Charm City

by Mason Dixon

  Her heart skipped a beat when Raq’s hands moved to her hips because she knew what would come next.

  When Raq posed the question she was surely about to ask, which part of Bathsheba would give the answer, the cop or the woman?

  “We should move this to the bedroom, don’t you think?” Raq asked, rising from the chair.

  Bathsheba wrapped her legs around Raq’s waist to keep from sliding to the floor. “Yes, we should.”

  Raq carried her to the bedroom as if she knew the way. Depending on how long she’d taken to search the apartment when Bathsheba was out of town, she might have the place memorized. Bathsheba forced those unpleasant thoughts from her mind as Raq laid her on the bed and covered her body with hers.

  They pulled at each other’s clothes, not stopping until their bodies had been laid as bare as their emotions.

  Bathsheba sighed as Raq’s weight settled on her again. Raq dressed like a boy on the streets, but she was all-girl underneath the tank top, boxers, and sagging jeans. Bathsheba ran her hands over the thick muscles in Raq’s shoulders, arms, and back. Moving lower, she clutched Raq’s churning hips, drawing them tighter against her and forcing them to slow their furious pace.

  “Take it easy,” she said, flipping Raq onto her back. “You don’t have to rush. I want this to last. Don’t you?”

  Raq nodded. The slightly panicked look in her eyes let Bathsheba know she was unaccustomed to being in position to receive pleasure rather than provide it.

  “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” Bathsheba placed a hand over Raq’s pounding heart. “You know I’d never do that, right?”

  Raq nodded again.

  “Then tell me what you want.”

  Bathsheba wanted her to voice her desires, not only so she could discover what Raq liked in bed, but so Raq could slowly begin to recover some of the power Ice had systematically taken from her over the years as he exercised control over nearly every facet of her life. The only places she was in control were in the ring and in bed. And sometimes not even there, depending on her opponent or her partner.

  As she pondered the question, Raq looked like a kid who had been asked what she wanted for Christmas. She seemed torn between admitting what she really wanted and settling for what she could expect to receive.

  “A massage,” she said at last.

  “Okay.”

  Bathsheba rubbed her hands together to warm them. She doubted Raq had ever been given the kind of massage she was about to provide. She wondered if she would be as responsive as she expected her to be.

  Raq rolled onto her stomach and closed her eyes. She groaned in appreciation as Bathsheba firmly kneaded the muscles in her legs, back, and shoulders. Her body was dotted with scars. Bathsheba’s curious fingers paused each time they encountered the physical reminder of an old wound, but she didn’t question their origins. Instead, she kissed each one she encountered before eventually moving on.

  Raq seemed self-conscious at first, then she began to blossom under the attention. As Bathsheba changed her firmness of the massage from hard to whisper-soft, she watched Raq open up even more.

  Bathsheba trailed her fingertips over the curve of Raq’s hips. Raq hissed in surprise and drew away from the contact. Then she quickly came back for more, her hips rising to meet Bathsheba’s waiting fingers.

  Bathsheba slowly made her way up Raq’s body. “Roll over,” she said when she reached her shoulders again.

  Raq dutifully rolled onto her back. Bathsheba didn’t have to ask if she was ready for more. She could tell just by looking at her. Her nipples were hard and pearls of moisture glistened in the neatly trimmed hair at the apex between her legs.

  “Damn, girl,” she said as Bathsheba straddled her hips and gently kneaded her breasts. “You are good at this.”

  “Hold your praise. I’m just getting started.”

  “What else do you—”

  Whatever Raq planned to say, she seemed to lose her train of thought as soon as Bathsheba’s lips closed around her nipple. When her hips rose again, Bathsheba’s hand was waiting to meet them. Bathsheba slipped her fingers between Raq’s slick folds. Two fingers slid effortlessly inside.

  Raq groaned deep in her throat. The veins on each side of her neck bulged as she thrust against Bathsheba’s hand. Bathsheba met the pressure and returned it.

