“But you’re a stripper. Where you gonna get money like that?” Then he looked more hopeful. “Unless you know somebody. Somebody who can help us. You know somebody, sis?”
Brandy hated that it would come to this. But this was her brother. She would move heaven and earth for him if she had to. “Yes,” she said. “But first things first. Let me get on some clothes and get you---”
But the sound of the doorbell ringing, and then police-style banging, interrupted her.
DeAndre, terrified, stood to his feet. “Brandy!”
“Don’t panic!”
“How could they know already?”
“Don’t panic, Dray!”
“But how could they know?”
“They probably caught one of those brothers. And I’m sure he readily told the cops that you were involved. Probably claimed you were the shooter.”
“But I wasn’t involved and I didn’t shoot anybody!”
“One group of cops probably went to your apartment, and another group, this group, came here. But just settle down, okay? You’re going to be okay.”
“But what are we gonna do?”
She grabbed him by the arm. “You’re going to turn yourself in and pray there were cameras working in that store. That’s what we’re gonna do!” They walked steadily toward the front door. “And don’t you say a word to those cops, you hear me, Dray? They’ll lie and twist it around. Not one word, Dray.” Then she yelled, “I’m coming,” when the banging became even more ferocious.
Once they were near the front door, she ordered her brother to lay down.
“Lay down?” DeAndre asked. “Why I got to lay down?”
“Because I don’t want to give them an opportunity to blow your brains out fool! Now just do it!”
DeAndre didn’t want to do it, but he knew his big sister had never, not ever, led him wrong. He laid on the floor, face down, with his arms and legs outstretched.
“Who is it?” Brandy asked as she looked out of the peephole and saw the cops.
“Gipson Police. Open up!”
Brandy had only to open the door slightly before the police barged on in, forcing her aside with their weapons drawn. When they saw DeAndre stretched out, she could see the disappointment in some of their eyes. Their leader, Mack Stephens, she knew from the strip club.
As his men cuffed and frisked her brother, she folded her thin arms and looked at Mack.
“What’s the charge supposed to be?” she asked him.
“Armed robbery,” he said.
“Armed robbery?” She asked this as if she was hearing the news for the first time. “Oh, come on, Mack! My brother would never rob---”
“And murder, Brandy,” he added.
Brandy’s heart constricted in fear. She stared at him. “Murder?”
“A store clerk was shot. She died on the way to the hospital. She had two gunshot wounds to the chest and one to the stomach. And she was pregnant, Bran.” Then he exhaled. “This ain’t no kid stuff. Your brother is in trouble.”
Brandy could hardly breathe. She looked at DeAndre as they slung him to his feet and began reading him his Miranda Warning.
“Brandy,” he started saying in panic as they led him out of the door; as they continued heartlessly to read him those rights; as his big eyes kept looking back at her. “Brandy!”
“It’ll be okay, Dray,” she assured him. “It’ll be okay.”
She held to this hope even as they put him in the police car, and even as they backed out of her driveway and drove him away. Her neighbors were out in force, many still in their sleepwear, as they watched all of this drama unfold on a street accustomed to drama.
Brandy hurried back inside. She knew the peril her brother was in. She knew what he was now up against. She knew his very freedom, and maybe even his very life, was now in serious jeopardy. And the one man with the kind of power to get him out of this mess; that one man who had the kind of reach that could change what seemed impossible to change, probably wouldn’t accept her call.
But she had to make that call.
For the sake of her baby brother, she had to make that call.
CHAPTER TWO
Walter “Dutch” Harber stood at the center island in his huge kitchen and sipped coffee from his coffee mug. He was fully dressed, in a light-brown business suit that fit him with tailored perfection, and in jet-black Ferragamo wingtips that he crossed at the ankle, as he perused the morning newspaper. His young son, Walter Robert Harber, was fully dressed too, in his black-and-white kindergarten uniform, as he sat at the kitchen table with Nanny, eating cereal and reciting, by memory, the Pledge of Allegiance.
