All This Time

by Marie Wathen

  “Ja, I’ll get you back before that other car.”

  “How?”

  “Ma’am, you are definitely not a tourist and what you were looking for tells me that you are in some kind of trouble. Ja? I can’t stand by and watch a pretty lady get hurt so I waited to see where you would end up. I should have known it would be where the expensive car was parked in front of dat abandoned shack.” Marcus glances up in the rear view mirror at me and says, “You need to be smarter.” What can I say to that? He is absolutely right so I nod back at him.

  He races through back streets at a speed too dangerous for the narrow one lane roads, but true to his word Marcus gets me to the hotel fast and moments after I run through the front door I spot Decks and the woman pulling up. I watch him lean in toward her and see her hand wrap around the back of his head. As he pulls away I see her face and long red hair. She is an exquisitely beautiful woman. She doesn’t look familiar to me and now that I’ve seen her face it’s locked in my memory vault so I will never forget it. My room is on the third floor. I haven’t run for the past few weeks due to my injuries, but Decks will be charging up them two at a time any second now. I push my body through the first flight of stairs before I hear heavy steps below. Fuck, my heart rate ratchets up because I know it’s him closing in on me. On the second flight I pass a couple blocking the steps and split them apart to get to the next landing. They grumble something at me, but I don’t give a damn if they were trying to tell me the place is on fire, I am not stopping until my backside is pressed against the inside side of my hotel room door.

  I shove around the corner and pick up speed on the flat carpeted flooring on the third floor. My room is the third on the right. I reach into my bag and dig for my key just as I approach my door. Slipping it into the keyhole, I thrust the door open as soon as I hear the click. I only open it enough to squeeze my body through before I softly shut it again. I lean against the door and press my ass against it, trying to calm my breathing and pounding heart.

  “Angel,” Decks calls through the door followed by a couple of knocks.

  Did he see me? I am not moving or breathing at this point. I hold tight to the doorknob and pray that he isn’t going to try it. Even though we have separate rooms he insisted on holding onto my spare key and happily gave me his extra.

  Another soft knock on the door precedes him calling my name again. After a few still moments I hear his footsteps moving away from my door. Another few seconds later his room door shuts and I collapse onto the floor. I drop my head into my good hand and release a string of cuss words that would make a sailor blush.

  What did I freaking learn tonight on my hunt for Decks? Instead of meeting a man who I was expecting to be the infamous Dr A, he rendezvoused with a woman, possibly a lover with the way they were so intimate. Thinking about her telling him that she would have another shipment in the Gulf makes me wonder if this is who he is always meeting. Could Dr. A be a woman? Oh, it would really piss off the DEA to know that they’ve been looking for the wrong gender all of these years. I chuckle at the thought and pull myself up off the floor. I change out of my dirt covered clothes and wash up quickly. Something else niggles in the back of my head. There’s one way to know for sure if she’s the same person he has been meeting for the past month.

  I slip out my hotel room and walk the five feet to the room next to mine. I knock twice and finally a sleepy-eyed Decks wearing nothing but a pair of boxers cracks open the door. It takes a couple of seconds, but he finally realizes it’s me and he smiles wickedly.

  “Hey, I came by your room earlier, but I guess you were asleep,” he says opening his door for me to enter his room. I step inside and turn around to face him as he closes it and leans his back against it. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry to come over so late.” I offer an apologetic smile.

  His eyes grow dark and the lust blossoms like a spring flower eagerly reaching up toward the sun. He steps forward and takes me into his arms. I press my face against his neck and take in a lung full of his scent before wrapping my arms above his shoulders. He squeezes me tightly against him, dropping his face into my hair.

  “Decks, will you hold me?” I ask as I step out of his embrace. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

  “Come on,” he takes my hand leading me toward his bed, but I hesitate as he tries to pull me onto the mattress.