  As she moved closer to the edge, Raq bit her lip to keep from crying out as if it was against some unwritten street code to show how much she was enjoying what was taking place between them. Bathsheba welcomed the challenge. Her goal immediately shifted from making Raq come to breaking through her defenses along the way.

  “Trust me,” she said in an urgent whisper. “Trust what you’re feeling. Share it with me. Let me in.”

  Raq exhaled as if she had been waiting for the right moment to let down her guard. Her cry of pleasure began as a low moan and ended as a keening wail. Smooth muscles spasmed around Bathsheba’s fingers, drawing them deeper. Bathsheba slowed her movements but didn’t stop, drawing out Raq’s orgasm until she couldn’t tell when the first one ended and the second began.

  “What are you trying to do, kill me?” Raq asked after she caught her breath.

  “Not a chance.” Bathsheba gently removed her fingers. “I haven’t had my turn yet.”

  “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to do to you?” Raq asked with a sly smile as she traced lazy circles on Bathsheba’s hip with the tip of one finger.

  “Why don’t you surprise me?”

  “You know how much I love to eat,” Raq said, licking her lips, “so why don’t we take it from there?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Raq slowly made her way down Bathsheba’s body, her kisses growing more reverent the lower she went. Bathsheba felt like a goddess being worshipped as Raq’s mouth built a bridge between the sacred and the profane.

  “God. Damn.”

  Bathsheba opened her legs wide enough for Raq to settle between them, then scisssored them around Raq’s neck to hold her in place. Her body was on fire, baptized by a flame that burned so bright she closed her eyes to shield them from the glare.

  “Yes,” she said, tangling her fingers in Raq’s unruly hair. “Right there.”

  Raq continued to stroke her with her tongue, alternating between slow and fast, soft and hard. Not knowing what to expect, Bathsheba lay back and allowed the sensations Raq produced to wash over her.

  She forgot about the case and the time constraints she was under to bring it to a close. She forgot about Ice Taylor and the mind games he played with his employees. She forgot about the politicians who were making her life harder instead of easier. She forgot about everything except the one thing—the one person—who mattered most. Raq.

  “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

  The orgasm hit her like a sucker punch, slamming into her with a force she had never felt before. Thankfully, she didn’t have far to fall. And Raq was there to catch her before she hit the canvas.

  “Are you okay?” Raq asked.

  When Raq kissed her, Bathsheba could taste her own juices on her tongue.

  “Never better.”

  For one night at least, the words were true. She had no idea how long they would remain that way, but tonight she didn’t care.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Raq woke with a pleasant heaviness in her limbs. She felt like she’d just gone twelve rounds with George Foreman before he gave up the sweet science to hawk religion and tabletop grills. Bright light streamed into the room and she squinted at the glare.

  Wondering why nothing looked familiar, she took a moment to get her bearings. Then it hit her. She wasn’t in her place. She wasn’t in her bed. She was in Bathsheba’s. Her clit twitched pleasurably as she remembered why she was waking up somewhere other than home. She reached for Bathsheba, but her side of the bed had grown cold.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead. Or should I say good afternoon instead?”

  Raq
leaned over the side of the bed. Bathsheba was doing sit-ups on the floor. Based on the sheen of sweat coating her body, she had been at it for quite a while.

  “What time is it?” Raq asked.

  “Almost two,” Bathsheba said, grunting with effort. “Do you want me to scrounge up something for lunch?”

  “No, I have to head over to Ice’s so I can tell him what’s up. I’ll grab something on the way. Do you have any clippers?”

  “Somewhere. I’d have to find them. Why?”

  Raq ran a hand over her hair, which felt like it was sticking up worse than Don King’s. “I could use a trim before I go.”

  “How low?”

  “All the way.”

  “You want me to shave it? Are you sure?” Bathsheba sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You have a thick, beautiful head of hair and your cornrows are practically your trademark.”

