by Marie Wathen
Plopping my ass on the barstool across from him, I drag my hand down my face and exhale loudly. “I trust you. It’s just…”
“What?”
“How well do you really know him?”
“Meaning…” he leads, stopping his work and propping both hands on the counter to study me closely.
“Outside of the trap house, did you and Natalie spend any time with him and Angel?”
“Yeah…at Holidays’.”
Playing it cool, I nod my head and then state, “There is something that I want to ask you, and I need for you to not push the issue. Just tell me what you know.”
Before responding, he turns to the sink, washes his hands and grabs up the towel to dry off. Leaning his back against the counter, he leads, “All right…”
“Does Rad beat Angel?”
His face contorts into puzzlement and he crosses his arms tightly. “Where in the hell is this coming from?”
“No!” I shout feeling the pressure of hostility threatening to burst through the barrier of protection that I have up, keeping me sane through all this madness. I can’t let him see how much this is getting to me, so I pull myself together and explain, “I need to know. Now, if you’re not going to tell me, then just fucking forget that I even asked.”
“Easy, man.” Staring at me hard, he drops his arms then walks back over to the counter, leaning his elbows on it. “I don’t think he is stupid enough to do something like that to Angel.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
He smirks. “Well, from the first day that I met her, I could tell that she is a real spitfire. During her confrontation with Lourdes, she shoved the shit out of her, dude. Then after Lourdes struck her, Angel drew her fist back like a pro. I mean, her posture was perfect, and her reflexes were instinctive. On more than one occasion, I’ve watched Rad cower down simply because of a warning look that she had shot him.” Smiling, he rises up and with a chuckle in his voice, he surmises, “If anything, I think that she could beat his ass.”
“How certain are you?”
“Eth, is something going on that I need to know? If he’s abusing her, he dies.”
Hesitating to consider his idea, I shake my head and then explain, “I’m just trying to get a feel for the guy. I didn’t get a chance to hang out with him, so I’m asking all of this because…” I pause again. “You know what will be required of me if I can’t keep him under control.”
He nods, shifts his eyes away and then changes the subject, “Decks has ordered me to deal with Juan.”
“No!” I shout again standing up swiftly, and he glares at me. “Goddammit, Nelson ordered him not to do that. I’ll talk to him.”
“Probably not a good idea,” he counters. “Decks would suspect our connection if he knows that I told you.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Jude. You know this is going to end with someone dying, and losing you is not an option.” Anger pulses through my muscles, making my fists clench and my jaw tick uncontrollably.
“Let’s just ride it out,” he presses with a lighter tone, trying to calm me. “Who knows, I might just get Juan to accept a deal with Decks and save everyone necks.”
“The last time that Juan got screwed over, he made an example of the gang out of California. After he killed five members, he sent packages of their body parts to their families all over the country. No one fucks over the Hijos and comes out unscathed.”
“What options do we have?”
“You’re going back to Baltimore,” I tell him.
His eyebrows pinch in. “And you?”
“He won’t touch me, or Decks, but we can’t say the same thing about you.”
“Eth,” he starts and then sighs in frustration, so I cut him off.
“I won’t take no for an answer. I can get this shit settled up without your help.” He shakes his head. “Listen, Jude, when we came into this you knew it was dangerous, but you kept your nose clean every step of the way. This isn’t your fuck up.” I tap a finger against my chest and shake my head. “I assigned Rad when I knew better. It’s on me. I just wish Juan, the son of a bitch, would deal directly with me. But after having his biggest shipment ever busted, he sure as hell won’t discuss it with a former cop.”
“I can’t just leave you in this alone.”
“You won’t be.” Strolling over toward the hallway and pulling out my cell phone, I say, “I know that the county and city have a few agents on the inside. I’ll just find out their identities and invite them to be my eyes and ears now. You can take your little family back home, to Baltimore, and it is not up for discussion. I’m notifying Lassiter today.”
