Bruce flipped a page. “Yeah, it looks like they describe exactly how he met her and when he injected a drug he called Memrose into her system.”
“Bastard,” Alec mumbled as he looked down at the letter again.
“He’s more than that, but it looks like there is enough here to pull him in for questioning,”
“Good.”
“What do you have?”
“It’s a letter Lana wrote and two keys. My dearest Alec, I’m . . . entrusting Izabella and Keisha into your care while I’m out handling some unfinished business. I’ll be careful, but just in case something goes wrong (I don’t believe it will), I gave Izabella a copy of Damien’s diary entries where he admitted what he did to me. If that isn’t enough, the entire journal is in my safety deposit box at Tampa Bay and Trust, box number one-nine-seven. I have included the key. I also sent a copy of the pages to my psychiatrist with a note so she can contact the state medical board. Her name is Dr. Victoria Samuelson (but something tells me you know that already, wink). The other key is to Damien’s storage unit at Tampa Bay Storage, unit number one-two-four. The unit is full of Damien’s diaries and medical journals.”
Bruce nodded.
“This is the part that really will be hard to swallow. I’d rather tell you myself, but like I said above, you never know what might happen. It’s in regards to Keisha. There’s no gentle way to break this, so I’ll just spill it out. She’s not Damien’s daughter, she’s–” His heart skipped a beat as the words on the paper leaped out at him.
“She’s what?”
Alec couldn’t speak.
Bruce took the letter from him. He skimmed down to where Alec stopped. “She’s not Damien’s daughter, she’s yours,” he said slowly. “And yes, I’m certain. If Izabella hadn’t told you, I will. I got my memory back today. All of it. I specifically remember running out of birth control pills after a month at the safe house four years ago. Then, you and Bruce came, and all three of us know what happened then. I also remember that I was three days late before Agent Brown made his move. Also, Keisha has a little bit of you in her eyes. Little blue sparkles that can be seen in the light. I don’t know why I never noticed it before. Then again, it wasn’t like I was operating on a full deck at the time. I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Keisha about this until I’m present. Damien is the only father she has ever known. We should talk about how we will break the news to her. Alec, Carter knows I got my memory back. He’s on his way to Tampa. I wouldn’t put it past him to hurt Keisha to get to me. Protect our child. She’s a part of both of us. Love always, Lana.”
Alec couldn’t believe it. He had a kid – with Lana. Under normal circumstances, he would have been overjoyed. Then he realized something. “Bruce, that rat bastard, Damien, had to have known Keisha wasn’t his. He had to have injected Lana with that shit while she was pregnant, right?”
“According to these papers, he did. He gave her the drug after she had to flee the safe house.”
“I’m going to kill him,” Alec sneered.
“Get in line,” Bruce mumbled with a hint of repulsion.
Sirens could be heard in the distance.
****
Damien had driven to the airport. He knew Lacey would call the police. His plan was to leave his car there to make the cops think he got on a plane. Then he was going to carjack someone with a rental. He didn’t want to hurt anyone else, but he would if he had to. His life, freedom, and family came first.
Before he abandoned his car, he decided to look at Layla’s journal more closely. He hoped there was a clue as to where she went. He had been shocked when he had come home unexpectedly to see that his marriage had unraveled. But, after examining Layla’s diary, he was awestruck. It read like a twisted mystery thriller, featuring a criminal, himself, and – an FBI agent who had been screwing his wife.
Either Lacey didn’t know what she was talking about, or she had lied to him on purpose. Layla wouldn’t go back to a guy who had hit her. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn’t do that – memory or no memory. She either went to her mother in Hampton, Virginia, or to Alec Peterson, who lived right in Tampa.
She had always been smart. That’s why he had to be careful and somewhat vague concerning what he told her about her past. One thing out of order, and she would have unraveled the lies four years ago.
I don’t give a damn if you do work for the federal government. You’re not taking my family. You’re not taking my wife!