  “I know, but it’s time for a change. I’ve always wanted to go low, but I didn’t have the guts to do it.”

  “But you do now?”

  Raq grinned sheepishly. “You make me feel like I can do anything. People say I act like a man because of the way I dress and who I sleep with. If I shave my head, they’ll probably say I want to turn into one, but the fact is I never feel more like a woman than when I’m with you.”

  “Thanks for the compliment, but I think you deserve more credit for that than I do. Come on. Let’s get you hooked up.”

  Raq followed her to the kitchen just as she’d done the night before. Bathsheba rooted in drawers and cabinets as she tried to find a pair of electric clippers. Raq resisted the urge to give her hints because she wasn’t supposed to know where they were.

  “Bingo,” Bathsheba said at last.

  “Sweet.”

  Bathsheba plugged the clippers into the wall and wrapped a towel around Raq’s shoulders to catch the falling hairs. “Last chance to change your mind.”

  “I’m sure. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay.” Bathsheba flipped the power switch with her thumb and the clippers buzzed to life. “Here goes nothing.”

  Bathsheba adjusted the blade length and pressed the guard against the side of Raq’s head. Raq expected the clippers to snatch and grab her hair, but she didn’t feel any discomfort as Bathsheba moved in slow, even strokes. When she was done and she handed Raq a mirror so she could inspect the results, Raq felt liberated. She felt complete. She felt truly herself for the first time in her life.

  “How do I look?” she asked, seeking Bathsheba’s approval.

  “You look…powerful.”

  That was exactly how she felt.

  “Thanks,” she said, giving Bathsheba a quick kiss. “I’m going to take a shower and hit the road. I’ll meet up with you later, okay?”

  “You’d better. I’d hate to think last night was a one-time thing.”

  “Only if you want it to be.” Raq hadn’t considered the possibility Bathsheba might not be as serious about their relationship as she was. The thought left her suddenly terrified.

  “I don’t.”

  “Good. Because neither do I. Keep doing what you were doing, workout queen. I’ll call you later.”

  Bathsheba smiled as Raq gave her a playful smack on the butt on her way out of the room. Raq showered and changed into the clothes she had been wearing the night before. She gave Bathsheba a lingering kiss at the door before leaving to meet up with Ice. She had been gone only a few minutes when Bathsheba’s doorbell rang.

  “What did you forget?” Bathsheba asked, opening the door without bothering to look through the peephole to see who was standing on the other side.

  Dez looked her up and down, his mirrored sunglasses reflecting her own image back at her. “Nothing, Ma,” he said with an appreciative suck of his teeth, “but you make me wish I had. Is Raq here?”

  “No, she left a few minutes ago. She’s headed to Ice’s to let him know King is making a move on his territory.”

  “We already know all about it. That’s why Ice sent me to rally the troops. Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

  “Give me five minutes. I’ll be right out.”

  She tried to close the door, but Dez blocked it with his hand.

  “That’s okay. I can wait.” He slipped his sunglasses into his jacket pocket as he stepped into the apartment. “You do what you got to do. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”

  Bathsheba grabbed some clothes from the bedroom. She locked the bathroom door behind her, but she knew the flimsy thing wouldn’t protect her if Dez wanted to get at her.

  She showered and dressed in almost record time. Dez hadn’t displayed a sense of urgency, but she felt one nevertheless. She tried to call Carswell while she allowed the water to run, but the call went to voicemail. He was supposed to be available to her around the clock. She wondered if the cutbacks he had hinted at during their last conversation included his man hours as well. If so, she was in deep shit. She had no choice but to leave him a message.

  “I’m on the move,” she said as quietly as she could. “I’ll be traveling in a black Navigator with custom plates DEZSNAV. Let me spell it out for you. That’s Delta Epsilon Zulu Sierra November Alpha Victor. If you have any unmarked units in the area, mobilize them now. I need a tail. A street war’s about to go down and we need to get a handle on it before it gets out of control.”

