Stephen continued, “My sources tell me you’re under investigation. Is that so?”
“Hell no.”
“Why would someone tell me that?”
“They fuckin’ with you.”
“My sources never lie.” Stephen shot Monty a piercing look.
“And neither do I. Believe me, I would know if I was under investigation. I own the goddamn cops. The DA is a motherfucker, looking to make a name for himself, but I have him under control too.”
Stephen grimaced. “You think I don’t read the papers? Think I don’t watch the news? Think I don’t see reports about you—”
“Speculative. The media lies.”
“Everybody lies, but you? I see.” Stephen’s eyes narrowed as he placed his hand on the back of Monty’s neck, squeezed, and pulled him closer.
Monty tensed.
Stephen leaned into his ear and said, “You know major shipments are on their way in, right? It’s a lot of money floating out there, and if anything turns out to be different than what you’re saying to me—”
“It won’t.”
“For you, Elle, your two little boys, and that bitch on the side, it better not be. Comprende?”
Monty snatched away from Stephen’s grip, catching the attention of one of Stephen’s henchmen, who slid a hand into the back of his waistband.
Stephen gave a soft flick of his hand. The henchman took his hand from the waistband and relaxed it in front of him. The three men eyed the skybox, as everyone continued to watch the game.
“You think you’re the only motherfucker with some men?” Monty said in a hushed tone. “Now, I’ll get your fuckin’ money. And nothing will happen with your packages. But don’t threaten my wife and kids. Or my bitch.”
“I respect your attempt to be honorable, but the point remains the same, these issues you’re having need to end. There’s a leak on your team. Sort ’em out. You may want to start with your boy over there.” Stephen’s eyes shifted toward Dominic, who cheered a touchdown.
Monty’s brows knitted together as he glanced Dominic’s way. “Dominic? Nah. He’s my brother. He’s cool.” Monty paused. “Unless you know something I don’t.”
“If I did, he wouldn’t be standing there.”
Monty shifted his eyes and looked back over to Dominic. If it’s that motherfucker . . . He looked back to Stephen. “I got it covered. No worries.”
“I’m not worried. But you should be.”
Both men rose from their seats. Stephen held his hand out, and Monty accepted his gesture. “Governor,” Stephen said.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t fuck up.”
“I’m not,” Monty replied.
Stephen smiled. “Now, back to the game.”
“I need to get going.” Monty gulped the last of his drink.
“Have another one before you go,” Stephen said.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“You’re welcome to it.”
“I tell you what, you have another one for me. And let me know how the game ends. I need to get to the office.”
Monty walked over to Dominic, who was glued to the game. “We need to head over to the office.”
“For what?”
“We got some cleaning to do.”
Chapter 28
Brooklyn
Brooklyn sat in the police station, looking from the chipped green paint on the cinder-block walls, to the Wanted posters, dingy vending machine, and humming watercooler, to the police counter. She hated cops, and ever since her mother had faded to dust, she’d managed to stay out of their way, until today.
Police radios buzzed as people bustled about the station, some screaming, crying, and cussing, and others, who, like her, had waited for hours for assistance.
Brooklyn walked over to the counter and said, “Is someone going to help me today? I’ve been here for two hours.”
“And so have they.” The officer pointed to a bench filled with people. “So you gotta wait like everybody else.”
She stared at the officer. From the scar over his left eye, dried toothpaste stain on his blue pocket flap, to the Styrofoam cup of black coffee his hand. The officer’s cell phone rang. He looked at the number and grinned. “Hey, honey . . .”
Brooklyn tapped her nails on the counter.
The officer looked at her, annoyed, while continuing his conversation. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Lisa.”
Brooklyn looked directly into his mouth until he said, “I said, someone will help you in a few minutes. Now, please have a seat.”
“I don’t need a seat. I need assistance. And if you can’t help me, then find someone who can,” Brooklyn snapped.
