by Mike Dagons
“I’m sick and tired of having this argument with you. You’re here with me. What more do you want, dammit?”
“I want you to respect our time together, and not go sneaking off to meet Kenyah for sex. That’s what I want!” she shouted.
“I’ll be back,” he dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand.
“If you leave here now, then don’t bother coming back,” she warned. “I thought you wanted a mature relationship. I don’t have the time or the patience for the fucking drama.”
“Listen, if we’re going to continue to spend time together, then you have got to stop acting like an insecure jealous girlfriend, and bitching every time I want to make a move without you. You can’t make yourself more important to me than you are!”
His words ignited a rage that burned through her so fast, she couldn’t control it. Reflexively, she snatched his phone from his hand, and hit him in his face with it.
Desmond stared at her in shock. He couldn’t believe she had hit him with his phone. It had bounced off his head, hit the floor, and broke into several pieces. He had suffered physical abuse from his wife for years, and he was not about to let Gloria start hitting him too.
He was a good five inches taller than her, and he had a greater reach, but if the bitch wanted to box with him like she was a man, then he was willing. He fired off two quick left jabs to her midsection, and then he hit her with a hard right cross, snapping her head back. The punch knocked her off her feet, and she came out of her pocket with her cell as soon as she hit the floor. “I’m calling the authorities,” she shouted.
Desmond stomped a foot down on her wrist, and twisted the cell out of her hand and broke it. Her eye was already swollen, but he wanted to discourage her from hitting him again. So, he got up and kicked her in her side. Gloria curled up in a ball and started whimpering like a wounded puppy.
“Bitch, I ain’t your man! Stop trying to make me act like I am!” he fisted her collar and shouted in her battered face. “If you ever hit me again, I swear that I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes,” she moaned in a teary voice.
He realized that the anger he was feeling was coming from his resentment of Trent Real. He was keeping him from having Kenyah, not Gloria, and he felt a pang of guilt for how badly he’d beaten her. You had to defend yourself, he told himself to help ease his conscience. “You made me do this!” he shouted at her angrily.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “Please, don’t leave me like this.”
He ignored her pleas, pocketed his keycard and walked out the door leaving her on the floor crying. He took the elevator up two floors to his new suite to wait for Kenyah. He ordered Champaign and strawberries, and forgot about Gloria and her fucked up attitude.
Desmond only had to wait about ten minutes before there was a knock on the door. He opened it, and a wide grin spread across his face when he saw Kenyah standing there.
He took hold of her hand, and pulled her inside and closed the door. “I’m so happy you made it.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
“What happened to your face?” she held his chin in her hand, and inspected the discoloring above his eyebrow.
“I walked into a door earlier,” he lied.
“Gloria hit you, didn’t she? I’m not interested in sharing you with her and your wife,” she declared.
“I swear it’s not like that between us.” He deliberately leaned on her, forcing her to feel his arousal.
Kenyah tried not to think about how being so close to him made her body ache. “Aren’t you scared she’s going to tell your wife you were here with me?” she looked up into his eyes.
“I’m only concerned about what your husband hears. My marriage is over, and Gloria and I are not sexually involved,” he promised.
“Don’t do that,” she protested weakly, and made a feeble attempt at pushing his hand away when he moved it up under her skirt.
“Baby, please, I need you,” he groaned.
Kenyah moaned inadvertently when he took her mouth with his. He lifted her up around his waist and carried her into the bedroom while he continued to kiss her passionately.
“I don’t know why I can’t get enough of you,” she moaned.
“I know why I don’t want you to get enough of me,” he used his teeth on her throat.
He lowered her to the bed, and they helped each other out of their clothes. Desmond teased her with light kisses until he’d worked her into a sexual frenzy, and then he pinned her arms over her head and pushed himself inside her.
Kenyah came instantly, and she didn’t try to control the noise level. They were alone and safely locked away behind closed doors, so she didn’t have to worry about interruptions or being seen by anyone who might report back to Trent. There was only him and her. It was their first time doing it in a bed, and she was determined to enjoy their rare moment of privacy to the fullest.
“Do you have to go back to your hotel tonight?” he asked when he pushed himself up off her.
Kenyah only had to think about it a minute. She’d spend the night with Desmond and hopefully get him out of her system, once and for all.
“Severe got a message from Genesis advising them that all their communication devices had been compromised. They were instructed not to make contact, or use their phones to send email, or text. They are all such sticklers for rules. I’m sure nobody will report me missing to Trent tonight.”
“So, you’ll stay with me?”
“Okay, but you have to promise this will be the last time we do this.”
“I promise,” he pulled her over on top of him, and she giggled happily.
“It’s the strawberries and Champagne,” he said when they heard the knock at the door.
Desmond rolled out the bed. He grabbed his pants and stepped in them on his way to answer the door. He opened it wide, and the silenced Glock that was pushed in his face had him backing up with his hands raised high.
“Quiet! Where’s your wife, Mr. Real?” the man asked in a calm voice. He was dressed in a gray business suit, and he was wearing black leather gloves that fit his fingers tightly. Two men pushing a large wooden crate on a dolly followed him inside.
