Finding Love in Atlanta

by Olivia Saxton

  “Dominic—” Sebastian began.

  “Don’t,” Dominic said angrily. “You lied to me.”

  “I did not. I hadn’t slept with Meghan since I’ve been with you.”

  “If that was the case, why didn’t you tell me you had been carrying on with her before?”

  “I didn’t say anything because it was nothing. We were just having a good time. We weren’t serious.”

  “Not to that poor girl. I heard her confession,” he said as he put his hands on his hips. “And she was mortified to see us together. I thought you were a proud and out bisexual.”

  Sebastian took a step toward him. “I don’t hide the fact that I’m bi, but I don’t advertise it either. And I never meant to lead Meghan on. I had no idea she had developed feelings for me. If I had suspected it, I would have stopped having sex with her.”

  Dominic turned around and stalked into Sebastian’s room.

  Sebastian quickly followed. “Dom, you’ve got to believe me. I stopped sleeping with her after our first night together, and I had no idea she was in love with me. Please,” he pleaded.

  Dominic played out the recent events in his mind. If Sebastian wasn’t serious about him, he wouldn’t have asked him to move to San Francisco. Sebastian had looked flabbergasted when Meghan confessed her love for him. Dominic looked into Sebastian’s blue eyes. His eyes were soft, vulnerable, and filled with concern.

  Dominic shook his head. “You should have been more up front with Meghan,” he mumbled.

  “I know. I see that now,” Sebastian admitted. He approached Dominic and cupped the side of his face. “I meant everything that I said. I want us to make a go at this. I don’t want anyone else — male or female. I feel a closeness to you that I’ve never felt with anyone before.”

  “I . . . I . . . feel it, too,” Dominic confessed in a low tone.

  “I can tell you anything. Like when I told you about Will and me. I’ve never told anyone that story but you.”

  “You do have a calming effect on me. You understand me, and even when you don’t at times, you try to.”

  They came together with a kiss.

  Chapter 13

  Three months later . . .

  They were ahead of schedule on the Generational Bank project. Dominic was putting the software through testing, finding any bugs that could hiccup the system. Sebastian was making sure that the system was safe from hacking.

  Sebastian had hired a temporary assistant from an Atlanta agency to assist them. He and Dominic hadn’t seen or heard from Meghan since New Year’s Eve. Sebastian hasn’t even gotten a phone call about her for a job reference.

  Dominic was upstairs in his townhouse working on the software. Sebastian had to fly back to San Francisco two days ago for a meeting with his staff. He also wanted to check up on his associates who were working on other projects. He was due back tonight.

  Dominic’s cell phone rang. The caller ID said it was his mother.

  “Hey, Momma. What’s up?”

  “What is up is that if you don’t bring me seventy-five thousand dollars by tonight, Momma will pay the price,” Jerome said darkly.

  A chill went up Dominic’s spine. “What have you done?”

  “Nothing . . . yet. And I won’t do anything as long as you get me the money,” Jerome stated.

  Dominic shook his head. Jerome didn’t sound high. “You won’t hurt her. You always loved Momma.”

  “I don’t want to hurt her, but I will Dominic,” Jerome said with confidence. “Seventy-five grand by eight o’clock.”

  “I . . . I don’t believe you,” Dominic stuttered. He hoped it wasn’t true. He was taking a risk calling Jerome’s bluff, but he had to be sure.

  “Say hello to your son,” Jerome said.

  A second went by before what he feared became a reality. “Dominic,” his mother said in a shaky voice.

  “Ma,” Dominic said with shock. My God, he really does have her.

  “Believe me now? I’m not playing around, Dominic,” Jerome sneered.

  Dominic had the money, but it wasn’t all in cash. “I can’t get my hands on that kind of cash by eight o’clock.”

  “Of course you can. You’ve always been able to do the impossible. And you better not tell anyone either. No cops, or I’ll kill her. No rich white boyfriend, or I’ll kill her.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Meet us at my old house. You remember, the one we used to live in together. Eight o’clock, and you better not be late.” The line went dead.

