Symone looked surprised. She hadn’t been privy to the exchange between Leah and Brooklyn, so Brooklyn’s account came as a shock.
“What,” Symone asked unbelievingly.
“That’s right,” Brooklyn continued. “It was Leah’s idea. She didn’t want to blow the con.”
The other two fell silent; Symone considering what Brooklyn said and Nia knowing it was the truth. The traffic light turned red and Symone stopped the van. She looked over at Brooklyn as she spoke.
“Think about it. If Leah would have let us get away with Brandon watching, he would have known something was up, especially after I threatened his ass. Nia, you heard her but you should have never been a part of this. You weren’t ready and your little freak out in the vault made that clear. Symone, of course you didn’t hear what was actually going on because you was too far away and the monitors have no sound. When we tussled, Leah made the suggestion, so we could get away and her cover would remain intact.”
An irritated driver from behind the van’s blaring horn demanded Symone’s attention.
“Don’t fuckin’ blow at me,” Symone screeched. “I will sit at this bitch until the light changes again… blowing at me…”
Brooklyn’s eyes grew wide, hearing profanity spill from Symone’s pristine lips. Nia snickered, hearing Symone and watching Brooklyn’s facial expression change.
“What’s so damn funny?”
“You never curse,” Nia laughed. “At least not from what I remember. I guess some things do change.”
“She still never does, Nia,” Brooklyn chimed in.
“Well, I got plenty of reason to,” Symone replied, finally pressing the gas pedal and getting the van moving. “Leah shot. We don’t know how the hell she’s doing, Drew kidnapped… that’s… ugh…”
Whether from nervous energy or high anxiety, Symone’s expression tickled the girls and they laughed even more.
“This is so not funny, for real.”
“I know,” Brooklyn added, “but it’s better than crying.”
The laughter died, and the van fell silent. The levity of their situation rose up again, and the feelings were overwhelming.
“I trust Leah,” Nia said softly, leaning on their twin connection; something she was glad to be finally feeling again. “Although I don’t agree, if she said it had to be done, it had to be done.”
“She’s got her burner,” Brooklyn chimed in. “Let’s pray she calls.
“AAAHHH!”
“Oh my God,” Brandon yelled as he went to the aid of the guard, only after making sure the coast was clear. Leah rolled around in pain. She asked to be shot but didn’t anticipate just how much it would hurt. Crimson red blood soaked through Leah’s pant leg and stained the socks she wore underneath. Leah writhed in pain as Brandon stood over her.
“Somebody call 911,” Brandon yelled into the abyss. Even though the sound of the gunshot ricocheted from building to building, the melee in the front of the bank and the blaring alarm from inside the bank blotted out his cries for help. Brandon kept looking over his shoulder towards the door for someone to respond. There was none.
“AAHHHHH!”
Leah’s eyes filled with tears in response to the sharp stabbing pain in her leg. As bad as it hurt, Leah was glad the girls got away. With no help in sight, Brandon sprang into action. He knelt in front of the security guard.
“Hold still,” he suggested as he reached for Leah’s soiled pants leg.
Leah quickly nodded, biting her lip to keep from screaming. Brandon could have been much gentler as he shoved Leah’s pants up to see what the damage was, but he was so adrenaline-drunk, Brandon wasn’t cognizant of his own strength.
“Shit,” Leah screamed in response to the abrasive fabric rubbing against her fresh wound. Brandon’s gut churned as his eyes fixed on the maroon streaks coursing down the guards’ leg. There was blood, lots of blood. And then he saw where the bullet entered. The tearing of the flesh and the jagged edges of the wound made Brandon’s bloated stomach curdle. He resisted the urge to relieve the pressure from bile rising up in his throat. Instead, he drew his eyes away from the wound and tried to focus on helping the guard.
Releasing the dull striped tie from his neck, Brandon wrapped it around Leah’s leg, just underneath the gaping wound to try and stave off the spillage of blood. Leah winced from the pressure shooting up from her leg.
