Truth or Consequences

by Sharon C. Cooper

  Too tired to reopen her eyes, she could hear Malik pacing next to the bed. She didn’t want him to blame himself, and she also wanted him to stop with his investigation.

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  He bent down next to the bed and brushed her hair away from her face. “Why don’t you try to get some rest?”

  The tenderness of his touch near her ear made her close her eyes. If he were trying to put her back to sleep, it was working, but she didn’t want to go to sleep yet.

  “Baby, you need your rest. Why are you fighting sleep?” he asked when she reopened her eyes. “It’s clear that you’re tired. Besides, the doctor said that you need mental and physical rest. So close those beautiful brown eyes and get some sleep.”

  “I want you and Wiz to drop your investigation,” she said softly, ignoring his comment. “Finding answers regarding the missing babies and Dr. Halsey’s death is the hospital’s responsibility. Let our team continue with their own investigation.”

  She thought he would explode or release a string of curse words, but he didn’t. Instead, he just stared at her, still caressing her cheek.

  “When you were attacked last night, this turned personal.” His baritone voice held an edge she hadn’t heard before. She didn’t want him in danger, but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t be the one hurt.

  “You’re not at war in some mid-eastern country. We’re in Chicago. Going vigilante on someone or people can get you put in jail, or worse … the morgue. I couldn’t handle either of those scenarios. I don’t,” a sharp pain stabbed through her head, “I don’t … want to live without you.” Natasha slammed her eyes shut, her hands fisting the sheets at her side as she tried to control the pounding in her head.

  “Natasha. Tasha?”

  Malik called her name several times, but the pain was too great. She couldn’t respond. Instead of pushing the button for the nurse, Natasha felt him leave her side and then heard him go out into the hallway.

  It was taking everything she had not to cry out. Tears welled up behind her eyelids and slowly slid down her cheeks. Bile rose to her throat and she found her voice.

  “Malik.” The words came out in a ragged whisper. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.” Her voice was so low she could barely hear herself.

  “I’m right here.” He miraculously appeared with an emesis basin in his hand.

  “Mal—” She grabbed her mid-section and gagged, quickly turning to the side to empty her stomach. She moaned, feeling as if she was upchucking all of her insides, her head too heavy to hold up.

  Malik handed her some tissue just as the nurse rushed in. Natasha heard them talking, but it seemed their voices were getting further and further away.

  “We’re going to have to hook her up to an IV. She’s lost too much fluid in the past four hours. I don’t want to risk her getting dehydrated.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Natasha heard Malik ask before she slowly slipped back into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty

  Malik sat in the same chair that he’d fallen asleep in, still keeping vigil over Natasha. He wanted nothing more than for her to get the rest she needed, but it didn’t seem as if she were getting any better. She was hooked up to an IV and hadn’t thrown up in the past few hours, but she still looked pale. The dreams, or maybe nightmares, had her jerking and whimpering in her sleep. It was killing him seeing her like this.

  He stood when someone knocked on the door and it slid opened. “Can I come in?” Wiz asked.

  Malik waved him in. Natasha was jerking in her sleep, mumbling something he couldn’t understand, and just when he started to wake her, she stopped. He hoped she wasn’t reliving the attack because every time he imagined what she must’ve gone through, his stomach clenched into a tight knot.

  “How she doing?”

  “About the same,” Malik replied, noticing the bags in his friend’s hands. He had asked Wiz to swing by his house and pick up a few items. It also looked as if he’d brought something from the bakery up the street, as well as coffee.

  “You look like shit,” Wiz said, handing Malik the overnight bag.

  “Thanks. I feel like shit.” Malik carried his overnight bag into the attached bathroom to freshen up and change. Fifteen minutes later, he walked out feeling better.

  “By the way, Vicky has Tank and she said to not worry about the office. Everything is under control.”

  “That’s good to hear. I’ll give her a call a little later.”

