by Marie Wathen
A heavy feeling of foreboding sinks into my gut as I watch his eyes darken awaiting my response. Curiosity also demands that I find out what he knows as well.
“Well, you know about the east coast trip back before Christmas, right?” He offers a curt nod, waiting for me to continue. “After my accident…” I pause remembering Blues telling me how frightened he was after finding out about me being in the hospital. “He refused to let me go out alone and didn’t want me staying by myself at the house while he traveled so I accompanied him to Nassau last week.” His eyes penetrate into mine and I shift feeling uncomfortable under his harsh stare. He rises from the sofa, crosses the room and paces in front of the balcony, contemplating my answer for several minutes.
I remain silent and in control externally, but internally I’m freaking out. Unable to wait him out another moment, I stand quickly and rush my question, “Can you call Wise or Murph? They were at the club and I really want to know if everyone is okay.” He stops walking and lifts his eyes up to look at me. The level of sadness I see in his features is overwhelming and it’s clear that he knows that whatever happened tonight directly involves them.
Suddenly the reality grips me like a noose around the neck, choking my airway and accelerating my fear. This was retaliation and one of the members of the X’kapz was targeted tonight in a public place to make a serious statement. Feeling lightheaded, I sway and reach with a hand to brace my fall back down on the sofa. Blues rushes over easing me down and placing a hand on my shoulder gently pushing me against the back of the sofa.
“Relax, Doll. I’ll call them,” he promises, tenderly stroking his fingers lightly over my forehead, pushing a few long strands away. “I’m going to find out what happened, but I want you to stay right here, okay?” Closing my eyes to ride out the flash of nausea that begins swirling in my stomach, I nod my head agreeably. I hear him push buttons on his phone followed by a rushed garbled hello on the other end. “It’s Blues, tell me what happened.” Still trying to calm down, I keep my eyes closed, and through my efforts I realize my good hand is fisted tightly so I stretch out my fingers and place it on top of my thigh. After a full minute of silently listening, Blues stands abruptly, jostling me. I open my eyes to see heavy pain etched on his face just before he turns away and buries it into his hand and whispers, “Damn.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Blues walks over, resuming his spot on the sofa beside me, and he draws my hand into his. His dark eyes, revealing pain and fear, and something else I can’t comprehend, glance up at mine before lowering to our linked fingers. He sighs heavily, a sound I never thought a man this powerful was capable of, but every day he continues to destroy all of the typical stereotypes I’ve held in this gutter world. I know what he’s about to tell me will be bad. It’s always bad. There is no good in the drug world. Anyone who believes otherwise is sorely mistaken. When you let your guard down for just a moment the cruelty of it reaches up like a beast from the pits of hell and rips you apart before dragging you back down to burn with it.
“Doll, it’s bad,” Blues starts hesitantly keeping his eyes on our connection while methodically rubbing his thumb over mine. Consumed with an overwhelming need to soothe his heartache, I lift my hand to touch his face. I don’t understanding why I give a damn about his pain. He is part of the problem, no, he is the problem and now someone he supposedly cares for is hurt or most likely dead. I pause before making contact, drop my hand, while removing my other from his grasp, and clasp them together the best I can.
“Tell me,” I beg knowing whoever it is and whatever the outcome I will be saddened tremendously by the loss, but prepared for it just as equally.
He nods his head just slightly before lifting his eyes up to mine. This unique shade of blue is an eye color that I’ve never seen before and they are swimming in unshed tears, making me believe again that this cruel monster could actual give a damn.
“It’s Wise,” he whispers softly, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s dead.” He clears his throat and I gasp loudly in the quiet room. “I’m so sorry.” I shake my head disbelieving him, but knowing that he’s telling me the truth.
I shut my eyes briefly feeling the burn of tears and clutch my right hand to my chest, forcing the hurt to stave. The pain I feel is not for a drug dealer, but for a person.
“I need air,” I whisper hoarsely. I stand immediately and rush over to the balcony. I need away from…him.