  “I’m not ready to take our relationship to the next level,” I whisper avoiding eye contact. “If this is going to be too difficult…” My words trail off and he just stares at me hard for several extended moments, his eyes searing a path along every inch of my exposed skin.

  “It’s fine,” Decks mumbles softly pulling the covers back for me. With a bit more control he adds, “I’m not some lustful teenager Angel. I am here anyway you need me. I already told you that I will do anything for you.” I nod and slip under the covers with him. He presses his lips to my hair and adds, “When you and I have sex it will be a mutual decision.” I swallow hard at the idea of having sex with him, and force myself to roll over so I can face him, laying my head on his arm. Instantly the nasty, cheap perfume engulfs me confirming my suspicions. She is who he keeps meeting. Interesting.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?” Decks asks walking up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. He smiles against my neck before pressing his lips to the base of my hairline. I nod and turn around to face him, pulling away from his hold slightly.

  “You throw an incredible party,” I clear my throat hoping to sound happy and trying to look pleased with our contact. “I don’t know when I have ever had more fun.”

  His entire little mafia accepted an invitation to celebrate with him at his mansion for the past year’s success of his organization. Standing beside me, Natalie’s eyes widen watching our exchange making me blush from head to feet. It’s a look of disappointment more than shock. She knows what kind of player Decks is and seeing us this intimate must not be what she expected. I already explained to her, as well as him, that I’m not rushing into another relationship, but since the night I slept in his bed for the first time his physical affections have multiplied. He hasn’t forced a kiss on me, for which I am grateful, but he has pecked my lips a few times, attempting to encourage me. Too bad for Decks, I won’t be swayed.

  Even if he wasn’t evil, I wouldn’t let him kiss me with all the confusion zigzagging around in my head over Blues. Yes, Blues is on the bad side of this freaking war on drugs too. I can’t put my finger on it, but he just doesn’t give me the same rough vibe that I get with every other drug dealer. I don’t know exactly what his job is in their organization. But being Nelson’s second makes him powerful and everyone respects the position. Although, he has probably done despicable things that would make a grown man break there’s something that keeps drawing me to him, something beyond the physical attraction. Maybe it’s because he was once a lawman and I’m sensing only the good while completely fooling myself into believing Kris’ words when she tried to convince me that a man like him could change because of his love for me.

  “How can you always look so stunning, Angel,” Natalie asks, turning me out of Decks arms so she can appraise my attire.

  “Oh, this,” I offer playfully looking down at my black and silver maxi dress. “It’s a must have on all the fashion runways.”

  Our conversation about clothing bores Decks enough that he releases me and walks toward some of his minions. I watch him only briefly and then fall victim to Natalie’s tales of “kids do the most amazing things.” Her eyes twinkle while telling me everything that Simone and Dean have been up to since I last saw them. I know what’s coming. Her trip out of town isn’t that far off and she will once again ask me to keep them.

  “Angel,” a weak voice murmurs from behind me. Spinning around to greet whoever it is, I gasp loudly when I barely recognize the woman struggling to stand upright in fr
ont of me.

  Choking back my disgust with her appearance and a strong desire to cry, I find my voice, “Chelsea, what are you doing here? What happened?” I pull her to the side of the room and we sit on a small sofa positioned so that it faces away from the large group of people still continuing to celebrate. I glance up at Natalie who reads the plea in my eyes to give us a chance to talk privately and she nods before walking over to join her husband with the large group in the front of the room.

  Weakly she shakes her head, focusing her eyes on the floor. “I tried,” she whispers. I grip her hand tightly encouraging her to tell me why she’s here. She lifts her dark and glossy eyes up, staring into mine before continuing, “I’m still with Mad.” My gut clenches at her sad confession, but I remain quiet. “He wouldn’t let me leave.” She glances over her shoulder appearing to search the room. “I had to agree to stay with him before he would stop…” Emotions rising up in her throat halt her explanation, just in time too.