“I’m not who you think I am,” Desmond answered shakily.
The backhand hit him in the face so fast, he didn’t see it coming. “Where is your wife?” he enunciated each word slowly.
“In the bedroom,” he cupped his burning cheek, and backed up like the man was motioning for him to do.
“Call her out here, and use her real name. Not the fake one you used to register at this hotel,” he ordered.
“Kenyah, can you come out here a minute,” he called.
“What’s up, baby?” she bounced into the room naked.
“Damn, can we tap that?” one of the men pushing the crate grinned. He was wearing khaki overalls like his partner.
“No, we have orders to bring them back to Mr. Luther unharmed.”
Kenyah stood there trembling in fear. “Take her in the bedroom, and let her get dressed,” the gray suit ordered, and one of the men grabbed Kenyah and dragged her back in the bedroom.
“Can I get my shirt and shoes?” Desmond asked.
“You won’t need them,” he answered dismissively.
Kenyah came out the bedroom a minute later dressed in her skirt and blouse. She was barefoot like Desmond, and clutching her purse to her chest.
“I have their passports, and their shoes,” the man with her reported.
“They’re using fakes, but send the photos to Mr. Basin,” gray suit ordered. “We’ll get a helluva bonus if they are who I think they are.”
“We are not working for the Genesis Group,” she said. Trent had told her that Luther Scott didn’t even know about his involvement with Lincoln. He was looking for somebody named Ice who had killed Lincoln. She had tried to convince him to stay out of it, but he felt responsible.
The suit studied her for a beat. “You came to Par
is with a woman. Where is she?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You purchased your tickets using the false names, Mildred Olsen, and Janice Young. Her name is really Severe Payne, and I believe that you’re Kenyah Real. You’re both directly tied to Genesis.”
“I know Severe, and I know she works for Genesis, but I don’t. And I don’t know anything about what’s going on between them and Luther Scott.”
“I suppose this is not your husband, Trent Real. The brother of Genesis agent, Choc Baltimore,” he looked amused.
“He is not my husband, and we are not associated with Genesis.”
“Our orders are to bring the Genesis people back alive. If you’re not working for them, I may as well kill you now, and leave you here,” he pressed the gun barrel to Desmond’s head.
“We’re with Genesis,” he blurted, and then cut his eyes at Kenyah. “She’s just trying to persuade you to let us go.”
“I know who you are,” he laughed, and the two men with him joined in. “I have a picture of your wife,” he held his phone so they could see the pictures onscreen. “Apparently there are no pictures of you anywhere, Mr. Real. You were only described as a black man in his early thirties with a goatee. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you’re here with Kenyah Real, and you fit that description.”
“Please let us go, and I’ll tell you where Severe Payne is staying,” she said.
“I could jerk you around and pretend you have something of value to bargain with, but I don’t have time for it. You were captured by the airport security cameras traveling with Severe. Mr. Basin was able to find a photo of you, Kenyah. He wanted to have a conversation with you about your husband. He’ll be happy to learn that I have already found him.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“I know that Severe is at the Hôtel de Crillon in the suite she is sharing with you. My men followed you here from there tonight, hoping you would lead us to your husband, and you did. Did you know he is registered in two suites here? He is also occupying a room with this woman.” He scrolled through the pictures on his phone and showed her one of Gloria passed out on her back in bed.
“You beat her!” Kenyah gasped.
“We were not instructed to take your traveling companion, so we would have had to kill her if she’d seen us.” He ignored Kenyah’s accusation, and directed his response to Desmond. “She was an excellent cover for you, but maybe you should have told her that you planned to meet your wife here. Luckily for her, she was too wasted to even remember we were there. She’ll wake up tomorrow with a hangover, and she’ll assume that you’ve dumped her for your wife when you don’t come back.”
His cell signaled an incoming message, and he took a moment to read it. “It’s confirmed. Mr. Basin is pleased with my find. He would like me to bring both of you to him,” he announced.
“Severe is not in our room, and she’s not coming back. I know where she went, and if you let us go. I’ll tell you were you can find her. I also know where you can find Melvin Ryan’s wife, and Chanay Harris,” she bargained.
“So you know where they are right now?” he asked.
“Yes, I can tell you exactly where to find them all.”
The suit turned to his men. “Give me a blade and cover him,” he said to one of them.
He handed him a hunting knife, and then pulled a gun from behind his back and pointed it at Desmond. The suit took the knife, and holstered his Glock.
Without warning, he grabbed Kenyah, threw her face down on the floor, and pulled her arm behind her back. “What are you doing?” Desmond looked worried, but he was too afraid to challenge the man holding the gun on him.
“Please don’t,” she screamed when he gripped her right hand, and then placed the blade between her first and second fingers.
“I need to bring you back alive. I don’t think he’ll mind too much if I cut off a few pieces of you. Tell me where they are, or I’ll start cutting off your fingers.”
