by Eureka
I wanted to ask a question. Well, many questions, but I thought it might be wiser to keep my mouth shut and let him tell me what he wants. What the hell did Elana get herself into now? Why does this man feel the need to come to me?
I pressed the enter button on my keyboard and pictures began to appear. The first image came up. Elana holding a machete in her hand, covered in blood. She held the head of a corpse, adorned with the long locs, and the expression on his face would be forever etched in my mind. It was gruesome. Blood was everywhere. The headless body lay on the ground with blood oozing from where his head used to be. My stomach began to convulse. I had to look away before I threw up on my desk. The next screen was a video. It was my wife shooting a gun, hitting a man directly in the head, and his head exploded like a melon. I reared back in the chair with a shocked expression on my face. What the hell?
“What the fuck! Where did you get this?”
“Never mind all that. All dem need to worry ya self with is that this lickel beotch is gonna die by the next sunup, and ya help us kill her,” he stated in a matter-of-fact tone with a heavy Jamaican accent.
“Man, listen, I don’t know who you are and who you think I am, but who is this woman in the photos, and why would I help you kill her?” I asked, lying, trying to throw him off track.
“Look, Doc, ya really might wan retink some shit. Mi know this bitch in the picture is your wife, and the bumbaclot in the photo is her right hand—or shall I say, she’s his woman?” He started laughing hysterically, then suddenly stopped. “Look ’ere, dis how dis shit gon’ work. You gon’ set dis bitch up. I-I mean, we-wah know exactly where this bitch gonna be at this time on this date.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk toward me. “Leave the rest to we, Doc—or shall I say Dr. Naheri Hakeem Dolvan, son of Akbar and Nafesa Dolvan? Ya gran mudda is healthy, yes? In Ochie? I would hate to have to change that.” He let me know he had done his background check. “See, mi did mi homework on you, and ya know she ain’t been all the way one hundred, as you Americans say, with ya. So, let’s kill two birds with one stone. Wha ya say?”
I thought about all the lies Elana had told me, and even the ones I told her. There was no way I was going to let this common thug ruin my plans. I looked down at the photos on my desk. The video stopped on my computer screen; then I looked back at the stranger. “Can you assure me no one else will be hurt?” I said with defeat, giving my best performance. “How will I know you won’t kill my parents and my son?”
“You don’t, but I can say this: if you don’t help, then dem will die for sure,” he said through clenched teeth. “This bitch has got to go! She murda mi brudah.” His heavy Jamaican dialect came through his raspy voice.
The man confirmed what I had already suspected. He was Jamaican and even looked familiar. I definitely could not let him know that. This stranger put the offer on the table. There would be no blowback on me, but as much as Elana had deceived me, I couldn’t bring myself to agree. “I ca—”
“To make sure you don’t have any second thoughts, look at this,” he said, holding up a cell phone to my face.
My face turned white as a ghost. It was clear. I could not talk or walk away from this one.
I lowered my head. Damn, I didn’t need for her to be caught up in the middle of this. Damn! “Okay . . . Okay, I’ll do it,” I said in a low whisper.
On the screen of his phone was Bridgette, my secretary, being abducted in an unmarked van as she left the building. The kidnapper held up a sign that read, “COOPERATE, OR YA FIND SHE HEAD AT YA STEP.” There was nothing left to do but to agree. If I refused, Bridgette, who was innocent, would pay the price for my wife’s dirty dealings.
Chapter 5
The Real Her
I stood off at the side and watched my wife go through the pain of her son being kidnapped. One part of me wanted to come clean and let her know I would help look for their son. Yeah, I figured it out. She couldn’t hide it from me too long with the way she was acting. It was obvious something was wrong every time I wanted to talk to him or go see him. She would have an excuse why we couldn’t go or why I couldn’t call him by phone. After all, he had a cell phone. I continued to watch her drown in her misery.