He doesn’t argue, and really I don’t blame him. This battle with Nelson is personal for me, but I won’t let Jude make it his own. Once HLS knows that retaliation is in the cards, they will pull him from the game. Before I have the chance to call, a knock at the door interrupts our conversation. Holding me in a disappointed stare for another minute, he finally breaks away to answer the door. I exhale loudly and drop my head, covering my hands over the back. Fucking Christ, can this shit get any worse?
“What happened, Pat?” Jude rushes out his question. His voice is distressed coming down the hallway, so I rush to find out what the hell is going on.
“I want my mommy!” Simone cries, reaching for her dad. Fearfully, I hold my breath and finally recognize the woman as Jude’s neighbor. Shaking with building rage I wait for her to explain why the baby is crying uncontrollably.
“Okay, pretty girl,” Jude soothes. “What happened?”
About a second later, the back door slams loudly, and Natalie runs toward us, like a mother panther on the prowl to destroy whoever hurt her baby cub. Calmly, she orders, “Give her to me, Jude.” Simone leaps into Natalie’s arms, burying her face into her mommy’s neck and crying pitifully. Natalie carries her daughter into the guest bath near the back door and calls back, “Thanks, Pat.”
“She fell off the ladder trying to get inside the tree house.” Pat’s eyes are wide and she is panting, like she ran here. “It was only a couple of feet, but she landed on her back. After she caught her breath, she got up on her own and screamed for Natalie. I guess she heard me bringing her home.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Jude reaches for the door, closing it. “Natalie is a pro with booboos.”
Stepping away from the front stoop, Pat points a finger toward her house. “Tell her that it is fine for Dean to stay over with the boys.” Jude nods. “I’ll call later to check on Simone.” She leaves, and Jude’s breath blows out in a loud puff.
“I swear, if Nat wasn’t around to take care of these things I would go fucking insane.” He chuckles, slapping a hand on my back, and then admits, “I love her with every bit of my heart, but Simone is clumsier than Agent Jefferson wearing six inch hooker heels during the bust on that ring of pimp politicians in D.C. a few years back. You remember the video that I have saved on my phone?” he asks, but I don’t respond. I can’t because my head is spinning. “That seven foot bastard fell on his face every two steps, but my baby girl has him beat tenfold on injuries.”
I think that was a joke. He’s laughing like it is the funniest shit ever, but my adrenaline is pumping through me so fast and wildly that I just can’t laugh. I hate seeing his daughter so upset and I feel like hitting something. Without another word, he shifts around and walks back into the kitchen, resuming his cooking duties as if nothing ever happened. Staring into the empty space that he vacated, I slowly follow suit, taking up my post on the barstool and looking at him like he’s crazy.
A figure moves past the sliding glass door, catching my attention. Rising from my seat, I cross the distance in just three wide steps. My breathing comes in heavy gasps, and I feel goose bumps igniting all over my body beholding the most beautiful scene. Natalie steps out the back door, located off the laundry room, carrying Simone in her arms. Her tears have been replaced with a dazzling smile. She wiggles needing out of her mo
ther’s arm, so Natalie sets her down onto her bare feet. With tiny legs, she takes off in a full-blown sprint and then leaps into Angel’s outstretched arms. Angel lifts the little doll high up into the air and spins around several times, making Simone giggle. Angel’s head is thrown back, her eyes shine bright and her full smile, growing wider by the second, is the most mesmerizing thing that I have ever witnessed. Long, dark brown waves of shiny hair drape down below the curve of her sexy lower back. She is wearing a pink string bikini top and a pair of soft, pink shorts with “Pink” written in white letters on the backside. Fuck, I like her in pink. She looks so perfect, the star of my dreams doing exactly what I prayed she would do when she met Simone Kingsley. She is in love. And I love seeing her that way. Holy shit, did I really just think that?
A large hand clasps over my shoulder and my serenity leaves the building instantly. “Looks like she got over it quickly,” Jude says, peeking around me and referring to his toddler no longer acting like her falling episode is the end of the world.
