by Mike Dagons
“Choc, that’s a mean thing to say.”
“I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I just wish he’d man up and learn how to control the situation instead of always letting it control him. He has a fucking badge for Christ’s sake. Why doesn’t he let it speak for him and kick some ass?!”
“He’s scared they’re going to kill his wife,” she defended.
“And he can bet his ass they will if he don’t hurry up and grow a pair.” He started the Jeep and followed the MKZ that followed Trent when he pulled out of the circular drive.
The car on his tail was following close like they wanted him to know they were on him. Trent parked in front of his apartment building instead of in the tiny lot on the side of it, and the car pulled up and parked right behind him.
“You were right about them wanting him to know he’s being watched. He’d have to be blind and deaf to miss them,” Rayce commented.
“They’re trying to intimidate him, and knowing Trent’s crybaby ass, it’s probably working.”
Choc drove by them without slowing down. He drove over to the next block, found a park, and they went up to Trent’s apartment through the rear.
When Trent heard the knock on his back door, he answered it with his gun in hand. He moved the curtain back, and when he didn’t see anyone, he opened the door quick and wide.
Immediately, Choc stepped into view, pushing him back inside. He brought a finger up to his lips signaling Trent not to speak.
Rayce moved around them and started sweeping the apartment for surveillance devices. “It’s okay, it’s clean,” she said when she didn’t find any.
Trent wrapped his arms around his brother, and hugged him tight. “I knew you would come,” he cried.
“Man, stop crying,” he pushed him back, and then took his face in his hands. “You have to learn how to control your emotions, Trent, or people will always take advantage of you.”
“I know, I know,” he dried his face with the heels of his hands. “I’m not usually this emotional anymore, Choc. I’ve been holding down my own since mama died, and I was doing good work. I just,” his voice cracked. “They made me watch her drink pee,” he sank down on the sofa, and dropped his head down on his knees and cried like a hurt kid.
“Oh my God!” Rayce exclaimed. She sat down next to him and rubbed her hand over his back to comfort. “I’m Rayce, a friend of your brother. It’s going to be alright,” she looked up at Choc, who only rolled his eyes.
“Man up, goddammit!” he shouted. “Your wife needs you!”
“I’m sorry. It’s nice to meet you, Rayce,” he sniffled. “Tell me what I need to do to get her back?” he looked up at Choc.
“If you breakdown and cry again, I’ll kick your ass. Ain’t nobody got time for that shit, you understand?” his cool expression didn’t match the anger in his voice, but that was typical of Choc.
“Alright, I hear you,” he stood up, and looked directly at Choc. “Tell me what to do.”
He was a few inches shorter than Choc, and about four shades lighter, but Desmond was right. They did have the same eyes.
Rayce watched his body language, and she could tell that he was relieved that Choc was there. She wished Choc could see how much Trent admired him. Maybe it would help him look at Trent differently.
“We know where she is, and there’s a man in position to move on them. We’ll take care of the tail they got on you as soon as I get the word that she’s safe.”
“The girl holding her is pregnant with my baby. I want to be there when your man goes in.”
“Damn, Trent!” he groaned, and then immediately texted Valow with the information.
I’ll be at the gas station waiting for you, was his response. I’m reading eight bodies on the third floor. I assume the one in the fetal position is the package I’m here to pick up, but if there are two women on scene. I don’t want to fuck up and shoot the wrong one.
Hit you back when I get there, Choc replied. “Let’s roll,” he said to Trent.
“What about the men tailing me. If they call Xena, she’ll kill Kenyah.”
“I’m pretty confident that the men sitting on your truck are content with watching it, so it’ll be safe for us to sneak you out the back,” Choc said. “Do you have a gun?”
Trent picked up on the sarcasm as intended, and replied by taking his gun out of its holster, and holding it up for Choc to see. “Beretta M1951 9mmP semi-automatic, does it meet with your approval?”
Choc just rolled his eyes at him, and then led the way out.
On the drive over to the warehouse, Trent explained his involvement with Lincoln’s sister, and how he used that relationship to gain his trust.
“You didn’t wear condoms?” Choc asked.
“She was supposed to be on the pill, and she didn’t always give me time to suit up. I couldn’t afford to make her suspicious by insisting on no shit like that,” he huffed.
“Alright, so now your wife knows that you been fucking around.”
“It was the job, man. I ain’t got real feelings for Xena.”
“I predict you’re going to have a hard time convincing your wife that’s true,” Rayce said.
“So do you think the man you sent to get me is sleeping with your wife?” Choc asked.
“His wife does,” he answered, and then proceeded to tell them about the very public conflict they had at their job.
Choc glanced over at Rayce and gave her a look that said, I told you he was a pussy.
“So, you don’t know that she’s sleeping with him for a fact, do you?” Rayce asked in his defense.
She liked that he wasn’t a callous and unforgiving man, but she also understood why his sensitivity was aggravating to a man like Choc.
“Nah, they’re both denying it. Kenyah loves me, and I believe her. I could kill Xena for breaking her heart, and then degrading her like she did.”
