“She’s made my life a living hell since the day I met her,” YaYa replied. “I just need her dead.”
“You say you want to do it personally,” Zya said. “I can respect that, but everything in due time. I’m giving you a chance to build an empire. You build your empire, you gain power, then you ruin her,” Zya said. She folded her linen napkin and placed it on top of the table, signaling that the dinner was over. YaYa followed suit and looked around the restaurant, noticing that they were being watched.
“I think someone is following us,” YaYa said.
Zya nodded. “Of course they are,” she replied. “I never go anywhere without two sets of eyes on me at all times. If you want to be a boss, you have to behave like one. Let this be an easy lesson for you to learn. Take note, YaYa.”
“I need Indie here. I need to talk to him. I need answers. I just need him,” YaYa admitted.
“Then you call for him,” Zya said. “Let’s go.”
By the time they arrived back at the villa, Zya had assembled some of the most lethal members of her team. Five men, all with ties to the Italian mafia, sat at a round table in the dining room.
YaYa walked in unsurely. There were a million thoughts racing through her mind, but outwardly she appeared cool and collected as she took a seat next to Zya.
“Gentlemen, this is Ms. Morgan. She is my guest here in Italy and will be partnering with me in business. Her word is like my word. If she requests something, you do not hesitate to make it happen. She needs a gentleman brought here from the States. His name is Indie Perkins. His information is inside that manila folder,” Zya instructed as she nodded to the paperwork that sat in the center of the table.
One of the gentlemen spoke up. An olive-toned man with dark hair and mysterious eyes reached for the folder. His handsome features stuck out to YaYa immediately. He was younger than the rest of the men and wore a Gucci suit that had been custom fitted just for him.
“Do you want him brought back standing or lying down?” he asked, a charming accent revealing that English was a second language.
Zya turned to YaYa, handing her the floor, and she took a deep breath before she spoke. This was her moment, her time to take the reins and step into her own. “Please, I want him unharmed. I just need him brought to me as soon as possible,” she said. Her voice trembled slightly, causing the man to smile.
“No need to be nervous. You’re the boss,” the guy said. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”
She blushed at his forwardness and replied, “That’s all I need from you.”
“My name is Marco A’diamo,” he said. “If you think of anything else you need, you let me know.”
The men stood and exited the villa. When they were out of sight, Zya turned to YaYa with a look of surprise on her face. “He’s fond of you. Marco is fond of no one,” she said with laughter in her voice.
YaYa laughed slightly and replied, “Thank you, Zya. You have been a great friend to me.”
“I need your head in the right place, YaYa. There is a lot riding on you. If you can establish business for me back home, we both have a lot of money to make,” Zya said.
Zya departed and YaYa went up to her room. She exhaled deeply and collapsed against the door as she let the weight of her body slide to the floor. Overwhelmed by life, she felt completely cornered. YaYa’s back was against the wall. On top of stepping into a deadly new business venture with Zya, she was separated from her child and Indie. They gave her strength—strength to keep living and strength to face her mental demons as well. Her fear of Leah was almost crippling. With an entire ocean between them, Leah was still too close for comfort. No time or distance was great enough. Only death would suffice, but each time Leah and YaYa faced off, Leah always came out on top. Somehow Leah always found a way to defeat YaYa . . . mind, body, and spirit.
I just need to get rid of her once and for all. She deserves a slow death for what she did to me, for taking my daughter from me, YaYa thought.
She rested her head against the door, and her eyes landed on the orange prescription bottle on the nightstand. She crawled over to it and opened it, her hands shaking. Three large pills fell into her hand as she tipped the bottle into her palm. Her heart sped up from guilt. YaYa knew that she was taking the pills more out of want than an actual need. She had no pain; she just wanted to be taken on a high where none of the stresses of her life could touch her.
“How the fuck could I have been so blind?” Indie asked as he sat at his desk with the half-empty bottle of Louis in front of him. He had been sipping slowly for hours, taking himself to a place of intoxication where nothing hurt . . . a place where pain didn’t exist. YaYa was lost to him. No one knew exactly where her body had been taken, and the fact that he hadn’t given her a proper burial tortured him. He wanted nothing more than to be at her side at that moment. He had failed to protect her, failed to protect Sky. Both of them had fallen victim to Leah, while he had fallen for her charm, her lies, her deceit.
He had always prided himself on being savvy. It was how he had lasted so long in the game. How had this one woman caused him to slip so easily? Had he wanted to see the truth? Maybe he wanted to believe that she was YaYa. Was loving her replacement easier than letting the real thing go? Where was her body?
His 9 mm Ruger rested atop his desk. Beside it sat a picture of YaYa and Sky. A choice was being presented before his very eyes. He picked up the gun knowing that with one pull of the trigger, he could end it all. The overwhelming guilt that he felt would cease to exist, but his heart wouldn’t allow him to die so selfishly. His eyes kept drifting to the picture of his daughter, YaYa’s daughter, and he knew that he couldn’t do it. To leave his child alone in a world so cruel would surely be enough to send him to hell.