“What is she doing here?” I growl, hoping to cover for the way I looked when he caught me gawking at Angel.
“I think my wife has found a new project.”
I jerk my head around and glare at him. What does that bullshit mean? “What is Natalie up to?” Angel isn’t some charity case.
“Ah, she’s just befriending Angel,” he corrects, turning around and walking back over to the platter of food. “I think if you hung around a little, you might actually like Angel too. Since Rad is in lockup, she will be staying with us indefinitely, so you’ll get the chance.” My chest constricts and I stare at his back with my jaw clenching harshly. She’s living here? Twisting around, he repeats, “She really is cool.”
My eyes drift back outside and I spot Angel slipping off the shorts, revealing a matching pair of bikini bottoms right before she dives flawlessly into the deep end of the pool, and I hold back a groan. She pops up out of the water, pushing her hair back while smiling up at Simone who is flapping her swimmy covered arms. Desperately, I want to join them and be the reason for them both being happy every day. I can’t explain what is happening to me, but I know that I can’t do this. I shouldn’t be fantasizing about a life with Angel, because that is definitely something that I do not deserve.
“You know what,” I state turning around and seeing him walking toward the back door with all of the meats and veggies that he has prepared for a backyard barbeque. “I’m heading out. I have some things that I need to take care of before heading up to meet Attacus tomorrow.”
“What?” he asks, confused by my sudden escape plan. “Ah shit, hang around and drink a few. I guarantee that these steaks will be the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted.” I doubt they’ll beat that slice of heaven out in his backyard. There isn’t a more decadent taste than Angel. “Also, I really think you should give Angel a chance.” I pierce him with a confused look. “I told you, she is cool, a real sweetheart. Eth, the girl could use some friends to get her through this shit while Rad is locked up. Don’t you think?” I turn back, seeing her spinning in a circle with Simone, allowing the little cutie to tip her head back, so that her hair drags through the water. “Stay. Get to know her.”
“Can’t, but thanks,” I say, heading toward the front door without turning back around. “Besides, I’m sure that Natalie will be more than enough friend for her. Later.” As if beasts from hell were hot on my ass, I break away from that scene feeling like if I don’t leave now there may not be any chance of escape for me. I must keep my distance from Angel which means that I can’t hang out with my best friends anymore.
Chapter Twelve
Thrusting open the front door of my beach house, I must shove hard a few times before I can get inside. Along with different articles of clothing, there are pillows from the sofas and beds strewn around everywhere, and three of them are responsible for blocking me.
Sighing and feeling hostile, I shout, “Attacus!” No response. “Attacus, where in the hell are you?” I kick a few items out of the pathway, leading toward the kitchen and groan. “You are one nasty motherfucker.” There isn’t one clean dish left in the cabinets. And I don’t even want to know what the hell that purple furry stuff is on the side of the refrigerator. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I drop a bag of groceries on the counter, stuff the cold foods in the fridge, and then weave my way through the crap haphazardly dropped in the middle of the hallway.
I open my bedroom door and release another loud huff when I discover at least one room that hasn’t been hit by Tornado Tac. Tossing my duffle bag onto the bed, I unpack quickly and then strip off my jeans and button-down, changing into a pair of running shorts. After a delayed flight, I am feeling caged. A long run down the beach will definitely clear my head and ease up the aggression circuiting through me. I hit the beach and the salty ocean air fills my lungs, giving me a serene attitude almost immediately.
Two hours later, I arrive back at the house and I am beat. Climbing the stairs that lead up to my private bedroom, I reach the top and turn around, taking in the view of the midday sun hanging high above the pale blue waters. I lean forward pressing my arms against the railing, and then thrust my hands through my sweaty hair.
“I thought I heard someone out here,” my brother claims, stepping outside alone. I glance behind him, wondering where his guest is.
“You run her off with your sloth-like revulsion to cleanliness?”
He laughs. “Nah, she’s napping. Three days of me wore her cute little ass out.”
“Yeah,” I snort, twisting around and leaning my back against the rail.