  “What are you doing over here Chels?” Mad growls standing at the back of the sofa while glaring down at me. A shiver runs through my body from the intensity of his vile look. “Don’t be disturbing Decks ol’ lady. Come.”

  “She’s not disturbing me,” Using my sweet voice, I make up an excuse before he makes her leave. “We are discussing her fill in on her tat. Give me a few more minutes and Chelsea is all yours.” He doesn’t look happy about me speaking for her and I can see that the words are just barely contained behind his pinched tight lips.

  He stares hard at Chelsea and says, “Five minutes.” Still completely pissed off he turns from us, walking away slowly and I let out a heavy breath.

  “What can I do?” I rush my words knowing that I don’t have long. “I’ll get you away from him if that’s what you want.”

  She shakes her head feebly. “He’ll come after me.” She glances down, runs her hand over the bend in her elbow and taps on several track marks before looking back up at me. “He threatened to kill me if I ever leave him.”

  That got my attention. The vulgarity ripping through my mind is only seconds away from releasing. Not wanting to draw attention to us, I shake my head attempting to divert them from their direct path to my mouth while biting down hard on my tongue.

  “If I can make arrangements to get you away from him and to a safe place would you do it? Would you leave this life behind?” I stare transfixed on her brown eyes watching for a sign of hope or appreciation to my offer.

  “You can’t save me, Angel,” she whispers averting her eyes toward the direction Mad left. “But thank you.”

  “I will, Chelsea. You just have to tell me that it’s what you want,” I demand gripping her hand tightly in mine and pulling her attention back to me.

  “I would leave all of it behind,” she says meekly.

  I smile cautiously at her, formulating a plan to save her. “Do you have a cell phone?” Keeping her eyes on me, she shakes her head. “Okay, then you’ll come to the TatHouse Friday. Tell him you’re getting the fill in and it will take four hours to finish it. If he refuses to leave you there alone I will come up with an alternative plan.” Her eyes fill with tears and it tugs at my heart. “You have to trust me and please don’t tell him anything. I promise that we’ll get you out. And once it’s done…”

  “You’ll never see my face again,” she finishes before I can, knowing exactly what we are risking once that monster discovers that she has run from him.

  “Now, go find him and act as normal as you can around the son of a bitch,” I instruct rising from the sofa and leading her back to the throng of people continuing to party.

  Chelsea spots Mad immediately, sitting angrily across the other side of the room away from everyone else. He is a social outcast by every definition. He doesn’t make nice with anyone and he has used up every drug connection that he knows taking from them without repaying his debt. He actually believes he’s entitled to a free ride just because he graces them with his presence. I can’t think of any reason someone would want him around. After the way Decks reacted so crazily toward him when he attempted to insult me by calling me a bitch, I’m surprised to see him as an invited guest to his house.

  Suddenly my mind begins adding together all the factors: Mad working with Decks, him supplying Chelsea with Ryske and the ghost of Dr. A along with his attorney’s getting him released on bond from jail. Adding all of that to the trips that Decks has been making recently then I have my answer. Mad knows Dr. A and people need him for their Ryske connection. But what about the woman all over Decks back in the Bahamas? Is she just a shipment contact or is there more between her and Decks?

  Finding myself still staring in Mad’s direction, I spin around toward the other guests. I notice Natalie and Wise among the loud group and walk over. I make eye contact briefly with Blues, feeling my heart rate ratchet up and my girlie parts beg for his attention. I scold myself then force my attention away from the sex-god. Everyone is enjoying themselves and the light atmosphere on this side of the room helps settle my stress over leaving Chelsea with that monster. But no matter what sacrifices on my part it takes, come Friday she will be safely out of his repulsive clutches forever.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I text to Russ letting him know that Mad will be showing up at the TatHouse today with Chelsea. The more prepared he is for our possible encounters the better. He knows how much I can’t stand the guy and would try to intercept him from making contact with me. My co-worker, Dylan is going to do the fill in on Chelsea’s tattoo since I still have another three days before my cast could come off. With everything set into motion to extricate her from his evil control, I feel pretty confident. A couple of members of my unit who are currently not on assignment will pick her up the moment Mad leaves her alone. Getting him to go will be the hardest part. I just hope what I did to ensure that he leaves her here with me won’t result in blowing my cover.