Oh god, Natalie. Tears streak down my cheeks when I remember her going back to the table just minutes before. She watched her husband die. They were supposed to go on their stupid, freaking trip next weekend. Even though I know this is real, and it happens every day, I still can’t believe this is happening. I feel raw. My heart aches for Wise’s two kids the real victims in all of this bullshit. A young son will never learn from his father about how to be a real man, how to be a good man, or how to treat a woman. A little girl was robbed of dealing with an overprotective ‘boyfriend repellent,’ the joy and excitement of having her daddy walk her down the aisle, and seeing the pride on his face when he becomes a grandfather. This is so wrong and so unnecessary.
Pulling myself together, I am grateful that Blues gave me the space I need to process some of what I’m feeling. Slowly dragging myself out of my state of unawareness, I turn my head, glancing back inside the lavish penthouse suite and realize Wise died for this place. He died for the houses Nelson, Blues and Decks live in, the cars they drive - the car I drive - and he died in a battle that rages on, currently searching out its next victim.
“I know there is nothing that I can say that will help,” Blues offers softly, poking his head out of one of the French doors, “but I want you to know that I’m here and I will do anything I can for you.”
I glare at him feeling the bitterness rising in my throat, threatening to expose my disloyalty to him. This person deserves my hostility and hatred, but I beat it back into the depths of my soul where I can remember what he really is and why I’m here in the first place. When it comes to Blues, I lost my focus. I’m so damn glad that I’m reminded now of the real monster that he is before I did something fucked up like giving him my heart. He’s not worthy of it.
“No, I just need air,” I say sharply. The chill of the night blisters my checks and my finger are stiffening from the below freezing temperatures. I release a heavy sigh and in the corner of my eye I see him take a step forward. He pauses when I glance up. At the moment there is no way that I can contain the disgust I feel looking at the fucking catalyst, and from the way he flinches away my hatred is written all over my face.
“Angel,” his tone is stern. “I need to make some phone calls. I should only be a few minutes,” he says stepping back in and holding open the door. “Please come inside out of the cold.” The last request is a kinder tone, but still more than I can bear to hear coming out of his mouth. Hoping to avoid more of the same, I walk in and take my position back on the couch feeling the warmth of the room beginning to physically soothe me, but the emotional part will need time.
Walking out of the room, he speaks into his cell phone, “Hey, it’s Blues. Get a crew down to Holiday’s…” his voice trails off, but I know he’s sending in a cleanup crew. Although this will be deemed a professional hit and there won’t be any shred of evidence left at the crime scene, Blues plays it smart by calling in a sweeper team. They will probably stroll through the area dressed in police uniforms actually working the case and their betrayal will go undetected.
“I’ve got to end this now,” I whisper to the empty room. “This cannot happen to another family, on either side of this war.”
I slip my shoes off my feet and pull them under me as I sit back against the sofa. Closing my eyes, I center my mind away from the events of tonight. I focus on my family, my best friend, my career and I wait for joy to fill my heart again. In the time that it took me to infiltrate this group hoping to gain their trust, I began to feel too much for them. Going into the job I knew tha
t I would be putting most of them in jail. Why is this case different from all the others? The players are different, but it’s the same game with the odds always stacked against me, and just like every time before, I refuse to fold. I’ll get through this one way or another, force their hand and then I will bring down the house.
Sometime later I find that I’ve stretched out and had fallen asleep. Apparently Blues returned, discovered me sleeping and covered me with a warm blanket. Pale light from the early morning sun streaks through the blinds on the window above me. After a long stretch, I pull myself up and walk down the hallway in search of a bathroom.
“This is going to lead right back to him…,” I hear Blues speaking to someone so I pause at the closed door that I assume is the guest bathroom and continue listening. “Absolutely not. I can’t wait…” his voice trails off. I tiptoe down the hallway a little further toward the direction his voice is coming from. I don’t hear anyone responding to him so he must be on the phone. “I expect you to do your goddamn job!” His loud response startles me making me jump and I freeze in place hoping that he didn’t hear me. “We may have lost our only chance….I’ll get him and you get the damn Ryske detail straight… no, I’ll call you.”