“This Xena sounds like a real bitch,” Rayce said.
“Yeah, she is, and she’s vindictive, so I know she’ll never let Kenyah live, even if I leave Kenyah and marry her. Lincoln knows it too, but he’s just trying to beat the rap,” he sighed.
“So, why the fuck you insist on this ride along to try to protect her?” Choc barked.
“I’m not! That’s not what I’m doing, Choc.”
“Man, you need to stop being so fucking righteous, and do what’s necessary to get the job done!”
“Not everything is black and white, Choc! There are fifty shades of gray in between that I have to deal with in this case.”
“Bullshit, that bitch is going to dangle that baby in front of you like the golden egg for as long as you live. You might as well divorce Kenyah and marry her, ‘cause she’s going to make your life hell if you don’t. That is, if she don’t hire a gun to kill you both later.”
“For God’s sake, Choc, you don’t need to paint me a picture. I’m not that little kid who needed you to teach me how to stand up for myself. I don’t need you to protect me anymore!”
“Oh no, then why the fuck you send for me?!”
“Believe me, I didn’t want to send for your arrogant, know it all ass, but I wanted to save my wife more than I wanted to avoid this conversation with you!” he shouted back.
“Stop it, both of you!” Rayce shouted. “You were right to call him, Trent. You should never let your pride get in the way of doing the right thing,” she glared at Choc.
“What the fuck is that suppose to mean?” he cracked a smile.
“Choc is mad because you didn’t invite him to your wedding, Trent.”
“I would have invited him, but I was in the middle of this operation. I couldn’t risk anybody finding out that I had a brother. It was hard enough making Kenyah agree to a small chapel wedding. I needed to keep it hidden and in the dark. If she knew about Choc, she would have insisted on making it a big deal. And I’d have to set aside a Sunday in each month for family dinners and shit like mama use to make us do, remember that?” he chuck
led at the thought.
“Yeah, it was a pain in the ass. Does she remind you of mama?” Choc asked, his voice filling with emotion.
“Yeah, she’s sweet, and understanding. Thanks for coming to my rescue, Choc. I really do need you, and I do appreciate you being here for me.”
“You’re my brother. What would mama think if I sat back and let you get killed?”
Trent punched him on the back of his shoulder playfully, and then sat back in his seat.
They met up with Valow in the gas station across the street from the warehouse. They gave the attendant a few bucks for the use of his lot to park their cars, and then they all headed into the building.
They took the stairs up, and then took a minute to study the binary optics tablet Valow was using to read the heat signatures on the other side of the wall.
Chapter 12
When Desmond was more than an hour late coming home, Vectra worried that he might be with Kenyah. She called his cell, and immediately got his voicemail.
He had turned his phone off. In her mind, there was no explanation for it other than he didn’t want to be disturbed because he was with Kenyah.
She had tried initiating sex with him a couple of times since their argument, but he’d rejected her. He was so angry with her. He was barely speaking. He was avoiding her when he could, and sleeping in whatever room she was not in at night.
Knowing that he’d lost interest in her, and turned to someone else, really hurt.
Vectra tried calling him a few more times, leaving messages, and pleading with him to call her back. Her mother was in their guestroom. She’d asked her to sleep over because Desmond liked her, and he wouldn’t dare treat her like she was a stranger in front of her mother. “I fucked up,” she whispered to herself.
She’d called Regina and told her that it was over between them. She didn’t take it well, but she didn’t give a fuck. Their relationship had been experimental. Sure she’d enjoyed the sex, but it was just sex. She had no emotional ties to the woman, and she was genuinely surprised when Reggie got pissed about the breakup.
Desmond had been right. Reggie was not her first affair. She’d had a few other flings at the job, which she blamed him for because he was just so predictable and boring. It had always been so easy to pull the wool over his eyes, and she’d never been busted. It had made her complacent, and she stopped watching her back. It was foolish. She could see that now.
She loved Desmond, and she was going to give him some time to cool off, but she was not going to step back and let Kenyah take him from her. She was going to fight for her marriage, and she was never going to take Desmond for granted again.
It was a warm night, and the thermostat was set to keep the house at a cool 68 degrees. Vectra pulled the covers up around her neck, and tried to relax enough to sleep.
She had just settled into a comfortable position when she heard the noise in her kitchen. She assumed it was Desmond, and sat up in bed, hoping that he would want to make love to her if he knew she was awake and willing.
If he didn’t want to make love, maybe he’d be willing to talk about what needed to be done to put their marriage back on track.
The minutes ticked away, and when he didn’t come upstairs right away, she got up to go downstairs to make sure he didn’t decide to sleep on the sofa. She was determined not to let the silence between them go on for another night.
The nightlights in the baseboards in the hallway, so the boys could make it to the bathroom without stumbling in the dark, were shining, but Desmond hadn’t turned on any other lights in the house.
“Desmond,” she called out to him as she started down the short flight of stairs to the first level. Vectra had just stepped off the last step when she was met by a man coming out of her kitchen with a gun in his hand.