  “Oh, and before I forget. Remember that guy you asked me to look in to, Ray Newton?”

  Malik had just lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, but set it down. “Yeah, what about him?”

  “Who is he?”

  “What do you mean who is he? He’s the person I wanted you to do some research on. He works here at the hospital and he’s been hanging around Natasha a little more than I’d prefer. Besides that, there’s something about him that doesn’t sit right with me.” Wiz looked at him strangely. “What?”

  “I did some preliminary research on him, and it’s as if the guy doesn’t exist. I found a driver’s license for him, but nothing else.”

  “Nothing?”

  Wiz shook his head. “My first thought was that maybe he was a part of witness protection, but even then I’d be able to find a social security number, birth certificate, something.”

  Malik took a sip of the steaming hot coffee, tossing different scenarios around in his head of why nothing came up for Ray. Even when Wiz did preliminary searches, he always came back with some information. This news only made Malik more suspicious of the guy.

  “Get off of me!” someone yelled on the other side of the door.

  “What the …” Malik looked over at Natasha, glad to see whoever was in the hallway pitching a fit hadn’t awakened her.

  He and Wiz hurried out of the room to find Stan holding Martin by his lapels up against the wall.

  “Get off me. Let me go!” Martin yelled, fighting against Stan who happened to be fifty pounds heavier and towered over Martin by at least six inches.

  Two nurses along with security headed in their direction.

  “You handle this and I’ll take care of them,” Wiz said of the nurses and hospital security.

  “Stan, let him go,” Malik instructed. “Lockham, why are you here?”

  Martin shook out of Stan’s grasp. “I want to see her.” He charged toward Natasha’s door, but Malik blocked his way. “I’m not leaving until I see Tasha and you have no right to keep me away from her!”

  “Oh, I have every right.” Malik’s voice was low and menacing as he felt his patience slipping. “You’re not going anywhere near her unless I decide—”

  “I’m sick of this crap!” Martin jabbed his finger at Malik. “First your guy yesterday, and now you … no, I’m not putting up with this.”

  “Hold up. What guy from yesterday?” Malik asked.

  “Oh don’t play dumb with me,” Martin huffed, putting his hands on his waist as he paced in front of Malik, who was still blocking Natasha’s door. “The man you had working at her house yesterday. I went over, expecting Natasha to be there, and—”

  “Wait. You saw someone at her house yesterday?” Malik signaled for Wiz to come over.

  “Yeah, he was working on her alarm system. Told me that if I didn’t leave her alone, he’d put a bullet in my head. So is that what you promote at your company? Violence?”

  Malik scrubbed his hand down his face, grateful there was a witness to what the guy looked like, yet a little pissed that they didn’t know about this yesterday.

  “He wasn’t one of my guys. He might’ve been the man who attacked Natasha last night.”

  “What?”

  Malik gave him a condensed version of the night before, thinking Martin might be their only lead in catching the guy.

  “Would you be willing to talk to the police and work with a sketch artist, describing to them the man you saw?” Wiz asked.

  �
��Of course, but … I need to know, how is she?”

  “She’s banged up a little, but they say she’s going to be fine.”

  “I’d like to see her.” Malik started to speak, but stopped when Martin lifted his hand. “She’s made it very clear that she and I are over, but I’m not going to lie to you. I still care about her. I just want to see that she’s okay and to make things right between her and I. If you let me talk to her, I promise neither of you will hear from me again.”

  Malik studied the man who had once been the divide between him getting to know Natasha. He had to admit that if he were in Martin’s shoes, he’d probably be the same way—not wanting to let her go.

  Malik and Natasha rode in the back of a town car as Stan maneuvered through the streets of Evanston, Illinois, where Malik lived. Malik felt as if he hadn’t been home in weeks, versus the two days spent in the hospital with Natasha.

  He kissed the top of Natasha’s head, which was resting against his chest.

