“What?”
Chief nodded his head. “Yes, they’re still investigating the circumstances around the bombing and are holding your friend, Mr. Neuman, for questioning. I also passed along the information you gave me.”
The beat of my heart drummed against my ears. This can’t be happening. “I don’t understand. Why is the FBI involved? How is this domestic terrorism?” I glanced at Donald.
“It may be because an explosion was involved. Section 802 of the USA Patriot Act, essentially covers domestic terrorism. A section of Title 18 of the US Code is used when a bomb is involved. And section F would also be triggered, since the explosion took place in a public place,” Donald offered.
“But Dachs had nothing to do with any bomb. Marching yes, bombs no. It was his parents’ store for Christ sake where they tossed the bomb that killed his mother,” I argued.
“Still, I find it interesting the FBI is involved. From my understanding, it was just a Molotov cocktail used, something anyone can make from easily accessible ingredients, so not sure why it’s not a state criminal matter being used to prosecute,” Donald stated.
The Chief leaned forward in his chair. “All of which is still under investigation. I will tell you this. The FBI had that particular branch of troublemakers under watch for quite some time. Which is why they’re involved.”
“I don’t care who’s involved,” I said. “Will Dachs be charged with anything?”
“It’s still too early to say. But he will be held for at least 24-hours while we try to determine his role, if any, surrounding the circumstances of the explosion and subsequent loss of life.”
The more he spoke the more pissed off I became. The circumstances were Dachs mother was killed, and his so called friends were behind it, but he’s the one sitting in jail.
“Well my understanding is Mr. Neuman has already been questioned and has asked for representation. I am letting you know I now represent him and once we leave here, will file the necessary paperwork. I expect to be able to speak to the agent in charge or detective as well as my client today and we’ll take it from there.” Donald’s words were strongly worded statements.
“Is there anything you can do to help expedite things?” I asked the Chief. “To get him the hell out of jail right friggin now.”
“I’ll go down to the station with you and see if I can smooth things over.”
I accompanied Donald and the Chief to the district where Dachs was being held. I stayed in a waiting area while the Chief and Donald had a chat with the detective and the agent in charge before Donald got to speak with Dachs. I’d been waiting for over an hour when my phone rang. It was Selena. I answered and told her everything, right down to me sleeping with Dachs twice, and I planned on doing it again and again and then some. She was my best friend; she needed to know and either she stood by me, or she showed me who she really was.
She didn’t disappoint.
“I’ll be right down. I’ll wait with you.”
“That’s it.”
“Nothing more to be said. You need me, I’m there.”
This is why I loved her, and she was my best friend. “No. Really, I’ll be fine. We both will.”
“So, do you love him?”
“Yes.” I didn’t even have to think about it. I didn’t add ‘I think I always have.’ Too unreal. “But I haven’t told him yet.”
“Then, I’ve got to meet this guy soon. He better be good to you and out of that shit for real or else I’ll kick his ass.”
“And I’ll help you.”
“Well, from his actions, he might just love you.”
I smiled because I thought the same thing. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” We stayed on the phone for a while longer.
“Call me after you leave there,” Serena said.
“I will, thank you.”
I waited a few hours. The Chief dropped in to check on me twice, but he wouldn’t tell me anything other than ‘they were working things out’ and that ‘Donald was one hell of a lawyer.’ Given the gravity of the involvement of the FBI, I was worried about Dachs, but knew he was in good hands with Donald.
Four hours after I’d gotten there, the Chief and Donald came back.
“That’s an interesting young man you got there,” Donald said.
“Where is he? Can I see him? Has he been arrested?”
“No, you won’t be able to see him. They need to check out a few things, but I’m confident he won’t be charged in connection with the bombing. Doesn’t mean he’s entirely clear, but he should be released in the morning,” Donald said.
Dachs wasn’t released until later the next day, but I was waiting for him when he was—just thankful he had been. I found Donald and Dachs standing in front of the reception counter. Dachs looked up and saw me. He smiled, then, I was in his arms.