Then thoughts of all the pain she had caused me with all of her lies, and now, someone who had nothing to do with any of it could die. She swallowed drink after drink until she was in a drunken stupor. I made up my mind. I would go over to her and tell her everything so we can get our son back. I walked over to her and placed my hand on her shoulder.
Her reflexes caused her to flip me to the floor. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said as she reached down to help me up from the floor, barely keeping her balance. She tried to pull me up and ended up falling on top of me on the floor.
I laughed at first because it was nice to see that smile.... The very smile I had fallen in love with. She still possessed that sex appeal, even in her drunken state.
I remembered the first time we met and how gorgeous she was to me. There was something more than her looks that drew me in. Her determination and drive captivated me on our first date. She wasn’t like any of the other women I had dated. There was something about her which screamed wifey. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my mind or heart. I found myself an out-of-the-ordinary love for sure. I eased myself up, then reached down to help her up this time.
“Ba . . . baaabe, you love me? Would you still love me if you knew . . . shh . . . shh . . . I hear something. Hahaha, my bad,” she said, stammering and laughing. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Do you love me, Flex?” she said.
Flex? My heart sank to the pit of my stomach. Here it is! I was about to save her ass, and all she wants is this common-ass nigga. I know the fuck she didn’t just call me this muthafucka’s name. In fact, she had done just that. I pushed her ass back to the floor. I was about to slap her across the face but held back. Since this bitch loves this nigga so much, she can die with his ass.
I think she realized what she said. “Baby . . . I’m sorry . . . I got so much going on, and I’m drunk.”
“I don’t give a shit!” She reached for me, but I just backed away.
I never thought my wife, the love of my life, would treat me, of all people, this way. With all the lies and murders she had done, it was only fair that Karma paid her a nasty visit. Fuck it!
I moved back to the entrance of the den, looking at her in her pathetic drunken state with disgust on my face. She was crying and slurred her words. I had no idea what she was saying, and I didn’t give a shit. I had made up my mind. Whatever was going to happen to her—she deserved it. I looked down and spotted her phone on the chair. It was lit and vibrating. I picked it up and immediately, anger and hatred exploded when I saw the text flash across the screen. These two dumb muthafuckas deserve what they have coming to them! I threw the phone at Elana and stormed out of the room, leaving her on the floor crying. I was more than upset when I read the text from Flex.
Dutch, I got you, and I will never leave you. I know not knowing where your son is at is killing you, but believe me, ma, I got you. I’m moving heaven and earth to find him.
We are Bonnie and Clyde. You my ride, and I’m your die.
I love you, my queen
~ Death before Dishonor ~
Chapter 6
Nothing Comes before We~Death before Dishonor~
“You mean to tell me my son is nowhere in this city? You have got to be kidding me! Or do you think I’m a fuckin’ fool?”
“Aw, Dutchtress, no, I don’t know.... They told me to bring the kid here; then I was paid to . . . Aww, shit!” the man screamed in pain as I took my slow, sweet time peeling the skin from his body.
I looked over at Flex. “He thinks I’m stupid.” I started laughing hysterically. In one swipe of my machete, I took the man’s head off, then walked over to the remaining man. “I will let you live. I’ma let you deliver your boss a message from me.”
“I-I
-I don’t—” he nervously stammered.
“Shh, shh . . . Don’t talk. You will tell him . . . I will say it plainly. If my son is not back to me by sunup, I will make sure he wishes he was never born. This city will have blood on the streets, and it damn sure won’t be mine. He’s got till 5:00 p.m.—not 5:01—not a minute later—to give me my son.”
I leaned down to the man and whispered in his ear, and the look on his face was as if the devil himself or—in this case, herself—had just spoken to him. He nodded his head vigorously in agreement with what I had just said.
“You can let him go,” I said, looking over at Flex with a smirk on my face. We had previously discussed that someone would follow his ass, and that would lead me closer to my son.