Hearing the end of Blues’ conversation, I back away from his office slowly while hoping to make it to the bathroom door before I’m discovered. The creak of his chair signals that he’s coming. Keeping my eyes locked straight ahead, I stretch my hand out behind me, aimlessly searching for the doorknob. I find it and twist just as he steps into the hall with me. His hair is tussled and he’s still wearing the same clothes from last night. When he lifts his eyes up to meet mine they are dull with dark circles underneath them. He halts his steps, slides his hands into his front pockets and his body visibly slumps. He holds me in a hypnotic state for what feels like hours just standing there his eyes pleading for me to come to him. My heart slams hard against my chest seeing his pure unadulterated pain.
Don’t do this. He isn’t just some guy. Keep your head straight. I continue fighting the desire to comfort him until he rips his gaze away and steps into the room across from his office. Releasing a heavy, but silent breath, I wrench my hand away from the doorknob and turn around, rushing back to the living room. I grab up my shoes, not bothering to slip them on and hurry out the front door, never looking back.
Chapter Fifty-Two
After running away from Blues, I catch a cab about two blocks from his penthouse. Seeing the pain or guilt etched in his face my feelings are confusing the hell out of me and I can’t deal with it. Expecting someone is watching me I ask the taxi driver to take me out of the city and then circle back taking the scenic route just to make sure we aren’t being followed. Finally feeling confident that I’m not on anyone’s radar, I give him my home address in Canton. Since I left my things and Jeep at the club I need money so going home is the only option. Plus, I really need Kris. She can help me deal with my irrational emotions.
Unfortunately as we approach the house I notice immediately that she isn’t home again. Once inside the house, I grab a backpack filling it with a few days worth of clothes. Then I walk down the hallway to my home office in search of another disposable phone. I leave a note on Kris’ bed with the new number before calling another taxi service to pick me up. Spotting a vacancy sign at a sleazy motel about twenty minutes south of the city, I get him to drop me off. After getting settled I decide that it might be a good idea to check in and my first call is to the Captain.
“Thank the lord,” Captain Reebals shouts frantically. “You can’t just vanish after a shooting, Sam. I was actually considering risking the entire case by notifying the press about your disappearance. Fortunately, I reasoned your rebellious attitude and need to disconnect after the horrible events at Holidays before I screwed our two year investigation. ”
“It was stupid on my part not to call sooner,” I sigh, “but I’m safe and far away from the scene.”
He sighs, “When you’re ready we need to talk about what went down at Holidays.” I swallow hard and offer a whispered yes.
“I’m taking a few days off.” Luckily he doesn’t press for information, ending our call after that and I make my second call.
Reconnecting with someone who really loves me always helps me sort through all the bullshit and can see things objectively. My Gran knows I can’t discuss details of my case so she happily fills the conversation with talk of all things Willow. I find peace listening to her melodic voice recounting her weekly town council meeting, relishing in the success of her newest cheesecake creation and crowing about the upcoming Spring gala that she hosts at the Renaissance Castle every year. For a brief moment her jubilant excitement allows me to forget the hellish world I live in. After ending my therapeutic call with Gran I put my phone away. Knowing that I would be speaking with Russ next I feel like a break is necessary to deal with his dramatics. I fall into a restless sleep for the next three hours.
“I’m freaking out here, Sam,” Russ growls low. His voice filled with anger and fear. He sighs, annoyed with waiting for my response.
“Motel 7 off of Jefferson,” I tell him my location and hear another heavy sigh, this one is definitely relief.
“Okay, okay. That’s good. Do I need to send someone to you?”
“No, I have everything taken care of for now.”
“Sam, I got a call about an hour ago,” his voice lowers to a sad tone causing me to become jittery.
“Tell me,” I whisper. My eyes transfix on the Bible lying on the nightstand beside my bed.
