by Diana W.
“I did.” Tank stepped forward with a paper towel pressed to his arm.
“Because of that?” Cornell motioned with his chin.
Tank sent a heated gaze Harley’s way that should’ve set her on fire. “Yeah.”
Cornell approached him like a starving lion trailing the straggler in a herd of antelope. “Was that the order I gave you?”
“No...it wasn’t, but she wouldn’t comply.”
Cornell nodded, seeming to understand as if he were actually contemplating his bullshit excuse. “Get down on your knees.”
The unexpected directive confused Tank. “What?” He looked at Cornell with wide eyes and then at Smitty who turned his head away as if it was none of his business.
“I said get on your fucking knees.” Cornell held Tank’s shoulder and drove his knee into a sweet spot between the bottom of his thigh and above his knee, collapsing him to the ground.
“Come here, Miss Dupree,” he requested so calmly that no one would suspect the death grip he still had on Tank’s shoulder.
Harley froze and looked between Tank and Cornell. “No, I don’t...”
“It isn’t optional.” Cornell cut his eyes her way.
Harley hesitantly stood up and did her best to contain her limp as she heeded his command.
“Did he do that too?” He referred to her foot.
“No,” she quickly admitted as she nervously stood in front of Tank.
“Please demonstrate what he did to you.” Cornell finally let go of his shoulder, took a slight step back, and folded his arms.
“What?” Both Tank and Harley responded simultaneously.
“Really, Cee?” Mo asked, doing a horrible job at hiding his amusement. Clark shook his head and took a few steps back to be closer to Mo. He wasn’t there for this part of the interrogation.
Ignoring his brother, Cornell continued. “A grown-ass man, three times your size, struck you, and I’m asking you to return the favor.”
Harley’s panicked eyes darted from Cornell, down to Tank. She wanted to refuse again, but the defiantly smug look on Tank’s face made her hand twitch.
“There it is.” Cornell noticed her hand curl into a fist, even if she didn’t realize what she’d done.
Harley’s breathing grew shallow the more she continued to stare at the large, pulsating veins protruding from Tank’s baldhead. He was a tough guy that threw his muscles around for intimidation, and she despised the fear he made her feel when he pulled her from the truck.
Before she could stop herself, she retracted her arm and landed a punch into the bridge of his nose.
“Shit!” He held it as a faucet of blood poured out. “You fucking bitch! I didn’t hit you in the nose!”
“I improvised.” Harley shook the sting from her hand.
“Holy shit!” Mo couldn’t contain his laughter. “Goddamn, I think she broke it!”
Cornell, although impressed, kept an impassive expression. “Smitty, get him outta here and checked out.
Smitty nodded and pulled Tank to his feet and out of the room.
"Please return to your seat, Miss Dupree.” Cornell motioned back to her chair, but Harley didn’t budge.
Her adrenaline and rage had returned tenfold. Cornell empowered her to hit the man who hurt her, but she also wanted to return the favor to the man who had her sister hurt.”
“Miss Dupree.” Cornell stepped closer to her, challenging the rage that quietly flickered an excitement within him. She smelled of fruit or something sweeter. Something dangerous. “I won’t ask again.”
Harley continued to glare at him but refrained from letting her fist fly for another round. He couldn’t have brought her all the way here and allowed her to punch his muscle in the face, just to off her, she thought. At least, that’s what she hoped. With a snarl on her face, she reluctantly conceded and limped back to her seat.
Cornell quickly sobered himself from their interaction and grabbed a vacant chair from the corner of the room. “Now, for the matter at hand.” He placed it directly across from her.
“You strike me as a very intelligent woman.” He took a seat and leaned back against it with his hands clasped in his lap. “Why would you think it was wise to steal from me?”
“And how exactly did you do it?” Clark added. He couldn’t bottle his curiosity and excitement. If Harley knew how to penetrate the ironclad wall of security he had on his entire family’s finances, he needed to pick her brain and find out about the rest of her skill set.