“What’s your name again, ma’am?” he asked, still holding his phone to his ear.
“Ms. Pryce. Brooklyn Pryce. The same goddamn Brooklyn Pryce I was two hours ago.”
“Let me call you back,” the officer said to his caller, then placed his phone on the desk behind him. “I suggest you calm your attitude. Now, what do you need?”
“I. Need. To. File. For. A. Restraining. Order.” She was seconds from saying it in sign language.
The officer turned to the desk behind him, reached for a blank report, and a black pen. He laid the report on the counter and took the top off the pen. “Victim?”
“Are we really going to do this in the middle of the floor?”
“Lady, I’ve been more than patient with you, but you’re pushing it. Victim?”
Brooklyn sighed, “I am the victim.”
“Okay, and your name is Brenda—”
“Brooklyn.”
“Yeah. Brooklyn who?”
“You know what—” Brooklyn paused. “Pryce. P.R.Y.C.E. Pryce.”
He shot her a look. “Who did you say had violated you?”
She hesitated, and again took in the scar above the officer’s eye and the toothpaste stain. “I don’t think this is appropriate. I gave you this information when I walked in here! You know the parties involved. Now, I really need for you to take my report somewhere else, not here.”
“So, you’d like to go somewhere more private?”
“Yes.”
“Then you need another officer. I can’t leave the desk, so have a seat. Someone will be with you.”
“Oh, hell fucking no!” She pounded her fist into the counter, snatching the attention of the other officers standing around. “I’ve been here too goddamn long already! I’m not waiting another damn minute. Who’s the sergeant on duty?! I’m done with you!”
“Lady—!”
“Wait, wait, before anyone gets too worked up, let me help. I’m Sergeant Martin.” A tall and dark-haired man walked up from behind the desk officer. “What’s the problem, officer?”
The officer gave Brooklyn a nasty look before turning to the sergeant and giving his account in a tone too low for Brooklyn to hear clearly.
Sergeant Martin turned to Brooklyn and said, “I’ll take your report back here, ma’am. Follow me.” He led her to an interview room and pointed to a desk with two metal chairs on either side. “Have a seat, Miss Pryce.” He closed the door.
Brooklyn took one chair, and the officer took the other.
“Miss Pryce, again, I’m Sergeant Martin. And I do apologize for the delay. Now, my officer filled me in on what was going on.”
“Okay.”
“And I have a question for you.”
“Which is?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean, are you certain you want to take a restraining order out on the governor, of all people? Wouldn’t you agree that’s a step too far?”
“No, I wouldn’t agree. I think a step too far was the governor breaking into my home, taking a picture of me in my bed, and then texting it to me! Sitting in front of my house and following my company. I doubt it very seriously if the people elected his fuckin’ ass for him to stalk me! And you have the audacity to ask me, the victim, if this is
a step too far? I think your question is a step too far, sergeant!”
“I think you should rethink this. Maybe have a conversation with the governor, you know, work things out.”
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“Miss Pryce, consider your safety.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Sergeant Martin rose from his seat and walked over to Brooklyn’s side of the table. He sat on the edge. “Miss Pryce, you appear to be a very intelligent woman. So there’s no need for me to play any games with you. Taking a restraining order out on the governor is not going to be well received. Are you sure you’re ready for the type of attention that’s going to bring you? What are you going to say when the media presses you about what your relationship is with Governor Fields?”
“He should’ve thought about being Governor Fields when he broke into my home and violated me!”
“Are you ready to admit that you are the governor’s mistress?”
She curled her upper lip in disgust. “That’s your assumption. I never said that.”
“It’s not rocket science, Miss Pryce. It’s quite obvious to me, and it will be obvious to the media too. You’ll be the Monica Lewinsky of California. Are you ready for that? Hopefully you don’t have any blue dresses hanging around, do you?”
“Are you serious right now? Is that supposed to be a goddamn joke?”
