Black Surrender (A Kelly Black Affair Book 7)

by C. J. Thomas

  Drake may have started by making a case against Madam but, throughout his journey, the story must have revealed more about Stone. Madam had tasked me with convicting him, throwing my defense to lock him up. She stole what he’d built. Capitalized off the market he’d created. It was all there, everything except Stone’s confession.

  Stone seemed the least worried. The one constant who sat patiently awaiting his time to be released. It was as if he knew this day would come. All he had to do was make sure he had his chess pieces placed accordingly, then Check Mate.

  I stopped and shoved my fingers through my hair.

  It would be stupid of me to not wonder if maybe my recusing myself was even part of his grand scheme. If it was, did he do so to protect me? Or to test my loyalty? It was the latter, I feared.

  My gaze landed on my blinking answering machine.

  Someone was acting out his plan. But who? And should I be afraid now that I’d turned my back?

  I reached for the ‘play’ button and listened to a series of messages. A part of me expected to eventually hear from Madam, seeking representation. She never did call, and neither did Oscar. I was thankful for that and ignored the rest of the calls, knowing my mind was set on finding evidence that linked Madam to my family’s murders. It was all I cared about. I was consumed.

  I slammed my knuckles into the top of my wooden desk.

  A flash of searing pain let me know that I was still alive.

  I had nothing. Nothing to show for all my work. Even with Madam’s confession to Kendra, I had nothing I could use that would lead to a conviction. And that was what was so frustrating. I knew she’d done it and, even worse, I knew she would get away with it.

  I scrambled across the office and yanked open another filing cabinet.

  The need for revenge boiled my blood with a relentless desire to strike back at anybody who stood in my way. Diverting my attention away from Stone, I skirted passed Madam and put my mind to placing Angel at Echo.

  Picking up the desk phone, I made several calls with hopes of getting Angel on video, placing her at the scene the day I first received Stone’s note—Look what you made me do. Met by only roadblocks, I felt helpless until the line rang.

  “Kelly Black,” I answered.

  “Kelly, it’s Parker.”

  My spine straightened. There was something inside Timothy Parker’s voice that caused me to hold my breath. Thinking back to the last time we’d talked, I wondered if he had taken the time to do a little research himself. “What can I do for you?”

  “There’s a rumor blowing around that I wanted to run by you.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “As I understand it, Stone will be released due to a technicality.”

  “We must be listening to the same bickering birds.”

  “So you’ve heard it, too?”

  “I have.” I went on to explain in further detail Stone’s plan to use Oscar’s corruption as reason to have his charges dropped.

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “I’m not sure it is,” I said. “Though, between you and me, even the mayor doesn’t approve of the ADA’s maneuver.”

  “If Stone gets released, then I’m surely going to be arrested for Tonya’s murder.”

  I paused to decide if I should bother sharing my thoughts about Tonya. After a moment, I decided that I had nothing to lose. We discussed the recent coverage of Mint and how I thought maybe Stone was behind the strategy to take the public’s focus off of him and Angel. “The more time that passes without the police making an arrest, the harder it is going to prove that Angel killed Tonya and you didn’t.”

  “What do you need, Kelly?”

  Smiling, I said, “I need your money.”

  “What for?”

  “To discreetly purchase the coverage needed to control the dialogue.” Parker took his time to mull over what exactly I was asking him to do. “You think you can do that?”

  “I can’t take the fall for what Angelina Davis did.”

  “Then do what I say.”

  Parker blew out a heavy sigh. “It’s the best chance I have, isn’t it?”

  “It’s your only chance.”

  We ended our call and I placed the phone back in the cradle, knowing this was our only shot. Timothy Parker had the resources and connections to media and communications better than anybody I knew. Wes and I could handle the rest. Once the evening news became more about Angel and less about Mint, I could work on my next step to ensure our secret remained buried away forever.

  I glanced to my hand and saw my fingers trembling.

  My pulse ticked in my neck and pellets of sweat dripped from my brow.

  Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. Feeling like I was losing control, I swiped my hand over my desk, clearing it of every single paper and pen. Turning on a heel, I picked up my chair and tossed it against the wall. I flexed my hands into a tight fist and screamed loud enough to rattle the windows.

  Jerking the desk drawer open, I dug for my gun with a strange dark urge to hurt myself.

  Heaving through thick hot breaths, I panted and realized that Kendra still had it with her. I cursed and slammed the same fist down on the desk again before falling into my seat. Burying my face inside my hands, I wept and began speaking to Nora.

  “Why? I don’t know what to do.” Nora never answered.

  I jumped to my feet and paced to the wall. Back and forth, I moved with my hands rooted into my hips. With flaring nostrils, I wanted to quit, step away from representing criminals. I felt guilty for having their tendencies rub off on my own character. I wasn’t making a difference defending. I did more harm than good. Only made things worse. I needed change.

  “Everything would be better if I just left.” I crumbled to the floor and cried.

  Next thing I knew, a gentle hand was rubbing my back. I lifted my head to find Giselle’s glistening eyes staring back. They were filled with concern and pain for what she had witnessed.

