Torn by the Code

by Eureka

  Flex walked over toward me. “Let me handle him.”

  I stood with an emotionless expression, then flinched as I heard the baby’s screams. I coldly looked at Terrance. “So, did you feel like a big man stomping my son? Did you love the feeling? Oh, wasn’t it grand when he cried for his mommy?” I asked, walking closer toward him with his son held close to my chest and rocking him. “That shit was priceless, huh? Did you like it when my defenseless baby cried for me?”

  I turned and walked over to Flex, speaking to him as if we were having a casual conversation. “You know when you love your children, you will do anything to protect them, even sell out the ones who gave you everything you have.” I nodded at Flex.

  “No! No! Please, Dutch, I will do anything, please!” he pleaded.

  I just ignored him. He knew it was over. I rocked the baby in my arms trying to calm him down. Having him in my arms reminded me of my son when he was born and how I used to tickle his little stomach with my nose.

  “You don’t get to call me Dutch. That’s only for family. You have proven your loyalty lies with my enemy,” I said through gritted teeth. The baby laughed and giggled as I tickled his little chin with my nose while I raised the machete.

  Terrance lunged, trying to rush over to his son, but Flex caught him with a nasty right hook, punching him in the throat. Terrance fell disabled to the floor. In his mind, he knew his actions were the reason his family met their demise. He tried a last desperate attempt to get his son from me. He lay down on the floor, trying not to watch the sight before him until Polu came over and roughly lifted his head up and held it.

  “Oh, bitch-ass nigga, you not gonna miss this show! You tried to set me up and get me and my family killed for your dirty ass? You gon’ watch this!”

  The blood from chopping Terrance’s arm off and slitting Nahena’s throat covered my white wife beater. “Hmm, the smack you gave my 7-year-old son was epic. ‘Shut up, little bitch-ass nigga. Yo’ momma ain’t here to save your spoiled little ass.’ Isn’t that what I heard you say to my son?” I said, mocking him. “The way his little voice cried out for me must have made you feel like a big man,” I smirked, standing at the balcony door. I stepped over the threshold, still cooing and cuddling the baby. “Bring him over here,” I ordered with a mean scowl on my face.

  Flex dragged Terrance over to me. “You want to hold your son for the last time?”

  “Please . . . don’t . . . please . . . I’m begging you!” Terrance screamed out.

  “There is no difference when it comes to that between you and me. See, you beat my son and watched him cry. My son! Now, your son, on the other hand . . . I will be nice. I’m making him laugh and smile before I—” In one quick motion I twisted the newborn’s neck without hesitation and dropped him in front of Terrance like a piece of garbage.

  “No! No! You bitch, no!” Terrance screamed as he watched his 12-week-old son lying lifeless at his feet. His one hand stroked his son’s body as he screamed.

  I placed my hands together as if dusting them off. Now he knows how it feels.

  Terrance’s mother and sister stood trembling, still blindfolded and gagged. They were unaware of the gruesome sight in front of them. Nahena’s dead body lay on the floor. Terrance had one less arm with blood spilling everywhere, trying to crawl away. It was clear he was losing a lot of blood and was probably weak at this point, but he kept trying to crawl away anyway.

  Terrance yelled, “Momma, run!”

  She couldn’t get one foot in front of the other before I rushed toward her, wielding the machete. I sliced his mother’s head clean off her body. Then I turned the machete on his sister. I swung the machete as if I were conducting a symphony orchestra. I didn’t stop until nothing was left of the young girl but bone and gristle submerged in a pool of blood. When it was all said and done, blood covered the room.

  I looked first at Flex, then back at Polu and gave them the nod of approval. They went straight to work, wasting no time putting Terrance out of his misery. As Flex reached for his gun, Polu pushed him aside and wrapped his hands around Terrance’s throat, watching and feeling the life leave his body.

  Chapter 3

  House Built of Straw

  “Hey, love, I see you’ve been hard at work again,” my husband said as I entered our plush three-story home located in the Beverly area of Chicago.

