All I've Ever Wanted

by Adrianne Byrd

As Bennie rolled his car to a stop at a red light, he emitted a gasp of disbelief at the sight of a swarm of blue-and-white lights flashing at him from every direction. “What in the hell?”

  Frightened, he couldn’t seem to force his limbs to move when a belligerent cop instructed him to step out of the car. When he finally mustered the courage to move, his body trembled as he waited for the unexpected.

  Standing with his legs spread and his hands flat against the hood of his car, Bennie couldn’t believe what was happening. Everything played out like a bad episode of Cops.

  “C-can someone please tell me what this is all about?” he risked asking. Visions of being the next Rodney King made him feel sick to his stomach.

  The police ignored him, but he didn’t think they would be as kind if he chose to pose the question again. Behind him, he heard a car door slam just before an authoritative voice sliced through the chaotic scene.

  “Where is she?”

  Bennie’s confusion cleared as soon as he was spun to face a towering man who had a hard gleam in his eyes.

  “Where’s Kennedy?”

  “W-who?” Bad move, Bennie assessed, based on the angry glare he received.

  “Don’t play games with me, Bennie. Where did you take her?”

  Torn between loyalty and fear of a beat down, Bennie simply shook his head. He had a hard time believing that Kennedy was involved in anything illegal, so he chose to remain loyal: unless, of course, a beat down seemed imminent.

  The menacing cop’s visible struggle with his temper kept Bennie on edge and he glanced wildly about. Were the other cops just going to let this man rough him up in broad daylight?

  “Look. Ms. St. James isn’t in trouble with the law. We have reasons to believe that she and her son may be in danger. Just tell us where you took her before it’s too late.”

  “You have to do better than that, man.” Bennie shook his head.

  In a flash, the angry cop gripped his shirt by the collar and jerked him within an inch of his face. “She’s going to die if I don’t reach her before she leaves town. Is that what you want?”

  This time, Bennie read the truth in the man’s eyes. “No,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Then where did you take her?”

  He took a deep breath before he took the plunge and trusted the cop. “I dropped her off at the Greyhound bus station. She’s leaving on the next bus for Memphis.”

  Kennedy stood at the back of a long line, waiting to board the bus. Once she stepped onto it, she would be nothing more than a calf being led to slaughter. But what other choice did she have?

  It had been hours since she attempted to map out a plan that gave her family a chance of walking away from this alive. Perhaps somewhere in her subconscious, she had given up hope for herself.

  The line moved at a snail’s pace as the driver checked everyone’s ticket. Aware that she wasn’t in the clear yet, she continued to glance nervously about. When she reached the driver, she noticed that the older man’s hands shook slightly, as though he had once suffered a stroke. But his eyes were kind and reminded her of another friendly bus driver—Leroy.

  She smiled, accepted her ticket stub, and stepped onto the bus. A baby’s wail was the first sound that greeted her, and she had a sudden suspicion that she was in for a long ride. As she walked down the aisle, her suspicious gaze darted to each passenger she passed.

  She found a pair of vacant seats toward the back, and prayed that she’d be lucky enough to sit by herself during her voyage.

  She sat down and shoved her tote bag beneath her seat just as the driver climbed onboard.

  The doors jerked closed when he swung the lever.

  This was it, she realized. This bus would lead her straight to her death.

  Chapter 27

  The tires of Max’s car squealed when he took off for the Greyhound bus station. Per his request, four patrol cars followed. As they raced through traffic lights and ignored one-way signs, Max prayed they wouldn’t be too late.

  After years of being on the force, Max couldn’t remember the last time he had feared failure. A clear snapshot of Kennedy’s warm smile escalated his trepidation of the unknown and caused his foot to press even harder on the accelerator.

  When the bus station finally came into view, he slammed on his brakes and caused another squeal of protest from his tires. He jumped out of the car and the smell of burned rubber assaulted his nostrils. He waved off the scent and raced into the building.

  The confused crowd inside parted like the Red Sea when the police raced past them. His gaze swept the room as he headed toward the ticket counter. There was no sign of Kennedy.

  “Where’s the bus heading out to Memphis?” he demanded from the woman behind the counter.

  She glanced toward a door and then down at her watch. “I-it just left about three minutes ago.”

  “Damn.” He pivoted, but then turned back. “What’s the bus number?”

  When she gave it to him, he replied, “Thanks.” He turned toward the other officers and instructed them on which bus to pursue.

  The men nodded and ran back toward the main exit.

  Kennedy stretched her feet out to rest on the adjoining seat. She had gotten her wish. At least she’d have a comfortable trip. She removed the fleece jacket she was wearing and bundled it into a ball so it could serve as a pillow.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the sun’s warmth on her face. Her fate had been sealed. She sighed in resignation. Images of Maxwell Collier floated in her head like a dream, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if they had met under different circumstances. What would it have been like to go out on a date with him—to have the chance to get to know each other like other couples?