She turned to run back up the stairs, but the man was too fast. He caught her before she took two steps, and clamped a big hand over her mouth. “Vectra, I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered in her ear as he lifted her off the staircase.
“If you scream, it’ll scare your children,” a woman came out the darkness in the living room. “Your husband, Desmond, sent us. He’s in some trouble, and he’s afraid for your safety. We’re here to take you into protective custody,” she explained.
The woman had dark hair, and she looked Hispanic, or white. She didn’t have an accent, so it was hard to tell, but he was definitely black. They both looked to be in their late twenties, and were wearing white polo shirts, and black khaki pants like the people who worked at fast food restaurants.
The man holding her was tall, and thick with muscle. He was strong, and holding her up off the floor with very little effort.
“Can he put you down, Vectra?” the woman asked with a pleasant smile that put her at ease.
Vectra nodded, yes, and the man removed his hand, and let her feet touch the floor. “Who are you people? What’s this all about? What kind of trouble? Where is he?” she asked question after question, not pausing to give them time to answer any of them.
“We’re with the Bureau,” he lied. “I’m agent Flowers.”
“And I’m agent Newell,” the woman said.
“The FBI Bureau?” she frowned.
“We’re here to put your family in protective custody for a few days,” the woman explained. “Please, we need you to get dressed, and come with us quickly.”
“Where’s my husband? Where’s Desmond?” she asked, not willing to move until she received an answer.
“He’s in a government safe house. We’re going to take you to him now,” she smiled.
“What about my mother? She’s in our guestroom.”
“We can take her with us too,” the man said reassuringly, “but you have to hurry. You’re all in danger.”
“I’ll go with you to get them,” the woman took her by her arm and led her down the stairs to get her mother first.
Vectra explained the situation to her mother with urgency, and then left her to dress while she went to get the boys.
Under the woman’s watchful eye, she hustled the boys out of bed and urged them to dress quickly before she went into her bedroom and put on a pair of jeans and a loose fitting shirt.
“When we get outside, I want you all to walk closely together. We’re going to the white van parked in your driveway. Do you understand?” the man asked.
“We understand,” Vectra answered for the group, and began ushering them to the front door. “Devon, come on,” she said to her son when he didn’t move from the spot he was standing in.
“Let me see your ID,” he eyed agent Flowers suspiciously.
“It’s in my jacket in the van.”
“And yours?” he turned his eyes to the woman.
“Boy, c’mon here, it ain’t no time to play,” Vectra admonished as she took hold of his arm and pulled him with her.
The woman offered him a big smile and mussed his hair playfully as he walked by her. “Alright, remember to follow me close,” she opened the front door.
They walked out of the house together with the boys in front, and Vectra and her mother walking close behind them. The female agent walked in front of the group, and her partner brought up the rear of the small procession.
They lived in a nice residential area with split level homes that all looked the same. It was almost 3 a.m., and the street was dark and empty except for the black truck parked up the street.
There was no overnight parking allowed on the street, and Vectra thought it odd to see the truck sitting there. She started to mention it to the agents, but she couldn’t see anyone in it, so she dismissed it as her own paranoia.
The woman, who had identified herself as agent Newell, opened the side door, and barely had time to register the shock of seeing her driver dead on the floor before the bullet shot from the silenced Glock bore into her skull.
Ceylon moved like a well oiled machine, shooting her partner in his head as he stepped over her dead body.
Seeing the agents murdered right in front of them made the family huddle together in fright, except for Devon. He took off in a fast sprint. Ignoring the others, Ceylon ran after him, leaping over the hood of the truck as Severe pulled it up on the lawn in front of them.
Severe was out the truck with genuine looking FBI creds in hand. “Vectra, Mrs. Lewis, those people were imposters. I need you to come with me.”
Vectra stared at her in shock. She had just seen two people identifying themselves as agents killed. She wasn’t ready to be trusting yet. “No,” she pulled her mom and son close and slowly started backing away.
Not having the time to waste trying to convince her to trust her, Severe pushed her gun in her face. “Get in the truck, NOW,” she ordered.
Mrs. Lewis was the first to move. She shoved her grandson forward, grabbed her daughter’s arm, and pulled her to the truck. Severe opened the back door, and they all climbed into the backseat.
“Vectra, I know you’re afraid, but I need you to trust me,” she handed the phony creds to her through the window. “I’m sorry you had to see that, but they beat us here. It would have put you in greater danger if we had tried to take them in the house.”
Vectra looked at the ID, and then back at the woman. She was a petite white girl with dark hair and pretty brown eyes who looked as innocent as the man she was with looked dangerous.
“We can’t leave Devon,” the little boy said.
“What’s your name?” Severe smiled warmly.
“Devin.”
“We’re not going to leave anyone, Devin,” she promised before she spoke into her Voxer Walkie. “Where you at?” she asked Ceylon.
“Track me, the little nigga can run.”
“What about the clean up?”
“Handle it, baby,” he answered impatiently.
“Vectra, I need your help,” she opened the truck door. “Please, we need to hurry,” she added when the woman didn’t move.
Her mother nudged her, and Vectra got out the truck and walked over to the dead bodies with Severe.