“This is no laughing matter. Are you employed, Miss Pryce?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“It’s completely relevant. So, please answer the question. Are you?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“Ahh.” He nodded. “Do you have any children of your own?”
“Leave my daughter out of this!”
“So, you have a daughter.”
“Get to the point.”
“Here’s the point. Once I take this report, you will be branded as the governor’s whore, a gold digger, a home wrecker. The media will dig up every buried bone in your past. And that’ll be front-page news. Your coworkers will know, your students, their parents. And most of all, your little girl. This is not some Joe Blow or Radio Raheem. This is the governor.”
“I know who he is, better than you do.”
Sergeant Martin leaned in and whispered, “Then you know if you insist on going forward with this, he will annihilate you.”
The hairs on the back of Brooklyn’s neck stood up. Chills ran through her. She swallowed and looked Sergeant Martin dead in the eyes. “Are you going to take my report or not?”
Sergeant Martin stood up straight, walked around the desk, and pulled a blank report and pen from the drawer. “Okay, Miss Pryce. Have it your way. You want me to take the complaint, then let’s do it. Start from the beginning.”
Chapter 29
Monty
Monty looked from the array of framed family photos on his mahogany bureau, his gold-leaf nameplate, over to his desktop laptop, to Dominic—who walked into his office, carrying an armful of files and loose paperwork. He eyed Dominic suspiciously, from his chestnut-colored skin, to the streaked and discolored birthmark across his left cheek, to his square chin.
Truth was, after Carson’s betrayal, Monty never completely trusted Dominic, though he took his chances. Dominic was a law school graduate, had worked for a while in Washington as an aide to the House Foreign Affairs Committee, served as senior foreign advisor to California’s state senator, Shawn Patrick, and was legislative director for James Campbell, Monty’s predecessor. Needless to say, Monty had felt he needed someone of Dominic’s caliber on his team, until now.
The motherfucker was a little too slick and shifty, even for Monty. Dominic had strategically positioned himself to be indispensable. Making sure he met with most of the lobbyists, was in on the underbidding, the gift receiving, and the contract altering. Hell, half of the pay to play they engaged in was his idea.
No matter how bad Monty secretly wanted to get rid of him, he couldn’t. And if he did, Monty couldn’t let him live.
For all Monty knew, Dominic had sold him out and delivered him to the media vultures, one dripping scandal at a time. Hell, it would be the easiest path to make an even bigger name for himself, sit in the gubernatorial seat, and high-step his way onto the purple path of the presidency.
The tail of Dominic’s white shirt slipped out the side of his pants as he slammed the pile he carried onto the oblong conference table. “This should be everything.” He blew out a hard huff of air. “These are all of the contracts we’ve ever done with ICC. Over here are the originals from the file cabinet.” He pointed to one pile, then to the other. “And these are the altered contracts from the safe. They need to be burned.” He looked over at Monty. “You need to delete all of your emails, text messages, and anything else relating to ICC. And make sure you clean your cloud.”
Monty took Dominic in once more, then said, “It’s all done. While you were out gathering the contracts, I deleted everything.”
“Good.” Dominic paused. “And another thing, we have to relax Stephen’s use of the ports.”
“What?” Monty said, taken aback.
“And those abandoned warehouses too. You need to renege on the bid.”
“We’ve already taken his money.”
“Give it back.”
“Give it back? Two million dollars, and you just want me to give it back?”
“At least until this investigation cools down. This DA’s a hothead, but he’s not stupid.”
“Our people over there in the DA’s office says it’s nothing to worry about. That the DA is mostly talk. Nothing serious. Next election I’ll make sure his ass is out of a job.”
“But until then, you don’t need to give him anything more to look into.”
“He could always be taken care of.”
Dominic paused. “He’s not Carson. And more than just a mourning wife and a kid will look for him.”
“Right.”
“Just relax and follow my lead. You’ll be fine.”
“Your lead?” Monty snapped, his jaw set. “Did you forget who I was?”
