“Shit! I’m fucking screwed,” Malik mumbled and dropped down in the chair next to Wiz.
“Maybe not totally screwed, but you’re definitely going to have to clean up your language.” Wiz crossed his legs, lifting one ankle to rest on the opposite knee. “I’m pretty sure Natasha won’t tolerate your incessant cursing. Man, just ask her out. I don’t understand why that’s so hard.”
“I don’t want to ask her out! Don’t you get it?”
Wiz’s eyebrows knitted together. “Apparently I don’t.”
“Despite what happened that night, Tasha is not the type of woman you just hit it and quit it. She’s … she’s different, special. You know me. I’m out to have a good time. I’m not looking for forever, and she’s a forever kind of woman.”
“Tasha, huh? Well,” Wiz stood and shoved his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans and braced his weight on one leg, “all I have to say is that if you’re interested in Natasha, go for it. If you don’t someone else will.”
Malik cursed under his breath. He hadn’t thought of Natasha seeing anyone. He gripped the arms of his seat and pushed up to a standing position, irritation twisting in his gut.
“Sometimes you get on my last fuc—”
Two light taps against his office door, followed by a bark, halted Malik’s words.
“Sorry to interrupt guys,” Victoria Bracero said, stepping inside of the office. Tank, Malik’s Rottweiler, was at her heels, and trotted over to him, his tongue wagging.
“What’s up, boy?” Malik bent down and ruffled the dog’s short fur. Tank had been his constant companion since Malik retired from the military almost two years earlier.
“Hey Vicky,” Wiz said.
Victoria, Malik’s executive assistant and right-hand woman, strolled across the room. Her blonde curls bounced with each long step. She wasn’t only Malik’s assistant. Her sexy looks, physical strength, and street-smarts converted easily into a standby bodyguard when he needed her in a pinch. Few would believe that she knew twenty different ways to kill a man with an ink pen as her only weapon.
“What’s up, Wiz? I haven’t seen you in a while.” She stepped into his waiting arms and smiled a salacious smile that seemed to be reserved for him. “Where you been hidin’?”
“I’ve been around.” They hugged and Wiz planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re never here when I stop by.”
“I know. My boss,” she jerked her head toward Malik and quirked her eyebrows, “treats me more like a personal assistant than an executive assistant.”
“I’m sure. He’s a regular slave driver.”
“I don’t appreciate you two talking about me like I’m not here.” Malik walked around his desk, with Tank following close behind. “Vicky, thanks for picking up Tank from daycare. How did he do this morning?”
“They said he had a good day, but you know they love him there.” Victoria headed toward the door. Malik had no idea how she moved around so seamlessly in four-inch heels, but she strutted in them as if they were tennis shoes. “Considering how large he is, I think most people are surprised by his laid-back demeanor.”
Malik bent down and ran his hand along Tank’s strong back. The dog’s shiny black coat glistened under the office lights as he patted Tank’s side. “Yeah, my boy here is just like me: cool, calm, and collected until someone steps out of line.”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Victoria smirked at Wiz. “All right, fellas, I have a little more work to do before I head out. Let me know if you guys need anything.”
“Now getting back to what we were talking about,” Wiz said after Victoria closed the door. “Apparently you and Tasha had enough in common to spend the night with each other, and most of the next day together. You even cooked for her. I think that speaks volumes. Ask her out and see what happens.”
Another knock sounded at the door and Victoria walked in, closing the door behind her.
“Hey, Malik, there’s a lady in the waiting area.” She glanced down at the small yellow pad of paper in her hands. “Her name is Rosalyn Lee. I told her that since she didn’t have an appointment and you were in a meeting, you might not be able to see her this late, but she said it’s urgent. It’s about her sister. I guess she was a friend of yours. Do you have time to speak with her?”
“Actually, I have to get out of here anyway,” Wiz said and handed Malik a flash drive. “That’s the info you requested.” Then he turned to Victoria. “Vicky, baby, take care of yourself and don’t let this big lug of a boss work you too hard.” He kissed her hand and headed for the door.