Dutch sipped more coffee and turned another page. Crader McKenzie, the man who replaced him nearly a year ago as President of the United States, was under heavy assault all over the news. From the slow pace of economic recovery, to the instability in Syria, to healthcare, the journalists wrote with skeptical pens about every policy. They were almost as bad on Crader as they had been on Dutch himself, which caused Dutch to shake his head. He resigned the presidency amid harsh criticism that he was giving up just when his country needed him most. But now, just reading the morning paper, reaffirmed for him that he had absolutely made the right decision.
He looked at his watch, and then pressed the intercom button on the center island. “Gina?” No response. “Gina?”
When there was still no response, Little Walt stopped reciting the Pledge and looked over at his father. He had Dutch’s sparkling green eyes that often contained enough brown hue to make them look more like hazel eyes, but he had his mother’s darker skin tone and facial shape. “Want me to go get her, Daddy?” the youngster asked.
Dutch smiled, showing lines of age around his eyes. “Thanks, Champ, but I think I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“But it’s real easy for me to go and get her.”
Dutch knew a dodge when he heard one. He looked at his son. “Nanny told you to talk to me,” he asked, “or to recite the Pledge?”
Little Walt smiled and then covered his mouth. “To say ‘I Pledge Allegiance to the Flag.’”
“Then get back to it.”
“Yes, sir,” Walt said, knowing not to push his father. “But if you need me to get Mommy, you’ll let me know?”
Dutch couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, son, I’ll let you know.”
That satisfied the child. “Where did I stop?” he asked his Nanny.
But Nanny knew a dodge when she heard one too. “Start from the beginning,” she ordered him.
Dutch continued turning the pages of his newspaper. When he realized all of the stories were running together and that the current page was just like the previous pages, all filled with criticism and scorn, he closed the paper altogether. He folded the paper, walked over to Little Walt and playfully slapped him upside his head, causing him to grin, and then headed upstairs.
A lot had changed in the year since Dutch resigned. Because his wife was born and bred in Newark and they had their post-White House home built there, he relocated the home office of his company, Harber Industries, from Boston to Newark, which was still a work in progress in and of itself. He also agreed to allow Gina to continue working at Block-by-Block Raiders, or BBR, a company she founded before they were married, and he allowed it despite the organization’s undesirable location. But she had sacrificed mightily for him during his tenure as president, now it was his time to do a little sacrificing for her. Although, he had to admit, he was pleased with the results. Newark offered a lot of tax incentives for his company move, and, most importantly, he could be home with his family every night. Besides, happy wife, happy life had always been his motto. Now it was his life’s ambition.
“Gina!” he called out again as he walked along the corridor of the second floor landing and then entered the master bedroom.
Regina Harber, his African-American wife, was asleep in bed. She was supposed to be up and get
ting dressed, but she was still in bed. He smiled and leaned against the doorjamb, shaking his head as he stared at her. But that was his Gina. The woman could sleep through a terrorist attack.
He pushed from the door, walked over to her slender form, and sat on the side of the bed. She looked long and lean and gorgeous beneath those sheets, and when he moved to shake her awake, he opted to shake her small, tight ass above any other body part.
“All right, kido,” he said, rubbing as much as shaking her. “Time to get up.”
There was a grunt from her, but nothing more.
“It’s time, Gina,” he said again.
But Gina, being Gina, continued to sleep.
“Come on, babe. Wake up.”
Finally, after a few more rubs, she began to show some signs.
“That’s right, babe,” Dutch said. “It’s time.”
“It’s not time yet,” she said groggily, slowly waking up.
“It’s time. Time to make a start.” He slapped her rear instead of rubbing it this time, and that seemed to do it.
