by Allyn Lesley
He plucked his phone from his pocket. The line rang once before it was answered.
“What?” was the brusque response.
“She’s not coming out of her apartment.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Just like I said. You’re going to have to come get your woman.” He snickered, waiting for the inevitable blow-up.
Three, two, one...
“Get her ass in that damn car,” he boomed, almost rattling Ro’s cell’s earpiece.
“Unless you want Plummer to post bail for breaking and entering, then you need to be in a car and on your way to Harlem.” Ro stifled his laughter.
“Bailey, send the car around,” Noah yelled. “You’re fucking useless.”
“Whatever. Bring some popcorn when you come, ‘cause the shit about to go down will be funny as hell. Oh, I saved you a parking spot.”
Ro leaned back against the SUV and directed his gaze up at Avi’s window. His grin grew when he saw fingers poke through the blinds.
The dilemma Noah didn’t know he had on his hands was more than humorous. Avi was spicy and Ro liked that. It was rare that Noah crossed paths with someone unafraid to tell the pushy bastard no.
On the tenth floor of the Accipiere’s headquarters, a disgruntled Noah stormed out of his office and past his receptionist. “Forward all calls to my cell,” he said with his focus on the bank of elevators straight ahead.
“Wait up,” Cass called out, rounding a corner just as the elevator doors slid open.
“Good night, Mr. Walker and Mr. Adams,” the receptionist shouted out as the men entered the elevator.
“Night,” Cass said as the doors closed.
Noah leaned back against the chrome-trimmed elevator wall and released a pent up breath. Today had been a shitstorm. He’d made a few calls, seeking information about his friend’s death, but he was no closer to having any answers. Then there was Ido. And now Ro was telling him what Avi would and would not do. This day was fucked, and it wasn’t halfway over for Noah.
“We need to do something about Ido,” Cass said almost too low for Noah to hear.
“We do, but the pressing matter is how he knows Avi.”
“That’s the pressing matter?” Cass wondered aloud with an edge to his tone.
Noah nodded.
“Have you looked at that file Gavin gave you?”
Cass growled out his friend’s name. Noah remained quiet as they rode down to the lobby.
“If she’s in your apartment she’s bound to hear or see something.”
“Have you read what Gavin found?” Noah asked.
Cass’s silence was answer enough.
The elevator dinged open.
“Good night, gentlemen,” the young French security guard said as the men walked past him.
Cass responded, “I’ll be back to speak with you.”
The guard swallowed and pulled on the knot in his tie.
“What’s that about?” Noah asked once they were outside.
“He’s a new hire and the idiot who let Ido up a couple hours ago. You’d know this if you weren’t so distracted.”
“What are you implying?” Noah spun around.
Cass jammed his hands into his pockets and stared at Noah with tense features. When he remained quiet, Noah turned around and headed for the open car door where Zach stood.
“We have business to handle now.”
Noah folded himself into the back seat. “Find out how Ido knows Avi. We’ll talk later. I’ve got to go deal with something else,” he said to Cass who stood near the door.
“I’m telling you to read that file, Noah. She’s getting up here.” Cass tapped Noah’s temple.
Noah rushed out of the car with his fists clenched. “No, she isn’t.” He was never off his game. “She’s Harry’s kid, and needs our help.” And now, my protection. “I don’t give a fuck what Gavin found. She’s here and she’s staying. Now back off.”
Both men huffed, but Cass was the first to take a step away.
“Have it your way.”
Noah exhaled slowly. Everything was a clusterfuck. Harry’s death, Avi, Ido...all of it had him running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
The car door slammed. Seconds later, he rolled the tinted window down. “I’ll look at the file,” Noah muttered.
Cass nodded.
“Call me later.” Noah then picked up a phone and began typing with lightning speed.
“Just answer.”
Noah spared him a glance through narrowed slits. “When don’t I answer?” He set his face forward again. “Drive, Zach.”
The car pulled up to the curb, parking behind the SUV he’d sent to get Avi and Ro. Noah took his time leaving his vehicle, assessing the neighborhood as he approached Ro. He grimaced at the bar on the corner.
“How’d you get two parking spots?”
Ro shrugged. “I have my ways.”
“As long as I won’t have to pay anyone’s medical bills like the last time.” Noah walked past his friend.
“Why are you coming at me like that?” Ro eased off the truck, joining Noah on the sidewalk. “You knock a few teeth out and break some ribs and that shit hangs over your head,” he mumbled.
He pressed the bell beside Avi’s name. “Go home.”
“And miss the action?” Ro scoffed. “Hell no.”
“Go home.” Noah pressed the buzzer again.
Ro’s snickered. “She’s not letting you in?” Ro laughed aloud, slapping a hand on his thigh. “This is rich. Let me record this shit for the fellas.” He rustled in his back pocket for his cell.
“Go the fuck home,” Noah gritted out.
“You pussy. Did you really text my wife?” Ro asked, eyes on the capital letters blaring at him from the text message.
Noah growled, turning his fury on his friend. “Get the hell away from me before I beat your ass.” He turned back to the task at hand.