Harley rolled her eyes at the odd dreadhead before bringing them back to Cornell. She wouldn’t bother telling them about Bernard and his team’s CIA-like tactics that allowed her to infiltrate Madam Sinclair’s undetected. “Because you can’t do whatever you want to people and not expect repercussions.”
If Cornell had to try to figure out how many he pissed off in his business and personal lives, this interrogation was going to be longer than he had the patience for.
“Karma and I came to an understanding a long time ago and decided to stay out of each other’s way.” He shrugged with a wave of his hand. “I need you to be a little more specific.”
“My sister, you asshole,” she emphasized.
“Please tell me you’re joking.” Cornell was now on the brink of cutting this questioning short and delivering her to the police himself. His business dealings rarely involved women, so he knew this was a personal attack. It wasn’t a secret that he lacked consistency with women, which often made him the object of hatred. “Are you telling me you took my money as revenge over what? Rejection? Or is it something even more trivial?” He looked toward Mo in disbelief. “I feel like the special guest star in one of your soap operas,” he joked.
“Ain’t so funny now though, is it?” Mo chuckled.
Harley swiped her hand over her face, regretting that she didn’t hit him when she had the chance. “You did actually.” She interrupted their little comedic session, wondering if his brothers would find his secret club membership funny too. “It was probably after she stuck her finger in your ass or whatever other weird shit you’re into.”
The crude insult bombed the smile from Cornell’s face, and he studied her as if she’d lost her mind. “Excuse me?”
Harley’s lips twitched into a sadistic smirk and she leaned in. “You heard me...Mr. Q.” She sang it out like the lyrics to her favorite R&B song.
“What is she talking about, Cee?” Mo stepped closer to try and gauge his brother’s reaction. It was pointless but it didn’t deter him any less. The only way to truly know how Cornell was feeling was if he told you himself.
Cornell continued his stare down with Harley, wondering how he didn’t draw this conclusion before now.
“Everybody out.” The command was so subtle that no one was sure as to whom he was addressing.
“I said get the fuck out!” His voice thundered, startling even Harley as he turned to his brothers who were both at a loss for why he directed it to them.
Clark held his hands up in surrender and exited and Mo did the same, still trying to piece together Harley’s words.
When Cornell heard the door shut, he turned around with a murderous gaze.
“Eden?”
Harley’s throat tightened, but it didn’t stop her from delivering the same attitude. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
After a brief moment of silence, she sighed and finally gave in. “Yes... I’m Eden.”
A small gust of air blew from Cornell’s nose as he continued to observe her facial features. He never cared to know what a worker from Madam Sinclair’s looked like. Was never a thing of importance up until the time he’d spent with her. And now, the deep arches of her eyebrows and her plump, darkened lips were going to be permanently etched into this memory.
“And your sister?” Cornell stood from the chair. “Is it safe to assume she's the one that got herself fired?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and dropped his gaze on her.
“Herself?!” Harley almost stumbled, jumping up from the seat so fast. “It’s because of you that my sister had a goddamn black eye!” She shoved her accusatory finger in his face, only a whisper away from touching him.
Cornell homed in on the disrespectful digit. “I don’t beat on women, Miss Dupree. At least not with my hands.” The corner of his mouth lifted from the devilish implication. “Your anger seems misdirected.”
“No.” Harley shoved that same finger into his stone chest, no longer worried about the repercussions. “My anger is for the man who could’ve asked for a different worker if he was displeased. You knew what was gonna happen to her.” She continued to poke him. “Your hands are just as dirty as theirs.”
“So, you expect me to go into someone else’s place of business and tell them how to reprimand their workers?” He stepped closer, drilling her finger even further into him. “Let’s be clear, your sister wasn’t making sandwiches or on a holy mission for Jehovah.” His breathing became unstable. If Harley were a man, he would’ve broken that very finger and shoved it into unmentionable places. “She willingly signed a contract, knowing the stipulations that came along with breaking it. She fucked up.”