Gina turned her face toward him and finally opened her big brown eyes. Her short hair was pushed back, revealing a round, dark-brown face that highlighted for Dutch just how attractive a woman she really was. Although she was moving past her mid-thirties now, and wasn’t a kid anymore, she couldn’t have looked more beautiful to him.
When she saw his handsome face, she, too, was pleased. She smiled. “Good morning,” she said.
He leaned down and kissed her on the lips, then he stayed there with his hands resting on either side of her. He crossed his legs. “Good morning, my queen.”
Gina loved when he called her that. A feeling of warmth shot through her body. “What time is it?”
“That’s an easy one. Time for you to get up.”
Then Gina realized something. “But why are you still here? You’re supposed to be picking up Jade today. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
“Not before I take you to work.”
“Oh, Dutch, you don’t have to do that! You already have BBR as fortified as the White House was. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. And I’m going to take you to work to make sure you are.”
“But you have a tight schedule, Dutch. You have a plane to catch.”
“Since it’s my plane,” Dutch said with a smile, “I’m reasonably certain it won’t leave without me.”
Gina hit him on the arm. “Very funny.”
“How did you sleep?”
“Great. Like always since we left Washington.”
Dutch nodded his head as a pained look crossed his handsome face.
Gina saw it, and understood exactly where it was coming from. “Oh, honey,” she said, placing her hand on the side of his face. “I married you when you were already president. It couldn’t be helped.”
“I know. But I still wish you didn’t have to endure all of those years of so much pain and heartache.” He looked into her bright brown eyes. “My job now is to make sure none of that craziness comes anywhere near you ever again.”
Gina studied him. He was such a caring man. “So you’re my happiness protector now?”
“I was always your protector. More so now.”
Gina knew he meant it too. Then she thought about the reason why he had a plane to catch, and that anxiety she still felt about their decision returned. “Jade’s getting out today,” she said.
Dutch nodded. “Yup. Her first two-day furlough since the court order.”
Although Dutch had voluntarily placed her in treatment previously, he had to get her court ordered to stay when she attempted to leave on her own. Now she couldn’t leave until the doctors and courts agreed that she was ready. Convincing Dutch that she was ready would go a long way in convincing the courts. “It’ll be her first chance to leave Hammersmith and prove she’s ready to leave for good,” he added.
“And she wants to spend those two days with you,” Gina said.
Dutch considered her. “With us, yes. That’s the plan anyway. You’re still looking forward to it?”
“I’m looking forward to you and your daughter having a good relationship again. That’s needful.”
That didn’t exactly answer his question, but he didn’t press the issue.
“At least she’ll have some breathing room here in Jersey,” Gina said, “rather than when we lived in DC. At least that level of scrutiny and pressure will be off.”
Dutch smiled. “I honestly think, Mrs. Harber, that you’re even happier to be away from DC than I am.”
Gina laughed. “I’m just grateful to God it’s over, I’m not trying to pretend otherwise. I’m just grateful we’re able to live our lives on our own terms now.” Then her look turned serious. “I feel sorry for La and Crader, though.”
Dutch raised his eyebrows in agreement. “They’re excoriating the poor guy in the press. Even that foolishness in Syria is his fault too, let the press tell it. It’s ridiculous. But Loretta’s making it look easy.”
“Isn’t she though? I mean LaLa wears that First Lady moniker way better than I did. And I’m not mad at her. I’m proud of her actually. Crader’s finally gotten his shit together and is too busy running the country to be out there chasing tail.”
Dutch laughed. “I’m going to tell him you said that.”
“Tell him!” Gina said proudly. “I’m not scared of Crader McKenzie! He knows I speak the truth.” Then she smiled. “I’m just so glad I didn’t have to take that kind of crap from you. I’m glad you wasn’t the tail-chasing type.”
An anguished look came over Dutch’s handsome face. He exhaled. “I’m no saint, Gina,” he said to her. “Nowhere near it.”