“Fine. I’m leaving. Not because you told me to or because you set my wife on me, but because I don’t want to see my friend grovel like an asshat.” Ro backed away and did his best not to laugh when Noah threw up his middle finger.
Noah peered through the glass of the security door and hoped a resident would be coming outside soon. But no such luck. The pressure he applied to Avi’s bell reddened his fingertip.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Take the truck and take out your wife. I told her you would.”
“Lemme work my magic on those locks before I leave,” Ro said, sounding nearer than before.
“I’ve got this. Go.”
He watched Ro drive away.
Noah’s gaze drifted up to the few street-facing windows on Avi’s floor, and he wondered which was hers. He got his answer when he caught sight of a set of blinds that opened then quickly closed.
Noah pulled out his cell phone, muttering, “You really shouldn’t play games with me.” He dialed a number and pressed the phone to his ear.
“What’s up?”
“Get me the keys to Avi’s apartment.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Gavin responded.
“Make it happen.” He ended the call and decided to venture down the block.
An hour later, Noah returned from a local pizza parlor. A frazzled man peeked up and down the street. His stride lengthened to reach the man.
“You have what I need?” Noah asked the stocky, sweaty man.
“Mr. Adams?” He took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the perspiration from his face. He stretched his hand out toward Noah, who eyed it with a raised brow. The hand was quickly pulled to the man’s side. “Right. Here’s what was requested.”
The gold keys shimmered under the glowing streetlights.
“Good.”
“Is...will there be anything else?” he asked, watching Noah walk up the front steps.
The slam of the security door was the only answer the man received.
A sense of satisfaction oozed t
hrough Noah’s body. He took his time climbing the stairs. Noah’s mood transformed from mildly amused to pissed with each step. He yanked the stairway door open, glad she lived in a well-kept building, if not the most secure. Gavin merely threatened to cut off the super’s balls, and voilà, Noah had a sparkling new set of keys to the home of one Avianna Linton.
Yeah, she’ll be moving soon.
Noah filled his lungs with air and pushed it out through his nostrils. He felt ready to face her now. He crossed the threshold of Avi’s home as if he’d been there before and had every right to be there now. He got a whiff of the sweet scents floating in the air. Remembering his purpose, he headed down the dim, narrow hallway.
The bedroom door was partially opened. He pushed the creaking door wider, and even though his shoes sunk into plush carpet, he held his breath and waited for a reaction. None came. The room was both empty and silent. Too silent.
He pushed his jacket away from his torso and rested his hand on the butt of his gun. The glow from the streetlight through the closed blinds eased his vision around the dark, small room. Noah peered around for anything amiss. Two dresser drawers hung open, clothing spilling from them.
His hand curved over the butt of his gun. A sound to his right drew his eyes and his weapon toward the shadowy figure.
“Don’t move.” His tone was low.
A scream pierced the air.
His hand held steady.
The light flickered on.
“Damn it,” Avi yelled out.
Skin.
That was all he saw.
Caramel-colored skin he wanted to lick. She was wet all over. Shimmering droplets covered her flesh and there wasn’t a towel in sight. His cock hardened. Her perky breasts jiggled with each movement.
Noah bit back a moan. His gaze roved over her trim waist and then moved lower to the manicured hair covering the pussy he’d been dreaming about tasting and fucking then tasting again. He caught himself before he could drool.
“Why the heck do you have a gun?” Avi barked her question at him.
Noah shook his head, realizing that while he was checking her out, she zoomed in on the handgun at his side. Fuck.
He turned his back on the tempting sight before him. “Put a damn towel on,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh...” Avi said behind him before scurrying away.
A door slammed.
He tucked the gun back in its place. What a rookie move, pulling his weapon like that. More proof that he lost his head around her, just like Cass insinuated. Noah wasn’t one to make mistakes, and definitely not these types of slip-ups, and with witnesses. That gave people ideas. Ideas like they could question him, doubt him and his leadership. He didn’t answer to anyone but himself.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my apartment?” Avi asked. “And why were you pointing a gun at my head?”
He was slow to face her.
When he did, she was tightening her belted short robe and clutching at the opening. The shape and firmness of her nipples showed against the soft fabric and wreaked havoc on Noah’s cock and his plans.
Avi clapped her hands. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”
He returned his focus from her bed that he thought of christening, and onto her.
“How are you even inside my apartment?”
She folded her arms across her chest and snapped Noah out of his stupor.
“Pack your bag and let’s go.”
She stood taller on her bare feet. “I don’t think so. March yourself to whatever hellhole you crawled out of and leave me alone. You break into my—oh, my God! Did you break down my door?” Her voice climbed to a screeching tone as she approached Noah with fire erupting in her eyes.
He spied a bag between a far wall and her chest of drawers and stepped around her to reach it.
“Hey? Hey, what are you—”
“Shut up.” He opened and slammed drawers, shoving whatever he found into the bag. “I give an order, it’s fucking followed.” He leveled her with a hard stare before resuming what he was doing. “You think this is a game? Your father was murdered, Avianna. Murdered,” he shouted, just in case her hearing was stuck on low.