  She snuggled closer, and her arms tightened around his waist. “Why are you so tense?” She raised her gaze to meet his. Her eyes still weren’t as bright as usual, but he did see a little color returning to her cheeks.

  “I thought you were asleep.” He ran his hand up and down the side of her body, glad to have her in his arms again.

  “I think I dozed off for a minute, but the anxiety bouncing off of you is making me a little uneasy. What’s on your mind?”

  Retaliation was on his mind. For the last couple of days, all he could think about was finding the person who put her in the hospital and beating the hell out of him. However, he wouldn’t tell her that. He also had no intention of telling her that before the night was over, Alonso Black was going to regret the day he decided to kill innocent women and sell their babies.

  “Well?” Natasha straightened and pulled away from him.

  “I have a lot on my mind and some things to work out.”

  They drove into the garage. The moment felt like déjà vu to Malik. He couldn’t help remembering the first time he’d brought Natasha to his home. Like then, he felt as if he had failed her. Each incident could’ve been prevented.

  Stan opened the back door. “Thanks, man, we’ll meet you inside,” Malik said before turning to Natasha. “Do you need me to carry you?”

  Her head rested against the backseat. Although she smiled at him, her drooping eyes showed her exhaustion, a clear sign that she still wasn’t a hundred percent. “I’m starting to think that you just like carrying me around.” She grabbed hold of his hand, but didn’t make a move to leave the car.

  “I do, but you don’t seem to like it.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like being carried, it’s just that I don’t want to feel so needy and helpless.”

  “Baby, nobody would ever accuse you of being needy and helpless. Besides I like it when you need me.” And he did. She didn’t ask much of him, but when she did, he’d stick his chest out feeling good that he could make his woman happy. He’d never wanted to do for a woman as much as he wanted to do for Natasha, and couldn’t explain the overwhelming desire to protect and care for her. Sure, he might’ve been a little possessive at times, but only because she meant the world to him.

  She leaned forward in the seat and squeezed his hand. “Okay … will you carry me?” she asked quietly and looked up at him with shy eyes. “Not because I need you to, but because I love it when you carry me.”

  He kissed her and lifted her carefully in his arms. In only two days, she felt as if she’d lost weight, and as far as he was concerned, he preferred her with a little meat on her bones.

  He carried her into the house, Tank tight on his heels, and headed for the stairs. She stopped him before he hit the first step.

  “I’ve been cooped up in a hospital for two days. I’d prefer to stay down here in the family room for a while.”

  The moment he set her on the sofa, Tank was right by her side, excited to see her.

  “Hey boy,” Natasha cooed, hugging the big dog, his drool catching the side of her face. “I’ve missed you too.” Malik was surprised at how quickly the two had bonded, and since he planned on never letting her go, it was a good thing.

  Malik rubbed the dog’s strong back and didn’t feel slighted that Tank was showering all of his attention on Natasha.

  “All right, Tank, look after her,” he said and Tank barked as if he understood. To Natasha Malik said, “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He was about to walk away when she grabbed hold of his hand.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  He kissed her lips. “Not right now, but maybe later.” Right now he needed a release, and since sex was out of the question, he headed to his workout room.

  “When Wiz gets here, let him know I’m in the dungeon,” Malik said to Stan, who was sitting at the kitchen counter eating.

  “Will do.”

  Stick and move. Stick and move, Malik chanted an hour later as he threw punch after punch at the boxing bag hanging in his workout room. Sweat dripped from his body like perspiration on a cold beer bottle. He shuffled his feet, landing a straight right, then an uppercut with his left. Stick and move. Stick and move.

  “You gon’ stay down here and continue beating the hell out that bag or are you ready to expend some of that energy beating the hell out of Alonso Black? Or as Street insists on calling him, Lawyer Man?”

