance in Ezra’s personality, but I had a strong inclination Bishop Carmichael was aware of my husband’s before stepping foot on Elliswoods Palace. Why else would a man of his stature go out of his way to see me when he no longer tended to clients? The reassuring factor in this tense moment was Bishop Carmichael’s unflappable demeanor. He wasn’t folding to the Ellis in my husband, and for that, I knew Sadik would respect him.

  Demonstrating just that, Sadik returned to me and planted the sweetest kiss on my forehead. Without further flexing, he gaited out of the garden. I followed him with my eyes until I could no longer see him. Still confused, yet extra curious, I turned back to the pastor, still not believing he was here.

  Bishop Carmichael beamed; his chocolate eyes combed the colorful garden and the beautifully set table topped with a bountiful spread. “So,” he sighed. “He’s been with you, I see.”

  “Mr. Ellis,” Kolwaski greeted after sauntering into my conference room with his men at Ellis International. He shook my hand and I directed him to take a seat at the table. “I was surprised and, to be honest…” His hands danced in the air as he fished for the correct English phrasing. “…anxious when your woman said you wanted to talk.”

  That woman was Rory and I was quite sure that was a dig on his part. She sat at the other end of the table with Jamil, unaffected and accustomed to these types of jokes. My personal assistant dressed like a male and had all the mannerisms of one, but would quickly correct you if you accused her of being anything but a woman. Until recently, when my pregnant wife aided her in a physical altercation over a lovers’ quarrel, I wasn’t sure who Rory fucked.

  I waited until Kolwaski was seated before speaking. “The purpose of this meeting is actually two-fold,” I shared, leaning over the table. “A few months ago, I lost a warehouse receiver due to your account. This overzealous employee discovered the contents of your containers were in violation of the Ellis International policies, and that of federal regulations. It escalated to the point the tenured team member had to be let go. The employee in question made strong statements of suspicion and refused to back down. He threatened to go to the authorities, which made him disposable.”

  Kolwaski didn’t react, instead wearing an impassive mask.

  I continued, “You know, when I accepted you as a client, there were stipulations. I don’t run illegal contraband through my warehouse, neither am I in the business of transporting it. I’m one hundred percent legit in my business. I may be Earl Ellis’ son, but I’m my own man. In doing work with you, I’m compromising my broker’s license.”

  “That sounds like an assumption of an overzealous employee.” Kolwaski shrugged. “You don’t know what was in there. Has what’s been accused of being in there been proven?”

  “Yes.” I issued an affirmative nod. “According to the terms of our signed contract, I retain the right to open any vessel for inspection when there is suspicion. That was in May and we’ve been observing your containers since, several of which hold contraband.”

  “Are you threatening to terminate our contract?”

  “Oh, if I’ve not made myself clear, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Kolwaski snickered. “I’m confused. I’m sure you’re aware of the relationship I have with your father.”

  I paced away from the head of the table, hands stowed into the pocket of my pants. “And that’s what you don’t understand. I am not my father, Kolwaski. I never took you on as a client with any consideration of my father. This is my enterprise. He’s Earl Ellis: I’m Sadik Ellis.”

  Kolwaski and his men chirped laughter in unison. I guessed I hadn’t been convincing at this point. Or maybe it was cultural misunderstanding. Either way, I’d wait. He still had my patience. I stood and waited out their amusement.

  His smile faded first. Next, his men quieted.

  “You’re serious.” Kolwaski noted.

  “Gravely.” I paid him a leveling glare. “There’s not much you can do to make me complicit to any dealings you have with my father. Trust me: the government has tried since I began Ellis International.”

  Kolwaski glanced over to his men, all of whose eyes were more spirited than I’d ever seen of them. When he’d gotten nothing from them, his regard fell. His face turned hard as stone as his last thoughts circled, it seemed. He knocked softly on the table. “Name your price.”

  “I know your largest shipment to date since you signed on with me last summer is coming in from Russia in three weeks. It’s virtually impossible in my business—and trust me, I know my business—to arrange to have a shipment, particularly one of that size, cleared by another broker.”

  “Okay.” His palm lifted with impatience. “Give me news of fortune, Ellis.”

  I nodded, patience paying off. “You and I both know we have a common enemy.”

  “Who is that?”