Damien had to find her, get her to listen to him, and make her understand his side of the story. She was a reasonable woman. She would see that he was desperate for results. That their meeting each other was destiny.
We live the perfect life, and we will again. I’m the only father Keisha has ever had. Layla will take that into consideration. She’ll see reason and–
The driver’s side window shattered with a loud boom, making Damien duck toward the passenger seat.
“Get out of there, you precious mothafucka!” a man yelled as Damien was being yanked out of the Denali.
Sprinkles of glass fell off him as two large black men rustled him away from his vehicle. “I got money. Take it and leave me alone!”
“Shut up, or I’ll blow your brains out right here,” one of them snarled.
They dragged him toward a black limousine. The back door was open. His captors tossed him into the limo like he was a sack of potatoes. As Damien scrambled to turn around, he frantically reached into his pocket for his gun. He heard the car door close.
“Hey!” a man yelled as he grabbed Damien’s hand. It belonged to a black man, and the hand was huge. His gun was pulled out of his grasp like a bully taking candy from a baby. He didn’t even stand a chance.
“Turn around, fool!” the same voice ordered.
Damien turned on his back on the floor to see two black men. One was wearing a dark blue suit with a black tie, and he was sitting in the seat right behind the back window. He was grinning like a Cheshire cat at Damien. The other man, who was humungous and stuffing Damien’s gun in his pocket, was wearing a black T-shirt and black jeans. He was sitting on the opposite seat facing the rear window.
“Well, well, well, Dr. Damien Miles. Gun-toting Dr. Damien Miles,” the man in the Gucci suit goaded. “Get him up. The man is a prestigious neurosurgeon. He should be sitting in a seat, not on the floor like some lackey.”
The big man grabbed Damien by the top of his collar with one hand and pulled him up into the seat next to him like he was picking up a grocery bag.
Damien struggled to get his breathing and nerves under control.
“You know, maybe I was wrong about you. But first, let me thank you for saving us time trying to track you down. We just landed, and my boys spotted your car in the parking lot. When I first saw you, I thought you were some soft-ass MD who had never known a hard day’s work in his life. But now? Having that piece and lurking around at the airport for no reason, I’m starting to wonder. Who are you really?” the man in the suit asked with intrigue.
“Who am I?” Damien asked as he glared at him. “You seem to know who I am already. Who the fuck are you?” he asked with force. He didn’t grow up in a ghetto or a project like some other black males had, but he knew enough to know that he needed to show some strength in this situation.
The man in the suit laughed as his barbarian guard snickered.
“Sorry, brother,” the man said with a little respect. “Where are my manners? My name is Carter Mitchell.”
Damien’s eyebrows rose.
“Ah, so you do know me?” Carter said. “That means you also know I’m Keisha’s natural father.”
Oh, dear God, anybody but him, Damien thought as he pressed his lips together as his loins twisted.
“Easy, Dr. Miles,” Carter soothed. “I don’t mean no disrespect. I just came here for what’s mine. But don’t think I don’t appreciate you looking after my girls all this time.”
Damien just stared at the
over-glorified thug. He would die ten times over before he let this jackass take Layla and Keisha from him.
The driver and passenger side doors opened almost simultaneously. Damien turned around to see the men who threw him in close the doors.
“Hey, boss, he had this in the car. Thought it might be of interest,” one of them said and gave the huge enforcer Layla’s journal.
“I can tell by your facial expression that book is important,” Carter stated.
The big guy started looking through the book.
“While my cousin is checking out your secret diary, you can tell me were Lana is,” Carter said.
Lana. Layla’s birth name.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for the past hour and a half.”
Carter’s thick, dark eyebrow rose.
The big guy looked at Damien.
“Wow. You really don’t know,” Carter remarked. “This ought to be good.”
Damien saw an opportunity to negotiate. “It could be,” he began. “Maybe we can help each other.”