“What the hell happened here,” Officer Myers shouted; winded from his jaunt around the building. He’d been battling money hungry people in the front of the bank, claiming handfuls of money that spilled from the ATM when he heard a gunshot sound off around the building. He ran around to see what the disturbance was, and potentially apprehend the suspects when his search drew him to the back of the building.
“She’s been shot,” Brandon replied. “Get me some help back here!”
“Can you get me up off the ground,” Leah asked.
The two men looked at each other and went into action. Brandon lifted his weight from the ground with a groan and positioned himself on one side while Officer Myers got on the other. Gently, each man lifted one of Leah’s arms onto his shoulders. She groaned again. With another visual check-in, Brandon counted it off.
“One, two…” and on three, both men hoisted Leah to a standing position. She whimpered when her position changed. Officer Myers shot Leah a sympathetic look. Unable to put any weight on her injured leg, the two men placed their free hand under Leah’s thighs and lifted her again into a sitting position. The pressure was too much and Leah cried out again. In tandem, the men turned her and then carried Leah back to the building. The jaunt was longer than expected as the back door automatically closed and locked and neither of the men had their keycard to open it. They had to carry Leah around the side of the building to get her through the front door. People still milled around, hoping more money would spew from the machine. Seeing the injured guard caused some to pause, but not all. One man was helpful enough to open the front door so Leah’s rescuers could get her into the building.
New sirens behind them alerted to the police and ambulance showing on scene. Officer Myers had made the call once Leah was safely positioned in a chair. Within minutes, the bank lobby was filled with New York’s finest securing the scene. EMT’s were directed to Leah and attended to her. Leah was grateful even though it still hurt like hell. The medical technician’s took her vital signs and inspected her wound. They had some baseline questions about what happened, but nothing too in-depth. That would be the policeman’s job. Theirs was to get her stable enough to be transported to the hospital. Leah remembered to respond as guard Sarah Middleton without hesitation. She tensed every time somebody touched her injured leg and fought back real tears when the touch was too intense. It would be easy to be preoccupied with her own discomfort, but Leah’s thoughts were much further away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Hey, there’s something going on down at Atlantic Bank of New York. You wanna go check it out?”
Brittany was far too enthusiastic for Mason. He didn’t even bother looking up from the file he’d been reading to acknowledge her presence as she plopped her ass on the corner of his desk.
“Hey! I’m talking to you,” Brittany persisted; flipping the cover on the file and closing it. Mason didn’t miss a beat. Instead of the reaction she so desperately desired, Mason opened the file again and continued to review.
“Are you really going to keep doing this?”
Mason had been icing Brittany since she pushed up on him in the parking lot. Brittany didn’t like it although his response should have been expected.
“Fine then,” Brittany spat. “I’ll go check it out myself.” Brittany lifted herself from the desk but not before ensuring that she leaned in and brushed up against Mason. His abrupt recoil was another slap to her heart. Mason wished it was a slap to her face.
“Who knows? It might be your girl,” Brittany said snidely. “Up to her old tricks again.”
&n
bsp; Brittany sauntered off. Mason didn’t look up to see how hard she swayed her hips in hopes of drawing his attention. But now his interest was piqued. It didn’t take long for Mason to pull up details of the burglary at Atlantic Bank of New York. It was all over the newsfeed. The FBI hadn’t officially been called in so operating as an agent would be ill advised. However, he could just happen to be in the neighborhood and just happen to show up at the bank to get the details the news reporters didn’t have. Grabbing his keys and jacket, Mason made his way through the building to the parking lot. Maybe it was his girl after all.
Although there had been some laughs and distance, tensions were still high between Nia, Brooklyn, and Symone. Once the van was safely tucked away in the warehouse they used from time to time, all three climbed out with duffle bags in tow.
“Was the bank transfer successful,” Symone sniped, tossing the duffle she carried on the long rectangular table that sat in the middle of the room.
“Yeah, I watched it go through,” Brooklyn replied, sitting her bags down as well.