  “She won’t answer.” A steady stream scurried down my cheeks. “She never answers.”

  “Who won’t answer?” Her sweet voice filled the room with poise.

  “Nora.”

  Her brow wrinkled as she frowned.

  “She’s fucking dead.”

  “C’mon. Let’s get you up off the floor.” Giselle looped her arm in the crook of mine and pulled me up to my feet. She guided me to my chair and forced me to sit. “I’m going to get you water. Stay put. I’ll be only a second.”

  I watched her leave the room as I blinked my eyes dry, looking around as if I didn’t know where I was. When she was back, I took the water, twisted the cap, and said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Giselle tipped her head to the side.

  “I don’t have any fight left inside of me.”

  “But I do.” She grinned.

  “I don’t know what Stone is up to—”

  “We’ll figure it out, Kelly. We always do.”

  Shaking my head, I glanced to the window, trying to draw inspiration from the sunlight shining bright against the city backdrop. Then I rolled my neck and asked, “What did Drake have to say?”

  Giselle smiled. “Not to worry. They know what we know.”

  34

  Kendra

  I dropped Alex off at her doctor’s office before heading home.

  After our surprise encounter with Lucky, we’d driven mostly in silence. We didn’t have anything else that needed to be said that hadn’t already been discussed. We both knew there were too many unknowns. Highlighting our fears only made them worse. It was the last thing either of us needed in a time of absolute uncertainty.

  The tension built inside of me. I pounded my hand on the steering wheel, feeling trapped. Nash was one thing, but Kelly was the other. I hated how he was caught up in something he had nothing to do with.

  I rolled down my window to get the air moving. It provided temporary relief but not enough to cool me down.

  I wanted him ou
t. To have him stop what he was doing. Walk away while he was ahead and start something else. It was too much of a risk, one that wasn’t worth taking. Except I didn’t have an alternative path to present him with. Knowing Kelly, he was going to fight until the end to get what he wanted.

  The remainder of the drive was a blur and, by the time I arrived to my apartment building, I was feeling like Kelly wasn’t doing a good job at making me understand what exactly he was after.

  I parked, looped my arm through the shoulder strap to my purse, stepped out of the car, and marched through the double door entrance the moment Mr. Anderson was stepping out of his small front office.

  He stopped mid-step and caught my eye.

  My heart froze as I hit the brakes before smiling and gliding up to his side.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners beneath bushy brows that made him seem wiser than anybody I knew. Locked in each other’s curious gazes, I didn’t know what to say so I hugged him.

  Mr. Anderson’s arms wrapped around me as my head hit his chest. I listened to his stomach gurgle below a strong heart and closed my eyes.

  “You’re shaking, child.”

  I clung to him tighter. “I’m afraid.”

  “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing my fear was the illusion Mr. Anderson suggested it was. I didn’t see it that way. I knew what I felt. The emotions that controlled my actions. It was real.

  “Be honest with yourself and the world will handle the rest.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  A small chuckle vibrated his chest. Releasing my hold, I stepped back, looked him in the eye, and forced myself to smile.

  “Ms. Williams, if you need anybody to talk to, I’m here.” Mr. Anderson squeezed my shoulders. “Don’t you forget that.”

  “I do have something I wanted to ask you.”

  His eyes shone with delight.

  “Any mail for me?” I asked, squishing one side of my face.

  He grinned. “I’m afraid not.”

  The aches of my worries settled in my joints. “It’s a bit depressing not having anything waiting for me after so many weeks of plenty.”

  “You don’t have any mail,” Mr. Anderson’s cheeks ripened apple red, “but I do have a gift for you.”

  My head perked up and my shoulders pulled back. Feeling my pulse increase, I watched Mr. Anderson step behind his desk, bend, and come back up with a beautifully wrapped rectangular package held between his hands. I bounced my gaze between him and it.

  “I don’t want you to open it until you’re home,” he said before handing it over to me.

  “I am home.”

  “That you are, but not in front of me.”

  I gave him a curious look and promised to wait.

  “It’s good to see you, Kendra.”

  “Thank you for the gift.”

  He smiled as I turned and headed for the elevators. I walked fast, eager to know what kind of gift Mr. Anderson had given me. He was a mystic, the sage in my life, and his request to open it in private only kept my curiosity burning to know what waited for me when I arrived.

  I stepped out onto my floor and was quick to get inside my apartment. Not once was I tempted to peek. Wanting to honor Mr. Anderson’s request, I instead thought more about him and how he had become the father figure I had always wished for.

  Dropping my purse at the kitchen table, I moved to the living room and fell into the sofa. My heart beat as I peeled the wrapping paper at the edges. The feeling expanded in my chest as I was careful not to rip the paper. The next tug revealed a book. Freeing the title to the world, I held it between my hands: The Alchemist.

  Flipping the pages with my thumb, a small square note drifted onto my thigh.

  I held my breath and stared as my thoughts drifted back to the letter Mom said Dad wrote.

