For the Love of Gina: The President's Girlfriend
Page 1
FOR THE LOVE OF GINA
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND/
DUTCH AND GINA SERIES
By
MALLORY MONROE
Copyright©2014 Mallory Monroe
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This novel is a work of fiction. All characters are fictitious. Any similarities to anyone living or dead are completely accidental. The specific mention of known places or venues are not meant to be exact replicas of those places, but are purposely embellished or imagined for the story’s sake.
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MORE INTERRACIAL ROMANCE
FROM BESTSELLING AUTHOR
MALLORY MONROE:
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND
SERIES IN ORDER:
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND
THE PRESIDENT’S GIRLFRIEND 2:
HIS WOMEN AND HIS WIFE
DUTCH AND GINA:
A SCANDAL IS BORN
DUTCH AND GINA:
AFTER THE FALL
DUTCH AND GINA:
THE POWER OF LOVE
DUTCH AND GINA:
THE SINS OF THE FATHERS
DUTCH AND GINA:
WHAT HE DID FOR LOVE
THE MOB BOSS SERIES
IN ORDER:
ROMANCING THE MOB BOSS
MOB BOSS 2:
THE HEART OF THE MATTER
MOB BOSS 3:
LOVE AND RETRIBUTION
MOB BOSS 4:
ROMANCING TRINA GABRINI
A MOB BOSS CHRISTMAS:
THE PREGNANCY
(Mob Boss 5)
MOB BOSS 6:
THE HEART OF RENO GABRINI
RENO’S GIFT
BOOK 7
RENO GABRINI:
A MAN IN FULL
BOOK 8
RENO AND TRINA:
GETTING BACK TO LOVE
BOOK 9
THE GABRINI MEN SERIES
IN ORDER:
ROMANCING TOMMY GABRINI
ROMANCING SAL GABRINI
TOMMY GABRINI 2:
A PLACE IN HIS HEART
ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE
FROM MALLORY MONROE:
DANIEL’G GIRL:
ROMANCING AN OLDER MAN
ROMANCING MO RYAN
ROMANCING HER PROTECTOR
ROMANCING THE BULLDOG
IF YOU WANTED THE MOON
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE
FROM
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
KATHERINE CACHITORIE:
LOVERS AND TAKERS
LOVING HER SOUL MATE
LOVING THE HEAD MAN
SOME CAME DESPERATE:
A LOVE SAGA
ADDITIONAL BESTSELLING
INTERRACIAL ROMANCE:
A SPECIAL RELATIONSHIP
YVONNE THOMAS
AND
BACK TO HONOR:
A REGGIE REYNOLDS
ROMANTIC MYSTERY
JT WATSON
ROMANTIC FICTION
FROM
AWARD-WINNING
AND
BESTSELLING AUTHOR
TERESA MCCLAIN-WATSON:
DINO AND NIKKI:
AFTER REDEMPTION
AND
AFTER WHAT YOU DID
COMING SOON
FROM
MALLORY MONROE:
ROMANCING SAL GABRINI
BOOK TWO
TOMMY GABRINI
BOOK THREE
JIMMY GABRINI
BOOK ONE
ALSO:
A BRAND NEW ROMANCE SERIES
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CHAPTER ONE
The car was out of control as it veered off the highway, slung onto the dirt road, and swerved wildly until it skidded broadside into a tree. The two Tarver brothers were the first to bail, leaving DeAndre Clarke to fend for himself. When he realized he was no longer flying around like a human projectile, he jumped out too.
The sirens were deafening, coming closer and closer with every pounding beat of his heart, and he knew they would blame him. He could try to explain all night long. He could beg them to listen to reason all day long. But they would still blame him. He was a powerless eighteen-year-old black kid in the back woods of Gipson, Georgia from the wrong side of the tracks. He didn’t stand a chance.
He ran.
Through the pitch-black night, he slung his arms like sling blades through the thistles and foliage and stinging high weeds.
Across the knee-high creek, he high-stepped through muddy water that drenched his jeans and splashed like sharp needles into his face.
Along the boarded up old train depot that no longer welcomed trains, he slammed against the door, trying to break it down to hide inside, then realizing that would probably be one of the first places they checked.
He ran.
The Tarver brothers had gotten so far ahead of him that he didn’t have a clue which way they went. So he went the only way he knew. His heart was beating so fast he could hardly contain his fear. His big eyes were stretched even wider, as he kept looking back, kept feeling as if somebody was going to grab him at any second, kept running as if his life depended on his speed.
He ran.
Behind the football field of the high school he used to attend, across the bank’s empty parking lot, across the First Baptist Church graveled drive, all the way around Brandenfield Road, Mortimer Avenue, to Jasper Lane. To his big sister’s house.