  Chilly air blusters through the front entrance when Mad enters the store followed by a weaker version of the young woman I spoke with before. Clearly he has doped her up so she will remain docile. I just hope she’s coherent enough to follow my instructions.

  “Hi Chelsea,” I say leaning against the counter top located next to the front door. “Dylan will be doing your color since I’m still wearing this thing.” I nod toward my arm. “Are you cool with that?” She glances sluggishly with glossy eyes from me to Mad waiting for his response to my question.

  “Who the hell is Dylan?” Mad snarls looking toward the back of the shop where a burly, tattoo covered muscular body sits at his station preparing for his next client. Although I am usually happy that Dylan is intimidating as hell when some of the weirder clients come into the store, today is not one of those days. Mad needs to feel comfortable being here, so that when he gets called away he‘ll be ok with leaving.

  I point with my chin toward the back and Mad’s eyes follow the direction, glancing at Dylan again. He glares suspiciously when Dylan raises his fist acknowledging him. “If you want to wait there we should have her ready to go in about four hours.” His attention swiftly turns back to me with a wild eyed stare.

  “Four hours, that’s fucking ridiculous,” he snaps at full volume. His hands grips around Chelsea’s upper arm, pulling her away from the counter. “We’re not hanging around that damn long. Let’s go.”

  “Seriously dude?” I laugh. “Do you have something better to do? Because Dylan cleared his schedule as a favor for me to finish what I started and it’s shitty that you’re overreacting to a little thing like waiting around four hours. You sound like a girl.”

  Hating me for questioning his manhood, he thrusts Chelsea toward me roughly and stalks over to the row of chairs by the front window slamming down, fuming mad, jaw twitching and eyes piercing through me. It takes every bit of strength I have not to laugh at his childish behavior. Instead, I gently take Chelsea by the arm and lead her back to Dylan’s station. He begins explaining everything to her first and then whe
n she acknowledges him he begins the work. About two hours in Mad is completely enraged, continuously grumbling about how slow the process is going while pacing the front area.

  “Cigarette break?” I ask Chelsea. She smiles at me while nodding and we walk passed Mad out the front door. He follows us around the corner of the building where he watches us sit on the metal box against the brick wall.

  “Why don’t you finish that thing up another day?” he asks Chelsea standing in front of her arms crossed with a menacing glare defying her to dispute his order. He is a scrawny guy with skinny arms and long dirty blonde hair. He makes me think of a teenage boy who prefers wearing skinny jeans.

  “Listen, I get that waiting around for one of these isn’t the most fun in the world, but I’m not letting her leave here with a half-ass job. We have a reputation here and you’re not going to screw it up. Chill the hell out.” I cross my legs turning my attention toward Chelsea. “Have you ever tried menthol in that brand?” I ask as a distraction method so he will get the idea that he’s not going to get his way today.

  “I hate that shit,” she says blowing out a puff of smoke. “It burns the back of my throat and tastes like shit.”

  I laugh, “They all do that. I have a friend who loves the clove ones, but I can only take that smell for so long before I get a raging headache. Same thing happens with cigars. Ugh.”

  A loud obnoxious heavy metal ring tone screeches from Mad’s front pant pocket interrupting our casual conversation. He snatches it out and peers at the screen before an odd grin slices across his ugly face revealing a dull silver tooth on the bottom.

  “Yeah,” he says answering the phone before offering me a salacious smile that forces a shiver of disgust down my spine. Turning away from us, he says forcefully, “I can’t do it now.” There’s a long pause before he snaps the phone closed without as much as a goodbye to the person on the other end.