  Chewing the inside of my cheek I hesitated, convincing myself this was the reason Mr. Anderson insisted I open the gift in private. He had something he wanted to say—something he couldn’t tell me in person—and it left me feeling paralyzed with the inability to make a decision. In the end, I knew I had to read it.

  Life is a journey. Own it. Your loving friend, Mr. Anderson.

  In that moment, everything stopped.

  I wanted to cry as I was filled with gratitude. The room brightened as I started laughing. I knew what his note said, but I wasn’t confident enough to know with absolute certainty that I understood why he’d said it. I liked it either way and, as I looked around, I realized my home was filled with leftover gifts from Madam.

  Tucking the note inside the book, I rested it on top of the coffee table and padded over to my purse.

  I had this incredible desire to reread the note from my father. And, as I read it, I thought about Mr. Anderson’s words and if I really wanted to be part of my family again. These words, his words, seemed to be more powerful now than before. Yet, oddly, I was relieved of the burden I’d originally felt.

  “Own it,” I said to myself. “Surrender and set yourself free.”

  Wishing I was stronger, I knew that I could finally forgive and move on. But I was afraid I would get hurt in the process and didn’t want to fall through the thin ice that I’d been skating on for so long. I’d experienced too much pain already. Too many tears had been shed.

  A lonely ache filled my belly with tightly wound knots.

  My chest rose and fell quicker and quicker until I gasped for air my mind believed wasn’t there. I felt my heartrate tick up higher. Swiveling my head around, I looked for the bliss I’d felt only moments ago. It was gone. Only heartache and pain remained. The messages from Dr. Hall, Mr. Anderson, and my father meant nothing to me now.

  Panicking, I ran to the back bedroom with palms slapping the walls and fingers clawing for support. Diving into the back of my closet, I dug to the bottom of my clothes hamper until I had my hand wrapped around the handle of Kelly’s revolver.

  Staring at it like a crystal ball that held the answers to my problems, a weird empty feeling cloaked my spirit, making me feel invincible. Stepping to the mirror, I watched my reflection as I turned the barrel to my temple and pressed the cold metal against my head.

  With my finger brushing the trigger, I whispered, “Life is a journey. Own it.”

  35

  Kendra

  The moment my front door opened, Kelly rushed over to me.

  The moment of darkness had passed. It was nothing more than a thought—a feeling of needing to escape. Treating it like a dream, I wasn’t afraid to die.

  Kelly slammed on his brakes when he saw the glint of the gun shining like a beacon in the center of the coffee table.

  I watched Kelly’s eyes widen with interest. There was a knowing glimmer that made me believe he knew why I had it out. Staring, I brightened my eyes like I had done nothing wrong. I was grateful he called shortly after my flirtation with death. We had so much to discuss.

  A flash of worry moved across his eyes.

  The corners of my lips curled as I raked him over. He had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the thick forearms that had my thighs quenching with desire. His tie was loose around his neck and his hair tussled enough to give him the California laid back appearance I adored. The defense lawyer who could pass for a college professor. My bedroom fantasy beginning to take root.

  Kelly stared with slightly parted lips.

  It was wonderful to see him again. My heart skipped a beat when our eyes met. Our morning goodbye had left me with more anxiety than I cared to admit. Now, after several hours apart, I had calmed.

  “There it is,” I said, flicking my gaze to the sleek weapon that was now acting like the third wheel to our relationship.

  Kelly held his gaze on me for a moment longer before following me to the coffee table. I wasn’t scared or afraid, though I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. Maybe a sense of nothingness was all it was. Whatever the case, I was returning it.

  “You
said you wanted it back. Well, take it.” My voice was friendly but sure.

  Kelly stepped toward me, bent, and swept me into his arms. I clung to him as our eyes danced across the other’s face. Latching onto me, Kelly’s big firm hand ironed up and down my thigh as he covered my mouth with his tender lips.

  My stomach fluttered as the tips of our tongues touched.

  “God, I missed you,” he growled.

  My breath hitched. “You came for me.”

  “If you ever hurt yourself, I swear—”

  I deepened our kiss and clawed at his chest. Tangling my tongue over his, I got drunk on his masculinity and muscle. I dropped my feet to the floor and reached between his legs. He was hard, pitching an erect tent that left zero room for imagination. Then I turned and reached for the gun.

  Kelly licked his lips as he stared at my loose hold. Concern furrowed his brow.

  My heart was light in my chest as I opened my palm, insisting he take it, “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

  Kelly had the same distant glare I had when looking at the handle. Finally, he took it and relief gushed through me.

  Gasping for air, I said, “Do you ever think that sometimes things would be better if you were dead?”

  Kelly’s dark eyes locked with mine. “All the time.”

  I was hyper-aware of every fiber in my body. We were one and the same. Broken yet determined to survive. Flawed but hopeful. And, with those words, he convinced me once more that we were meant to be together forever. “We can’t keep living like this,” I said.

  Kelly tucked the gun behind his back and reached for my arm. “It will pass.”

  I blinked, feeling the threat of tears gathering in the backs of my eyeballs. “There is something I need to tell you.”

  He flicked his eyes to me and I felt his muscles flex.

  “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  Kelly stopped breathing and took one step back.