Flex smiled and moved aside. He let him run up out of the warehouse we had tracked them to. I had gotten a hold of every location the ones who were claiming to have my son were supposed to be. Flex did not rest until he found out something he could give to me to ease my pain. Every address he’d gotten would get us one step closer to getting my son back.
I looked at the rest of my crew. They were standing around the warehouse, ready to do what they did best.
“You all can go now!” I spat aloud, angry. They could see the frustration on my face. They probably thought I was becoming unhinged as the days went by after the kidnapping of my son. But they didn’t know I was setting a plan in motion so that the other true snake would tip his hand.
Flex looked on, but never changed his facial expression. He nodded at the soldiers and silently dismissed them. “Come on, Dutch, let’s go.”
“No, you can go. I’ll be okay,” I said in a defeated tone.
“What you mean I can go? Dutch, you sound crazy as fuck right now! I’m not leaving you—not like this. I know shit seems like we not winning, but we will,” Flex said as he placed his hand gently on my shoulder.
I jerked my shoulder away from his touch. “That’s my son—my son! And these muthafuckas came in my space and took him. Every night since then, I’ve been wondering how and where he is. Flex, my son needs me. When I gave birth to him, he changed me. Money used to motivate me, Flex, you know that; but now, he is the reason I breathe. And . . . you know I can’t . . .” I spoke until my voice started cracking. Every word dripped with pain.
Flex grabbed me up in his arms. “Dutch . . . Elana . . . Don’t tell me. I can’t feel your pain, ma. It’s been you and me since day one. I feel you, and you can feel me. Listen, ma, I know Junior is okay. He’s a survivor, just like his momma. I know he is made of some tough stuff. I also know he is still alive. They want to use him as a bargaining chip to get you and me. But we’ll get him back safe; then they’ll pay. Every fucking last one of them is gonna pay,” Flex said as he held me closer to his chest.
I looked up into his eyes as tears began to form. “Kajaun, promise me I will get my son back safe. He’s my world.”
Flex was the only one to see me in my most vulnerable state. He looked me square in the eyes, filled with love and strength. He wrapped his strong arms around me a little tighter and said, “As sure as my name is Kajaun Michael Stanton, he will be back home with us safe and sound. Dutch. I put that on my life.”
We stood in an embrace in the middle of this abandoned warehouse as if no one and nothing in the world existed. The love I felt in his arms was way deeper than what I shared with Naheri. Flex always made me feel safe, like a woman’s equal. There wasn’t a time in my life since I’d met him that I didn’t love him except when we were around 16, but even then, it was an unspoken love.
Because of the paths we each chose for our lives, we couldn’t have that fairy-tale life. I went off to college, then graduated law school. Flex stayed behind in the city and rose his way up in the ranks to become one of the most-feared enforcers in Chicago. When we lost touch with each other, it devastated us, but we knew fate would bring us right back together.
And it did. When I first started practicing law, I worked for the public defender’s office. When I saw Flex’s name come across my caseload, I knew in my heart it was him, and sure enough, when I entered the courtroom, I saw that it was. Kajaun Stanton—Flex—stood at my table on some petty charges I knew I could get dismissed, and that I did. All charges were dismissed for lack of evidence. When Flex noticed it was me, he moved heaven and some of the earth to find me and keep in touch, even though I was newly married to Naheri. His love for me and my love for him was a magnetic pull which brought us back to each other, even though I had a husband. I guess it was meant to be, and I couldn’t stay away.
When I was working at the defender’s office, there were a lot of drug-related cases that came across my desk. As soon as Flex was released, his relentless presence of making sure he would never lose me again was apparent. One night, I was working late on a major drug cartel case, and when I was leaving, someone was watching me. It turned out that it was, in fact, the cartel. As the man approached, Flex came out of nowhere and gun butted the dude to the ground. That’s when I knew for sure he still loved me, and no matter what, he was willing to kill for me.
Flex wiped a lone tear from my eyes. “Let’s go, Dutch. The cleanup crew needs to do what they do.” He led me to the back door, where a black, unmarked car was waiting with the engine running. He helped me in the backseat of the car, and the driver began to drive off.