  “Don’t play with me.” I shook my head, disappointed. “I may be a Black man, but ain’t no nigga shit going on here. I’m extremely versed at this game.” I pointed toward the floor. “I know this business very well, and I so happen to know my father’s just the same. But you likely know the men in my father’s industry better than I do, just like you know Feodor Popov.” His eyes lit with recognition. I wanted to gloat, but decided to stick to the point. I now had his attention. “Apparently, you two are so acquainted he knows you’re in the States under an alias, Aleksy Jankowski.”

  Kolwaski showed his hand just slightly when his head whipped to his second in command. He tried to move then froze as though rendered thunderstruck. With a red face, Kolwaski turned back to me.

  I noted, “You were right the day we closed this deal; you do need me more than I need you.”

  Kolwaski smiled. “And why do you say that?”

  “For the reason you danced around, and the one you actually copped to that day. You need a broker who’s unafraid to assume your risk. You knew you’d be passing contraband into the States and assumed, because of my father’s line of work, I was that broker.”

  At first, Kolwaski forced a smile. That was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. “Like you, I come from a lineage of illegal money. But I wanted to be different. I wanted to make a change and provide for my family in earnest.” His nostrils flared.

  “Not that I give a single fuck, but…” I stood straight folding my arms over my chest. “What happened?”

  “Life doesn’t favor the good man, only the wicked. I do what I have to do for my family, just like Double E Bags!”

  Jamil snorted at his pronunciation of my father’s street moniker. It was quite comical. However, unlike Kolwaski, I wouldn’t show arrogance to another man when I believed I had him by the balls.

  “I’m sure you’re familiar with Popov, you jacked my father as a client from him. But what I didn’t know at the time was you have a history with him, and evidently, it’s one where you’re the victor.”

  “Feodor’s men attempted to kidnap my niece and her friends while they were coming out of a movie theater three years ago back in my homeland. He didn’t know who they were, but it doesn’t matter. He should not have had men in my neighborhood. Let’s say Feodor Popov will never forget my name as long as he lives. Had they harmed my niece and her friends, your father would have needed a distributor long ago because Feodor would have been a dead man.”

  I was glad Kawolski was at least honest in sharing. I wouldn’t ask him about his name change. It was of no consequence to me.

  “Switching distributors has given you and my father a common enemy. And from your words moments ago, you know you can alleviate this enemy as a problem for my father and Danny Lopez. Trust me, my father would never crumble under Popov’s regime. However, you can obliterate him easier than my father because of how proficient you are at evading the federal government and knowing his weaknesses better than they do.” I stood straight again. “As you know, with my father�
�s physical recovery, it’ll be easier for you to annihilate Popov than having to find a new broker for this incoming shipment.”

  The room went silent again. This time, Kolwaski didn’t look to his men for input as he considered the corner he had been backed into.

  “I feel like I’m being puppeteered here. That’s not wise to do to a man like me.”

  “I would call it me manipulating the pieces on the board to work in my father’s favor.”

  Kolwaski stood to his feet and aired out his suit jacket, straightening himself. “Although I don’t like feeling threatened, I have to agree: you do have me by the balls. I do need that shipment to happen in three weeks.” He crossed the room, his men around him. “Double E Bags can consider his issues with Feodor expired as early as tomorrow afternoon. You get my fucking shipment in, Ellis.” He continued to the door.

  “Kolwaski,” I called out to him. My hands gripping the chair in front of me, head hung toward the floor. I heard their heavy stomps halt. “I may not cut you off before this next shipment, but you only have ninety days before I do. I can’t allow the business I’ve built legitimately be compromised by the same illegal possibilities that have the federal government up my ass for each year, trying to catch me with my pants down.” I lifted my head. “We’re done in ninety days, whether you’ve found another customs broker or not.”

  Kolwaski laughed as he continued out.

  ∞27∞

  The door to his room was open when I entered. The doors to the veranda was open, too, and I could see a body dressed in blue scrubs moving about. I headed for the doors and when I arrived, it was clear Iban had just finished lunch. Viewing him from his profile, I wasn’t expecting the sight I encountered. It was clear he’d lost a lot of weight and a scoop of his shaved head was carved out and covered in stitches. He sat inclined in a motorized chair with a high headrest and guards to hold him upright. A mobile IV pole was next to his chair, the bag fueling a tube linked to his arm as he faced the outdoor pool from this wing of the house. And based on his slight and awkward lean to the side, I could tell Iban had no control over his body.