“Jude Kingsley was an undercover homicide investigator.” I gasp feeling a deep wrenching pain in my chest. My instincts were right about Wise. Russ continues, “He was working with the feds in an ongoing investigation involving the deaths of three former X’kapz members and their wives. Information that was withheld from our department until today indicates that someone orchestrated the murders of the top officers who had recently resigned their post. The members included William and Yvonne Kennedy, Nelson’s brother and sister-in-law and Decks’ parents; Oscar and Amelia Sloane, Nelson’s best friend of forty years and Blues’ parents; and the last was Owen Watson, Nelson’s current wife, Camille’s first husband. All five perished in a plane crash ten years ago on a vacation trip. Apparently new information surfaced that led them to assign an undercover to the case.”
“Jesus,” I whisper pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead. I can feel the beginning of a migraine after that discovery. “I remember hearing about that incident.”
“Yeah, when some of the wealthiest families in the state die it makes national news. It’s just strange that it took so long for them to push the investigation.”
Several silent moments linger between us until I finally ask, “How’s Kris?”
“She’s good, actually better than good,” I hear his smile through the phone, “She got the job.”
“In the emergency room?” I’m so proud for my girl.
“Yeah, she started last week. She told me that she tried to call you. I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily so I didn’t tell her about your accident. She said for you to call her when you returned back from your mini vacation in the Bahamas.”
Damn, I should have returned all of her calls. I sigh hating all of the lies and feeling so disconnected from my real life. “I’m staying here for a few days, maybe a week. I need to clear my head and being around…them won’t help me do that. I’ll call you in a few days.”
“Sam, I,” Russ starts, but hesitates and releases a heavy breath before simply saying, “Be careful.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I toss my phone behind me onto the other side. I run my fingers under the top of the covers and pull them back before slipping under the cool sheets, searching for some semblance of comfort in the silent motel room. I command my mind to slow while I stare up at the dotted ceiling.
It isn’t the integrity of my sanity that has me escaping reality, it’s the vulner
ability of my damn betraying heart that urges me to deal with these reckless emotions. I’m in a wild vortex swirling between hurt and hatred bordering on revenge with my target being the heads of the opposing cartels. It’s an illogical plan and that’s why I didn’t bring one of my guns with me today.
Part of me feels bad about not going to Natalie immediately after hearing about her husband’s death while another part begs to rush straight back into Blues’ arms. Right now I can’t do either. I must process some of this before I can attempt making contact with anyone in their group. Whatever happens from this point on I need to disassociate myself personally from every one of them. My job comes first and I’ll be damned if I will get caught up in their heartache again just to get sucker punched when someone else I care about dies. Damn, I do care and that’s my damn problem.
I’ve never connected with the people during an assignment like the way I have them. And I’ve never had sex with anyone involved in the case. What makes this job so different? How could I let myself become so deeply involved? How can I fall for Blues? Reflecting back on the past year I can see where it all started unraveling my hard shell. I shouldn’t have interfered with Momma’s living arrangements. If I would have just kept my damn nose out of it I wouldn’t be in this predicament.
Needing something to distract my wayward thoughts, I switch on the television and flip through the short list of cable channels repetitively until a local news story catches my attention. It’s actually the face in the picture plastered on the screen that has me sitting up and gripping the hell out of the remote control. Wise happy face smiles back at me. The details of the news report are vague and the only thing that sticks out as important to me is the funeral arrangements scheduled in Baltimore, two days from now. My chest feels heavy and my mind screams at me to skip it.
I glance out the window watching the highway traffic rushing passed while silently cursing the occupant’s naivety to the bleakness of my reality. Living an assumed life for the past few years has never affected me like the life I live as Angel Johnson. I have to find a way out of this detail soon. With the new information about the reopened homicide investigation I think I have an angle to possibly reach Decks. After recalling the conversation I overheard between him and Nelson before our trip to the Bahamas I’m beginning to believe that he has knowledge of his uncle’s involvement. I need to get to Decks now while he’s vulnerable. With that decision made it looks like I will be attending or at the very least observing the ceremony from afar.