Neighbors’ dogs were barking and rattling their chains as he ran onto her dark porch and slammed his slight body against the front door. He frantically banged and turned the locked knob and tried with all he had to force that flimsy door open. He kept looking back, kept expecting those cop cars to suddenly appear, until the porch light came on. His sister undoubtedly eyeballed him through her peephole, because she immediately opened the door.
DeAndre flung into her home as if he was being thrust inside, and Brandy Clarke, stunned by his display, looked out into the dark night to see what in the world was chasing him. When she saw nothing but the darkness, she quickly closed and locked the door.
She looked at her kid brother as he roamed around her living room like a man intolerable of his own skin. “Dray, what’s wrong?” she asked, tying her bathrobe, her heart pounding too.
“It’s messed up, sis,” he said, walking and then reversing direction, and then walking and reversing again. “I’m fucked, I am so fucked!”
Brandy grabbed him by the arm and turned him around. It was bad, she knew that without asking, but he had to settle down and tell her to what extent. “What happened?” she asked him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
DeAndre stopped walking and ran his hand through his low-cut fade. When Brandy saw the extent of the anguish on his light-brown face, she released her grasp. And anguish appeared on her own darker face.
“I know something bad happened,”
she said, attempting to remain calm. “Just tell me what it is, Dray. That’s the only way I can help you. Tell me.”
He shook his head as if it was all so hopeless, and then walked over to the sofa and plopped down. He looked at her. His normally tranquil eyes looked wild.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
“You didn’t know what?”
“I didn’t know what they were up to.”
He was only eighteen, but right now, tonight, he looked younger than ten. Brandy walked to the chair flanking the sofa and sat on the arm of the chair. She saw where his jeans were wet, she saw the sweat on his shirt, she saw the horror in his eyes. She was inwardly hoping that it wasn’t so. That it wasn’t as bad as he seemed to think it was. But life’s highways never curved that way for them. It was probably worse. “You didn’t know what, Dray?” she asked him.
“They said there was this girl they knew. They said she was kind of easy and we could . . . They said we could have some fun, that’s why I went. I hadn’t seen them in a while and they was talking like this girl . . .” Then he began to panic. He leaned forward, clasping his hands. “I didn’t know that shit was going down, Bran! I didn’t know anything about it!”
His theatrics didn’t move Brandy one inch. She wasn’t interested in his conclusions right now. She wasn’t interested in his pleas of innocence. She needed details. Everything would hinge on those details!
“Keep going,” she ordered.
“We were just going over there,” he continued. “We were just supposed to go over there and hang out with this girl. I didn’t know that was going down! They didn’t tell me they were planning something like that! I would have never gotten in that car if I would have known they were going to try something that fucked up!”
“Dray,” Brandy said, unable to conceal her own anguish. “I need you to calm yourself down and tell me exactly what happened. Start at the beginning, leave nothing out, and tell me what happened!”
DeAndre ran his hand through his hair again, dropped his head, and then lifted it back up with a heavy exhale. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I was at work,” he began. “I was working the cash register and it was like an hour before my shift was supposed to end. But nothing much was going on. We’d get a customer every now and then, but it was real slow. Then Will Tarver and his brother Eddie walked in.”
Brandy frowned. Gipson was the kind of town where everybody knew everybody else. But she’d never heard tell of any Tarvers. “Who’s Will Tarver?” she asked.
“This dude I went to school with. His grandma is Miss Jolene, the lady who sells honey-drippers over on Bishop.”
“Oh, okay. Her grandsons.”
“Right. They came to stay with her when Will and I were in tenth grade. Then they left town a couple years ago and I haven’t seen Will since. But he and his brother came into O’Riley’s and ordered a couple of burgers. So while they ate I went over to their table and hung out a little. That’s when Eddie started talking about this girl he knew and how willing she was and how we could have a little fun with her. They could wait around for my shift to end and we could go over to her place and hang out.”
Brandy folded her arms. “Did this girl have a name?”
“He didn’t say her name. Just some girl he knew.” Then Dray scrunched up his face. Right then, right there, he looked just like his father.
“Go on, Dray,” Brandy insisted.
“So after work we get into Eddie’s car and head over there. Me and Will sat in the back seat and talked about Gipson High and what all he missed since he left. And we laughed and talked and it was all right. We were just having fun. And then Eddie drove us to this gas station.”
Brandy’s heart began to pound. She was staring so intently at her baby brother that her eyes wouldn’t blink.
“He said he wanted some cigarettes and beer to take over to this girl’s house, and Will said he wanted some Turtles. You know, the candy? I told him they didn’t sell candy like that at some filling station, but he was so certain they did that I got out too, just to show him how wrong he was.”