  This area was home to some of the most upscale people who were deemed prominent by society: doctors, lawyers, congressmen, and more. Anyone who was anyone owned a mansion in that area. Naheri was one of the most respected private practice doctors in Chicago. He was also very handsome. He stood at six feet even and had a nicely toned body with chocolate mocha skin. It made him real easy on the eyes, and he was every woman’s dream catch: a hardworking family man. He hit the gym almost daily, which made his body well-defined. He wore his hair in long locs that stopped right in the middle of his back. He said it was his African heritage.

  “How’s Junior? I want to know what he wants for Christmas. I swear that little boy gets way more than the average 7-year-old. By the way, he is coming home for the holiday break, right?” Naheri said when he came into the room, unaware of the situation that his son was experiencing.

  I took a deep breath and continued to take off my shoes. My thoughts were all over the place. I had to get to my son and fast. My husband was unaware that he had been kidnapped and could be dead. I couldn’t find the words even to tell him such a thing. To him, his wife was a hardworking corporate attorney, and their son was away at a very expensive boarding school. At first, he was dead set against sending him because he felt he was too young to be away from his parents, but I convinced him that it would be good for his education.

  “I spoke with him today, and he said he wanted that Xbox and a new Kindle Fire HD; he said the one with the front camera on it. It will be good for him to talk to us on Skype,” I lied, managing to hold back tears. Not knowing exactly where my son was made it feel as if a million knives were being pushed deep into my heart. I slumped down in my chair.

  “Elana, are you okay, love? Is everything okay? You look a little stressed,” my husband said with a questioning look on his face.

  “I’m okay, Naheri, I just had a long day is all.” I gathered myself together to keep up the facade.

  My cell phone vibrated in my purse. It was a notification letting me know I had a text message. I grabbed it out of my purse and read the message from Flex.

  Everything is clean. Don’t worry; we will get li’l man back safe; I put that on my life.

  ~ Death before Dishonor ~

  I read the message, and my heart melted with joy and pain at the same time. He seemed always to know when I needed him the most. On the inside, I screamed for him to comfort me and let me know he had my back and that my son—our son—was going to be okay. I sent a text message back to him.

  Thank you. As always, you are my right arm, and, yes, we will get li’l man back. Even if it takes me my last breath, I will get him back safe.

  ~ Death before Dishonor ~

  I hit send and sat back in the chair. Sensing something much deeper was bothering me, Naheri walked over and began rubbing my feet.

  “Whatever it is, Elana, it will be okay. Let me take care of you for a change,” he said as he rubbed his hands slowly up my thighs.

  I wanted to stop him. Sex was the furthest thing on my mind. But I knew if I didn’t allow his sexual advances to play out, that would cause suspicion. I allowed his soft hands to roam up my thighs, then back down to my feet. He rubbed me gently, caressing my thighs and the small of my back. Kneeling in front of me, he planted soft kisses on my feet, making a trail with his tongue up my legs. I felt my tense body start to slip into sensual feelings.

  The more he touched, the more my body relaxed. He stood straight up and reached out his hand to help me stand. When I stood up, his six-foot frame towered over me. He slowly unbuttoned my shirt, exposing my huge breasts. I didn’t have the perfect bo
dy—I had a few curves here and there—but he paid special attention to each crease and curve. Then he slid my skirt down to the floor. I stood there with my dark skin in all my glory, displaying my size 14 waist and the hips of a goddess. Naheri took in the sight of my Victoria’s Secret lace bra and panty set.

  Biting down on his bottom lip, he leaned down to whisper in my ear, “You are so beautiful! I love you, my queen. Whatever you need me to do, just say the word. You are breathtaking, Got damn it! I love it.” He looked me deeply in the eyes.

  The lust he had in his eyes filled me with a passion I didn’t intend to touch on that night. He kissed me deeply on the lips and gently laid me back on the chair. He took one of his fingers to slide my panties to the side. His eyes rested on my neatly trimmed pussy. Then he licked his lips and began kissing my inner thighs once more.

  “Girl, I’m about to dive in,” he said, trying to sing a verse from the Trey Songz hit song. I was so caught up in the moment. All of the problems that weighed heavily on my shoulders just ten minutes ago seemed not to exist right now. I placed each one of my legs on an arm of the chair until I was spread-eagle. “Come get your dinner, baby. The buffet is open only for you,” I said as I seductively beckoned for him to come closer.

