Love Me Deadly

by Linda Verji

  The nearer they got to his apartment complex the hotter her rage burned. It welled in her until she could feel it pouring from her ears in thick waves, waiting for a victim to burn. Even before Reggie parked his truck next to her coupe, she’d already reached for the door handle.

  “I thought you weren’t going in,” he reminded her.

  “I’m going in,” she bit out. Though she was staring straight ahead, she sensed the heat of his gaze singeing her as though he was deciding whether to let her out of the car or lock her in. Well, he could try, but she was going in there. She and Quin had business to discuss.

  Reggie released a heavy sigh before letting her out.

  Except for last minute stragglers and a few cars, the complex was deserted. Her heart lurched in disappointment when she didn’t spot Quin’s truck, but remembered that she hadn’t seen it yesterday either. He might still be in his apartment. Squaring her shoulders, she led the way into the building and up the flight of stairs.

  With each step she took the knot in her throat tightened as did the anxiety curling in the pit of her belly. Perhaps sensing it, Reggie snaked his arm around her waist offering her wordless support. To calm herself she mentally rehearsed the confrontation with Quin. She’d give him time to explain his bullshit then she’d tell him that it was over between them, pick her bag and walk out. A clean dignified exit!

  Still, by the time they got to the top of the landing she was a wreck. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps and sweat had pooled in her underarms from both anxiety and anger.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Reggie watched her with concern.

  “Yes…” Erica took a deep breath to fortify herself as she stared at the heavy brown door that marked Quin’s apartment. “… I have to.” She pressed on the bell and its buzz reverberated behind the closed door. There was shuffling in the apartment, footsteps, a pause, quick snapping sounds and the door swung open.

  At five-nine, tennis-player muscular, tanned and dirt blond, Quinton Morrow was candy for any woman’s eyes. But it was his smile that had drawn Erica. When he smiled, his blue eyes lit up and the slight dimple on his cheek winked. It was the kind of smile you fell into and never wanted to crawl out of again. He turned its full effect on her as soon as he threw the door open.

  “Baby, I’ve been trying to call you since yesterday. Where…” His words trailed off when his gaze traveled past her and to Reggie. The smile fell like heavy lead and his voice cooled. “So you’ve been with him?”

  This son of a bitch. As if he had any, any rights at all to question her about her anything. Her carefully rehearsed plans to let him explain himself flew out the window and all Erica could think of was getting out of here. She pushed him away from the door and walked into the house. “Where are my keys?”

  She searched the house, her eyes skirting over the navy set of couches, glass and mahogany coffee table, the blue carpet and the large TV unit. But it wasn’t the keys she was after. She was looking for signs that Brooklyn was still around. There were none. She couldn’t decide whether she was disappointed or relieved. On one hand she’d wanted Brooklyn to be here so she could beat her ass. However, the other woman’s presence would’ve confirmed that Erica’s relationship with Quin was officially over.

  She didn’t even realize Quin had snuck up behind her until his hand settled on her waist and his breath whisper against her ear. “I put your things in our bedroom.”

  Our bedroom. Huh!

  Disgusted and irritated in equal measure, she took a step further away from him, turning as she did to glare at him. The air crackled with unreleased anger and it thumped between them like discordant music, grating at her nerves.

  Raising his palms and lowering his voice as if trying to calm a skittish foal, Quin asked, “Can we talk?”

  “No,” she snapped. Turning her attention to Reggie who was now in the house and leaning against the wall, she said, “Give me a minute to get my stuff.”

  “Okay.” His calming voice reverberated in the tense atmosphere.

  Quin’s bedroom was a mix of warm yellows, oranges, greens, and brown. Like the rest of his house, there were small touches of her. From the pillows she’d picked up for him because she thought his room too mannish to the perfume, moisturizer and other knickknacks he’d set aside for her to encourage her to move into his house. She’d even helped pick out the bed… the bed he’d now shared with Brooklyn countless times.