“And you’re a fucked-up human being,” Harley countered. She was so enraged that her entire body shook.
“That’s comedic coming from a documented criminal who just tried to out me in front of my brothers.” Cornell shrugged and stepped away from her. “You wanna compare fucked-up actions? Is that what we’re doing? Because we can start with the reason your sister even took a job at Madam Sinclair’s.” He began to circle her. “You have an issue with taking things that aren’t yours. Stop me when I’m off-track here.”
Harley didn’t respond to his accusations. She couldn’t defend herself against the truth he clearly did his research to obtain. She instead rolled her eyes and let her attention fall to her feet.
“Yeah,” Cornell snorted. “I figured that would put your tantrum on ice. But don’t worry. Unlike the last man you stole from, I won’t ask you to return the money with twenty percent interest. At least I know you’re in the clear with him now. And you’re welcome for that.”
Harley sat there, biting her cheek and thinking about that situation with Carlos. He was another well-off asshole that she’d gotten the best of financially. He was the owner of a few nightclubs throughout the US, and she was bartending down at one of his two clubs in Miami. He tried to pursue her romantically although she wasn’t the least bit interested and made that clear from day one. When he realized his expensive gifts to her weren’t working, he elevated her position in the club to second in command, thinking that would do the trick. When she accepted, Harley allowed him to take her on dates, offering him nothing more than conversation and kissing. All the while, she began skimming the club profits in subtle amounts that went unnoticed for an entire year. The month that she planned on leaving town, a bartender who was apparently in love with and fucking Carlos the entire time he was pursuing Harley had been also been auditing the books and outed her. The only reason Harley wasn’t murdered and dumped somewhere on the beach was because Carlos held a soft spot for her. Repayment was his way of showing her mercy.
Harley was almost afraid to ask, but she looked Cornell’s way. “So, what do you want from me then? I'm assuming it’s not just to afterschool special me to death.” She had heard enough of those reprimands from Gianna.
Cornell licked his lip at Harley’s flippant mouth. A flashback of her lips pressed against his ear made him adjust the collar of his shirt from the heat emanating from his body. He brushed off the memory and finally sat back down. “Your conniving services, of course.”
“What?”
“I need you to work for me,” he said, clarifying his statement.
“Doing?”
“Does it matter?” He purposely flipped her very words back on her.
She narrowed her eyes at him when she, too, realized it. “It does.”
He smiled at her frustration and continued. “There’s a company that my company wants to acquire, and the owner isn’t willing to negotiate a deal.”
Perplexed, Harley leaned back against her chair. “And what does that have to do with me?”
“He has a son, late thirties, and he’s grooming him to take over due to a recent series of health scares.”
“Again,” Harley rolled her neck, “what does that have to do with me?”
“We need you to get close to the son and persuade him to sell.”
“Excuse me?” Harley laughed. “Persuade? What the fuck do I look like? I’m not a prostitute.”
Cornell shook his head. “Could’ve fooled me, but that’s beside the point. I never said you had to sleep with him. We just need you to influence him.” He shrugged. “Interpret that how you will. You seem good at it.”
Despite her relationship with Carlos, that was of her own free will. “No, I’d rather pay you your money back.”
“Here’s the thing.” Cornell leaned forward with his hands clasped and elbows on his thighs. “That isn’t an option. You either work for us or you go to jail. And based on what we have on you, it won’t be a couple of months in lock-up.”
“Are you kidding me?” Harley watched him in disbelief.
“I’m more serious than your father's life sentence in Angola,” Cornell responded and watched Harley’s eyes widen in shock. He never half-assed when it came to collecting intel on a competitor or perceived threat.
“You...are truly an awful person.” She couldn’t hide her disgust even if she wanted to.