  He looked me in the eyes. “You can have whatever you like,” he said as he knelt down in front of me as if I were a queen on her throne.

  Naheri lifted one of my legs over his shoulder as he lowered himself in front of me. He kissed my inner thighs, teasing me with his tongue through my lace panties. He slowly lifted my bottom from the chair to remove my panties with his teeth. He kissed the creases of my juicy, wet lips, teasing me with the tip of his tongue. He kissed and sucked on my thighs until he allowed his tongue to rest on my swollen clit. He gave me pleasure and relaxation in slow, steady motions with his lovely assault on my clit.

  “Shit, this feels so . . .” I trailed off, throwing my head back in ecstasy.

  Naheri licked and slurped all of my sweet nectar as it came flowing down from my sweet spot. The sounds of him sucking and licking until I had no more to give echoed throughout the room. Once he gave me a moment, and only one moment, to gather myself together, he picked me up and carried me to the bedroom.

  “I need you,” he said as he laid me softly on the bed, panting and breathing hard.

  “Anyway you want me,” I said, filled with pure passion.

  * * *

  “Aw, no! No! Give him to me!” I screamed out.

  “Elana, wake up!” Naheri said.

  I screamed and kicked, punched into the air, narrowly missing his face. He grabbed me forcefully by the wrist.

  “Elana, wake up; it’s me. Damn! Here you go again with another nightmare. What the hell is going on with you? This is the third one this week,” he said while holding the right side of his face. When he took his hand down to get a better look in the mirror there was a small scratch with blood.

  “My fault. I don’t know what’s going on with me,” I said as I composed my breathing. I gathered the sheets from the bed and wrapped them around my naked body; then I got up and walked down the stairs.

  Slowly sitting down in a chair in the den and pouring myself a stiff drink, thoughts of my son once again entered my mind. I began to cry silently, almost uncontrollably. I got up and turned the radio down to the lowest volume possible. Maybe some music will calm me, I thought.

  “You are everything; I would give you anything. You are everything . . .” Dru Hill’s lyrics played softly from the speakers. My tears began to cascade down my face like a rainfall. I wouldn’t have wished this feeling on my worst enemy. The more my tears fell for my son, the angrier I became. “I’ma carve every son of a bitch up that had anything to do with this,” I said through gritted teeth as the tears continued down my face.

  I got up and went to my purse, grabbed my cell phone, and powered it on. I noticed I had several missed calls and texts from Flex. My heart felt as if it had sunk to the bottom of my stomach. I loved my husband and felt that he was a good man, but a part of me felt as if I had just cheated on him. The feelings of guilt had plagued me for years when it came to Flex and Naheri. I felt in my heart that I was one’s wife and the other one’s woman. My heart had been torn between the two of them for years. I took a huge gulp of my drink as I read the last text from Flex.

  He’s not here, Dutch, but don’t worry; I’m on it.

  Out of frustration and oncoming drunkenness, I threw my phone on the floor, almost shattering the face of it. Then I slammed my fist down on the table. I wasn’t much of a drinker, but at times like this, I felt it was necessary.

  Chapter 4

  Here What Lies in the Heart of Man?

  I stood in the shadows watching every agonizing move Dutchtress made. My plan was on full throttle, and before long, I would have her and Flex right where I wanted them. I had had them both secretly followed for a while now. It was all too painfully obvious of their closeness and their extramarital affair.

  For years, Elana kept me in the dark about their past. When I first met Elana, she introduced Flex as her cousin, but as the years went on, they seemed a little too close to be cousins. So I decided to get to the bottom of their so-called family relationship. I hired a private investigator. It didn’t take long for him to come to me with video footage of Flex and my wife. That day, my life and marriage changed forever. I saw them with my own eyes together, and it wasn’t no family embrace either. The shit fucking hurt, but I can’t say I didn’t have any suspicions. It just confirmed my worst nightmare. Then when she became pregnant, my doubt that I was the father was, unfortunately, plaguing my mind as her belly grew. There were nights where I paced the floor of our kitchen wanting to confront her. Show her the video and hear what she had to say. Would she deny it? When the baby was born, I had to get him tested just so that it would stop fucking with my mind.