Gina always felt a sense of dread when he said those words to her. It always made her feel like there was something else out there, some devastating secret she didn’t know about. “I didn’t say you were saintly,” she said. “But some things need to be settled between couples. Being faithful to each other, in my opinion, is the number one thing. But Crader and LaLa’s doing well. That’s the point.”
“While you, on the other hand,” Dutch said, rising from the edge of the bed and unbuttoning his suit coat, “isn’t doing anything she’s supposed to be doing right now.” He pulled the covers off of her, revealing her curvaceous, naked body.
“I went to bed late last night, for your information, and I, what are you doing?” She had shock in her voice as he began to lift her out of bed. “Dutch, what are you doing? Dutch, put me down!” Her voice was a combination of fear and laughter as he hoisted her into his arms and began carrying her to the bathroom.
“Time to get up and at it,” he said as he carried her.
“Put me down!” she said with laughter as she kicked her legs and hit him on his broad shoulders to get out of his grasp. But she was laughing so hard and still too surprised for her efforts to have any effect whatsoever. He easily carried her all the way into their massive master bathroom and then, once fully inside, stood her back on her feet.
He looked at her. “I’ll bet you’re awake now,” he said.
She hit him playfully on his massive bicep. “I was born awake, buster,” she said, heading for the vanity. “And don’t you forget it,” she added, looking back.
He laughed. “Tub or shower?” he asked her.
“What time is it?” She yawned again and looked at him through the vanity mirror.
He looked at his watch. “Eight thirty-seven.”
“Better make it a shower,” she said as she grabbed her toothbrush. “I’m late already.”
“Late?” Dutch asked. “You of all people? No way! I wonder how in the world did that happen?” Then he smiled a hunched-shoulder smile and reached into the shower stall to turn on the tap.
Gina brushed her teeth quickly and then opened the bottle of mouthwash. When she looked back up, gargling, she saw Dutch in the mirror, standing at the shower stall with his hands on either side of his hips, staring at her. And not just
staring in general, but staring specifically at her naked ass. She looked down too, at his mid-section, and saw that he was already beginning to tent. She knew where this was headed. Especially as he began to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.
She spit out her mouthwash, wiped her mouth with a cloth, and then turned toward him. He was dropping his pants and briefs down along his ankles as he sat in front of the dressing table on the cushioned bench. Ready for her.
She smiled, shaking her head. “Honestly, Dutch, do you ever get enough?” she asked him.
“Of that body? Not a chance.” He began rubbing his already aroused member. “Come here.”
She wasn’t exactly a reluctant participant as she walked over to him and straddled him, with her face facing his, and sat on his lap.
“Now,” he said, giving her short kisses on the lip, “I want to properly welcome you into this good morning.”
“But didn’t you say,” she said playfully, wrapping her arms around his neck, “that I was already so late? Didn’t you say time was not our friend? Didn’t you insist I get out of that bed and get showered and dressed at once?”
Dutch smiled. Gina always had a quick comeback. “All the more reason,” he said, still kissing her, “to shut the hell up and let me do you.”
She laughed, leaning her head back, and it was just the opening Dutch was after. He began kissing her on that long, brown, beautifully exposed neck, moving downward and lifting her as he did, until he was kissing her breasts. And as he kissed and sucked her there, his finger moved even further down, between her firm thighs, as he began to rub her.
Gina felt that sensual feeling overtake her entire body as his finger massaged her clit and his mouth ravaged her breasts. No better way to wake up, she thought, as he did her in that masterful way she loved. He was known the world over as Mister Cool, a man who never got too high or stayed too low. But Dutch was anything but cool when he was doing her. He was a man on fire.
He didn’t stop fingering her, or kissing her breasts and neck and mouth, until she was so moist she felt as if she had already cum. And she would have if it had been any other man. But Dutch gave her levels of cum. What used to be the final stage with all those other men in her past, was only the first stage with Dutch.
For the Love of Gina: The President's Girlfriend Page 2