  Dominic slowly lowered the phone from his ear. His mother was in trouble, and he had no idea if he could help her. He looked at his watch. It was noon. He had to liquidate as many assets as he could by eight o’clock.

  During the next four hours, Dominic frantically gathered cash. He took a thousand dollars out of his sock drawer. He drove to the bank and withdrew eight thousand dollars out of his account. He could have withdrawn a little more, but any withdraw or deposit that was ten thousand dollars or more would have triggered a report to the IRS. How would he explain it on his taxes? He couldn’t since he didn’t notify the authorities that his mother had been abducted. Also, he didn’t want to risk any suspicion with his mother’s life on the line.

  Dominic was operating under the assumption that Jerome would harm his mother. It was obvious Jerome had gone over the edge. There was a time Jerome wouldn’t have hurt a fly, but after losing his home, business, and his reputation, and throw some drugs in the mix, he was capable of anything.

  He went to his safety deposit box and took out his emergency cash. Then he went to a cash advance place and gave them the title of his car as collateral. He went to the pawn shop and hocked his bicycle, a gold bracelet, and a ring.

  In the end, he had collected twenty-five thousand dollars. Nowhere near what he needed. He only had one more card to play, but it was a dangerous card. He might not make it back from this trip, but he had to take the chance.

  Dominic drove into the worst part of Atlanta. The section where prostitutes and drug dealers conducted business out in the open. The spot where if you didn’t know the right people, you could be killed and your body would be dumped in a landfill, and no one would find it for a month.

  He stopped in front of a dingy-white, two-story building. This was the last place he was known to be. Dominic prayed he was still there. He slowly got out of the car as he looked around him. He knew he was being watched by more than the two goons who were standing in front of the old building. Twenty years ago, it was a bar. Upstairs was where the prostitutes conducted business. Then the place was taken over by a rival gang.

  Dominic walked up the walkway to the two goons with saggy pants and green bandanas around their heads.

  “We don’t keep the whores here anymore, old man,” one of the young punks said. “Go up the street and take a right. Third house on the left. It’s a two story.”

  Old?

  “I’m not here for whores. I’m here to see King,” Dominic said.

  The other goon scoffed. “We don’t just let anybody in to see the top dog. What’s your business with him?”

  “He owes me a marker. I’m here to collect,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.

  The boys chuckled. “You crazy as shit. First, you roll up in this neighborhood in a blue BMW that’s begging to get jacked. Second, you’re wearing some pretty fancy shoes that’s hollerin' ‘shoot my ass and take my shit’. Then you got the nerve to say that the boss owes you and you’re here to collect . . . by yourself,” the shorter goon said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, you bold,” the other commented.

  “Get outta here before you get got, dogg.”

  Dominic’s patience snapped. He moved like lightning. He took the taller punk out with one punch on the button. As the guy was hitting the ground, the other goon was flustering to pull his gun out of his pocket. Dominic grabbed his wrist and squeezed it with everything he had.

  The goon squealed and loosened his grip on
the gun. Dominic snatched it from him and grabbed his nappy locks as he whirled around him. He pressed the gun barrel to the side of the guy’s cheek.

  His buddy was still knocked out on the stoop.

  “Now,” Dominic began in a menacing tone. “Take me to King before I decide to make you my bitch and go see him anyway.”

  “Fuck, man,” the guy said in a high-pitched tone. “Why didn’t you say you did time for him? We let you guys in all the time so you can get your paper.”

  “Open the door,” he said in a demanding tone.

  “All right, all right,” the idiot said. He reached for the door and knocked on it twice, stopped, and then knocked three more times.

  It took a minute, but someone opened the slot in the door. The doorman’s eyebrows went up at the sight of Dominic holding a goon hostage.

  “Dom Poindexter,” Kent said with a hint of surprise. He was King’s lieutenant. He opened the steel door and looked over at the knocked-out goon. “Shit, what the hell did you two say to him?”

