Betrayal

by Naomi Chase

Keeping her head down to protect her face, she punched and clawed at her attacker, raking her nails across her exposed neck.

  Screeching in pain, the woman violently shoved Tamia against the back of an SUV. Grunting from the impact, Tamia reached out and snatched off her assailant’s ski mask so she could identify her.

  She froze in shock when she found herself staring into the enraged face of the woman who’d screamed threats to her on the day of her acquittal.

  You bitch! You’re gonna burn in hell for what you did to Isabel!

  So this attack was about avenging Dominic’s wife?

  Tamia didn’t have time to speculate because the other woman had recovered from her kick and was coming toward them. When Tamia saw the glint of a switchblade flicking open in the woman’s hand, panic shot through her veins, and she began shoving at the heavy body pinning her to the truck.

  “Hey!” a man called out sharply. “What’s going on down there?”

  As the unmasked woman glanced toward the voice, Tamia took advantage of her distraction and twisted herself free just as the knife-wielding attacker lunged at her. She dodged the slashing blade and staggered backward, fear and adrenaline pumping through her blood. She could hear footsteps pounding across the pavement, rushing toward the commotion.

  “Whoring bitch!” the unmasked woman spat, charging toward Tamia just as the parking attendant and two other men reached them.

  The two women turned to flee, but the men chased them down, tackling them roughly to the ground as the parking attendant hurried over to Tamia.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in concern.

  She could only give a jerky nod, lungs burning as she gasped for breath.

  Everything was a blur after that.

  The police arrived, sirens blasting.

  Dominic followed shortly, lunging from the Phantom. When he saw the handcuffed women on the ground, he began yelling at them and they yelled back, the angry Crucian words firing between them like bullets until the cops intervened.

  Then Dominic was standing before Tamia, his hands gently cradling her face, his eyes peering worriedly into hers as he asked her questions. She stared at his mouth but couldn’t make out his words above the dull roar in her ears.

  Shaken by how close she’d come to getting stabbed, she didn’t protest when Dominic told the police officers he was taking her home. She allowed herself to be led to his car and helped inside, grateful to get as far away from this crazy place as she could.

  Later, she lay curled up in Dominic’s bed as he spooned her, infusing her sore body with warmth.

  “I’m sorry that Isabel’s cousins came after you like that,” he murmured, his voice rumbling quietly in the darkness. “If I had known what they were planning to do, I would have stopped them.”

  “Would you?”

  Tamia felt him tense against her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She was silent, her mind churning with suspicion and doubt. Dominic’s dead wife’s relatives had just tried to kill her. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d shown up on her doorstep and assaulted her when she’d refused to tell him who had killed Isabel.

  What was she supposed to believe? Who was she supposed to trust?

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me about the note you received?” Dominic exclaimed in wounded surprise. “Because you thought I was the one who sent it?”

  Tamia heaved a weary sigh. “I don’t know, Dominic. I honestly didn’t know who could have sent the note.”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t me,” he asserted. “I know you still find this hard to believe, Tamia, but I didn’t come back into your life to hurt you again. I’m crazy about you. I’m trying to do right by you. When I came home early and found you gone, I almost lost my damn mind. I couldn’t get over to your apartment fast enough. I would have been devastated if something worse had happened to you.”

  Tamia said nothing, wishing she could trust him. Wishing she could trust anyone. In the wee hours of the night, she’d even found herself wondering if Brandon could have left her the note. He, more than anyone else, could take credit for saving her life, and he might even feel that she owed him her loyalty.

  But would Brandon go that far? How thin was the line between love and hate?

  “Dashay and Jamila were like sisters to Isabel,” Dominic explained, breaking into Tamia’s thoughts. “They all grew up together and were practically inseparable. It’s because of Isabel that Dashay and Jamila came to America. So they took her death pretty hard.”

  “I understand that,” Tamia murmured. “But they know I didn’t kill Isabel.”