Another pause.
“Will and I entered the store and walked around the side where the candy section was, while Eddie grabbed some beer and headed for the counter. Will was searching hard but he couldn’t find any Turtles, and I was laughing and telling him how I told him he would have to go to Walmart. That’s when we heard the first gunshot, and then a real loud crash sound.”
Brandy could hear her heart beating. Her brother was staring now, as if he was retelling a dream.
“We didn’t know what that sound was at first, until we heard another shot. We dropped down on our bellies when we heard that second shot. Then we heard two more shots, bang, bang, real rapid-like, and then the sound of a lot of scrambling. And then Eddie yells for us to come the fuck on, so we took off. I’m thinking the gunman was still in the store so I didn’t look back. We flew out of there, jumped in Eddie’s car, and he drove away so fast we kept swerving out of control.”
Another long pause, this time even more agonizing than the last. Then he looked at Brandy again. “I had no idea Eddie was the shooter until I saw the gun.”
Brandy’s heart dropped. She knew it was going to be horrible, but hearing it from her brother took it to another level of horror. Her concern wasn’t what happened anymore, but if DeAndre mitigated his culpability. Because he was as culpable as Eddie Tarver. “Did you call 911, Dray?” she asked her brother, inwardly praying that he had.
“I pulled my cell phone out to call, but Eddie was driving so crazy we nearly flipped over twice, and the phone fell out of my hand. That’s when I saw the gun. Eddie had thrown it under his seat.”
Then DeAndre scrunched up his face again. “It didn’t matter anyway. We were already hearing sirens. That store clerk must have called the cops or pressed some alarm button even while we were still there, because they were coming so fast. We were hearing too many sirens! It sounded as if the entire police department was coming after us.”
Brandy was certain that they were. Shots fired in little Gipson? And poor black boys involved? Every member of the force was coming after them. “But what did you do, Dray?” she asked him. “Did you try to get out of the car? Did you beg them to let you out?”
“They weren’t listening to me! And how was I supposed to get out of a car going that fast? He was flying down that road, Bran! You should have seen him! It was like he expected us to be surrounded within minutes before we heard the first siren. It just seemed so useless!”
He paused again. Then kept going. “That’s why Eddie decided to ditch the car and make a run for it. Because he knew we were about to be surrounded. He knew it was useless too. So he slung the car onto this dirt road, but he lost control. We slammed into this tree and Ed and Will jumped out.”
Brandy stared at her brother, her heartbeat unable to regulate. “What did you do, Dray?” she asked him delicately.
“What was I supposed to do? I know those cops would try to pin it all on me, and you know it, too! So I took off. I ran.” He looked at his sister. “I ran to you,” he added.
Brandy’s heart squeezed in agony. She was almost as terrified as DeAndre, but she knew she had to keep her wits about her. She stood up. “I’ll put on some clothes,” she said, trying not to show her distress. “And we’ll try to get a lawyer to take you in.”
“To take me in?” DeAndre asked, astounded. “But I didn’t do anything!”
“You were there, Dray! You were there. They don’t care that you didn’t know what was going down. All they care about is that you were there.”
DeAndre knew what she meant, but that didn’t ease his pain. He grabbed her by the arm as she turned to leave.
She looked at him. Tears were in his big, innocent eyes. And she was angry. He would be treated like every powerless kid was treated in their custody, and she knew it. He could be beaten, spit on, treated as if he was nothing. As if he was a nobody. But if they onl
y knew who he really belonged to, she thought as she stared at DeAndre. If they only knew just who they were dealing with! Then she realized how impossible that was. Because nobody in Gipson knew.
Not even DeAndre.
“What’s going to happen to me, sis?” he asked her. “If I turn myself in, they’ll blame me for everything.”
Brandy didn’t know what to tell him. She was only nine years older than her baby brother, and ever since their mother died three months ago, he had been her sole focus and responsibility. But he was such a good kid, he needed very little supervision. He got his own job, eventually got his own place. He did everything he was supposed to do.
But Brandy had promises to keep. Because when their mother was on her deathbed, she had promised her two things: that she would never allow her baby brother to become a statistic and get into the kind of trouble Brandy herself had gotten into; and that she would never tell him about his birth circumstance. And up until tonight she’d kept both promises.
But now, with that one thoughtless act of getting into a car with people he really didn’t know that well, he turned the meaning of those promises on its head. He could be convicted of armed robbery, one of the harshest felonies you could be convicted of. And what about those gun shots?
And what about the other promise?
But she knew she had to keep it together. “I’m going to get you the best representation money can buy, DeAndre,” she said. “I promise I’ll get you the best.”