by Tia Louise
“Don’t you know your classic movies, Stuart?” Marcus turns to me. “If Reynolds is murdered, his company gets double their money under the life insurance policy.”
“Correct,” Earl replies. “And I’ve got a company accountant looking to turn a zero-value policy into double recovery if I can get a murder conviction.”
“How much is the policy?” I ask.
“Two million dollars.”
“Listen,” I flash, “I can guarantee you if this case goes to trial, that company is going to get ten million dollars’ worth of bad publicity. We’ll show the world its CEO was a wife-beating rapist who was killed in the act of choking a prostitute to death. You can’t buy enough insurance to protect the company from that level of damage.”
Earl seems to notice me for the first time. “What’s your say in all of this?”
Sitting forward, I’m glad to have a say. “I’m here both to confirm everything Marcus has said, but also to stand in the place of Derek... Mr. Alexander.”
“You are?”
“Stuart Knight, founding partner of Alexander-Knight, LLC, and retired Marine. I was under the direct command of the defendant. He’s a good man of high character.”
“Semper fi,” Earl says, glancing down.
“Yes,” I agree, meaning every word.
“Well, gentlemen, I’m not interested in going out on a limb for a rich degenerate, who has no one particularly interested in his murder. Especially when it’s only to help a company that stands to profit from his death. Speaking of publicity, that’s frankly the kind of publicity that gets district attorneys unelected and prosecutors fired.” He pushes back from the table and stands, reaching across to shake our hands. “If Mr. Alexander will plead guilty to the misdemeanor charge of failure to timely report a homicide and pay a one-thousand dollar fine, I am inclined to dismiss the charges. I’ll speak to the judge and see if we can get the paperwork going to get him home today.”
For a moment, I feel like I’m back in a PTSD dream. I’m unsure if what just happened is real or if I imagined it.
Marcus is the epitome of smooth. “Thank you, Mr. Mason—”
“Earl,” the prosecutor corrects him.
“Earl,” he nods. “I knew once you’d had a chance to see what was at stake, it would be a pretty simple decision.”
“Nothing is simple.” Earl’s expression goes immediately serious. “Murder, vigilante justice, these are not things I take lightly by any means.”
“Of course not,” Marcus says. “I didn’t mean to imply—”
“However, there are also situations in which reasonable, thoughtful men are compelled to act.” He pauses as if for emphasis. “In my considered opinion, this was one of those situations.”
Rising from my chair, I reach across the table, holding out my hand. Earl seems surprised, but then he takes it, giving me a firm shake back.
“I can assure you,” I say, infusing my words with as much sincerity as possible. “This was one of those situations.”
Earl nods and smiles for the first time since we’ve seen him. “Let’s get Mr. Alexander back home to his family.”
Chapter 15: Badass
Derek
Breakfast is over, and I’m facing free time. I know my defiance of Chairman and his band of “badasses” at dinner won’t go unanswered. What I don’t know is when or how the answer will come. I decide to make my way to the weight room in the interim. It’s been years since I’ve faced the prospect of hand-to-hand combat. I was trained to do it in the Middle East. I never dreamed I’d face it behind bars in my own country.
The prospect of Rev and a shiv flickers through my mind. It could get a whole lot worse than hand-to-hand. It doesn’t scare me. It pisses me off. Adrenaline surges in my veins, and I feel myself getting ready. I’m running on three weeks of uninterrupted frustration here, starting the day Melissa put me out of the house. My only break lasted all of five minutes in my office when I held her in my arms again. When she’d asked me to make love to her, and the fucking cops walked in. Maybe a good fight is exactly what I need.
Last night, I’d stood at the bars of my cell. My forearms rested on the door and I looked out at the peeling white paint, the center space filled with round tables bathed in the blue light of the dark hours. None of us would be here for long. Jail was a constant stream of in and out, depending on what happened with the courts. I wondered how much longer I’d have before moving either to prison or being allowed to walk.