Carter and his cousin looked at him. Then everyone in the limo burst out laughing as the vehicle began to move.
Chapter 44
Lana had gone to the hospital. She had Damien paged twice to the front desk. He never showed up. She had gone to the OR and said she was his wife and asked if he was in surgery. They told her that he had never shown up for his shift, and they had to call in another doctor for an emergency spinal cord surgery. That was what made her think something was wrong. It wasn’t like Damien to shun his responsibilities at the hospital. Thinking that he could have been in an accident or had some sort of health emergency, Lana called the main phone number of the hospital and asked if Damien had been admitted as a patient. No one was listed under that name. She had walked the halls asking nurses if they had seen him. They hadn’t.
“Where the hell is he?” she mumbled as the elevator descended down to the ER lobby. She had parked in the ER parking lot because it was quicker, figuring that as long as she didn’t park in an actual emergency vehicle space, it was fine.
“Layla!” a woman who sounded like Lacey yelled.
Lana turned her head to the left. It was Lacey. She was standing next to a cop who was murmuring on the radio that was hooked on his shoulder.
Lana dashed over to her.
Lacey looked horrible, which was not normal. She was a woman who wouldn’t leave the house without full makeup even when she was jogging. Her foundation looked blotchy like she had been crying. Her runny, smudged mascara and eyeshadow made her look like a raccoon, and her weave was frizzy, like she hadn’t brushed it all day.
“What are you doing here?” Lana asked with concern. “What happened?”
“Your husband shot my husband,” Lacey blurted out.
Lana was so stunned that she stumbled backwards. “What?”
“You heard me. That psycho you married shot my husband,” she said with more emotion. “With your gun.”
Lana just stared at her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“It was the silver one that you have to load each chamber,” Lacey hissed. “I take it you were planning to get on a flight, and that’s why you left it behind.”
Lana didn’t respond because the truth was, she had forgotten about it. She had meant to take it with her along with her diary that was in her vanity drawer. When Izabella had come in and told her about her precarious immigration status, she had forgot all about them. “Why did Damien shoot Corey? They’ve been friends since we moved on Sunset Boulevard.”
“Damien came over and asked if I knew where you and Keisha had gone off to, like we suspected. I didn’t tell him because I didn’t know. Then Damien became unhinged and pulled the gun out of his pocket. I told him you went to New York, which was the last place I knew you would go.” She shook her head. “Long story short, Corey made a grab for the gun. While he and Damien were fighting, I went upstairs for my gun. Before I could get back downstairs, three shots had been fired. I got back downstairs, and Corey was on the floor grasping his shoulder, bleeding. And the door was wide open. I heard tires screeching, and Damien’s SUV whipped by the house.”
“Oh, Lacey,” Lana groaned with sadness. “If I hadn’t gotten you involved—”
“Don’t. Whether I would have been in the loop or not, Damien would have come over to the house looking for you and Keisha.”
He wouldn’t have been as upset if I hadn’t spray painted Memrose on the living room wall. It made him snap.
“Where’s Corey now?”
“They just wheeled him into surgery. The EMTs said he lost a lot of blood. At first, the ER doctor thought he could patch him up down here, but he found that a bullet fragment was lodged in his shoulder, and the wound caused more damage than he first thought. If the fragment isn’t removed carefully, Corey could lose feeling in that shoulder for the rest of his life.”
“Uh,” Lana said and hugged Lacey. “I’m sorry.”
Damien, you psychotic asshole.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but did I hear Mrs. Smith call you Layla?” the officer asked. He was a bald-headed white man with a gut.
She let go of Lacey. “Yes.”
“Mrs. Layla Miles?” he confirmed.
“Yes, apparently my . . . husband shot my best friend’s husband,” she admitted.
“Ma’am, did Mrs. Smith tell you it was your weapon that shot Mr. Smith?”
“She did, and I do have a license for it,” Lana said before he even asked.