  “But your sister did. And since they can’t get to Fiona—”

  “—I’m the next best thing.” Tamia shook her head against the pillow. “They’ve obviously been stalking me, Dominic. They saw me leave your building this afternoon and they followed me back home. They know we’re involved again, and they don’t like it.”

  “That’s too fucking bad.”

  “Really, Dominic? Those crazy bitches jumped me and tried to stab me.”

  “And that’s why they’re in jail,” Dominic growled. “The whole damn thing was caught on the security camera. Add that to the threatening note they sent you, and it’s a wrap.”

  Tamia frowned, not entirely convinced that she was out of danger. “The note still doesn’t make any sense. It said, ‘I saved your life, bitch. You owe me.’ How does that apply to Isabel’s cousins? How did they save my life?”

  Dominic said nothing, contemplating the question.

  As a weighted silence stretched between them, Tamia yawned softly, struggling to keep her eyelids open. She was exhausted. But she’d felt that way even before the attack. Dominic must have really worn her out over the weekend.

  “I know what you saw earlier,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “I know what made you leave. But that woman didn’t mean anything to me, Tamia. She was just a one-night stand.”

  Tamia was quiet, wondering how many times he’d given the same speech to Isabel.

  “Don’t leave me again,” he whispered urgently, his face buried in her hair. “You need to stay here for your own protection.”

  She sighed tiredly. “Dominic—”

  “Promise me you won’t go anywhere.”

  When she didn’t respond, his arm tightened around her. “Promise me.”

  Tamia nodded weakly and closed her eyes, surrendering to the peaceful oblivion of sleep....

  Chapter 32

  Brandon

  “Did you forget something today?”

  The question greeted Brandon as he stepped through the front door of his condo on Tuesday evening, a basketball tucked under one arm. He wore a black wifebeater, long black athletic shorts, and the newest LeBron James high-top Nikes.

  After work, he’d met Dre, Justin, and Cornel for a pickup game at the gym. He’d gotten a good workout, burning off some pent-up tension. But he’d felt his blood pressure spike when he saw Cynthia curled up on the armchair—his armchair—watching him expectantly.

  He set the basketball down, eyeing her guardedly. “What did I forget?”

  “You don’t remember?” The words were accusing, but Cynthia’s eyes were soft and glowing with a quiet joy he didn’t comprehend.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, starting toward the living room. “I don’t remember what it is that I supposedly forgot. You’ll have to help me out here.”

  Cynthia sighed. “I had a doctor’s appointment today. You promised to go with me.”

  Brandon frowned. “That was today?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, babe. I could have sworn you told me your appointment was on Thursday. I even put it on my calendar.”

  “It was today at three,” Cynthia countered, surprisingly calm. “I left from the courthouse and was expecting you to meet me at the doctor’s office.”

  “Shit. I am so sorry. I must have gotten the dates mixed up.”

  “That’s what I
figured.” Her lips twisted wryly. “I didn’t wanna call and cuss you out in front of Dr. Kapoor.”

  Brandon grimaced. Reaching the armchair, he leaned down and kissed Cynthia on the forehead. “I’m really sorry I missed the appointment.”

  “So am I. I wanted you to be there for my first sonogram.”

  Brandon stilled. “Your first . . . you had a sonogram today?”

  “Yup.” She beamed and reached behind her back to retrieve something, which she excitedly handed to him.

  It was an ultrasound photo.

  “That’s our baby!” she squealed.

  As Brandon stared down at the black and white image, something like panic seized his chest. He felt his throat closing, felt himself being strangled by the invisible chain his brother had teased him about.

  He tried to speak but no sound emerged.

  Cynthia eyed him curiously. “Brandon?”

  He just shook his head, staggering backward.

  All this time he’d been secretly hoping . . . praying for some stroke of divine intervention. But it wasn’t meant to be. The photo he held was the proof that had sealed his fate.

  As the back of his legs hit the sofa, he sat down heavily.

  Cynthia laughed. “Look at you! You’re in shock.”