  She smiled, imagining a romantic evening at one of Atlanta’s finest restaurants, and perhaps even a jazz concert of her choice. He, of course, would have been dressed to the nines in either Armani or Versace, while she, too, would have worn a designer original. Her smile widened as her Cinderella tale continued to unfold in her head.

  The bus jerked to a stop and Kenney pitched forward onto the floor. Her right arm twisted awkwardly beneath her. Pain ripped through her as she struggled to get up.

  She managed to return to her seat while clutching her broken arm close to her body. Wincing, she glanced out of the window to see why they had stopped.

  Alarm gripped her at the sight of flashing blue-and-white lights.

  “No.”

  The bus doors swooshed open. She heard heavy footsteps approaching, even seconds before she saw his face.

  “No,” she moaned. And at that exact moment Maxwell Collier’s furious gaze met hers.

  “I want Lawrence found,” Steve demanded into his car phone. His temper flared at an all-time high. “I can’t believe how sloppy he’s handled everything. He may as well paint a red sign for the media, leading them to me.” He listened to the man on the other line before erupting again.

  “What do you mean he’s disappeared? Disappeared how?”

  He listened again, and wished like hell that the dim-witted gang leader stood in front of him.

  “Calm down? Don’t tell me to calm down. I’ll calm down when that man is found. Do I make myself clear?” He glanced into his rearview mirror and frowned at seeing the same gray Honda trailing two cars behind him.

  “Look, I’m going to have to call you back. Uh-huh. Later.” He disconnected the call, and then adjusted the mirror. “Who in the hell is that?”

  He made a sudden turn onto Tenth Street and waited for the Honda to materialize. When it did, he cursed out loud and reached over to the glove compartment for his gun.

  Hands slick with perspiration, Aaliyah questioned her sanity once again. After every turn, she’d thought about bailing out of her ill-thought-out plan. She’d already contacted her editor promising him a story that would knock his socks off. She’d also called Reggie to tell him to meet her back at her place by seven.
r />   However, the question of the hour was, why had she called Det. Collier? Maybe something within her wanted to make amends for the way she had treated him. Perhaps she could do that by helping him solve the Underwood murder.

  She shook her head. Maybe, but it was more like she was temporarily insane. The Mercedes turned down an alley and, for the first time, she wondered where the driver was headed. Nothing was out here on this side of town.

  Max towered over Kennedy. “Going on a little trip?”

  She clutched her injured arm closer. “Last time I checked, it was still a free country.”

  His gaze grew sterner. “I need you to step off the bus, now.”

  “No.” She watched a muscle twitch along his jawline.

  “You have a choice. Either you can walk willingly or—” he removed his handcuffs from his belt “—we can give the good folks on this bus a show they’ll never forget.”

  She glared at him and tried to decide whether to call his bluff.

  His brows rose as if he could read her thoughts.

  “You once said that you never knew when to take me seriously. Do you remember what my answer was?”

  To always take him seriously. Seething, Kennedy stood. Her gaze fell to the crowd around her. All eyes watched her.

  “Could you grab my bag? I think my arm is broken.”

  A spark of concern lit his eyes, and then disappeared as if she had imagined it.

  “Then I guess I need to get you to a doctor.”

  She squeezed by him and waited for him to retrieve her things before moving down the aisle. When she stepped off the bus, she met another crowd of curious stares. This time her audience was the men in blue.

  Max descended the stairs behind her, then gripped her good arm and led her firmly toward his car.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that it?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

  “I don’t owe you an explanation,” she hissed back.

  He opened the car door for her. “We’ll just see about that.”

  Too infuriated for a rebuttal, she got into the car and let her anger boil rampantly through her veins. She watched Max in the side mirror as he talked to his colleagues. A few minutes later, the bus pulled back into traffic and continued on its route.

  Her vision blurred as she watched it disappear. What was she going to do now? Despair flooded her heart. There was nothing she could do. Everything was out of her hands.

  The driver’s door swung open and Maxwell slid in behind the steering wheel. She noticed the patrol cars had turned off their lights and pulled away.

  “It looks like it’s just you and me, kid,” he said. He turned to face her.

  “Lucky me.”

  He took in a sharp breath, held it, and then exhaled in a long weary sigh. “You do know how to try someone’s patience.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. You’re not doing such a bad job at it yourself.”

  The car fell silent for a moment. Kennedy guessed that he was calculating a different angle.

  “Lawrence has your son, doesn’t he?”

  She turned away from him. Her actions were as much a dead giveaway as a confession would have been.

  “What were you planning on doing once you got to Memphis?”

  She sighed, and then gave him a sharp look. “Just cut the crap, all right? I didn’t have a plan. I was going to wing it.”

  “You were going to wing it?”

  She clenched her teeth.

  Max shook his head. “Funny. You look like a bright girl.”

  “What do you want from me? I’m trying to save my son.”

  “Then why won’t you let me help you do that?” he thundered. “It’s apparent that you can’t do it alone.”

  “Well, Shaft. From where I’m sitting, it doesn’t appear that you’re doing such a bang-up job yourself. All you and your partner have managed to do is harass me while spewing out theories. If you were so sure who was behind all of this, why didn’t you do something about it?”