  While Elana was at work, I took him to my office and took the DNA test. It was a perfect time. No one was there, and I would be the only one who knew the test results. I knew the answer, but I needed the science to confirm it. My office had the equipment to do the test and get the results. It was an expensive piece of equipment, but when some of my patients had dilemmas of their own, it was a smart, profitable purchase decision. Elana didn’t even know about it, or the ends I made from it. It took maybe about an hour before the results confirmed my suspicions. It was clear. I was 99.99 percent not the father. My heart was crushed. My trust betrayed. I looked at that baby, then thought about the rap sheet his biological father had. I decided to keep it a secret. I thought what better way to stick it to her and Flex at the same time? “They won’t be skipping off into the sunset while I sit crushed. I’ma keep his woman and his seed.”

  I planned to be a stable father. The one with standing ties in society, creating a family to be proud of, and the one that the child would look up to. I never once said anything to my wife about it. I held my tongue. I watched for years as she tiptoed around the issue when someone would ask why our son resembled her more than me. To add a nail in the coffin, she gave him my name: Naheri Hakeem Dolvan Jr.

  I sat at my desk thinking back to the day where my whole life changed, which made me think about why I didn’t just take him and leave. What hurts the most is that she has upheld this lie for years. What kind of person does that to the man they supposedly love? My only guess is my love was the only genuine one.

  “All right, Bridgette, you can leave for the night!” Naheri yelled out to his receptionist as she cleaned up the waiting area in the office.

  “Sure thing, Dr. Dolvan, but are you sure? I could stay and help you,” she said seductively while remaining professional as she stood in the doorway to his office.

  I smiled. Her flirting was flattering, but I would not cross that line, especially not in the workplace. “No, I’m fine, dear. Just be safe; I’ll see you tomorrow.” I lowered my head, continuing to read a file I had in my hand.

  Bridgette shrugged her shou
lders, turned around, and retrieved her purse. “Okay, I’m gone. Good night, Dr. Dolvan!” she yelled over her shoulder as she was leaving.

  I continued to go through the patients’ files on my desk. I heard the little wind chime that rested on top of the door jingle, indicating someone opened the door. “Bridgette, what did you forget? I swear, sometimes you act like an old la—” I cut short as I lifted my head to see a stranger dressed in all-black with long locs standing in the doorway. I quickly stood up. “How may I help you, sir? We are closed.”

  The man didn’t say a word. He just came in and threw a bulky envelope on the desk. “Have a seat, Doc,” he coldly spoke.

  I stood and watched the man lower himself in the seat in front of the desk. “Look, I don’t know who you are and what you want, but this is not where you need to be. So I suggest you walk back out of here the same way you came in here,” I said, still standing by my desk. Although I’m a doctor and civilized, my days of growing up in the harsh streets of Jamaica never left so if this turned sour, I was ready.

  The man had a smirk on his lips. “So, you don’t remember me? Dem memory be bad for you, boi. Take ya seat and look at this envelope before you get into sum fyia,” the man said, lightly chuckling.

  Just when I started to make my move for my hidden piece stored in my desk, he moved quickly, and in a blink, I faced the barrel of his gun. I learned at an early age to always keep your piece next to you like a second skin. But there I stood . . . open for a bullet.

  The stranger found it amusing for a second. “Go ahead, reach for ya piece. I promise ya won’t be breathing in 2.5 seconds, rude boi. Dem family will get their Sunday clothes together, and you become a loving memory.” Then he sat with a 9 mm Glock aimed right at my chest.

  It took me a minute, but I slowly sat down at my desk and reached for the envelope. I opened it and pulled out the contents. My eyes widened. I looked at the man still pointing his gun at me; then I looked back to what I pulled out of the envelope. I saw my wife and her right-hand man, Flex. Then I picked out another photo, and it was another one of my wife. This time, it was a shot of her and Flex with some unknown men who looked as if they were of Jamaican descent. All of them had long locs on their heads. I stared at the photo for a minute or two. Then it hit me. It was the resort where we honeymooned. There were more pictures and a DVD. Immediately, I opened the DVD case and put the disc into the slot of my desktop. I waited for it to prompt me to run the disc.