  “Uh . . . yeah.” Brandon swallowed convulsively. His voice had gone hoarse. “Wow . . .”

  Cynthia grinned. “I know. That was the first word out of my mouth when I saw the baby on the screen.” Bubbling with excitement, she sprang from the armchair and rushed to his side. The ends of her hair tickled his shoulder as she leaned over him to stare at the sonogram photo. “Look at our son, Brandon. Isn’t he beautiful?”

  Brandon nodded jerkily, though the fetus in the grainy picture was so tiny it could have been anything. “How . . . um, how do you know we’re having a boy? It’s too soon to tell, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Cynthia said on a dreamy sigh. “But I just have a feeling I’m carrying your son. Call it a maternal instinct.”

  Brandon nodded, staring down at the photo until his eyes burned.

  “He’s gonna look just like you,” Cynthia predicted, tenderly rubbing the back of Brandon’s head. “Right down to your sexy dimples.”

  Dimples . . . did he have dimples? He’d nearly forgotten since it had been so long since he’d really smiled.

  Cynthia giggled, giddier than he’d ever seen her. “Dr. Kapoor says when I’m at twenty-five weeks, we can get a 4-D ultrasound. Those are so amazing, Brandon. We’ll be able to clearly see the baby’s features and watch him move around in my stomach. I can’t wait!”

  “Yeah,” Brandon murmured, “neither can I.”

  Cynthia kissed the top of his head. “This calls for a celebration. I stopped at Kroger on the way home and bought a bottle of sparkling cider, and I ordered dinner from our favorite delivery service. It should be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Sounds good,” Brandon said weakly, pushing to his feet and handing the photo back to her. “Let me just, uh, hop in the shower first. I’m kinda funky.”

  Cynthia winked. “After we eat, we can both get funky.”

  Brandon just smiled before turning and heading to the bedroom. His heart pounded painfully as he kicked off his sneakers and shed his sweat-dampened clothes.

  Once inside the bathroom, he ducked into the shower stall and twisted on the faucet, making the temperature as hot as he could take it. Bracing his hands against the tiled wall for support, he bowed his head and let the water run down his face, mingling with the bitter wetness that leaked from his eyes.

  Chapter 33

  Tamia

  “I can’t go to the fundraiser with you tomorrow,” Honey blurted when Tamia answered her phone on Thursday evening.

  Tamia frowned. “What do you mean you can’t go? I thought you said Keyshawn has to work this weekend.”

  “That’s what he told me, but I’m starting to have my doubts.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, he’s been acting jealous and suspicious again. When I got out of the shower this morning, I caught him going through my purse. He claimed he was looking for some gum, but I didn’t believe him. He’s started asking me questions about Bishop Yarbrough again, even though I haven’t been on any dates with him since I got back from New Orleans. It’s like Keyshawn’s just looking for a reason to go public about me and the bishop.”

  Tamia frowned. “Damn, girl.”

  “I know. It’s crazy.” Honey sounded close to tears. “I think he followed me to one of my dates the other night, and he’s probably planning to do the same thing if I go to the fundraiser banquet with you. So I ain’t taking no chances.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. And it just occurred to me that Bishop Yarbrough will probably be there—”

  “Shit. That’s right. I hadn’t even thought of that.” Honey sighed heavily. “Yeah, I’d better keep my ass at home.”

  “Yeah,” Tamia grimly agreed. “But I’m sorry you won’t be able to go. Beau’s gonna be so disappointed.”

  “I know,” Honey lamented. “I really wanted to meet him, but it just seems like it’s never gonna happen.”

  “It will. Don’t worry.” Tamia ate her last forkful of plantain, tapping her foot to the rhythm of steel drums that transported her back to St. Croix.

  “Where are you?” Honey asked curiously.

  “At a restaurant,” Tamia answered vaguely.

  She was having an early dinner at Winston’s, named after Dominic’s late grandfather. The popular Caribbean-style restaurant featured an elegantly casual decor with French doors and dark leather booths contrasted with walls the color of papaya. There were beautiful watercolors that paid homage to St. Croix’s white-sand beaches, stunning coral reefs, Carnival revelers in full regalia, and people wandering down cobblestone streets lined with shops.