I didn’t care who saw us together; he held me to him and pressed his lips against mine. Us together was everything. Dachs didn’t seem to care much either.
Hand in hand, Donald got us out of there. His car was waiting in the front, and we all got in.
Unable to keep silent any longer, I turned from Dachs and asked, “What happened? Has he been charged?”
Donald answered, “No, for now, he hasn’t been charged with anything. However, the Professor, or should I say Mr. Dwight, has been under investigation by the FBI for a few years now. Six years ago, there was a similar type of bomb used in a march Mr. Dwight was involved in, upstate. They just couldn’t get anything to stick to him. But thanks to what the ongoing investigation has managed to uncover, along with Dachs’ statements, they may be charging him with the murder of Dachs’ mother.”
“Wait, why did you say ‘Mr. Dwight?’” I asked.
“Well, turns out he’s not an actual professor. Stephen B. Sharpe is an alias. Kevin Dwight is his real name. The two works he’s published had been plagiarized. Harvard discovered that several months ago and quietly fired him.”
“What?”
“He’s a coward, a liar and an asshole, so doesn’t surprise me at all,” Dachs said.
I shook my head, but like Dachs, nothing about that man surprised me anymore.
“He tried to tell the cops I planned the attack. Fucker even wore a wire to try to get me to confess.”
“What you said during that discussion is what helped to convince the investigators that Dwight was behind it all,” Donald added. “He should be arraigned sometime today.”
“Good! About Bruno?” Dachs asked, squeezing my hand. “That bastard—he made and threw the cocktails.”
“There’s an APB out on him. He’ll be charged too,” Donald said. “There were several witnesses and apparently a video that showed Mr. Matte tossing lighted bottles into the crowd.”
“Yeah. Good luck finding him. My guess is he went back home, to Jersey. He’s the type to run. He knows he can’t stay here any longer,” Dachs said. “If I catch him…”
I stared at him hard. “You’ll call the cops and have them arrest him.” I did not want Dachs doing anything that would land him back in jail.
“I have to warn you. Even if they catch Bruno, the one the cops really want is Dwight; if Bruno cooperates he might be able to make a plea for a lighter sentence, you may not be entirely off the hook.”
“How is that even possible?” I asked. “Dachs only participated in the march. While all of it might have been this Dwight’s idea, it was Bruno who threw the bomb purposely into Dachs’ parents store that killed his mom. Bruno had to have known exactly what he was doing and whose business was going to be hurt by it,” I argued.
“I’m not saying Dachs will be charged with anything, the agent seemed hesitant about pursuing charges against Dachs nor am I certain Bruno will get a deal. Only that it’s a possibility.”
“He’ll never turn on the Prof,” Dachs said, shaking his head. “That fucker is his idol.”
“Maybe, but the prosecutor can be very persuasive. Massachusetts m
ight not have the death penalty, but Bruno will be charged under Federal jurisdiction and Capital Punishment can be placed on the table. Even without Bruno turning on Mr. Dwight I think the prosecutor can build a solid case against both men for the murder of your mother,” Donald said.
Neither of us said another word but from the tenseness in Dachs frame, I knew he didn’t like the sound of even the possibility of Bruno getting away with anything. I laid my head on his shoulder, hoping we’d get through this.
Donald dropped us off at my condo and told Dachs he’d call him tomorrow to iron out some details about his deal with the cops and to keep him abreast of any developments.
We rode up the elevator in silence, but his arm remained wrapped around my shoulders and mine around his waist. We entered my condo, and he trudged toward the couch. “You okay?” I asked.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I need to call my father.”
“Of course. He must be worried sick.”
“Yeah. Can I borrow your phone? Police still have mine.”