Cornell stood back up. “Yeah, maybe I am and maybe, next time you’ll research who you’re stealing from. If you think about it, this offer is heaven-sent. I mean, it beats getting a bullet between your eyes, am I right?”
Harley swallowed hard but didn’t respond. The way he casually talked about killing someone as if it were the equivalent of walking versus taking the bus to work, sent a terrifying chill down her spine.
“Whenever you’re finished contemplating, please step outside the room and we’ll talk next steps.”
Cornell didn’t allow her to respond and left out. The pain from her face, ankle, and the situation she was now currently in rushed her like a tsunami, and she clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle her cry. How did she get herself here? She should’ve listened to Gianna. To her mother. Honest work would have never brought her into this kind of fucked-up situation. She couldn’t afford to go to jail or worse. There was no way she could leave Gianna alone like that. She couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t still go after her for not taking the deal.
When she felt calm enough, she removed her hand from her mouth and stared at the concrete wall. She couldn’t afford to completely fall apart right now. There was too much at stake, and now that she was thinking about it, there were probably cameras watching her display of weakness. The thought sobered her so quickly that she must have looked like a crazy person jumping from one extreme emotion to another.
She let a few more minutes pass and then forced herself to her feet. Taking a deep breath, she limped out of the door and toward the three men who were all casually talking to each other as if there wasn't a hostage in the room. They all went silent as she approached.
“Miss Dupree,” Cornell spoke up, “I assume we’re on the same page now.”
“It’s not like you really gave me a choice.” She rolled her eyes.
“Good to hear.” He stroked his chin. “Now...what size dress do you wear?”
CHAPTER 12
Harley folded the letter and positioned it like a tent on Gianna's nightstand.
“Shit,” she mumbled when she glanced down at the time on her phone. She had to be downstairs in less than thirty minutes and had already wasted an hour trying to conjure up a lie to tell Gianna for her pending absence. A last-minute live-in house sitter gig felt like the only plausible thing she could come up with, but she was still taking a gamble. Gianna probably wouldn’t believe
it anyway since Harley didn’t bother to provide an address, details of how she got the job, and other important tidbits any decent sibling would want to know. She only told her that it was out of state and that she would check in with her when she got settled. The whole thing sounded ridiculous and seemed like a Craigslist ad setup for a kidnapping, but she’d find a way to keep in touch, hopefully often, to lessen any suspicions.
Harley rushed into her room and shoved her toiletries, favorite bonnet, and a few loungewear pieces into her suitcase because she had a feeling nothing she was would be wearing for the next few weeks or months would be comfortable. The thought of the entire ordeal soured her stomach. She couldn’t help but wonder what they would do to her if this whole setup didn’t go as planned. An interrogation room and paid henchmen were an entirely different lane from Carlos who had only had his boys to help him.
The vibrating of her phone interrupted her thoughts. She pulled it out of her back pocket and answered suspiciously because of the unrecognizable number. “Hello.”
“Come downstairs,” the deep voice commanded and hung up without allowing her to respond.
Harley lowered the phone and stared at it. When they let her go over a week ago, the only thing they told her was a date, a time, and to grab a few things. They knew everything about her from her phone number to her address without her having to offer up anything but a yes to the agreement. Since then, she’d been obsessively internet researching the Gaines family to have a better idea of who she was now involved with, and all she discovered were accolades about their business deals and paparazzi photos of mostly Cornell with different women. No court cases. No mugshots. No nothing. The only people who truly had power were those that could make their images appear squeaky clean even when they owned warehouses that contained interrogation rooms. In other words, she was fucked.
Deciding not to keep them waiting, she grabbed her bag and purse and rushed out of the apartment and down to the building entrance. She approached the curb, not entirely sure of what type of vehicle she should be looking for, but the black SUV that she was starting to hate on sight pulled up in front of her. The guy she now knew as Smitty got out of the passenger side door and grabbed her bag from her hand without saying a word.