Stuart had said he would bring me pictures of Melissa and Dex, but I can only guess he wasn’t able to make it happen before visiting hours ended. Closing my eyes, I tried to conjure the scent of ocean roses. I couldn’t, but I could remember how it felt to smell them. My body craved hers. Standing in the darkness, I considered the worst—a lifetime of separation. It clenched my insides, and even if I wasn’t afraid of the inmates or the horrors of life inside, I didn’t know how I’d get through the years of this separation. Would I ask her to wait for me? Could I be that selfish?
“Melissa,” I whispered into the darkness.
I hadn’t been given many breaks since this nightmare began, but the greatest one had been encountering Benjamin Lance at check-in.
Ben is from New Orleans just like me, and even though he’s from one of the rougher, African-American neighborhoods while I grew up in the Garden District, we’d bonded over our hometown connection when we did our police training. I can only imagine his shock at seeing me booked for murder. He’d managed to get me my own cell and kept it that way for the several days I’d been in hock. If nothing changed, it’d be the last kindness I could expect.
My thoughts drifted to Slayde Bennett. I could still see him sitting in that courtroom, ice blue eyes full of hate and rage. He was deadly calm as his judgment was handed down. He walked out of the room with a life sentence and never looked back. I never thought I’d see him again. He was a murderer and he could rot in prison for all I cared. It only shows how you never know the moments that will alter your life.
Remembering him last year, standing in that corridor with Kenny, he had changed. I was too angry at the time. The idea of a murderer walking free, getting out of the judgment I’d spent so much effort to secure, hit too close to home. It smacked too much of Sloan’s ability to slip out of every charge I’d tried to make stick. All I could see was the system failing again.
Yet now, looking back, I have a different view. He still had the body of a fighter. He still moved like he could take anyone out with one hit. He still had the ink, and he projected aggression. Only the eyes had changed. My first sight of him stands out, the way he looked at Kenny, the tenderness and love. I didn’t want to see it that day. I only wanted justice, and I took everything from him again.
Exhaling, I turn and walk into the darkness at the back of my cell. I demanded justice in all things. Why should I escape it?
Melissa’s beautiful smile fills my memories, her soft body in my arms and her beautiful hair spilling around us. Closing my eyes, I feel her lips against mine. Placing my fists against the cinder-block wall, I remember her legs around my waist, her soft sighs and little moans as I move inside her, plunging into her depths. Again, the prospect of a life sentence twists my stomach.
She needs to understand why I did this and why I didn’t tell her. It’s something I could never say before, but now that I’m facing a future without her, I want her to know. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t put it behind me. As much as I love her, it went against my nature to allow him to walk. Jessica Black or no Jessica Black. Star or no Star, none of it mattered. He’d touched her in a way that couldn’t be forgiven or forgotten.
It went beyond our beginning—his lying to me about her. It went beyond me not knowing what a loser he’d become when I’d agreed to track her for him. It went beyond her showing up in my office that day she’d learned the truth and shooting all my dreams to hell with one word.
After all I’d lost and all I’d found, the idea of him being aliv
e in the world after what he’d done to her was abhorrent to me. She’d shown me that picture of her battered face, and it was indelibly marked on my soul. The mere fact of it was an underlying driving force I couldn’t deny. As much as Melissa was mine, his unanswered crime was like the distant hum of a freight train growing louder and louder until it blasted through everything.
Inevitably, inexorably, as long as I lived on this planet, my future would lead to that moment in a small conference room in Baltimore when I got revenge. The darkness of what he’d done to her overcame me, and somewhere in that darkness I lost myself. No matter how honorable or law-abiding I might be, nothing would satisfy the blood lust in me. Sloan Reynolds had to die.
And now, justice continues its journey. Now I have to pay.
All the thoughts keeping me awake last night press against my brain as I enter the empty gym. I sit on the vinyl-covered bench and the low throb of pain sticks in my chest. Melissa... my soul cries her name. I want her. I need her. How will I survive if I’m in this place until I die, separated from her forever? Fuck.