Dominic hesitated. “What? Of course not, that’s why I’m giving you this advice. Give ICC back the money for the warehouse. And give the contract to a legit operation, it will look better. Keep the media at bay and throw the DA off.”
Sort ’em out, starting with your boy over there. “And when Stephen comes after me, what then? You know we’re not playing footsies with street soldiers,” Monty said.
“Look, not everyone can get what they want all the time, otherwise you wouldn’t be in this shit.” Dominic pointed around the room at the piles of files and paperwork.
Monty stressed, “You need to follow my lead. We’re going to follow through on what we’ve already promised ICC, leave their access to the ports alone, leave their contract to the warehouse intact. And when the next piece of prime real estate comes up, then we’ll give it to another company. Not now.”
“Montgomery, the media’s swooping down on everything we do, particularly with ICC. The media gets a goddamn hard-on breaking scandals about you. The DA is on a witch hunt, and the last thing you need is him looking into new contracts between you and ICC—”
“Fuck the DA, stop telling me what I need, and listen to me. I’m not going back on the contract, and as far as the port, limiting ICC’s access is senseless. There are countless shipments that come in every day. And suddenly somebody’s going to specifically look into ICC? Why would they do that? And what the fuck do you mean, my contracts? You’ve been in on this shit too. So, you must mean we, our contracts.”
“Semantics. You know what I mean.”
“I know what you said.”
“Look. I’m not saying stop their use of the ports. I’m simply saying slow it down for a while. At least until this investigation blows over. There are other ways to bring their shipments in.”
“You doing a whole lot of talking about limiting their access to the port. Who else have
you been running your mouth to about this, huh? You been singing to Stephen’s little birdie, bitch?” Papers scattered everywhere as Monty rushed over to Dominic and shoved him so hard into the wall that the floor-to-ceiling windows shook.
Monty pressed a hard forearm into Dominic’s neck, pinning him in place. Dominic struggled to catch his breath, as his eyes bulged and he coughed out, “The fuck are you doing?”
Monty pushed more pressure into Dominic’s throat and shouted into his face, “No, what the fuck are you doing, motherfucker? What’s really good with you? Huh? Is it you? Are you the fucking leak?”
“Get the fuck off of me! The hell is wrong with you, Monty?” Dominic managed to push Monty away from him, but no sooner than Dominic was free was Monty’s arm back in his throat and pressed even harder than before.
“Answer me!” Monty spat. “Are you behind this punk-ass investigation? I knew you couldn’t be trusted, Dominic! Say something, motherfucker!”
Monty released just enough pressure from Dominic’s throat to let him speak. “Why the hell would I sell you out? Think, Monty! We’re brothers Are you crazy? I didn’t realize that you were so fucking paranoid that you would question my loyalty! This shit got you trippin’! Not to mention seconds from getting your ass beat!” Dominic shoved Monty in his chest.
Monty didn’t move. His face was beet red, and his eyes burned through him. He removed his elbow from Dominic’s throat and pointed into his face. “If I find out you’re setting me up—”
“Me of all people wouldn’t set you up! What the hell is really wrong with you?” Dominic rubbed his neck. “I swear to God, if you come back over here I will beat your paranoid ass. Straight up!”
Monty shook his head in disbelief and paced from one corner of the office to the other. He stopped. “I can’t trust no fuckin’ body.”
Dominic eyed Monty cautiously. “Well, you need to. And you damn sure need to trust me. Especially when I’m caught up in this bullshit with you. I was there with you when we hipped ICC on what numbers to submit and underbid every other construction agency in the goddamn state of California. I was there when we changed the contracts to reflect the real shit and cooked the books. You and me. I know what’s in most of those ICC containers, that dock at the port, you know, the ones that ship from Colombia. Remember, I get a cut from them having access to that too. So, when I mentioned slowing down their shipments, it’s not just your pockets I’m digging into!”
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