“Wha-what?” she inquired, voice small. “What did you say?”
“You’re sitting here playing games and your life could be in jeopardy, because you want to be fucking Ms. Independent. I couldn’t give two shits if you like me or want to stay at my damn house, but that is what the hell is about to happen until I fucking say otherwise.” Noah dropped the bag to the floor with a thud. Storming out of the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Now pack the rest of your shit and let’s go.”
Five days later, the cool November air was crisp and biting, just like the owner of the Queens building where East Meets West sat at an intersection. Due to the hookah lounge’s popularity, other businesses had started to crop up in the area, but none garnered the attention or reaped the financial benefits like East Meets West, and that was just fine with its owner.
“I thought you said Adams would cave?”
Ido leaned back in his chair. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough. How long are we gonna wait?”
His office was tucked away in the back of his recently renovated building that used to house a uniform manufacturing company. Like the lounge’s name, the office was a blend of American décor and textiles and prints from Ido’s birth country. Ido’s favorite piece was the miniature black marble statue of a pharaoh with his likeness sitting on a throne.
He wouldn’t be the man he was today if he lashed out and threw fits, like his partner was doing, whenever there was a bump in the plan. Adams had appeared to give Ido and his proposal no consideration. No matter. Manning’s blood on the street would force the man to pay attention.
“Patience is for fools. We’re no closer to any of my—er, your goals.”
Ido tipped his head and pulled his lips up into a wry smile. He wasn’t stupid. They were using each other. His partner’s sole focus was vengeance. Well, at that moment, they seemed hell-bent on wearing a hole in the ornate rug beneath their feet. Revenge could be fun for a while. It definitely was a good distraction, but once that eye had been taken, what was left? Ido always thought several steps ahead and sought to capitalize on his lover’s bloodlust.
“Sometimes, you can’t be so brash.” Ido laughed.
The pacing stopped and a perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Don’t be condescending. I just feel like things should be moving faster.”
They were, but he’d never reveal that information. By accident, useful information—first considered gossip—had fallen into Ido’s hands a few weeks prior about Adams and Avianna Linton. His right-hand man, Darius Sadiki, had secured it from a marijuana dealer. Who knew Adams’s new lady love would turn out to be Manning’s daughter? Or so his informant in the police department told him. Allah was on his side.
“We’re well on our way.” At the silence fraught with the other’s skepticism, Ido asked, “Isn’t Manning dead?”
“Yes.”
Ido crooked his finger, beckoning his partner to him. “And who fired those shots?”
The smirk was prominent. “I did.”
That was true, but Ido was the one who had given the order. When it was discovered that Manning was watching him, Ido had been quick to get the upper hand.
“As I said, we’re doing well. No need to fret.” He reached up to smooth away his lover’s frown. “You need to loosen up.”
He pulled his humidor toward him. Opening the walnut lid, Ido appreciated the neat stacks cushioned in the Spanish-cedar interior. He was a man of fine taste, whose attention was only held by the best. But underneath Ido’s sophistication and charm breathed a man whose ruthlessness knew no bounds.
“Do you remember the night we met?”
Ido watched the purposeful strides toward him.
“How could I not?” A smile lifted a corner of Ido’s sensuous mout
h. “You made quite an entrance that day. No one saw you coming.”
Ido’s partner’s finger trailed the grooves in his desk. “And that’s exactly how I prefer it.”
“But I saw you.”
Brown eyes lifted to Ido’s face. “I was there to meet the Ido Aswad.”
His ego swelled, as did another part of him. “You held your own too.”
“That’s right.” Ido’s associate sat on top of the dark wood desk and wedged a foot between Ido’s muscular thighs, pressing against the bulge there.
“Hmm,” he groaned.
A cigar was slid between Ido’s lips.
“You assured me you were the man for this.” Leaning forward, the tip of the cigar was removed with the cutter. “If you’re not, I can get someone else.”
Ido’s sight landed on the blue flames that sprung from the lighter, and his countenance shifted. He grabbed the slender hand, delighted when the area became red and he saw a wince. Their battle of wills manifested in a tug-of-war. As the struggle mounted, Ido applied more pressure to the digits. After several moments, it became clear there could only be one outcome. With a sly smile, Ido basked in his silent victory.
He steadied his lover’s shaky hand that held the light and brought the flame close to his cigar. When it was lit, he released his hold. Resting his shoulders back into the chair, the corners of Ido’s eyes crinkled with pleasure as his friend rubbed the tender hand.
Never before had someone so turned him on, and his libido was indiscriminate. Pulling the cigar from his lips, the aromatic smoke billowed forward. “There will be no other man.” He eyed his defiant partner. “Tu me fais dur quand tu parles comme ça.”
“You know I don’t speak French.”
In the shell of his lover’s ear, Ido whispered, “I said you make me hard when you talk like that.” He unzipped his pants and grabbed a condom and lube from the top drawer.
Hours later, hundreds of police officers lined the edges of a quiet street in Brooklyn. They stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, saluting a passing black limousine.
