Loving Dasia

by Ana’Gia Wright

  “R.I.P., have you seen Dasia? She wasn’t in bed.” G searched the immediate vicinity.

  “She came down about an hour ago. I think I heard her go out of the patio doors.”

  “Thanks.”

  After entering the living room and making his way out, G leaned against the patio doors. He watched Dasia wrap her arms around her legs and pulled them close as she sat on the bench near the entrance to the gardens. He thought about invading her thoughts but decided to give her a couple of minutes more. He was sure she’d feel him watching her, but when she never turned in his direction, he ultimately decided to join her. He stepped from the doors and made his way down the stone path Dasia had walked minutes earlier and joined her beneath the trellis leading to the many gardens to the rear of his property.

  Growing up, his family had always lived on military bases or in high-rise apartment buildings or penthouse suites, so they’d never had a yard. When his mother passed away, she left everything to him and Katina. Katina was already married and had her own home. He didn’t want to stay in the high-rise his mother had purchased a couple of years after his father died, so they agreed to sell the place. G bought the land and built this house, using a portion of the money.

  “I guess if you’ve made it this far, you’ve seen most of the house.”

  Dasia lifted her head and turned at the sound of his voice. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you had a long night.”

  “Not as long as yours. How are you feeling?” Needing to touch her, but not sure how she’d react to him, he rubbed his hand up her arm.

  “I don’t know.” Dasia turned from him and directed her attention to a pair of squirrels chasing each other around one of the rose bushes. “None of this seems real. I mean . . . I just . . .” She could no longer hold back the tears.

  G pulled her close, allowing her to cry in his arms. With each sob, each pain-filled gasp, his anger grew. So far, he’d only gotten the chance to talk to Chaos and Katina about what had happened to Dasia. He planned on meeting with the guard who’d been watching the house, but that wasn’t going to be for another few hours. And he wasn’t sure he’d get enough information to figure out who’d broken into the apartment.

  G rocked Dasia. The gesture was just as much for him as it was for her. They both needed to calm down. He needed to focus his attention on ensuring she remained comfortable, since he had plenty of time to decide how to handle his watcher.

  Dasia pulled away from him as she wiped the tears from her eyes. Her wails had become sniffles as she regained her composure. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart like that.”

  “I understand.”

  “God, I just don’t understand this. Why would somebody want to break into my apartment?” She stood and walked a narrow path, wracking her brain, trying to figure out who’d want to do something like this. She was nice to everyone and didn’t know of an enemy in the world.

  G wanted to talk to her about the photos but decided he’d broach the subject later. “Do you think you’re up to talking about the last couple of days?”

  Dasia turned to G, her eyes still teary. “I think so. I don’t know how much good it will do.”

  “Come on, let’s go back into the house.” G offered his hand to her, and she wrapped her butter-soft fingers around his and followed him back into the living room.

  Sitting side by side on the couch, G turned to Dasia. “Now tell me about the last few days.”

  “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Just pick a place. Let’s just say, Tuesday morning.”

  Dasia sat quietly for a few minutes. She focused her mind on the beginning of her week. “I don’t remember anything unusual. I got up and went to work, ate lunch in the office, stopped by the grocery store on the way home, and came home. It was like any other day.”

  “Nothing strange happened? No surprise visitors, strange e-mails, or phone calls?”

  Dasia hesitated for a moment at the mention of phone calls. She’d dismissed the hangups and wronGnumber calls she’d occasionally received over the past week because she saw no reason to be concerned about them. People dialed the wrong number all of the time, but in light of the situation, the more she thought about it, the more odd the phone calls seemed.

  “Now that you mention it, the last couple of days I’ve been getting two or three hangups each day. It hadn’t really concerned me. I guess, under the circumstances now, it does seem strange, especially considering they happened days before someone broke into the apartment.”

  “You’re right.” G grabbed the phone from the table and dialed Chaos’s number. He waited patiently for his friend to answer.

  As Chaos greeted him, G cut him off. “No time for formalities. I need you to pull the phone records for the apartment.” Then he added, “Dasia says she got a couple of hangup calls a day for the last couple of days.”

  Dasia watched as G stood and walked to the window, out of her range of hearing. He began to talk in a hushed voice, as if he was plotting and didn’t want her to hear his plan. He was only on the phone another minute or two before rejoining her on the couch.

  “We’ll figure out who this guy is.”

  “I hope so.” Dasia didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She wasn’t ready to relive the torture from the night before. She wanted to just move forward and act like nothing happened, but she knew she couldn’t. “Can I ask you something?”

  G didn’t know what was coming. There were so many things Dasia probably wanted to know. He’d try to be as honest as possible, but couldn’t promise to tell everything.

  “What is it you’d like to know?”

  “This”—Dasia opened her arms and glanced around the room—“all of this. I knew you had a house. I even expected it to be nice, but I never imagined anything like this.”

  “I guess the time has come for you to know some things about me.” G studied Dasia’s face. Though her eyes held sadness, her features remained as soft as a down pillow.