29
Dachs
I stared out the picture window of Harper’s place into the night. Concentric circles of lights brushed away the darkness, creating new art on a blank, black canvas. The past few eye-opening days felt like a lifetime. Harper slipped her arms around me from behind and rested her head on my back, between my shoulder blades. I repressed a snort. This woman was my catalyst for change. Her skin color no longer mattered to me. When shit hit the wall she was the one to stand with me. A black woman. Not my supposed Aryan brothers or even the undercover fringe supporters. In that moment when I was waiting in the lobby—I was waiting for Harper; that realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. In that moment I understood, my mom was right, and I had wasted so many years not listening to her. The hate needed to stop.
It was time to start fresh. Tomorrow was a new day. I covered Harper’s hands with my own and held them. I still had classes and work. It was surreal that my life for the most part would return to normal tomorrow.
“What’s on your mind?” I could feel her breath flow across my skin through my shirt.
So many thoughts screamed for attention in my head. Guilt washed through me. I needed to call my dad, and stroking Harper’s hand, I realized she held her cell. I slipped it from her fingers. I wasn’t embarrassed to talk with my father, but in standing next to Harper those arguments, the hate I spewed, I felt shame for the first time in my life. The wrongness of it all weighed heavy on my shoulders—in my soul.
“I’m going to call my dad.” I pulled free of her embrace, inching away from her. I looked at the screen and held up her cell. “Can you unlock it for me?” She stabbed the screen with her finger, a certain look defining her features—sort of like my mom used to give me. The turn down corners of her mouth and hooded look as she watched me, as if silently questioning if I was an idiot. “Thanks.” I dialed my dad’s number from memory.
“Hello.” There was a bit of hesitation to the old man’s tone.
“Dad.” I wanted to say so much and knew I couldn’t. Not yet. It was more important to hear his voice.
“I was—am worried about you. I saw the news.”
“I’m okay. Everything is fine.” I could explain better in person. “Mom—umm—what are you doing? What—how? We don’t have any family...”
“What are you talking about, Son? We have each other.”
Why didn’t I listen? I’d missed out on so many years. “I have money to help bury her—to lay mom to rest.” I’d been saving money since I started working at fifteen. At first it was errands for Prof; he would entice me with pocket money. A hundred here, another hundred there. I didn’t ask questions. Just delivered packages. A couple of times I landed in jail for those little envelopes only to be released the next day.
Thinking back, most of it was probably illegal, and I was just hella lucky. I never bothered to check any of the packages. For that reason alone, the Prof trusted me, and I was sucked into the wonderful world of a true fucking idiot. The blinders were on, and I didn’t bother to question anything happening around me. The money was great, and the brotherhood took care of me and most of my needs—like providing a place when I wanted to crash somewhere other than home. Food, alcohol and free pussy were always plentiful. As I got older I worked—first odd jobs. A way to get away sometimes, the brotherhood could be suffocating always the talk about killing the niggers, wetbacks, Jews and towelheads. The others thought it was fun to play games, while I only wanted to break-away from those people.
Funny thing, my jobs always had to do with construction. Most building jobs came easy to me; then, a friend introduced me to welding. While apprenticing under a Master Welder and taking classes at Tech school, the money was fucking amazing, and I didn’t really use much from my paychecks. I would give my mom the best send off money could buy.
“She didn’t want that. A simple cremation was her final wish.” My father sobbed, choked up. “She—we decided to spread her ashes on the lake where we used to spend our summers with you in that little town up state. That place reminded her of our hometown in Germany.”
I wouldn’t argue with my dad. “I understand.”
“Make sure everything is done, so you aren’t caught in someone else’s nonsense. Is this number okay to save? I’ll contact you through this.”
I glanced at Harper’s profile. I didn’t think she would mind me using her cell. Temporarily. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I ended the call and held out the phone to return it to Harper.
She didn’t immediately take it, and I looked up to find her watching me. Concern was clear in her dark irises. I could lose myself in that look. I held my arms wide open. “I need you.”