  Shaking her head to dislodge the track her thoughts had veered into, Erica searched the room for her bag. It was sitting on the bedside table on her side of the bed next to her keys. She crossed the room, grabbed it and, after scanning its contents to make sure everything was there, dumped her keys in it. She swiveled on her heels intent on leaving, only to find Quin looming at the door.

  “Baby, please give me a chance to explain,” he pleaded, his eyes wide with regret.

  “Can you move?” Erica was surprised her voice was so calm considering the rage bubbling beneath its surface.

  Ignoring her order, he took a step into the room. “She seduced me.”

  What? Despite herself Erica burst into laughter, loud chuckles that echoed in the large room ringing with both reluctant amusement and reined in fury. Brooklyn had seduced him? What a load of bullshit. As if Brooklyn could seduce anyone. That girl had so many issues that her issues had issues. Just getting her to have a full conversation with someone she wasn’t comfortable with was like a visit to the colon-doctor.

  Quin, however, was a flirt. It was a problem they’d fought about a lot and his trying to shift the blame was laugh-worthy. Her amusement rang hollow in the room and when her chuckles died down her ire reared its head again. Her voice was tight with it as she said, “Get out of my way.”

  “No.” He took a step closer to her. “Ri, please.”

  It was the Ri that did it. His use of the pet name sliced through the pain and anger already brimming inside her and doubled it. After that all Erica remembered was the red haze that fell over her vision. She flung the bag without thought and it caught him smack in the eye.

  “Shit.” Quin howled in pain as he covered his face with his hands. An impenetrable shell of fury now coated her pain, and, like an out of control teenager on a joyride, it cruised her system and egged her on.

  She came for him!

  Fisting her hand, she slung it back then shot it forward sending it flying towards his face. It met his cheek with a satisfying crunch. Despite the pain that shot through her own hand at the contact, his second howl was music to her ears.

  He tried to reach for her but she sidestepped the attempt, skirting around his hunched form and exiting the room. Reggie must’ve heard Quin’s cries because she collided with him in the hallway. Her voice cold as ice, she said, “I’m done. Let’s go.”

  Anyone with eyes could see that Erica was trying to avoid dealing with her pain by running away. Her business involved many out-of-town trips but this was getting ridiculous. According to Kendra, the days she’d spent in their apartment in the last weeks could be counted on one hand. His sister wanted him to talk to Erica and convince her it was time to come home. He wasn’t sure it was his place to do so.

  Five weeks later found him seated on the swinging armchair his aunt kept on her porch, his feet hiked up on the railing and on the phone with Erica. “So how’s Vegas?”

  “Popping, of course” Her jaunty tone tickled his eye.

  Beyond the porch, deep darkness beckoned emphasized by the cluster of trees across the road. The solitary streetlight at the far end of the yawning road struggled to cast the semblance of light into the night but failed miserably.

  He asked, “Did you gamble away your inheritance?”

  Her throaty laugh rang through the phone line. “I was very good, Daddy.”

  “Good,” he returned. “I guess I won’t have to use my belt on you.”

  “Ooh, kinky,” she teased. “I didn’t know you were into that, Mr. Gray.”

  “Wat
ch out. Watch out.” He laughed. Their subtle flirting was likely innocent on her part but it turned him on. Her voice on its own was an aphrodisiac. It put in mind images of warm nights and her naked and willing in his arms. How many sweaty nights had he spent dreaming of taking her? Cupping her breasts and finally getting his chance to taste her? Having her thighs pressed to his flunks as he drove into her over and over again? Too many to count!

  Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t here. If they spent as much time together in person as they’d spent talking over the phone these last few weeks, he’d already have made a move. He shifted slightly in his seat to ease the discomfort of his burgeoning erection before changing the topic. “So when are you coming back into town?”

  The silence was immediate as was the change in vibe. He sensed her enthusiasm waver clear across the thousands of miles that separated them. Her voice was much cooler when she said, “Monday… but I’m leaving on Tuesday.”

  “Oh.”He sighed in disappointment. “So you can’t have dinner with me on Tuesday?”