I grip the weight bar and push up, feeling the burn in the pit of my biceps. I haven’t worked out in almost a month. I’ve been away from home, dealing with the separation, dealing with this situation. Bennett’s manipulation was clever. It showed how well he knew me. I wouldn’t let Star pay for my crimes. I couldn’t value my family above hers, even if she insisted her life was worth less than mine. Who makes those kinds of decisions?
The question has only entered my mind when I realize I’m not alone. I return the five hundred pound load to the rack, and my peripheral vision counts five men in the room with me. Lowering my arms, I sit up, not quite ready to make contact.
A deep inhale. I allow the battle I fought all night to flood my veins with anger. I focus all my frustrations over Melissa, Sloan, my future, to compress into one raging need for expression. I need an outlet. Looks like I have five.
“I got your message, boy.” Chairman stands at the head of the bench. “You’re a pussy. You’ll do real good inside. Lots of cocks to suck.”
I don’t answer. I only sit up slowly allowing the gates I’ve opened to flood me with rage. What’s about to happen will be sweet release. I can feel the strength building in my fists in anticipation.
“He’s a pretty boy.” The voice came from behind me, but my eyes are locked on Chairman’s. “Hold him. I want him to be my pussy.”
Try it, fucknut. The thought tickles in my brain before it closes in like a steel trap. A touch on my shoulder, and my hand snaps over it, clasping the wrist and flipping it around in a move so fast, everyone jumps back. It’s the big white guy. He’s on his knees with a broken wrist. A scream starts, but I punch him in the face and he drops. One down, four to go.
Only, they’re ready now. I might have gotten lucky with the first one, but now two mountains of black flesh have me by each arm. Chairman stands back and watches. Rev is in front of me, and his black eyes narrow like a snake. I don’t think, I only respond. A swift kick to the face, and he flies back to the wall.
“You’ve got to be faster than that, little man,” I growl, but the hulks holding my arms aren’t finished.
“It’s about to get rough, pussy,” the one on my left snarls.
My arm is jerked up behind my back, bending me forward, and the asshole on my right grabs my face. I know what’s coming when I see him shift his balance to the other leg. I only have one chance. A loud groan scrapes from my throat as I throw everything I’ve got to the right. His knee flies past my head making contact with the fucker behind me. It’s not a hard hit, but it stuns him. His grip loosens a fraction, and I spin around, out of his control.
“Oh, I like this one,” Fucker to my left smiles.
Chairman moves his back to the wall and is making his way around the perimeter. I don’t have time to wonder why he isn’t getting involved. The two are slowly approaching me again, both smiling. What happens next is so fast, the specifics are fuzzy.
One guy lunges at my torso while the other takes a shot at my face. His fist makes contact with my cheekbone, and a flash of white explodes behind my eyes. I was already in the process of shooting a roundhouse kick to the right while driving a punch to the left. The punch misses but my foot makes contact with the other guy’s face. I feel the crunch of his jaw in my bones, and I know he’s out of commission.
He goes down, but so do I. Puncher is over me ready to start raining blows. A fist like a concrete block slams into my kidney, and I can’t stop a groan of agony as pain blasts through my torso. His next punch is right to my gut, and my wind disappears.
I reach out and grab the metal leg of a weight stand near my head. Pulling with all my strength, I drag my body out of the line of his next, finishing blow.
His fist makes contact with a metal rack, and a howl of pain fills my ears. I only have one chance to get the upper hand. Pushing off the floor with both arms, I shoot my leg back, making contact with the soft flesh of his throat. A sick gulp, and he drops like a tree. I don’t have time to check, but I hope I haven’t added a second murder to my rap.
Panting, I face Chairman. Rev is on his feet against the wall, but he’s not making a move yet. Keeping him in my view, I step back until I’ve got a wall behind me as well.
“Not bad, soldier,” Chairman says, nodding. “Maybe you are a badass, but you crossed me. Can’t let that pass.”
I’m breathing hard, and my eyes move from him to Rev. “Bring it.”