She closed the gap between us, and the way her sensual form pressed into my body felt so fucking good. Her head to my chest. The way she’d tied her hair back, the locks tickled my chin. I tightened my hold on her. Just being around her forced me to see things differently. I wanted to be someone better and not disappoint the certainty I could see in her eyes. Harper went up on her toes and pressed her lips to mine.
I darted my tongue out to lick her lips. A flavor that was all her own rushed over my taste buds. She opened her mouth and wrapped her tongue around mine. I walked her back until her legs hit the sofa. She dropped, breaking our kiss. I stared down at her, unsure where to start. Tonight, I planned to take my time and worship her body. Tomorrow, I wasn’t sure what would happen. I sunk to my knees in front of her.
Slowly, I flicked the button to her jeans free and lowered the zipper. I gripped the waistband of them and yanked, peeling the material down over her ass. She raised her pelvis, and the soft fabric of her panties clung to her hips as I pulled. Harper raised her legs, and I jerked her clothing off, tossing the item over my shoulder. She spread her thighs, and I bowed at the altar that was her pussy.
Under the overhead lights, her juices glistened against her bare folds. I dipped my head. A sweet fruity scent wafted to my nose. I gripped her knees, shoving them farther apart. My fingertips dug into her soft flesh. With my tongue, I lapped at her sweet dew, working my tongue along her sugar coated creases. She swung her legs, bumping my shoulders. I sucked her clit between my lips, rolling it across my tongue, tugging, then relaxing my mouth on the tiny bundle of nerves. Harper pumped her hips, rising off the cushion. She combed her fingers through the strands of my hair, gripping them in tight fists to move my head.
I skimmed my fingers up her thighs and slid two digits into her channel. Deep, garbled moans escaped her. My cock twitched, pushing against the zipper of my jeans. I shuffled my body back to get better access, slamming my fingers into her passage while working her clit in my mouth.
So many senses.
She rolled her pelvis, grinding against my mouth. My heart pounded. A fine sheen of sweat coated my face and neck. I thrust my finger deeper and nipped at her clitoris. High pitched wails filled the air around us. Harper bowed her body,
and her knees slammed against my face as she held me in place while her cream spread across my tongue. I eased up, savoring her flavor. My rock hard dick made it uncomfortable to move.
She raised her head and gazed down at me through glazed eyes. This was a simple reminder that I was her man, and I wasn’t anywhere near done. I rose and freed the button on my pants, sliding the zipper down. My rod bobbed in freedom. “Harper.” Her name was my benediction.
A slow smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I am all yours.” She gripped the hem of her t-shirt, snatching it over her head. She undid her bra, freeing the luscious orbs.
I rammed my jeans down my legs and stepped out of them. I claimed a seat beside her. “Ride me, baby.”
Tonight was our night, a beginning, because I was never letting her go. We had tomorrow to figure out where we went from here.
30
Harper
I placed my hands on Dachs shoulders and eased down slowly, ever so slowly upon his thick cock. I watched as it disappeared inside me and didn’t stop until I was fully seated on him. When he filled me as far as his length could go, he tightened his hold on my waist,, and we both moaned. I tilted my head back a little and my lips parted.
Jesus, he feels good.
I paused for a moment just enjoying the feel of him surrounding me, the sound of his heavy breathing as he fought not to move yet. That woodsy scent he always seemed to wear that I’d come to associate with him. Then, I opened my eyes and found those ice blue orbs on me. I smiled and pushed up off of him until I paused at his tip before lowering myself down on him again. He leaned forward and captured one of my breasts into his mouth. He tugged on my nipple before circling it with his tongue.
My body quivered, and I could feel the juices pooling from me to coat his dick.
“God, you feel so good,” he murmured.
“I need you,” I told him.
He released my breasts and moved to cover my mouth with his just as he flexed his thighs rising upward to slam into me. Then he took control of my movement and helped me move up and down on his cock, and I rode him as requested.
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