“Do you want my number?” she asked, right before Junior bellowed again. “Junior! Please!” she yelped before her eyes crossed and then closed slowly to keep from rolling in her head. When she opened them, he was staring deeply at her ... through her.
“No, you call my secretary if you want me to take care of things. There will no problem taking care of this here,” he said, fanning his hand over the front of her car. Juanita strained to hear a double meaning. She so wanted there to be one. She’d not even considered the fact that he had a secretary. Since when did gumshoes get secretaries these days?
They shared an awkward moment before she smoothed back her wild hair. “I know this neighborhood well. It’s the Palemos. My ex and his wife live here ...” She paused before pointing at Junior. “... and I was taking him to... .” She suddenly realized that she was rambling. “Who were you looking for?” she asked him after clearing her throat.
“Juanita, come on!” Junior yelled out, sounding rude and disrespectful. He was begging for a grounding, but she would have to hold that off because for two weeks he was going to be staying at Rashawn’s house—whether they liked it or not. Ovan looked around her again and then back at her, his face bursting into a full-on grin.
“It doesn’t matter anymore ... because I found you,” he answered. Yes, he was indeed flirting. No mistake.
Chapter 13
Breakfast was quiet. Sometimes things were livelier when Junior was there, Rashawn had to admit that. “So, I’m surprised Junior didn’t make here for breakfast,” Rashawn said, breaking the silence.
“Well, I think Nita is trying to lay low considering she asked me yesterday if Junior could stay the entire winter break,” Chance said.
“What?” both Reggie and Rashawn asked at the same time.
Chance looked at them. “And I haven’t given her an answer yet, but—”
“I’m leaving, Chance. Why would you tell her yes? I won’t be here for the first few days.”
“And what difference does that make?” Chance retorted, not meaning to sound rude.
Rashawn dropped her fork loudly on her plate. “Well, excuse the hell outta me.”
“That’s not what I meant ...”
“He’s gonna be here all winter break? That’s so not cool. I have plans,” Reggie griped.
“And what difference does that make?” Chance asked Reggie, this time the question having intended meaning.
“I don’t care if he’s here,” Rainey mumbled under her breath while picking around on her plate with her fork.
“Of course you don’t,” Reggie said with a sneer.
“Why does everyone act like that toward me?” Rainey whined.
“Nobody is acting any kind of way,” Rashawn jumped in. “It’s just I’m not going to be here and it’s a lot of work for Daddy to have all you guys by himself.”
“Rashawn, that’s not true. I do it all the time.”
“Yeah, Mommy, you’re hardly ever here anymore,” Rainey said, her innocence showing.
“Yeah, Mommy,” Reggie added, without a drop of anything innocent showing anywhere.
“Look. I’m working hard to—” Rashawn began, but quickly stopped speaking. Reggie’s phone rang. “Shut that off at the table!” Reggie quickly grabbed the phone. It was a rule—no phones at the table. At that open show of blatant disrespect, Rashawn stood from the table and gathered her plate and juice glass. The phone now vibrated against the glass Reggie had laid it next to. Rashawn held out her hand. Reluctantly, Reggie handed the phone over. She continued into the kitchen to set her plate in the sink after shoving the phone into her pocket. “Now, do whatever is it you people do—decide whatever it is you need to decide. Since, you know, I’m not really a factor in your little family decisions.” She was pouting, but didn’t care.
“Stop it, Rashawn. You’re blowing things outta proportion,” Chance said without getting up to comfort her. She noticed that. He just sat there finishing his breakfast. “Nita just asked me to extend Junior’s visit and I think I will. I mean, she could use the break, and—”
“What?” That did it. Now Chance was defending Juanita. When he came in last night from taking Junior home he was acting funny. Of that Rashawn was sure. He didn’t even give her a kiss, but instead went in and changed his shirt before dinner. All she noticed at the time was that Junior was not there. Maybe she should have noticed more.
