Merry laughed. “You still stuck on that, Mookie? I assure you, I’m not associated in any way with law enforcement, though I do have plenty of connections at the department. Why do you think I’ve stayed out of trouble for so long? I believe you and I have the same handler. I just…give him certain favors to remain un-cuffed.”
A lazy grin spread across Mookie’s slack jaw. “Yeah, you look like his type. He likes them lean and mean.”
Damn! Mitch must be his handler.
“Oh, and my name’s Ms. Nyical. That’s all you’re getting today. So, Mr. Majors, do you think you’d have any problems selling this to your regulars?”
Mookie laughed, and a dribble of saliva inched out of the corner of his mouth. “Hell no. Might even bring me some new hitters once word gets out.”
“Perfect! I’ll see you at three a.m. on Monday morning. Alleyway between 4th and 5th. Come alone and ready to take a drive, Mr. Majors. Oh, and please bring something better than your stick of wood over there for protection.” Merry nodded toward the two-by-four. “Because the boys we’ll be meeting make the Urchins look like Boy Scouts.”
It took two attempts for Mookie to stand. He wobbled across the floor, stopping directly in front of Merry. Eyelids hooded, breath foul, and lips wet, Mookie grabbed Merry’s left breast and squeezed. His other arm pinned her wrist holding the club to her side. “What makes you think you’re leaving here without me sampling some of you?”
Merry’s gaze was near even with the lowlife’s. He was maybe an inch or so taller, thin as a rail, yet full of lean muscle. It would be a struggle, but she had every confidence she’d prevail over his drugged-out ass. Her first instinct was to bash his stained teeth in with the club, but that would only complicate matters. It wasn’t the right time to take him out.
Instead of liberating his teeth from the filthy hole he called his mouth, Merry jerked her free arm forward, grabbing Mookie’s crotch. She applied enough pressure that Mookie groaned, his hands dropping to his sides, smile long gone. “I don’t screw my business partners, Mr. Majors. That privilege is reserved for those who keep me out of jail, and men with big cocks.” Merry squeezed with all her might and then let go as Mookie fell to his knees. “You don’t fall into either of those categories. I’m afraid I’m all out of samples for you. See you in two days—if you can walk.”
As Mookie cupped his crushed family jewels, Merry moved past him and snatched the baggie. With a flick of the wrist, she dumped the remaining powder onto the makeshift coffee table. Pocketing the empty baggie, she gave Mookie a sinister grin while stepping over him.
She turned and walked down the steps. Her gaze was focused on the dog, who was less than fifteen feet away. Muzzle still covered in blood, it never made a sound as it watched Merry extract the keys from her pocket.
Don’t worry, Hercules. Your chance for revenge is coming.
Soon.
***
Mookie watched the crazy white ho stroll down the front steps. He wanted to get up and knock the bitch into the next week. He couldn’t even yell at her because nothing on him functioned at the moment. Though wasted, he’d lost the ability to do much of anything except crumple to the floor and groan. It was too bad she didn’t trip and land near Hercules. He would have enjoyed watching Ms. Nyical get gnawed on like a stack of ribs.
His breathing returned to normal just as he heard the vroom of the bike from the driveway. Vocal chords finally working, he let out his pain and anger in an explosive outburst.
He crawled to the couch and reached under the cushion for his cell. Eyes still watering, it took him a few seconds to scroll down and find the right number. He hit send and waited, rubbing his crushed balls.
“News already for me, De’Shawn?”
Mookie grumbled, “Oh yeah.”
“Wow, I’m proud of you boy! Must have decided you didn’t like your recent stay with us, huh? Now see there? I just knew you had some information lurking around in that head of yours. Must say I’m surprised you didn’t spill it before.”
“Fuck you. I held up my end of the bargain when y’all busted me! I didn’t say shit! Now, I got some proper info. Wanna hear what I gotta say or not?”
“Such harsh language, De’Shawn! What would your mother say if she heard her precious Mookie…”
“Don’t you dare bring Moms into this. You promised if I gave you any information, you’d make sure she’s…”
The voice on the other line was a low grumble, making the hairs stand up on Mookie’s arms.