  “You want to take me to dinner?” She sounded doubtful.

  “Yeah!” He swung his feet off the railing and sat forward in his seat. Taking a deep breath, he added, “I’ve missed you.”

  Tensed, he waited for her response. There was a pause on her end. When she spoke her voice was a soft murmur. “You have?”

  He nodded. “I have.”

  The pause this time was longer and for a moment, Reggie was sure he’d frightened her off. But finally she said, “I can postpone leaving.”

  His heart swelled with both relief and satisfaction. She wasn’t ready for a relationship and he had no intention of being her rebound, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy her company… as friends. Smiling, he cradled the phone in his palm as he said, “Great. We can-”

  He never got the chance to finish his sentence. A loud crash sounded inside the housed followed by Ailea screaming, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “You better believe I’mma tell your nasty teenage ass ‘xactly what to do…” his aunt’s yelled over his sister.

  “Good lord, what is happening out there?” Erica asked.

  “Just Ailea and Ma.” Reggie rose to his feet. “Let me call you later, okay?”

  “’kay.”

  Once he’d ended the call, he pushed open the door and stepped into the colonial style mansion. The scene he found ground his heart to a halt. Ailea was standing at the top landing in a sparkling green dress that stopped at her upper thighs. Ma was at the foot of the stairs in a muumuu with curlers in her dark hair and pointing a hunting rifle at Ailea.

  “Take another step down the stairs in that goddamn dress and see if I don’t shoot it off you,” Ma dared Ailea.

  “You said I could go,” Ailea protested.

  “I didn’t say nothing about going anywhere with your ass hanging out like a two dollar ho,” Ma growled, the curlers in her hair bouncing with anger. “You’d better go back up those stairs and change that shit.”

  “Make me.” Ailea took a step down.

  Ma aimed.

  Reggie stepped in front of his aunt with the rifle’s barrel to his chest, “Ma, put the gun down.”

  Ailea, on her end, exited the scene of her crime with loud yells of ‘this is so unfair’. It was only when they heard her door slam, that Ma lowered the rifle.

  “Get that girl, Reggie. ‘Cause the next time I might be tempted to shoot her little fast ass.” With those words she stomped to the den.

  Unperturbed Reggie took the stairs two at a time. Despite her threats, his aunt would never hurt his sister. Not with the way she loved her.

  Ma had gotten pregnant when she was fifteen. Having been kicked out of the house by her parents, she was forced to find a way to feed herself and her child. Ma’s daughter had died at four years old but even after her death, she’d continued to strip. It was at there that she’d met fifty-five year-old rancher, Kyle Miran.

  Having undergone a vasectomy, Kyle could not give her a child. Ma had insisted that she didn’t want any children to replace her daughter anyway. But when her sister, Reggie’s mother, had dropped off five year-old Reggie and one year-old Kendra, she’d taken them in as her own. When ten years later Reggie’s mother had again dropped off Ailea after her third marriage went south, Ma had taken her in too.

  Reggie didn’t know where his real mother was. She turned up every five years or so, but he’d ceased to look forward to her visits. Ma was all the mother he knew and needed.

  Kyle’s death had created a firestorm of drama. Kyle’s kids couldn’t stand ‘that black gold-digger’ inheriting any of their father’s land. A fierce court-battle had left Ma with the house, the small parcel of land it stood on and no means to maintain it. Luckily, Reggie was working and could afford to take care of her. It was the least he could do after everything she’d done for him and his siblings.

  With a brief knock, he pushed the door to Ailea’s room open. She was lying on the bed, sobbing like the world was coming to an end.

  “Lea?” The bed dipped as he sat down next to her. “What’s going on?”

  “I hate her. I hate her. I hate her,” she yelled into her pillow. “She treats me like a child.”

  Reggie almost laughed aloud. Considering how she was acting, how could anyone not treat her like a child? He tapped her shoulder. “You wanna be treated like an adult, act like one. Stop crying and sit up.”