  “Things?” Dasia cocked her head to the side, taking in the way G stared at her. “What kind of things?” She knew G dealt in real estate, and she was sure by his dress and his constant showering her with gifts that he made good money at it, but she had no idea he made the kind of money it took to maintain this house and its entire staff.

  “You know, Katina is going to have a fit when she finds out you know what I am about to tell you.”

  “Why is that?” Dasia wasn’t sure she liked the direction of this conversation.

  G studied his hands, instead of looking at Dasia. For the first time, he held doubt about telling her the truth. “Let’s just say, in the past, what I’m about to tell you has changed everything.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t tell me.”

  “No, I think it’s time you know.” G took both of her hands in his as he spoke. “You know, people always want to believe money doesn’t change things. I know for a fact it does.”

  Little by little the pieces were falling into place for Dasia—the lavish trips, the expensive nights on the town, the house, everything. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “Remember when I told you that my company owns the apartment complex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I’m not quite sure you really understood what I meant by ‘my company.’ I don’t just work for the company, I own it. Which also means I own the complex and the three others like it in the area.”

  “How?” Dasia just stared at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say. She was having a hard time believing that the man showing so much interest in little ol’ her was filthy rich. “People work for years to build empires and still don’t have the money to own one apartment complex, much less four.”

  “Katina and I come from a long line of old money. I can’t say how it was all made, but over the years it has grown considerably, and with that sometimes comes a lot of trouble. That’s why I keep all of the guards around. My parents continued the traditi
on of investing, and the money continued to grow. Real estate was their chosen investment.”

  “Is that how you got started in it?”

  “Yes. Before my father passed, he owned a number of hotels and a couple of complexes in New Orleans. After he died, I took them over for a while until Mama got sick. I couldn’t take care of all of them and her, so we all agreed to sell them. Mama bought a high-rise she and I lived in until she too passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Dasia didn’t mean to dredge up old memories. She still had both of her parents and couldn’t fathom what it would be like to lose them both.

  “Don’t be. Both of my parents lived long and full lives.”

  “So how come you moved here?”

  “Well, after Mama died, I didn’t see any reason to stay. We were Mama’s only family, and long story short, my father’s money had alienated him from his.” G released Dasia’s hands as he made himself comfortable on the couch. “When my father died, his family came in droves, thinking they’d finally get a piece of his money. Little did they know, there was nothing for them. Everything was in Mama’s name. My father made sure his family, his real family, got his money.”

  “That must have been hard.”

  “It wasn’t unexpected. My father had always said they were just waiting for him to croak, so the lawyers made sure there would be no way any of them would get a dime. After they discovered the fight for the money was useless, we never heard from any of them again.

  “Mama and I had years of peace, but after she died, I figured I no longer had any ties to New Orleans. After the funeral, I decided to sell the high-rise, take the money, and move here to be closer to Katina.”

  “So you’ve been here selling real estate ever since?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. I still keep up with our other investments, and I make sure whenever Katina needs me, I’m here for her. Selling real estate is a big part of my life, although, if the need ever arose”—G, hoping Dasia caught his subtle hint, cut his eyes in her direction—“I’d give it up in a heartbeat.”

  Dasia thought his last comment strange but decided to leave it be. They both had so much on their minds.

  “There is one other thing that I’m not at liberty to go into too much depth about, but I think you should know. I used to work with my father’s agency. We’d do surveillance, keeping an eye on people money laundering or insider trading. That’s actually where I met most of my security.”

  “Oh, really? Ever catch any bad guys?”

  “We more than caught some bad guys. We exterminated them. Yeah, we’ve put away our share.”

  “I bet that was exciting.” Dasia’s life had never been filled with that kind of thrill. She couldn’t even take watching roller coaster rides, much less getting on one.

  “It had its moments, but sometimes it was hours at a time sitting on the concrete floor in some dark, dank, vacant building waiting.” She didn’t need to know all of the details, not that he could talk to her about the other aspects of the job anyway.

  “Do you miss it?”

  “Not at all.”

  But the Reaper did. G’s other personality thrived on the adrenaline rush of hovering over a target as he pleaded for his life knowing full well that this was the end of the line. Strangely though, he hadn’t had to succumb to the Reaper in years. Part of the lure that his other personality needed was a true justification for the kill. The targets were never random, and in the eyes of most people, those who were executed by the Reaper had earned their passage on to the next life.

  Dasia smiled inside. G had opened up to her, something she hadn’t yet done, so she didn’t think it fair to pry anymore.

  Sliding her feet from her mules and swinging her legs onto the sofa, she laid her head in his lap and stretched the rest of her body across the couch. And it didn’t take long for sleep to pull them both under.

  Chapter 19

  G woke to the butler, Marcus, calling his name. “Mr. Guatreaux, you have a phone call.”

  As G started to get up, Marcus stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder and pointing down at his lap. He’d forgotten that he’d fallen asleep on the couch with Dasia’s head resting there. Sliding a pillow beneath her head, Ginched his way from under her. The room was a little chilly, so he tossed a blanket over her before tending to his phone call.