  She ended the call and quickly began another. Pop Walker had offered to help with her investigation. There wasn’t much he could do at his advanced age, but she made it a point to let him know her whereabouts at all times. If she went missing, she wanted someone to notice the loss.

  “What’s going on, baby girl?” he asked.

  “I’m meeting up with Ice and I wanted you to know.”

  “Are you going to his apartment or the restaurant?”

  “I don’t know. It could be either one.”

  “Okay. Call me when you’re done.”

  “I will. If you don’t hear from me by nine tonight, you know what to do.”

  “You can count on me.”

  She ended the call, turned off the water, and waited a few minutes before she opened the door.

  “You ready?” Dez rose from his seat when she stepped out of the bathroom.

  Bathsheba took an involuntary look at the ceiling to see if all the tiles were in place. She’d gotten rid of the computer after Raq searched the apartment, but she hadn’t managed to purge herself of the paranoia that went with it. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  Dez tossed the magazine he had been reading on the coffee table and slipped his sunglasses back on. “Then let’s roll.”

  On the street, he climbed into the front of the Navigator and she sat next to Bigfoot in the back.

  “Buckle up,” Dez said as Rico turned the key in the ignition. “We wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, would we?”

  Bathsheba pulled the seat belt across her body and snapped the restraint into place. “What’s the matter? Don’t you trust Rico’s skills behind the wheel?”

  She meant the comment as a joke, but Dez, Rico, and Bigfoot didn’t laugh, the boys bonding against the lone girl in their midst. “Accidents happen,” Dez said flatly.

  Bathsheba flinched when the door locks engaged. Thanks to the child safety locks on the rear doors, she was effectively trapped.

  “How many people are coming to this meeting?” she asked.

  Dez shrugged. “I’m not the one in charge of invitations. I’ll find out when you do.”

  “Is it being held at Ice’s place?”

  “Nah. He doesn’t do business out of his home if he can help it. A man’s home is his castle, right?”

  “We can’t be going to Miss Marie’s. We already passed it.”

  “There are too many eyes and ears at Miss Marie’s. We don’t want anyone who doesn’t need to know to find out what’s going on. The situation is too volatile. When we move on King, we need to take him by surprise. Otherwise, he’ll barricade himself inside his ap
artment building and we’ll never be able to get to him.”

  “So where are we meeting, some safe house the cops don’t know about?”

  Dez and Rico exchanged a look, the universal expression of men who are tired of answering a woman’s questions. “Keep your shorts on. We’ll be there soon enough. You’re not nervous, are you?”

  “This is my first sit-down. I don’t know what to expect. I feel unprepared.”

  “I saw how you handled yourself in New York. You’ll be fine.”

  Bathsheba didn’t feel comforted by the vote of confidence. Dez’s demeanor seemed a bit off to her. Rico’s and Bigfoot’s, too. They seemed like they were going out of their way to play it cool, which made it seem like they had something to hide.

  She pulled out her cell phone. The burner didn’t have a GPS, which made it impossible to trace, but she liked having it close at hand. Something tangible she could hold onto.

  “Who are you calling?” Dez asked.

  She had intended to text Carswell the address of the intersection they had just passed through because she hadn’t noticed anyone on their tail, but she decided it was too risky. Lately, Ice had started insisting she check her cell phone at the door. If someone scrolled through her messages, the one to Carswell might raise a red flag.

  “I’m texting Raq. I need to tell her something before I see her face-to-face.”

  “Put the phone down,” Dez said after he and Rico exchanged another look.

  Bathsheba continued typing her message. “In a minute. I’m almost done.”

  Dez turned in his seat. “Did I stutter? When I say put the phone down, I mean now, not five minutes from now.”

  “Fine. I’ll turn it off.” Bathsheba hit Send before her thumb pressed the Power button.

  Had fun the other night, she had typed, but I think we have even bigger things in store today.

  She held up the phone to show Dez the darkened display.