“Don’t start getting bossy with me, De’Shawn, or your moms might spend some time in solitary. Now, quit wasting my time and talk.”
Mookie swallowed his anger and responded, “Got a visit today from some crazy ho. Said she was one of yours.”
There was a long pause before a response was given. “Did you now?”
“Yeah. Bitch had her some nice product. Said she needs help with the process. Going down at three a.m. Monday at Peppy’s favorite spot. Said it’s enough we could both give up the life for good.”
“Description, please?”
“White. Tall as me with short, black hair. Had one of them barbed wire tats on her arm. Said her name was Ms. Nyical. Rode up here on some fancy bike. Gave me a sample, and I’m telling you, it’s proper.”
“Interesting. Anything else you want to share?”
Mookie scooted around until he found a comfortable position on the couch. The burning pain between his legs had dulled to a heavy throb. He stared at the powder all over the table, eager to get after some more. “Told me to come alone. Be ready to take a drive. So whaddya want me to do? Show up, or leave it up to you?”
“You just proceed as instructed. I’ll handle things on my end.”
Mookie heard the anger in the voice and grimaced. “So, we good on our deal? Moms will be okay, right?”
Mookie’s answer was dead air.
7
8:00 p.m. Saturday night
While the sun cast the last rays of light before disappearing over the horizon, Mitchell Sinclair watched the neighbor’s cat scurry across his front yard. The orange and white tabby stopped in mid-stride, eyes focused on a bird in the oak tree. The annoying bird chirped away, oblivious to the four-legged predator watching from below. For some reason, Mitchell found the entire spectacle fascinating. It was like having a front row seat at Animal Planet or The Discovery Channel, all in the comfort of a screened-in porch. Even a domesticated pet, raised by a loving family—its needs, wants, and hunger always met—still retained its instinctive nature to stalk and kill.
He took the final sip of beer and smiled as Clara stepped outside, two beers in hand. Judging by the jiggle of her full breasts, she still wore only his t-shirt from their previous romp in the kitchen, hallway, and eventually, bedroom. He eyed her long, muscular legs as he recalled how they looked when in mid-air.
“Perfect timing. That’s why I keep you around.”
Clara handed Mitch a can and joined him on the swing. “Wrong. I stay for the free booze and cable.”
Mitch leaned over and stuck his hand between Clara’s legs. He rubbed hard, enjoying the look of lust spark to life behind Clara’s dark brown eyes. They both knew the only reason he continued seeing Clara was they both had an insatiable libido. Her small gasp of surprise excited him. “You stay because I make you cum loud and hard.”
Clara let out a groan as Mitch’s fingers increased their pressure. “You sure are full of yourself, Detective.”
Her voice was low, seductive. Full of raw passion. Mitch let his fingers slide inside. She was beyond ready, and his eagerness grew in response. He nipped her ear and whispered, “I’m not the one who’s about to be full of me.”
Clara wrapped her fingers around Mitch’s blond curls, pushing his lips toward her own. When his strong fingers worked in unison with his talented tongue, Clara’s troubles evaporated.
Her chance at mind-numbing ecstasy ended the minute Mitch’s cell phone rang.
“Ignore it,” Clara pleaded. “Please? I need you—right now!”
Mitch jerked his head and hand away, ignoring the girl’s pleas. He stood and retrieved the cell he used only for work from his pocket. He didn’t even cast a glance in Clara’s direction as he exited into the back yard.
Irritated, Clara sighed as Mitch disappeared into the night. When he got a call from work, his mood shifted so fast, it was like he morphed into someone else. Not that Mitchell Sinclair was anything near a warm, caring human being when off duty, but still, the flip-flop was scary at times. Jekyll and Hyde shit.
Cracking open a beer, Clara muttered, “Another evening shot to hell; a night of humping like rabbits—poof!—gone with just one freaking phone call. Damn good thing I brought my vibrator.”
Shifting in the seat, the ache between her thighs still thrumming, Clara sipped the cold beer. She strained her ears to make out what Mitch said, yet heard only the rumble of his voice. He was too far away from her position to make out the words.