  “Tell him to let me go,” the goon cried. “This dude is on some serious prison shit.”

  “You little bitch,” Kent said with disgust as he shook his head. “I would appreciate it if you let Mace go, Dom. He’s just a young punk-ass trying to be a big dog.”

  Dominic let the asshole go.

  “What about my piece?”

  “Dom?” Kent inquired.

  He fought the urge to ram it up the boy’s ass and gave it back to him.

  Kent turned to look at the other boy. “Damn, Dom, I see you still got the killer left. Is he dead?”

  “I don’t think so. Then again, I didn’t bother to check.”

  They took a closer look at him. His chest was rising and falling. Blood was slowly seeping out of his nose.

  Kent scoffed with amusement. “Mace, get Rick’s soft-ass up and take him upstairs for Josie to take a look at him.”

  Mace did what he was told without argument.

  “It’s good to see you, Dom, but what are you doing back here? You don’t belong here anymore,” Kent said.

  When Dominic’s mother moved him and his siblings to Atlanta, they lived in the neighborhood. It wasn’t that bad while he was growing up, but time and crime took its toll. Instead of being victims, King and Kent formed their own gang out of protection. Their numbers grew over time, and then they took on the other gang and chased them out. Dominic never joined them, but he helped them out with fights here and there.

  “I need King’s help. My mother’s been kidnapped,” he replied seriously.

  “Shit,” Kent gasped out as his head rocked back. “Who would kidnap Mrs. P?”

  “My asshole ex.”

  “Let’s go inside.”

  They walked inside, and Kent closed and locked the door. Dominic followed Kent down a set of stairs. They ended up in a hallway with three doors. A goon was entering a door. He didn’t say a word to them.

  They stopped at the last door. Kent knocked on it. “Yo, King. I got a surprise for ya.”

  A tall, skinny black girl opened the door. She didn’t have anything on.

  “What is it?” King asked.

  Kent and Dominic entered the room.

  King had on a pair of jeans. He was bare-chested, with hair on his chest that was dark and curly. He was lying on the couch as a naked, slender white girl was feeding him grapes.

  King looked over at them. His eyes widened. “Holy shit, it’s The Dominator,” he said happily. He got off the couch and quickly strode to him.

  Dominic and King shook hands and embraced. Then they let each other go. King hadn’t changed much over the years. He was five-foot-six, still with a box cut. His body was a perfect V.

  “What are you doing here? Hell, I know you’re not here lookin’ for a job?” King joked with a big grin. He still had gold filing in between his two front teeth.

  “Nah, King, Dom is in trouble,” Kent whispered. “He needs our help real bad.”

  King looked at Dominic, who had a grave expression. “I see it’s pretty heavy. Girls, go upstairs. I need to talk some business with an old friend.”

  The girls picked up their robes and put them on as they left the room.

  Kent, King, and Dominic sat down on the couch.

  “What’s up, my man?” King asked.

  “I got a call from my ex this afternoon. He’s gone nuts. Jerome has kidnapped my mother, and he wants seventy-five grand by eight o’clock tonight for her safe return. Throughout the day, I was able to raise twenty-five. I . . . I have come here to see if you would loan me the rest.”

  King leaned back on the sofa. He didn’t say a word.

  “I can pay you back within two months. I have the money, but it’s not in cash. It will take me time to unload fifty thousand dollars’ worth of stocks,” Dominic explained.

  “I know you’re good for it, Dom. That’s not the problem. Are you sure this guy isn’t bullshitting you? Have you tried to call her?” King asked.

  “He’s for real. He put her on the phone as proof.”

  “Shit,” King mumbled. “The thing is, there isn’t any guarantee that he will let her go once you get the money to him. Where’s the drop?”

  “Our old place at Sycamore,” Dominic answered. “He doesn’t own the house anymore, but it’s vacant. I drove by there before I came here, and there’s a ‘for rent’ sign in the front of it.”

  “What’s this cat’s name?” King asked.