“Okay, Wiz, hope to see you soon,” she said, her grin huge and her tone flirtatious. “You know you can come by even if Malik isn’t here.”
Wiz laughed, but kept walking. Malik didn’t know why she bothered flirting with him when she knew what everyone else knew: Wiz was still in love with his ex-wife, Olivia. Even a woman as fine as Victoria couldn’t distract him from his plans of reuniting with his ex.
“Now who did you say she was again?” Malik asked, bringing Victoria’s attention back to her reason for being in his office. Dropping the flash drive into his pants pocket, he moved to his desk.
“Rosalyn Lee. She said you knew her sister. Maybe you should meet with her, she looks pretty distraught.”
Malik shrugged. “All right.” He followed Victoria to the door. Tank stood and trailed behind him, but Malik snapped his finger and pointed to the padding in the corner on the other side of his desk. “Stay.”
“Ms. Lee? I’m Malik Lewis,” he said, stepping outside his office. He assessed the short, middle-age woman who reared her head back to look up at him. He stood six-foot-eight and people were often caught off-guard when meeting him for the first time. She pushed her red-rimmed glasses up on her nose and extended her hand.
“Hi Mr. Lewis, I’m sorry to stop by without calling first, but I really needed to speak with you.” Her voice was raspy, as if she’d been crying.
“Sure, come on in.” Malik tilted his head toward his office. “I have a few minutes before I need to leave.” He followed behind her, taking in her attire. Considering she was probably in her early forties, she dressed as if she were much older. Her long, straight gray skirt that stopped mid-calf appeared to be two sizes too big, and the black, thread-bare sweater looked as if it had seen better days.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the sofa,” he said and closed the door. “What can I do for you, Ms. Lee?” He sat down in a paisley upholstered chair across from her.
Rosalyn ran thin fingers through her thick black curls before dropping her hands to her lap, toying with the hem of her sweater.
“Mr. Lewis, I’ve been on a mission’s trip for the past eight months, returning a couple of weeks ago. I found out my sister, Susan, died five months ago … during child birth.” She sniffled, swiping at her sudden tears. “I didn’t know,” she sobbed. “She was all alone. Besides some very distant cousins, we don’t have any other family.”
Malik stood, grabbed a box of Kleenex, and handed it to her. A flicker of anxiousness curled in his gut. He didn’t do well with women crying.
Upon closer perusal, he had to admit that there was something familiar about this woman. Susan, Susan, he tossed the name around in his head, trying to connect the name of Rosalyn’s sister with a face. Oh crap! He suddenly knew whom she was referring to. Sue died during child birth? He hadn’t seen her in well over a year and even then they had only hooked up on occasion.
“Ms. Lee, I’m sorry to hear about your sister, but—”
“Please, call me Rosalyn.” She wiped her face and crumbled the tissue in her hands. “I’m sorry. Of course you’re probably wondering what this has to do with you.”
The thought had crossed my mind.
“When I returned and found out my sister had passed away, I obtained her death certificate. This past week, while going through her things, I ran across one of her journals. Inside, she mentioned her pregnancy.” Rosalyn wiped at her eyes aga
in. “Mind you, I didn’t even know she was pregnant. After more digging, I went in search of a fetus death certificate for the baby, but came up empty handed.” She stopped and stared at Malik expectantly.
He tilted his head, wondering why she stopped. “Go on.”
“I’m told that the baby didn’t die, but was taken into foster care. When I contacted the state, they have no record of the child.”
Malik shrugged, totally not understanding what this had to do with him. “I’m sorry, Ms. Le— I mean Rosalyn, but missing persons is not my expertise. I can give you the name and contact information of a good P.I.,” Wiz immediately came to mind, “but there’s nothing I can do for you.”
She straightened and cocked her head, her gaze studying him intently. “What if I told you the baby was yours?”
Buy now from all major online retailers or
visit http://www.sharoncooper.net/
If you’ve enjoyed books by
Sharon C. Cooper,
please consider leaving a review on any online book site,
review site, or social media outlet.
Operation Midnight Page 24