“Well, at least something went right,” Symone sniped again, with her hands on her hips. She was still huffy and worried. They hadn’t received a call from Leah, and that was stressing everybody out.
“Dammit, Symone,” Brooklyn yelled; her voice boomeranging off the vacancy in the building. “I feel bad enough about having to shoot Leah, not to mention my damn sister is being held by a motherfuckin’ nut case. I don’t need this shit from you!”
Symone knew she pushed too far, but she couldn’t help it. Her anxiety turned outward. That’s how she handled things. It was Nia who was the voice of reason.
“You both need to stop, for real. We don’t have time for this.”
“You’re right, Nia,” Brooklyn chimed in. “Symone, fuck you if you can’t get with this, but I’m getting my sister back, and Leah is going to call… I just know it.”
Nia fingered the duffle bags on the table.
“If the transfer was successful, what are we going to do with this? Legend asked for seventy. We’ve got a little more than that.”
“Legend didn’t ask for anything,” Symone corrected. “He demanded.”
Nia shot Brooklyn a gaze that was equally returned. Even though Nia tried her damndest to be reasonable, they were both getting sick of Symone at this point.
Talking about the business of it was just what Brooklyn needed to reel her emotions back in. Focus on the work, is what she said to herself as she unzipped one of the bags. Symone was still standing away from the table; still unwilling to let it go and be useful.
“Legend demanded seventy million. With this take, we can put it towards the property and maybe even have some to try and bail out the company,” Brooklyn began. “It all depends.”
Nia nodded her understanding. As she fingered the stacks of vacuum pressed bundles, she raised a question.
“I know this isn’t a part of the original plan, but I can’t help worrying about the court case coming up for James,” Nia began sheepishly. “Do you think we can spare some of this money to hire an attorney? I mean, if something were to happen and they took James from us…”
Nia’s voice cracked and her eyes clouded with tears. Both Symone and Brooklyn heard the pain she felt.
“We can do that,” Symone said.
“James belongs to all of us,” Brooklyn agreed. “He ain’t going nowhere.”
To hear her friends be so unselfish in this moment, with so much going on, touched Nia. The tears that teetered on her eyelids fell as she closed her eyes, appreciative of the women who meant so much to her.
“Thank you…”
The moment of bonding between the three women lingered as they counted up the money from the bank. But just as those thoughts played on their hearts, each one had her mind somewhere else; yet, those private thoughts remained unspoken. After the money was counted, it was time. Brooklyn made the call. She placed it on speaker phone so the others could hear.
“I need to speak to my sister.”
“I need my money,” Legend clapped back.
Brooklyn could feel her pulse racing and venom rising in her spirit. Hearing his voice again was a brutally painful reminder for Nia.
“Proof of life.”
The phone muffled as if Legend placed his hand over it and then the line cleared.
“Hey, Brook.”
Relief was instant.
“Hey, Drew.”
Unexpectedly, Brooklyn choked up. She didn’t realize just how much she missed her sister, and to hear her on the other end of the phone reinforced the bond the two had. But Brooklyn didn’t crack. Shaking her head vigorously, she cleared the emotional cobwebs. There would be time for tears, but this wasn’t it.
“You good?”
“I’m good,” Drew replied. Legend stood as close to her as he possibly could, listening to every word exchanged between the two. Drew kept her emotions in check as well. She knew Legend lived to see her frightened and scared for her life. He was a sadist. Drew refused to give him the satisfaction.
“You know I’m coming for you, right?”
“I know.”
Having heard enough, Legend snatched the phone from Drew’s hand.
“You got your proof. Where’s my money?” Legend demanded.
“We got it,” Brooklyn bit back. Nia and Symone were tuned into the conversation.
“Tonight. 10 p.m. High Bridge.”
Before Brooklyn had a chance to acknowledge the location, the line disconnected. That was it. The exchange was set.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooklyn and Drew’s House
“It’s 9:00,” Brooklyn announced.