Glancing at his watch, Chance stood. “Come on, guys, I’ll drop you off on my way to work.”
“I thought we were riding in together. I’m leaving tomorrow. I had hoped we’d spend time together and ...” Rashawn went on. The kids gathered their books quickly and rushed toward the door. A ride to school was not a common thing—it only happened when she and Chance fought during breakfast. Okay, so it happened a lot.
“I’ll swing by your office for lunch. How’s that, baby?” he said before heading out the door, not waiting for an answer.
“Peachy,” she said aloud to herself looking at the messy table that she had only moments to clean. Just then, Reggie’s cell phone went off in her pocket. She hesitated, but pulled it out enough to glance at the number. The number was blocked. Picking up the fancy gadget, she pushed talk and put it her to ear. “Hello?” she said.
There was only silence before the caller hung up. “Whatever! I don’t care if nobody ever wants to talk to me again!” she yelled, shoving the phone in back into her pocket. She emptied the table quickly before she too found herself running out the door as if on fire. She was late.
Chapter 14
“My life depends on this being kept secret,” he said, rolling down his sleeve after securing the bandage.
Hap Washburn was a new surgeon—a hungry, eager one. Hap’s girlfriend had died suddenly and he hadn’t so much as mentioned it. He hadn’t mentioned the money that Craven Michael had secured, either—money that Hap probably stole when he found out she was dead. Hap was hungry or, better yet, greedy. Roman could see it all over his face when he was attempting to explain why Craven not being in this plan was a “better idea, easier,” he had said. “Less complicated,” he had pointed out. Not an ounce of grief...
Roman was impressed, but on the other hand, he wasn’t sure if he could trust such a desperate man. But if nothing else he’d shown his avaricious side, and Roman knew, with that, as long as he offered Hap what seemed like a little fame and notoriety, Hap would be loyal. “I understand that. My career depends on this being kept quiet as well.”
Apparently, the thought of a surgery like this one made his juices marinade, and being the only surgeon on the case made it all the juicer. Sure, this surgery was as illegal and unethical as hell, but if successful he would make medical history for sure. And for a black doctor, even in this day and age, making history was where it was at! He was down for this, as the young people often said. Roman enjoyed young people. He had enjoyed being young—for the most part. There were portions of his young life that he hated to remember; one part in particular was being raised with his half brother, Blain. He hated Blain like no other person on earth, and was glad when Rashawn Aims killed him. Sure, Blain was killed for something of which he was innocent, but no matter.
Roman had been trying for years to find a way to kill his brother. Maybe it was a violent way to get what he wanted, but violence was in his blood. How could he not be affected? He’d only known that way of life. As a boy, he’d watched his own father commit the most violent of crimes, just to get what he wanted—his life back, taken from him through betrayal. His father was a genius and didn’t deserve to be executed the way he was, not for killing a traitor. Call it revenge, call it a revisit; now Roman wanted only the same thing as his father. But he would not be treated as a common criminal in the end. For one, he was much too brilliant to be caught. His father allowed emotion to cloud his reason, but Roman had no such emotions. Roman’s father was betrayed by a man who had claimed to be a servant of God. Roman had no weaknesses where God was concerned—maybe
because he felt rather godlike most of the time.
“So it seems Reggie was easy to persuade.”
“Persuade? What do you mean?” Roman asked.
“I’m thinking, all you had to do was offer him a chance to play ball for a bunch of ducks.” Both men chuckled at the funny sound of the team’s name. “At just the promise of fame, he jumped at the chance.”
“What makes you think I had to trick him? He’s my son; he should be more than ready to help me.”
“Right, letting you kill him in the name of science. If you think I’m just gonna believe that he went for that deal without a fight ... phhhst.” Hap snickered.
“It’s all in how you approach people,” Roman said before bringing up Craven. Hap looked at him as if knowing what he was implying even before he said her name.
“Craven and I had our differences, but, yes, it was unfortunate what happened,” he said.