  He picked up the phone in the study. “Yeah.”

  “Checked the phone records, seems our perp has probably been watching Dasia for a while. The calls were made from the payphone at the gas station up the street from the apartment.” Chaos had come across a number of interesting revelations since he’d started running the phone records for the apartment. Sometimes it was good to have a job where no one questioned his snooping on other people.

  “What else did you find out?” Things were starting to get interesting now.

  “Apparently the calls this week weren’t the only ones. Looks like the calls started a month or so ago. This guy had to have been watching her then, probably scopin’ out her habits.”

  “The question now is, who is this guy?” G rubbed his chin, contemplating.

  “We’re working on it, G.”

  “I know. Are you coming to the meeting tonight?” G wasn’t sure Chaos should be there, him being a cop and all. G planned to have a little discussion with the guard who should have been watching Dasia’s apartment. Sometimes his so-called discussions got out of hand and people got hurt. G didn’t want his friend caught in the middle if tonight got messy. Of course, Chaos was his own man, so if he wanted to be there, he’d be there.

  “You know it. Ten o’clock sharp. I’ll be there.”

  “Then I’ll see you tonight.” G ended his phone call with Chaos and made his way from the study to the kitchen. He still needed to prepare for tonight, but first he needed to satisfy his hunger.

  “Mr. Guatreaux,” Rosita, the cook, greeted, “can I get something for you?”

  “No, Rosita. I’m just going to make a sandwich.” G crossed the span of the tile floor and stopped in front of the refrigerator.

  “Do you have a specific request for dinner, sir?”

  “No. I’ll check with Ms. Warrington in a few and let you know. By the way, she’ll probably be staying with us for a while, so you may want to plan accordingly.” G grabbed a container of leftover turkey and the Miracle Whip.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Guatreaux. Will that be all, sir?” Rosita asked, drying off the last dish and placing it in the cabinet.

  “Yes.” G placed the lid back on the jar. He grabbed his sandwich and made his way back to the living room.

  Surprisingly, he found Dasia awake, staring at the family painting above the mantel.

  Dasia felt him hovering above her. “How long ago was this painted?” He had her by over a foot, but his presence was comforting, rather than intimidating.

  “About ten years. It was completed a week before my father died.” He took a bite of his dry bread and meat sandwich.

  “You look just like him, except for your mouth and the color of your eyes. You and Katina have your mother’s mouth.” Dasia turned from the painting to stare at G. “But your eyes are warm, caring.” She turned ever so slightly again, so she could glance back and forth between the portrait and G. “His eyes seem somehow distant, like his soul is retreating from some unknown pain.”

  G caught himself before he revealed the reason. Dasia didn’t need to know his family secret. He too harbored the killer personality lurking just below the surface waiting for justification to rear its head. He’d spent the latter part of his years masking that same look, the look of the Reaper, from his eyes. The men in his family all had the potential to serve as the Reaper. They’d all had to make the ultimate sacrifice, killing a fellow man.

  For some of them, it was to protect family, others, for the money, but he’d walked a different path. He’d done it to protect and serve a government that left millions to fend for themselves each and every day.

&nbs
p; G stared up into his father’s eyes as he spoke. “We all have our demons. Some of us are just better at controlling them than others.”

  “You sound like you know from experience.”

  “Possibly, but I don’t let the demons run my life. They had my father running scared.” G turned from the portrait and made his way to the other side of the room. “He never took the time to face them. He tried to hide them, bury them in some secret place in his mind, a place so far removed, he’d never have to confront them. But you know what happens when you do that?” G turned to face Dasia.

  “No. What happens?” Dasia watched as G dropped his shield.

  “It starts to eat at you. It picks away at your conscience, mind and soul, and all that is you, until there is little or nothing left. If you’re fortunate, you learn to control it. If not, you end up like my father, slowly going mad.” G didn’t mean to scare her, but talking about his father always wore down his control.

  Dasia didn’t want to talk about this anymore. She didn’t want to make him relive the pain.

  She quickly changed the subject. “I’m hungry,” she said, her stomach rumbling at the sight of his sandwich.

  “Come on.” G again erected his shield. The life immediately returned to his eyes. “You can meet Rosita. She’ll fix something for the both of us ’cause this sandwich isn’t going to do anything but piss me off.”

  Dasia took one last glance behind her at the portrait before following G out of the door.

  Sniper’s arms stopped in mid-curl the minute the door opened. He watched in the mirror as Chaos and R.I.P. entered the back room of Daley’s gym. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized G wasn’t with them.

  “Aye, man, wanna join us?” Chaos asked as he and R.I.P. made their way over to the bench.

  Sniper was suspicious, but he knew G did his own dirty work. He was hoping G wouldn’t show tonight. He relaxed and lay down on the bench.

  “How much weight?” R.I.P. asked.

  “Seventy-five on each side.”

  R.I.P. and Chaos snickered at each other as they added twice that to each side, making sure he didn’t see them add the additional weight.