She felt Symone’s eyes on her.
“What the hell is the problem now,” Brooklyn sighed. There was never a good time for Symone’s brooding bullshit, and this certainly was not it.
“I don’t think she should go,” Symone whispered. The two were in the kitchen while Nia sat quietly at the dining room table.
For the first time in quite a while, Brooklyn and Symone were on the same page.
“I’m cool with her not going, but I need to know you have my back on this, Symone.”
Symone’s natural instinct was to pop off, with her loyalties being questioned. But this time, Symone restrained her instinctual predilection and took into account what Brooklyn was going through.
“Listen, I love Drew like a sister,” Symone began. “Believe it or not, Brooklyn, I love you, too. I have and will always have your back… no matter how much you piss me off.”
Symone looked to Brooklyn. Brooklyn saw sincerity.
“Whateva man,” Brooklyn shot back; leaning her shoulder against Symone. At least for the moment, some of the tension between the two settled down.
“So did you ladies kiss and make up,” Nia asked as she crossed into the kitchen.
“You know damn well Symone doesn’t know how to apologize,” Brooklyn chuckled.
“From what I remember, she sure doesn’t,” Nia chimed in.
“So, shouldn’t we be leaving about now,” Nia asked as the three ladies stood around the breakfast bar.
Brooklyn and Symone fell quiet; one waiting for the other to break the news to Nia. The silence was awkward, and Nia watched each of them avoiding eye contact with her.
“You don’t want me to go do you?” The challenge in Nia’s voice was clear.
“I don’t think you’re ready,” Brooklyn replied.
“Me either,” Symone agreed. Feeling the need to soften the blow, Symone continued. “You’ve been a big help so far, Nia, but Brooklyn and I can handle this part.”
“So you have already decided, right? I don’t get a say?”
Nia placed both hands firmly on the countertop and waited for their response.
No one said a word.
“Oh, so it’s not about me not being able to help with Drew,” Nia scathed. “This is about Legend. You two don’t think I can handle seeing him.”
“No, we don’t,” Symone answered. “So let us handle this. We’ll bring Drew back and it will be all good.”
“Hmm, okay,” Nia scoffed. “Since you too have already decided what I can and cannot handle, then it doesn’t matter what I say.”
Nia turned and walked away.
“It’s 9:15.”
“We gotta go.”
Drew watched Legend, unsettled and antsy. He’d been that way since the call from Brooklyn.
“For a man that’s about to get everything he wants, you sure don’t look happy about it.”
Legend looked over to where Drew was sitting casually and comfortably on the couch. She didn’t look the least bit frightened or concerned like she knew something he didn’t. Drew’s calm demeanor wasn’t lost on him, nor was his hand-wringing and pacing lost on her. Legend forced a smile as a feeble attempt to rein it in. Drew was right. He should be cool.
“Naw,” Legend said. “Just working out some things in my head, like how I’m gone spend this money.”
“Mmhmm,” Drew rebuffed. “If those lies you tell yourself help you sleep better at night.”
Legend looked at Drew more intently; taking her in from head to toe. She was nothing like Nia, nothing at all. Maybe making the exchange wasn’t the right move after all. Legend dropped the thought from his mind, and looked at the clock slightly above Drew’s head.
“Let’s go.”
“I’m ready when you are, poppy,” Drew said slickly.
Lifting herself from the couch, Drew sauntered over to where Legend stood. He still hadn’t made a move toward the door. Drew brushed up on him, pausing briefly.
“I thought you were smarter than this.”
Her closeness piqued him in more ways than Legend cared to reveal. Her scent lingered and he followed it, watching the sway of Drew’s hips as she moved towards the door. Grabbing the keys from the side table and his piece from the small drawer, Legend slid the gun in the back of his jeans. Drew didn’t see it. She was already standing by the car. Locking up, Legend popped the lock on his truck and the two climbed in. It was only then Drew got her first glance of the weapon.
Prowl (Nothing Else Matters But Survival Book 1) Page 14