“Where to, Boss?” the driver asked.
I managed to compose myself. “Go by the hillside house. I need to freshen up.”
We both sat back and rode in silence. We didn’t need words to express the hurt and worry we felt. The pained expressions on our faces said enough. When we pulled up in front of a plush but modest-looking townhome, Flex opened the door for me. “Come on, let me run you a hot bath,” he said as I walked up to the front door.
I opened the door, walked into the den, and plopped down on the small couch. My mind was in a million places. How am I going to get my son? How much does Naheri know? What is he up to? When is this nightmare going to be over? Who else is involved? Flex went into the bathroom and started the Jacuzzi for me. He knew this would help me . . . for a brief moment, at least.
“Dutch, baby, come on, let me clean you up.” He lifted me from the couch.
I nestled into his arms as if I were a newborn and released all the pent-up tears I had been holding back. My mind and emotions were everywhere. My clothes were still soaked with blood, and I didn’t even care. No matter what, I could always let my guard down around Flex. I wished I had that type of bond with my husband, but I didn’t. Flex was like my oxygen to breathe, and I was the air he breathed. We had been through too much not to have a love like this, even if it had to be kept a secret.
“Dutch, babe, listen, this is hard as fuck! I feel your pain. Believe me, li’l mama, I got you.” Flex planted soft kisses on my forehead. He carried me to the tub and lowered me down on the side of it. I couldn’t move. It was as if I were stuck.
I allowed him to do everything, even undress me. I felt so helpless. Once I was naked, he lowered me into the tub; then he stood up to leave and give me privacy.
“No, Flex, please don’t leave. I need you,” I managed to utter, barely audible, reaching for his hand.
He stopped and looked at me with compassion and love. He didn’t say a word. He just lowered himself into the tub behind me, fully clothed, and wrapped me up in his arms. “We gonna find him,” Flex said, folding me up in a loving embrace.
Flex took his hand and gently poured water on top of my hair, followed with gentle strokes. He clearly felt my pain. He turned me to face him. I looked at him in his wet clothes and realized what he was willing to do for me. He had just sat down in a tub full of water in his True Religion jeans and matching shirt. He even had his shoes on.
“I trust you, Flex. You the only one I can ever trust. I remember when we were younger, and I didn’t have anybody, and you stepped in. Have I ever thanked you for that?”
“Naw, you haven’t,” he playfu
lly laughed. “But you have given me something that I have never thought I could have. I mean, from day one, I knew there was something between us, but I was too up in the streets to be caught up in domestic life. Then yo’ ass came and knocked a nigga straight off his script. Before that nosy bitch on the third floor tricked off about your living situation, I was ready to give it all up and settle down, make some real shit happen with my life. But fate had other ideas. If we’d stayed in that building, you wouldn’t have graduated top of your class and become this big-shot-ass lawyer. This time around, you saved me, shorty. Man, life can be a trip sometimes. But on some real shit, Dutch, I love you, and I know li’l man is my son,” he said.
“But I nev—” I tried to say.
“I knew from the moment you announced you were pregnant he was mine. He rockin’ my genes hard. His eyes are my grandfather’s mark. Every last one of us carries that, and the ones who don’t, their kids do. What I’m saying is, I don’t need any DNA test to tell me that is my son. I didn’t put up a fight because I didn’t want to bring him into our world. Both of his parents living this life was too much. I wanted to tell everyone and claim my family, you and my son, but I knew it would hurt him in the long run. I love you to death, and there is nothing I won’t do for you. I’ma promise you this: I will find our son, and we can start a new life somewhere. If I can’t spare him the world’s hurt, at least I can protect him and let him know I’m his father.”
I lay my head back against his chest and wrapped his arms tighter around me. I never said a word to deny or admit to what he said; no words were needed. I knew every word he said was true. I had a love for my husband, but my heart would always belong to Flex.