Clara was tired of being Mitch’s “off-duty booty” as he called it. Their relationship wasn’t really a relationship at all. After admiring each other’s physiques at the gym almost one-year ago, the magnetic sexual attraction between them hot enough to melt snow, their fuckfests started. Clara sensed the darkness in Mitch lurking just below the surface, and it pulled her inside his web. Like so many other women, Clara naively assumed she could “fix” Mitch’s wounded psyche. Given the fact he was a cop, it made sense to her. No telling what kind of horrible things the man had witnessed over the years.
All that changed the night his partner’s nephew died.
Mitch withdrew, mentally and physically. No more short bouts of playful post-coitus cuddling. Hot and heavy lovemaking transformed into simply raw, carnal sex. Time together was spent only at Mitch’s insistence, not hers. Basically, when Mitch had time off work and a woody, he called. The conversations about moving in together ceased.
Clara swiped a tear from her cheek. Gulping down the rest of the beer, she forced herself not to let a full crying jag start. She couldn’t really blame Mitch for everything. She shouldered part of the blame by continuing to participate in an unhealthy relationship.
“No, I’ll break through his shields—one day.”
“Wrong.” Mitch yanked the screen door open and tromped inside.
Clara felt the negative energy fill the room up. She knew before he said a word it was time for her to get dressed and go home.
Mitch grumbled, “Got called in. Don’t know how long I’ll be.”
Without a word, Clara rose and went inside to get dressed, tears of anger and irritation making her vision blur.
Mitch saw the disappointment on Clara’s face as she crammed her clothes in the overnight bag. He knew what he was doing to the girl wasn’t fair, but damn she was fun to have around. He knew, from numerous other failed attempts, a long-term union with an undercover cop eventually ended. And with all the mess going on in his life now, it was time to cut the cord.
“Stop sulking. I told you in the beginning my job was my number one priority.”
Clara jerked the bag onto her shoulder. “I’m not sulking. I’m just…sick of this shit. If I lived here, I…”
“You don’t, and you never will. I told you before, I will never marry again. And shacking up is marriage without paper.”
Tears burst out of Clara’s eyes as her anger boiled. “Screw you, Mitch. I’m done.”
Mitch never said a word in response as Clara stormed out of the house. He didn’t have the time or interest to dwell on it.
There were other, much more important things to handle besides a clingy woman.
Because the phone conversation minutes ago screwed up everything.
“Fuck!” Mitch screamed as he slammed his fist into the wall.
***
Finished with reattaching the license plate, Merry yanked the itchy wig off. Her scalp felt like it was on fire, so she removed all the bobby pins holding her hair in place. She stuffed all the gear into the side saddle bag. Gunning the engine, she pulled back onto the road from the shoulder. In minutes, she was on the freeway, heading west toward the vibrant orange sky.
It took ten miles of open road for her hands to stop shaking and heart rate to slow down. Rage boiled inside her mind. There wasn’t enough water and soap in the world to wipe the filth Mookie’s touch left on her skin. It took control she didn’t realize she possessed to keep from killing him in broad daylight.
Watching him devour the heroin made her feel sick.
And it made her think about Joshua.
No ruminating in the past!
Shifting her concentration back to the road, Merry thought about the meeting. She found out some great information to delve deeper into later while Mookie was under her control. Forty-eight hours worth of planning to complete before the fake meeting with the lowlife bastard.
The rush of the ride wasn’t enough to surpass the pull to finish strategizing. There were a few steps she would need to alter after the discovery of the dog. Her first instinct was to put in an anonymous call to Animal Control. Report not only the abuse, but the violation of the pit bull laws in Little Rock. Get the dog taken away before Mookie hurt it again.
Then, she looked into the eyes of Hercules and realized there was no hope for salvation. The dog didn’t stand a chance at rehabilitation. Merry sensed the brokenness, the return to raw predator. She knew what would happen to the dog in the end. No matter which decision she picked, Hercules would be put down as a vicious dog. It would be, after all, the most humane thing to do.