A flick of his wrist, and both men lunge for me at the same time. I see the glint of light off the weapon in Rev’s hand, but I don’t have time to block it before Chairman has my arms. Flexing my muscles, I twist away, but Rev is ready. He stabs me deep in the left side.
“FUCK!” I shout, struggling to get my arms free before he’s able to do it again.
I’m too late. He’s driving it into me again as I try to shift my weight so I can kick him into next week. Chairman anticipates my plan and jerks my body to the side, knocking me off balance. The movement drives the knife between my ribs. All at once, I can’t breathe.
I go down gasping. I’m suffocating. Hot, sticky liquid is flooding around me on the floor. It’s my blood. The room is receding... moving out from my vision. I feel the clock ticking as my muscles go weak. I can’t get air.
Commotion fills the space around me, and I register two things before I blackout—Rev is slammed against the wall, and Chairman’s arms are jerked behind him.
“Captain!” The word echoes in my ears, and I remember it was Ben’s nickname for me when we were in training.
“You’re a cop.” Chairman’s says, hatred dripping in his tone.
It’s the last thing I hear before the curtain falls.
Chapter 16: The Worst
Melissa
Lane is on his knees at Derek’s long dining room table eating mac and cheese while Elaine sits beside him holding a glass of white wine.
“I hate waiting,” she grumbles, picking up a stray noodle that escaped onto the mahogany surface.
I can’t help smiling at how a child changes the tone of Derek’s single-male penthouse condo. A line of trucks is on the floor in the living room in front of the gigantic flat-screen television that’s paused on a little-boy building show.
“At least we’re all together,” I exhale, wishing Dex were here instead of with my mom back in Wilmington. “If you hadn’t made the drive, I’d be bouncing off the walls.”
“You could’ve gone to the office to wait with Patrick.”
“Even worse!” I cry, dropping into one of the leather armless chairs arranged around the dark-wood table. “It’s nothing but reminders of what’s happening.”
“Did Kenny say she was driving up?” Leaning forward, I pick up the wine bottle and pour myself a glass.
“She and Slayde had to finish with clients at the gym, and then they were picking up Mariska at her place.” She glances up at the clock. “It only takes half an hour to d
rive here from Bayville.”
I resist the urge to chug my glass of wine, and instead, I’m out of my chair again, pacing the room. “What can we do, Lainey? I’m about to go crazy.”
“Want to watch a movie?”
“Not really.” Chewing my lip, I walk to the windows and look out on the spring afternoon.
Stuart and Marcus had an eleven o’clock meeting with the prosecutor this morning, and from there they said they’d know if Derek would have to go to trial or if they would commute the charges and sentence him to time served. We’ve only heard once from Stuart, who said their meeting with the prosecutor was very productive. All that’s left is a judge to sign off on their agreement.
“My chest is so tight, I feel like I’m having a heart attack,” I laugh. “It’s like we’ve won, but we haven’t. One person stands between us and the future.”
My best friend is out of her chair and crossing the room as I’m still speaking. Standing beside me looking out, she hugs me, putting her chin on my shoulder. “I don’t know a whole lot about this process,” she says, “but I think if the prosecutor is on our side, the judge will go with his advice.”
“Even in a murder case? What if they get one of those hanging judges?”
“Oh my god, stop!” She cries, shaking her light-blonde head. “Now you’re making me nervous.”
A sudden knock on the door actually makes me scream. “Jesus!” Rubbing my stomach, I dash across the room to answer. “I’m so nervous, I’m screaming at the drop of a hat.”
Star is outside with Cammie on her hip. “Is it okay if we hang out with you guys?”
“Of course!” Holding the door wide, I let them both in.
Star’s involvement in the case is over. Bennett played his hand, and for now he seems to be winning. Still, none of us can return to normal life while Derek is in jail.
“I can hardly stand this,” Star says, putting her baby girl down. The little girl immediately crawls to where Lane is driving his truck up and down the lines in the rug. “I wish he’d waited. I wish he’d talked to me about Bennett’s ultimatum.”