  His features turned to stone. “It doesn’t work like that, and you damn well know it.”

  “Yeah. We’re dealing with someone who isn’t bound by the same laws and procedures you are. Why can’t you understand that?”

  He glared, but didn’t answer.

  Kennedy shook her head. “You can’t protect me from everyone on these streets. The gangs have their own laws. I would have thought that you’d have learned that by now.”

  He turned from her then, his hands gripping the steering wheel, but he made no attempt to start the car.

  “You know I’m right. If I’d pointed the finger at the murderer, I would have been dead inside of twenty-four hours.”

  “He wants you dead now. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference is that doing it my way might save my son.”

  Max leaned back against his headrest. “So, Lawrence does have him?”

  Her lips trembled when she answered. “My son and my grandmother are in danger.”

  He exhaled a long, frustrated sigh. “If you do what you’re planning, he’s just going to kill all three of you.”

  She knew that, but it didn’t stop a new wave of tears from spilling over her lashes. “There may be a chance—”

  “There’s no chance.”

  The profound silence that followed echoed with the crushing truth of Max’s words.

  “So, they’re already dead then,” Kennedy whispered. Devastated, she turned toward him, and he gently gathered her into his arms as her body quaked with despair.

  Chapter 28

  Sandra Hickman stared into the bottom of her amber-colored drink and couldn’t remember how many shots she’d had. What had she done? She questioned herself repeatedly. She might as well have pulled the trigger herself that killed Marion. A deep sob tore from her.

  Her beloved Marion. Dead. For little over a week, she had tried to adjust to the realization that this time their separation wasn’t a result of another argument, or some knockdown, drag-out fight. He was never going to call. He was never going to walk through the front door again. And it was all because of greed, her greed for money and power.

  The judicial system was going to hell in a hand-basket anyway. What did it matter that she took a bribe here or there on insignificant cases?

  There were more than a few cases. And they weren’t always insignificant. Sandra cringed from her berating inner voice and lowered her head to rest against the bar’s countertop. How many drinks would it take to shut off her conscience?

  When she closed her eyes, she summoned an image of Marion from memory. She thought she’d die from the clarity her mind gave to detail. Even now, in what she knew to be a drunken stupor, she swore a trace of his favorite cologne drifted on the air.

  The thought of life without him plunged her further into despair. After all, they were soul mates. More tears fell as she wished like hell that she was the one that lay six feet under at Hillandale Memorial Cemetery, instead of her husband.

  He went to the FBI. She shook her head at the realization that even that betrayal didn’t matter. How was it that she stood there, stupefied, when her partner in crime had told her he’d killed her man? It was as if he’d told her the time.

  The fact was there was nothing that she could have done. Another sob was wrenched from her soul.

  Sandra lifted her head. The cool waft of the air conditioner kissed her tears. Her gaze fluttered over her immaculate home, none of her material possessions filled the gaping hole in her heart where her love had resided.

  You could avenge his death. Her sobs stopped and her body went still.

  The idea was ludicrous. The repercussions would be severe. Regardless, Sandra warmed to the thought.

  “So, you found her,” Dossman said, propping himself up against a stack of pillows, though he could never quite get comfortable. “At least that’s good news. Where is she now?”

  “Believe it or not, she’s downstairs getting a cast
for her arm.”

  “You broke her arm?”

  “No, but I could’ve wrung her neck for that little stunt she pulled.”

  “Technically, we don’t have a real reason to hold her.”

  “Damn technicality.”

  Dossman laughed.

  “What?”

  “What do you mean ‘What’? What’s the real deal with you and Ms. St. James?”

  Max folded his arms and thought about not answering his partner’s idiotic question. “There’s no deal, as you put it.”

  “You’re in denial.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk. What about your secret love affair?”

  “I’m not in denial. It’s just none of your business.”

  “And my life is an open book. Is that it?”

  “It is when it involves a case.”

  “Is that right?” Max’s expression conveyed his disbelief.

  “That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”

  “I figured as much.”

  Dossman shrugged. “Frankly. I think that you two would make a charming couple.”

  “A charming couple?”

  “Yeah. She’s tough, funny and smart. Not to mention she’s extremely easy on the eyes.”

  “Extremely?” He unfolded his arms. “You’ve checked her out?”

  “It’s kind of hard not to. Wouldn’t you say?” Dossman watched his partner sputter, and even imagined his mind churning for something clever to say. “All right, let’s change the subject. I had no idea that the woman had you tongue-tied. Though I have to admit, I’m dying to know exactly what happened between you two at your apartment last night.”

  “I just bet you are.”

  “If you ever want to clear your conscience about anything at all, you know I’m here for you, don’t you?”

  “Cut the wise-guy act. Help me figure out what our next move should be.”

  “Fine. Fine. Tell me the situation.”

  Max filled Dossman in on all that he knew and some that he speculated. When he finished, Dossman cradled his head in the palms of his hands with a look of defeat.