So, instead of calling it in, Merry decided Hercules needed his own revenge before his life ended. Merry would give Hercules a chance for some payback for the untold amount of abuse suffered by the hands of his cruel master.
Lost in thought, she almost missed her exit. She cut across two lanes, thankful the freeway wasn’t packed. In minutes, she pulled up the tall, chain link fence surrounding Store-N-Go. Punching in the security code, she waited while the gate slid back. It gave her a chance to survey the area. Thankful no one seemed to be out perusing through their storage units, she drove to her spot.
Once she shut the engine down, she paused to listen for sounds of another vehicle or people talking. Hearing nothing other than the faint hum of traffic on I-30, she unlocked her unit and pushed the bike into its designated spot by the front. She was grateful it was almost dark so she couldn’t see all the items stored inside.
Like it really matters! You know what’s inside—all the treasures from your old life!
In four quick strides, she was at her car, which was parked at the end of the aisle. Unlocking the trunk, she pulled out a black gym bag and then trotted back to the interior of the storage unit. With one final glance to ensure she was alone, Merry changed clothes. It took her a few attempts to remove the tight leather pants. All the sweat she’d accumulated over the last two hours made them stick to her thighs like they’d been glued on.
She stuffed all her attire, including the black wig, her boots, and the empty baggie, inside the bag. The only thing she couldn’t remove, at least not yet, was the fake tattoo on her arm. It would have to wait until she made it home and hit the shower.
Turning to leave, the force of what was near her right, beckoned. She didn’t want to, but the pull was too strong to ignore. Steadying herself, Merry looked.
The picture was a 16 x 20 family portrait, taken at The Old Mill in North Little Rock. Even in the darkness, she knew every inch of the picture. It had been taken in late September, just as the trees and shrubs exploded in a burst of reds and yellows. It was still sweltering outside, so they all sported white cotton outfits. Harold and Joshua were in golf shorts and t-shirts, and Merry wore a long, flowing dress. They sat along the edge of the tree-branch-entwined bridge leading to the replica of an old, water-powered grist mill.
Joshua’s hair glistened in the setting sun, making sparks of red bounce off his dar
k curls. Harold looked relaxed and dapper, his once-dark head of hair heavily interspersed with gray. Derek completed the foursome, one hand protectively resting on Joshua’s shoulder. When the proofs were viewed, all of them laughed at how much Joshua’s features had changed over the years, because he looked more and more like his Uncle Derek.
The picture of their small family was shot only two weeks before Joshua’s injury. It was a bitter reminder of how effortless and easy their life had been. How much love, how freaking naïve, they all were while they smiled wide for the camera.
Merry slammed the metal door shut and ran to her car. She flung the gym bag in the passenger seat and shoved the keys into the ignition. While waiting for the gate to open, she bit her lip so hard to keep her tears inside that blood leaked from her mouth and down her shirt.
She gave the gas pedal a hard stomp, and tires squalled. On autopilot, she drove home in the darkness, using all her anger as fuel for the inferno she was about to unleash on De’Shawn Majors.
8
9:00 p.m. Saturday night
After taking the world’s longest shower, Merry wrapped herself in a robe and padded to the kitchen. Though she didn’t want to, it was time to look at her cell phone. There was no telling how many calls and texts she’d missed while on her little baiting mission. She was glad she’d shut down her social media accounts and only had her phone to contend with.
Grabbing an energy drink from the near-empty fridge, she snatched her phone off the counter and walked into the sparse living room. It was still strange to see the house so empty. Most of her belongings were squirreled away in the storage unit. Only big items like the couch, kitchen table, china hutch, bedroom furniture, and all of Harold’s office furniture, remained.
Merry scrolled through her phone. Seven missed calls, four of them from Debbie. One from Carol Kramer, her real estate agent, one from Harold’s former partner, Steve Witherspoon, and another from a number she vaguely recognized. She knew Debbie would want to chat, and honestly, Merry wasn’t in the mood. Though she adored her closest friend, she didn’t want to spend an hour or more listening to Deb prattle on about mundane, trivial bullshit.
Night Court Page 6