“Well, that’s good to know, but I still need to ask you a few questions.”
“That’s fine.”
He asked her a few question about Damien and why did she think that he shot Corey. She explained to the officer that she had taken their daughter and left him.
“Do you have a picture of your husband with you?”
“On my phone,” Lana said.
“That’s fine. I’ll give you my number to text it to me, and I’ll send it out as an update on the APB.”
She pulled her phone out of her purse, and that’s when she realized she had turned it off earlier to save on the battery. As the phone booted up, it chimed and dinged. Maybe Damien had sent her a message. Matter of fact, she had received several messages. She sent the picture to the cop and then read her text messages. Three of them were from Damien, begging her to meet him so he could explain. He had also called three times. Alec had called twice and left a voicemail. He had texted, too. The text said to contact him as soon as possible.
The cop got on his radio again.
She started listening to her voicemail. When Damien’s voice started talking on the first one, she stopped it and moved to Alec’s message.
“Lana, call me as soon as you can. I have to tell you something. Forget about chasing Damien down. It’s not as important as this.” The message stopped. He sounded a little frantic.
“Officer, I really have to go. Are we done?” Lana asked.
“We’re done with the questions, but I can’t let you leave, Mrs. Miles. Not until the other officers arrive.”
“What?” Lacey and Lana asked at the same time.
“There’s an APB out on you. You’re not under arrest or under suspicion for anything. The orders are to detain you until the FBI arrive.”
“Whoa,” Lacey replied.
Lana knew it was Alec. What the hell was he doing? She figured he would call the feds concerning the diary pages, but why had he gotten the cops to put an APB out on her?
****
Carter, Hugo, and Walt got off the elevator at the country club. Hugo’s Tampa guys had called and said that they had Keisha and were waiting for him. The rest of Carter’s boys had taken Damien to a warehouse at the docks that Hugo’s connections told them about.
Hugo opened the suite door and let Carter walk in first. The little light-skinned girl with her hair in a ponytail was sitting on the sofa clutching a small bag. She was prettier in person. Hugo’s new guys we
re sitting in the armchairs. They put their phones away and stood when Carter and Hugo got closer to them.
“Carter, this is Pinky and Dock,” Hugo said.
They nodded their head at him as a greeting. They were dressed like young punks.
“What are you boys’ real names?” Carter asked.
“Mine is Clive.”
The other looked to the side and then back at Carter. “Lucas.”
“That’s not bad,” Carter said to Lucas. “Where’s her mother?”
“We only had one chance to take either one or the other without making a big scene,” Clive said. He had on jeans that were two sizes too big for him, and they sagged. The bandana on his head was white and black.
“Yeah, man. We figured the little shawty was the bigger priority. We can go back for moms later,” Lucas said. His black jeans weren’t as baggy as Clive’s, but his afro looked like he hadn’t combed it in a week.
Carter couldn’t believe that they were able to walk into the country club dressed like they were. “Did you guys come through the front?”
“Nah, there was a back door. We paid a laundry guy a few bucks to let us in. He was cool. Just a dude down on his luck. He didn’t ask any questions,” Clive said.
“Your man, Q, let us in the room. He’s in the bathroom now,” Lucas said.
“All right, tell me exactly what happened,” Carter said.
“We got lucky. We found her moms driving around an old project with the kid in the back not far from our set. Then we noticed an old woman in the front seat with her. We waited to see if she was going to drop the old woman off before we made our move, thinking it would be best if we didn’t have to deal with her. Your old lady drove for a while until she stopped at this apartment building. The old woman got out with luggage, and then she took the kid out of the car. Your woman drove off. We saw our chance to grab the kid, so we did.”
“What happened to the old woman?” Hugo asked.
“Aw, she wasn’t much to fight off,” Lucas said with a nasty smirk. “She had a little spunk, though.”
“She’s still alive?” Hugo whispered.
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