“Yes, it was. By the way, she didn’t happen to mention anything about ... some extra money I’d given her? You know, before she ... died.” Roman emphasized the word.
“Extra money?”
“Yes, I had given her a bonus before I realized she had gone against my instructions—bringing you on board without my permission.” Roman smiled wickedly. “I’m sure you knew about it. I’m sure she told you about it.”
“She didn’t tell me about any money,” Hap fibbed. She’d promised some, but had not delivered yet—nor told him she’d had it already. She claimed she hadn’t gotten it yet from Roman. Lying bitch.
“That’s too bad. Well, I guess she was faithful about keeping that little secret—it’s just unfortunate that she didn’t follow the rest of my instructions. Oh well, good thing she didn’t die in any pain.”
“What?”
“I said,” Roman paused dramatically as if Hap really could not understand what he was saying, “I’m glad I didn’t cause her any pain. Actually, she was quite ... relaxed,” Roman smiled wickedly, “by the time I gave her the injection.”
“You bastard!”
“So I’ve heard. But listen to me, Hap,” Roman said, as if tasting the name in his mouth and rolling the bitterness around. “Craven jeopardized my entire operation. She brought you on board without my approval, promising to pay you with my money—which is the only reason you’re not dead. I figure I might as well use you. I’ve paid you—of course, it’s up to you to find where she put your share. Anyway, just so you know, I hate when people don’t follow instructions.”
Hap’s face was covered with all sorts of mixed emotions now. Gone was his look of confidence. “She didn’t give me anyth—”
“Save it,” Roman said. “You were a fool to trust a woman—especially one who’s willing to sleep with the boss. Now, about Reggie, I need you to make sure the plan goes as I have designed. You’re not quite as seductive as Craven,” Roman said, smiling wickedly, “but surely you can find some way to get a young man to follow you to a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”
Hap stammered slightly before getting his question out. “Where will you be?”
“I’ve got some unfinished business to tend to before I join you all.”
“I thought you said you would be there before us,” Hap screeched. “I’m not in this to babysit!”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to do what Craven is no longer alive to do. I’ll be there within a day or two ... no worries.”
“None of this sets well. Not at all. You act as though Craven’s murder is not going to be noticed at all.”
“Well that’s your problem, Hap, since you’re the one who acted foolishly, not dotting all your ‘i’s and crossing all your ‘t’s. As far as anyone knows, you were the last person to see her alive, and her autopsy will show you were the last person to ‘visit her’—can’t believe you had sex with her without a condom. Are you crazy?” Roman shook his head in disgust. “Me, on the other hand ... No one will ever know how deep our love went ...” Now Roman was laughing.
“What the hell do you mean?”
Allen Roman smacked his lips and shook his head. “You’re the one who decided to rough her up and rape her within hours of her death—which, at the moment, no one suspects is murder, but don’t count on them being in the dark for long. I have reason to believe that your little tumble won’t go unnoticed by forensics. However, if you do your job you won’t go to jail for murder.”
Hap took in a full chest of air as if clearing his head of the information he’d just been given. “I don’t intend to go to jail.”
“Then I guess you better watch your step,” Roman said, draping his jacket over his arm and heading for the door. Hap, as if suddenly realizing the full impact of what he’d gotten into, felt his blood chill, to an icy temperature.
Chapter 15
Back at the station, Ovan reviewed the morning’s events as well as the court file he’d managed to get his hands on, among other things.
The file reviewed in detail the state’s position on the civil and criminal cases involving the “get ass” epidemic. That was what they had named the date rape drug that Blain Tollome and his team of campus security cops peddled around the school. Many girls up and down the peninsula had been raped as a result of ingesting the drug. Juanita Duncan’s name had come up in several instances, but one stood out: Yvette Furhman. She had been murdered after the discovery that she had become pregnant by one of security cops working for Blain Tollome. Notes from the therapist, Juanita Duncan, indicated that she suspected Allen Roman (who was addicted to the exotic island drug to alleviate pain he suffered due to bad kidneys and a failing liver) of murdering the young girl, although all evidence pointed to Blain Tollome. Juanita Duncan had been one of the University’s therapists during that time, along with Allen Roman. “So they were colleagues.