  “Jerome Dixon.”

  “Shit, I know him. He’s a damn meth head,” Kent said with disgust. “We can take him.”

  “He didn’t sound high when he called me,” Dominic said.

  “Hmm. He hadn’t been around lately. Jerome would come here to score drugs. It’s rumored that when he didn’t have enough money for a fix, he would suck dick,” Kent said.

  “Are you talkin’ about that dude with the dirty trench coat who smells like ass?” King asked.

  “Yeah,” Kent confirmed.

  “Ah shit, Dom. We can handle him. Kent and I will go with you to the drop. We’ll scare him so bad that he’ll shit himself,” King bragged. “We’ll get Mrs. P back safe and sound.”

  “Guys, I don’t think it will be that easy. He sounded like he has cleaned up his act,” Dominic said with worry.

  “He could be right. Jerome hadn’t been seen in a few months. He could have gone to rehab,” Kent said.

  King nodded. “All right. I got the cash in the safe, but we’re still going with you.”

  “You can’t,” Dominic stressed. “He said no cops or Sebastian, or he will kill my mom.”

  “Who’s Sebastian?” Kent asked as he cocked his chin up.

  “He’s the guy I’m seeing now,” Dominic said. Kent and King knew he was gay from way back. Matter of fact, they had figured it out before he had told his mother. It never seemed to bother them.

  “Sounds like Jerome has taken jealousy to another level,” Kent said.

  “Possibly, but he needs that money for some reason,” Dominic replied. “And if he’s clean, he isn’t going to use it for drugs.”

  Chapter 14

  Sebastian’s flight had been canceled. He didn’t want to wait for the next available flight, which was tomorrow, so he chartered a jet to get him back to Atlanta. He was only an hour away from the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Airport. He had tried calling Dominic twice to pick him up and had gotten his voicemail both times. Sebastian had left a message, but Dominic hadn’t called him back. That wasn’t like him. As Sebastian began to worry, his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was from a number he didn’t recognize. He answered it because he thought it could be Dominic.

  “Hello?”

  “The ransom is now a hundred and fifty thousand. This old woman is a lot of trouble. Someone has to pay for that,” the automated voice said.

  Sebastian’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? Who is this?”

  The voice chuckled. “Well, Dominic can follow directions. I
was sure he would break and call you. I’m only going to say this once, so listen up. We got Poindexter’s mother. We want one hundred and fifty thousand dollars by eight o’clock tonight in cash, or we’ll kill her.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Someone kidnapped Dominic’s mother.

  “No cops, or we’ll kill her. Call Dominic for the rest of the details.” The man hung up.

  Sebastian’s mouth gapped open as he lowered the phone to his side. He looked at his watch. It was eight minutes after four. “Shit,” he hissed. It would take more than four hours to get a hundred and fifty thousand in cash, even for a millionaire. Plus, he was stuck on the damn plane for another hour.

  His cell rang again. It was Dominic. He quickly pressed the button.

  “Hey,” Dominic said in a grave tone. “I can’t pick you up at the airport. I can’t explain why right now, but—”

  “I know, Dominic,” Sebastian interrupted. “I know your mother has been kidnapped.”

  “What? How?”

  “The kidnapper just called me. Look, I don’t know what the ransom was earlier, but now he wants a hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “Shit,” Dominic roared. “Why?”

  “Something about her being more trouble than they thought.”

  “Wait. Did you say they?”

  “Yes. You thought it was only one?”

  “Yes, Jerome called me himself.”

  “Jerome? Your ex is behind this?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How much did they ask before?”

  “Seventy-five. I got that. God, Sebastian, it was hard to raise that. I can’t get him any more money by eight.”

  “You just need another seventy-five grand. I believe I can pull that off.”

  “No,” he stressed. “I don’t want you involved in this.”

  “It’s too late. I got involved when he called me.”

  “This is my mess. I’ll clean it up.”

  “Not necessarily, and even if it was all you, do you think I’ll let you deal with one or more deranged psychos alone?”