Kenyah blurted Sam’s room number, and the fake names they were using. He released her hand, and then got up off her and yanked her to her feet. “Call the men, and tell them to go there and pick up the ladies. If you are lying to me, I will cut off two of your fingers.”
“I’m not lying,” she cried.
He chuckled dryly. “Now, both of you get in the crate.” He shoved her into Desmond’s arms.
They stepped into the tight space and huddled together, and Kenyah cried into Desmond’s chest when they nailed the lid closed. She knew Bender had the capability to track her by using the special cell phone she’d been given before she left the island. If only she hadn’t left it in her room at the Hôtel de Crillon.
Chapter 15
Cynthia rented the room, and Valow parked the van in front in plain sight because he didn’t want it to look like they were hiding. He had already stolen plates for it, so it wouldn’t look like it was recently purchased.
He sat in the van and watched Cynthia come out the building, and scan the lot. When she spotted the van, she started casually walking towards it.
He’d known Samantha Jawlins had an older sister. They all did, but he’d never met or even seen a picture of her until Melvin sent him her file.
Her age was recorded as forty two, but he wouldn’t have guessed it by looking at her. She had dark skin like Sam, and a perfectly proportioned girly body, with wide hips and full breasts. Her hair was a deep colored red in the photo, and she had it straightened and hanging loose around her shoulders. Now she was wearing it darker and had it pulled back in a tight bun that made her face look stern. He watched her long shapely legs as she walked up to the driver’s side window.
“Here’s a card key to the room. I asked for a room on the top floor, near the stairwell like you requested, and I told them that I didn’t want to be disturbed. I got a single because anybody looking for us will probably be looking for double rentals. Is it alright if I walk over to the restaurant and get us something to eat?”
“Yeah,” he answered.
“What you want me to bring you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he answered.
“You know what, Valow. You talk too much,” she said, and then turned and walked away.
He smiled, and noted she had a talent for making him smile. And he liked the way she always looked him in his eyes when she talked to him. It was something that he wasn’t use to because most people he had occasion to talk to didn’t.
He sat there and waited for her to come out the restaurant, and when she did, she walked directly to the hotel. She had that oversized purse draped across her body, and she was carrying a large plastic bag in her hands. He waited a few minutes after she went inside to make sure nobody followed her in, and then he got out the van and went inside.
He hung back in the shadows and watched her in the lobby boutique. She came out with another bag, and then waited for the elevator. He waited until she got on, and then he took the stairs.
He met her at the door to the room, and opened it for her. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Don’t open the door for anybody, even if you recognize their name.”
“I bought you a double cheeseburger and fries, and a Coke. Sam said you didn’t drink alcohol. Let’s eat while it’s hot, and then you can take a shower.”
He stopped and stared at her, and she stared right back. He relented, and sat down at the table and picked up the burger she placed on it. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome. I didn’t know if you had anything in your saddle bags besides guns, so I bought you a t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. I guessed you to be a 34x36, because you’re taller than my brother-in-law, and he wears a 34x34. I got the shirt an extra, extra large because your chest is wide, and I didn’t want nothing restricting your movement in case you have to do some more amazing shit,” she grinned when he stopped eating and just stared at her. “You want me to patch up your leg?”
“N
o,” he answered, and tried not to grin when she stuck her tongue out at him.
He finished his burger and fries, and chugged the coke, and then he go up and went into the bathroom and showered. He cleaned the wound on his thigh and bandaged it while he was in there, and when he came out, he was wearing his old clothes.
“I’m going to take my shower,” she said, and then went in the bathroom and closed the door.
Valow waited until he heard the water running, and then he took off his old shirt to change into the new one. He knew that he exuded a danger vibe that made being in a room with him unnerving for most people. It was because his internal scars were as deep and ugly as the external ones.
He had his back to the bathroom door, and Cynthia stood in the doorway and watched him. His back was striped with raised scar tissue. He sensed her presence and grabbed up his new shirt and pulled it on quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, with his eyes on the floor.
“Sorry for what?” she asked, and moved into the room.
Valow looked around the floor nervously, and his awkwardness touched her heart. “Sorry I saw your scars, why?” she asked.
“They’re unsightly.” His eyes quickly darted to hers, and she saw the flash of rage in them.
She held his gaze and stepped closer to him. “They’re a part of who you are.”
“What, ugly?” he snorted.
“Ruggedly handsome, tough as leather, manly man,” she took hold of the bottom of his shirt. It hugged his chest and biceps, and hung loose at his waist.
Cynthia started rolling the shirt up his body. “They’re only scars. I’ve seen scars before, and yours have character.” She pulled it further up, exposing his hard abs, and muscular chest. “Raise your arms,” she ordered when he didn’t.
Valow wasn’t use to being so close to a woman he wasn’t paying, and he was actually feeling uncomfortable. “You don’t have to prove that you’re not repulsed by me and my scars.”
“You’re not paying me to pretend I like you,” she stated flatly like she was reading his mind. “Now raise your arms up so I can take your shirt off, or do you want me to cut it off?” she looked at him stubbornly.