Interesting,” Ovan mumbled. Yes, this Dr. Duncan is probably a good place to go for some inside information on Roman, Ovan thought.
Although the file did not connect the dots to Allen Roman as directly as he had first imagined it would, there was a lot of information concerning the hypno/psychotherapist Juanita Duncan that demanded his further, detailed investigation. That was his justification for borrowing the file that morning from the DA’s office. It wasn’t the “borrowing” of the file, however, that had him in a rush to leave. He also had found himself in a precarious situation with the deputy DA that made lingering around awkward.
That deputy DA was a hot blonde. Feisty and full of, apparently, pent-up, raging hormones. It always amazed him what a heightened yet underused libido would make a woman do. But there was no way he had intended to shag that woman.
It wasn’t as if she wasn’t lovely, the way she sat on the corner of her desk, crossing her legs so that he caught sight of plenty of thigh. But he truly had come there to work. Despite his reputation, he really was a serious agent.
Making up a story, he told her he was an attorney working a civil case dealing with one of the date rape victims, who now felt that because of this rape she couldn’t have an orgasm in her married life. The DA seemed more than willing to help. “Anything for an orgasm,” she joked. Inappropriate though it was, Ovan read through the veneer and into the woman’s true feelings.
“Well, they are very important to some people,” he said, glancing quickly through the pages of the file, realizing only then he’d hit a mother lode of information on Blain Tollome and the case surrounding the date rape drug. There was too much to memorize and much more than he’d have time to read there, in her presence. She was all but breaking a sweat as it was. So he skimmed for more connections to Allen Roman. She noticed his intensity—apparently it aroused her.
“I know my office is small, but do you mind if I close the door,” she said, bringing his attention back, pulling it away from the file. She’d pulled her long, blond mane from its tight bun and allowed it to fall freely around her shoulders. She also unbuttoned the top two buttons of her crisp white blouse.
Sex. What a phenomeno
n, he thought, wondering what he had done or said to make this woman want it right at that particular moment. Within a moment or two—allowing for the removal of panty hose—she was bent over her desk with her hand holding down the photo of her smiling husband and two kids. Ovan worked over her back side. She was hungry; he could tell because of the way she violently twisted her hips, hoping to find the spot that would offer release of her pent-up tension. Feeling her desperate need, he pulled from her. She turned to him, red-faced and highly agitated. “No. I didn’t ... yet,” she began, out of breath and overheated. Ovan shushed her calmly.
“I know,” he whispered.
Changing his condom—he always carried two—he instructed her to turn back toward the desk and squat. Following her down the floor, Ovan entered her slowly while reaching around her waist, using his middle finger to plow through her thick pubic hair until he found her magic button. It was ready and waiting, pulsating like mad and nearly too hot to touch. Gently he stroked it, calming it, making love to it manually while stoking her inner fire with his hardened manhood. It was a technique he knew well, and used often on desperate housewives. Within moments her knuckles whitened from the grip she had on her desk’s edge, while she gave into what was probably the best orgasm she’d ever had in her life, if not her first “real” one. Deep guttural moans escaped her lips as he slowly moved his hips in a circular motion, while stimulating her clit, which grew slippery with her juices. From the outside of her, while rubbing gently on deeper inner lips, he could feel himself stroking inside her and he knew he was hitting the right spots. “Tighten yourself around me,” he whispered in her ear, feeling her muscle contracting instantly. With that, her vagina began to convulse while her mound grew and her lower lips swelled with sexual fever. His hands were soon drenched in her fluids as she came repeatedly, spreading her knees wide to take him all in, gasping for air as she did. Her belly sucked in tight as he now grabbed at her mound, using the palm of his hand and fingers to create suction.
Blood Relations Page 6