“Rough flight?” he asks, kicking back on one of the lounge chairs, and roping his hands behind his head, making his tee-shirt stretch tight. He intentionally makes his biceps jump wildly and I roll my eyes at his cockiness. My brother looks almost exactly like me with olive skin tone and dark brown hair. The only differences are the three inches in height he has on me and light hazel eyes.
“Six damn hours, and most of it was because of some damn incident on the tarmac in Atlanta,” I reply tersely while I pat my pockets, searching for a cigarette.
“No pockets in your running shorts, dumb ass.”
I cut a pissed off look at him and grunt before walking into my bedroom in search of a smoke. Popping open the lock on my briefcase, I dig into the top pocket and pull out the pack. Before I can return to the deck, Attacus steps inside my room.
“Still smoking those damn things, huh?” He stifles a laugh, and I shove past him to go out again. “Hey Ethan, is something else bothering you?”
“Nope,” I answer.
Following me out, he observes me for a solid minute before he surmises, “You’re all wound up today. Well, more than your usual intense self. Tell me that you didn’t leave your cock and balls back in Georgia with Lourdes.” He laughs. I don’t. “Okay…Touchy subject?”
Holding back the irritated growl, I reply in a huff, “No.”
“Ethan,” he snaps, but I ignore him focusing on the curl of smoke wafting off the end of my just lit cigarette. “Are you pissed about the house being a mess?”
Glancing down at my feet, I shake my head and tell him, “I’m going to take a shower. I brought groceries because I figured that you’ve eaten your way through all the stuff that Liselle ordered.” I look up and see his proud smile. “I don’t think I feel like hanging out so I’ll contact the captain to have my plane ready in an hour.”
“You sure?”
I nod.
“You know, I like the sound that you make when you shut up,” he jokes, I still don’t laugh. “A’ight,” he resigns and then walks inside, leaving me alone to finish my smoke.
Inside my bedroom, my phone beeps with text messages. I crush out the fire and then retrieve my cell. Noticing that I have ten messages, I click open the first one.
LOURDES: WHERE R U
Immediately following that ridiculous text, Lourdes sent eight more, similar to this one.
LOURDES: R U SCREWING HER AGAIN????
LOURDES: UR NOT CALLING SO U MUST B!!!
LOURDES: THIS IS FUCKED UP ETHAN
LOURDES: Y WON’T U CALL
LOURDES: U HAVE 1 MIN TO TEXT ME BACK
LOURDES: OR I’M BELIEVING THAT U R
LOURDES: ETHAN!!!!!
LOURDES: DECKS SAID U WENT TO S.C. I WOULD HAVE GONE WITH : (
I delete all of these and then respond back to the last one remaining in my chat box, because it’s the only one that matters.
WISE: Taking Simone to the hospital. Broke finger running around pool
ME: Go 2 Canton Children’s. Ask for Dr. Gretchen & tell her I sent U
WISE: Old girlfriend, hmm???
ME: Get UR ASS there
WISE: LMAO Text U L8R
Since I’m not doing anyone any damn good here, I rush through my shower and then pack up quickly. Getting back to check on the baby is my only concern now. I refuse to focus on my shitty attitude, or anything and anyone else back home.
As I enter the living room, I see Attacus and a short curly haired brunette swaying to a country song while kissing. Ignoring the make-out session, I stroll into the kitchen and grab a beer. Then I send a text to the pilot, letting him know to prepare the plane.
“I’m firing up the grill for an early dinner,” Attacus tells me, looking up from his date. “At least, stay and eat with me and Bobbie. Then, if you insist, you can leave, and I promise that I won’t give you shit about bailing.” I resign the argument seeing sincerity on his face. I am exhausted somewhat from all the crazy weekend’s harsh events, but mostly because this beach house is my tranquil place when I must escape–today is the epitome of that need. I nod my agreement to my determined brother, and then call my driver and pilot, cancelling my plans to return home early. I also check on the Kingsley’s, finding out that Simone will be fine and that her finger was only dislocated.