  It took a while, but she did. When she’d finished wiping her teary face, he asked her, “Okay, what happened?”

  What proceeded was a tearful explanation of the problem. She and Ma had agreed that if she got a B in Math, she’d be allowed to go to some boy called Sammy D’s party. Ailea had made the B.

  “And you were going like that?” he scanned the offensive dress with a twist of his mouth and a frown.

  “It’s not that bad,” Ailea protested. “Everyone’s dressing like this.”

  “You’re not everyone,” Reggie dismissed. “Who’s this Sammy D anyway?”

  “Oh my God,” Ailea whined. “Don’t you guys trust me?” which led to another burst of tears.

  Used to her dramatics Reggie waited her out. When they could finally have a coherent conversation, he informed her she could go to the party. That elicited enthusiastic clapping and a ‘you’re the best big brother’. It soon turned to hisses of ‘I can’t believe you’ when he added that she would have to change the dress. He also insisted on driving her to there to see what kind of party it was and make sure it wasn’t a rowdy kegger. Fortunately, it was a tame event.

  After making sure Ailea had a responsible ride home ,Reggie made his way back the house. As soon as he parked his truck, he dialed Erica’s number. She picked on the second ring.

  “Asleep?” he asked.

  “No,” she returned. “I was waiting for you.”

  Smiling, he sat back in his seat preparing for a long hour with her.

  CHAPTER 5

  Reggie: Is it on your thigh?

  Erica: maybe

  Reggie: Your back?

  Erica: hmm :-)

  Quin: Baby, please pick up your phone can we talk.

  Erica kissed her teeth as she deleted Quin’s message. He’d been trying to talk to her for the last month with no success, yet he refused to give up. She was tempted to give in but every time she thought of pressing the answer button, an image of he and Brooklyn tangled on the couch would intrude into her thoughts. That image scattered any desire she had of talking to him.

  Erica wasn’t stupid. She knew she was weak when it came to Quin. He had a way of guilt-tripping her that always got to her. If she allowed him to talk to her, she’d end up doing something stupid – like forgiving him. Her only recourse was to avoid him and anywhere they could meet until she’d fortified herself enough to resist his seduction. Her phone beeped, showing a message.

  She smiled when she saw it was from Reggie. ‘Erica, put me out of my misery. Tell me where the tattoo
is.’

  She typed out, ‘Tuesday… if dinner is really good… maybe.’

  His response was a quick, ‘You’re such a tease.’

  Erica laughed. She was about to type out a response when the cab driver called, “Ma’am, we’re here.”

  Surprised that she hadn’t even realized that they’d arrived home, she looked up to find them parked in front of her building’s gates. They’d been texting since she’d disembarked from the plane and through her over thirty-minute ride home. Erica hated texting so it was a small wonder that Reggie had kept her entertained for this long. But then again he was so easy to talk as she’d discovered in these last few weeks.

  Their conversations were often light discussions of their days, likes and dislikes among other inane topics. Still, every time her phone beeped a message from him her heart jumped with giddy excitement. And the nightly phone calls… mmm. Hearing his deep voice was enough to warm her body. She wasn’t sure what was going on between them, but Reggie made her feel good. For now it was enough. It was also worth postponing her exit from San Diego and risking a Quin ambush.

  The cab hooted and shone its lights on the large black gates. The gates slid open and a security guard walked out. After confirming it was Erica, he let them in.

  The large complex comprised six four-story buildings each marked with a letter of the alphabet. The buildings were arranged in a half rectangle around the concrete parking lot and separated by well-maintained flowerbeds. Brilliant lights shone from several apartments brightening the fast-falling darkness. A few teenagers were throwing hoops on the basketball court near the gates. They waved at Erica as she exited the cab.

  After paying the driver, she wheeled her suitcase into Building A and up the stairs to the second floor. As soon as she pushed the door to their apartment open, screams welcomed her.

  “Erica,” Kendra squealed in excitement. “You’re back.” She jumped from the couch and launched herself at Erica, wrapping her friend in a warm embrace.