  Malik stopped and wrapped his arms around the bag, partly to stop it from moving and partly to help him catch his breath. “Just say when. I still have a lot of pent-up energy to get rid of.” According to the clock on the wall, he’d been in the basement for over an hour. With every punch to the boxing bag, came more thoughts and concerns about the case, Natasha’s safety, and their relationship.

  “Your woman is worried about you. Should she be?”

  Malik grabbed the towel that he had tossed on a nearby weight bench and wiped his face. “I’m good.” Dropping the towel, he slipped into a black T-shirt.

  “Are you? Because you don’t look like you’re good.”

  “Wiz, don’t start this shit.” Malik pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator behind the bar in the game room. “Just let me know what time to be ready to pay Black a visit.”

  Wiz sat on one of the barstools and opened a file. “Your guys didn’t find anything on his underground operation when they dropped by his downtown Chicago penthouse. I’m thinking he keeps everything at his estate outside of Schaumburg.” They looked over the home’s blueprints and discussed how many people they’d need to infiltrate the property. “I’m thinking we go in tonight.”

  “Tonight, huh?” Schaumburg was only forty-five minutes from Malik’s home in Evanston, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Natasha so soon after her release from the hospital.

  “I’m not sure when we’ll get another chance, but if you’d prefer, Stan and I can oversee everything. I also thought about letting Sheldon know what we’ve found—”

  “No. Don’t tell Sheldon yet. He’ll be pissed, but I want to pay Lawyer Man a visit first. Not only for what he did to Susan, but I need to know who his enforcer is. If Sheldon and his men get to Black first, they may screw things up and this enforcer guy might disappear. Assuming he hasn’t already.”

  Wiz closed the file and scratched his head. “We initially started all of this to get answers about Susan and the baby. Yet this case has clearly evolved to more than I think either of us expected. Maybe you should tell me what you have in mind for Black. Just so I’ll know whether I need to remind you of what country we’re in. That mess with Quinn and Alandra a few months ago could have put all of our asses in jail. I don’t want a repeat. I promised Olivia a drama free life going forward and I intend to make good on my promise.”

  Malik hadn’t made those types of promises, but now that Natasha was in his life, it was probably time for him to make some changes. Especially if he wanted to keep her in his life.

&n
bsp; “Malik?”

  Malik’s head shot up at the sound of Natasha’s voice. And as usual, his body reacted immediately to the sight of her. Even with the sexy bed-head thing going on, black yoga pants, and an old fitted T-shirt, he was still drawn to her. She stood at the bottom of the steps, looking unsure whether or not she’d be welcome down in his dungeon. And of course, Tank was right by her side.

  “Hey baby.” He placed his water bottle down and went to her. “You probably should have some shoes on down here,” he said. “This floor is too cold to walk around barefoot.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down. “Well, when you come upstairs, can we talk?”

  “Actually, feel free to talk now. I’m outta here,” Wiz said, grabbing the folder and tucking it under his arm. “Tree, I’ll work out the details and hit you up later. Tasha, sweetheart,” he kissed her on the cheek, “I hope you’re feeling better soon.”

  “Thanks, Cameron.”

  After Wiz left the basement, Malik swooped Natasha into his arms. “Before you say anything, I’m carrying you so that you don’t have to walk on this cold floor.” He carried her to the other side of the basement to his media room. He sat in one of the leather recliners and held her on his lap. “Are you feeling okay? You still look a little tired.”

  She gave a slight shrug. “I feel all right.” She snuggled against him. “I wasn’t sure when you were coming back upstairs, so I figured I’d come down for a minute. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course I don’t mind.” He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the way she squirmed against him. “You’re sitting on my lap. Can’t you tell how happy I am to see you?” he asked close to her ear, moving his hips beneath her.

  She laughed and wrapped one of her arms around his neck. “Yeah, I thought something was going on down there.” She sighed and turned serious. “Malik, I want to know what’s bothering you. I felt the change in your mood yesterday morning and I can’t help but wonder if it has something to do with me. Does it bother you that I’m staying here for a while?”