  When Tamia and Dominic arrived at the restaurant that afternoon, he’d steered her to a private corner booth and instructed the waitress to bring her a plate of curried goat, saltfish, and plantain. When her meal was served, he’d stuck around long enough to feed her a few delicious bites before he headed upstairs to conduct a business meeting with some investors.

  “Are you still going to the fundraiser?”

  Pulled out of her reverie, Tamia made a face and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?” Honey asked. “You could take someone else, have a fun night. I heard there’s gonna be a lot of celebrities and ballers there.”

  Tamia scowled. “You know who else is gonna be there? Brandon and his fiancée.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Honey mumbled sheepishly.

  “Uh-huh.” Tamia sipped her margarita, absently thinking it could use more tequila. She could hardly taste any at all. “Anyway, girl, thanks for letting me know about tomorrow. I’ll holla at ya later.”

  As Tamia ended the call, she saw Dominic coming downstairs with a group of businessmen. They were laughing, chewing on cigars, and slapping backs in a manner that suggested their meeting had been a success.

  After ushering the men to the door, Dominic started toward Tamia’s booth in the corner. Along the way, he danced to the calypso music, moving his hips to a chorus of whistles and catcalls from his appreciative female customers. When one bodacious sista sashayed over and began grinding against him, the restaurant erupted in applause and rowdy cheers of approval.

  At the end of the song, Dominic flirtatiously swatted the woman’s thick ass and winked at her, making panties melt all over the place.

  Watching from her table, Tamia could understand how Isabel must have felt being married to Dominic. He was a playa, a bona fide chick magnet whose irresistible sex appeal would awaken any woman’s deepest fears and insecurities. It’d be impossible not to feel paranoid every time he was out of one’s sight.

  When he sauntered over to Tamia and flashed that wicked grin, she rolled her eyes at him.

  He laughed, sliding into the booth beside her. “You mad?”


  She sucked her teeth. “You wish.”

  He laughed again as the waitress hustled over, serving him a bottle of beer before scooping up Tamia’s empty plate.

  “Did you enjoy your food, ma’am?” she asked with a musical West Indian accent.

  Tamia grinned. “Are you kidding? I licked my plate clean.”

  The girl beamed with pleasure. “Wait till you taste our coconut rum cake, made with the best Cruzan rum. You’re gonna love it.”

  Tamia’s grin widened. “Bring it on.”

  As the smiling girl moved off, Dominic leaned over and kissed Tamia’s cheek.

  She slanted him a teasing smile. “You’re in an exceptionally good mood. I take it your meeting went well.”

  “It went very well,” he confirmed.

  “That’s good.”

  Once Dominic had been cleared as a suspect in his wife’s murder, he had been able to collect on her multimillion-dollar insurance policy and recover his frozen assets, which were considerable. Since he was no longer under a cloud of scandal, his company’s profits had begun to rebound, clients returned, and customers flocked to the new restaurant, keeping it packed every night.

  “I like having you here,” Dominic said.

  “I like being here.” Tamia grinned, patting her full stomach. “So does my appetite.”

  Dominic chuckled. “I love a woman who can appreciate Caribbean food.”

  “What’s not to appreciate when everything tastes so damn good?”

  Dominic smiled, loosening the knot of his tie as he leaned back against the leather cushions. He took a swig of beer, eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Tamia drink her margarita. She was convinced that she’d been given a nonalcoholic one by mistake.

  “Can we go home after this,” Dominic drawled, draping an arm over the back of the seat behind her, “or would you like to stop somewhere and pick up more Christmas decorations? Perhaps a giant frosted sleigh to hang from the ceiling?”

  Tamia’s eyes narrowed. “You got jokes about my decorating skills?”

  Dominic laughed. “You got my crib lookin’ like a Christmas village with all those lights and shit.”