He put the cork in the bottle of expensive cognac and swayed to his feet, gathering his bearings. The hollow space in his chest would forever remain empty, because he was sure that he would never find another person to call his equal. The passion that he felt for YaYa was still very much alive, and no woman would ever compare. He placed two fingers to his lips then delivered the gentle kiss to her picture before walking out of the room.
He gathered himself, grabbed his keys, and looked around the house that he had shared with her briefly. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t stand to be inside of it. Nothing but misery had come to him since the very first night he had brought her here. It was definitely time to leave Houston behind. Life for him in that city was over. He didn’t take any of his possessions. Indie simply walked away from it all.
Darkness enveloped him as he stepped out of his house. It was 3:00 A.M. and surprisingly, Agent Norris had called off his dogs, leaving him to mourn in peace. By the time they arrived back for their morning shift, he would be long gone.
Indie entered his car and put his key in the ignition. He was sluggish from the liquor that he had consumed, and where he would have normally seen a setup coming, he didn’t suspect a thing. By the time Indie came back up to place his car in drive, he was caught slipping. The eyes of the intruder in his backseat stared into his own briefly as a black pillowcase was slipped over his face. Indie bucked backward as his world went black and he protested against the strength of his attacker.
“Aghh!” he growled. He pressed his foot into the gas pedal and reached until his hands found the gearshift. He pulled it backward, and the car jerked violently in reverse.
“Stop fighting!” the goon ordered in his ear as he put Indie in a chokehold.
Indie kept pressing the gas until his car collided with a tree, causing the goon to let go momentarily. The split second was all Indie needed to unload. He snatched his pistol off his holster and pointed it backward.
Boom!
He fired, and the loud blast caused him to go temporarily deaf. His ears rang, and he grabbed the sides of his head as his mouth fell open in an O of excruciation.
He opened the door and stumbled from the vehicle. Two black SUVs pulled up on him, and fo
ur men with semi-automatics drew on him. Indie raised his gun and fired with precision.
The men took cover until they heard Indie pause to reload; then they moved on him. Indie was easily outnumbered as two of the men ran up. He was knocked out cold before he could ever react.
“Jesus! She said she wanted him brought here gently,” Zya said as she frowned at Indie’s bound hands and beaten up appearance.
“He resisted, hard. Killed two of my men. Gently didn’t work, so I had to put him down hard,” Marco replied.
“Cut his hands loose,” she ordered.
Marco’s face was turned up in a menacing sneer as he cut the ropes from Indie’s wrists. He gave Indie a harsh stare, causing Indie’s ego to flare. “Little nigga better lower your eyes,” he said.
Marco stood toe to toe with Indie, but conceded defeat when Zya’s order broke up the show of testosterone. “Enough, Marco. He is a friend,” Zya said.
Indie rubbed his wrists and didn’t take his eyes off of Marco until he had exited the room. He looked at Zya, enraged. “We’ve done square business for years, ma. This how you want to end it?” he asked. “Do you know the measures I’ve taken just to protect you . . . to keep your name out of the dockets of my federal case?” he barked. He thought they had developed a cordial and even pleasant relationship over their years of getting money together. Her ambush came as a complete surprise to him.
“I’m not the one that brought you here, Indie. I apologize for their force, but I assure you that once you find out the reason why you are here, your tone will change,” Zya replied apologetically.
“Where exactly is here?” Indie asked as he rubbed his sore wrists and followed the sway of Zya’s hips into the sitting room. He looked around the giant home and immediately knew that he had not underestimated Zya’s status. She was bossed up in every way. She wasn’t a chick who hustled for handbags and Red Bottoms. Zya was heavy in the underworld, affiliated with Supreme Clientele. He only wondered what she wanted with him.
“I’ve known you for a long time, Indie. You do good business. You’re one of the good guys. You found yourself wrapped up in a jam, and my name remains a mystery to the feds. I respect you, and I would like to call you a friend. I usually don’t get involved with any beef, especially anything stateside, but for you I intervened when I felt I was needed.”
“You’re losing me, Zya. I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” he said.
“Let’s just say you owe me big,” Zya replied with a wink. She nodded her head to the back of the room, and Indie turned, following her gaze.
“YaYa,” he whispered when he saw her face. Like magnets they connected, crossing the room swiftly as she fell into his arms. “I thought you were dead, ma. I thought you were gone. On my soul I thought you were dead,” he whispered as his hands touched her face, cupping it between his hands as he planted a kiss on her forehead.
Despite all of the confusion, the anger, the resentment that she felt toward him, his presence still melted her heart, and for a moment she allowed herself to linger in love. For a few seconds life was perfect.
“Sssss,” YaYa hissed as she cringed from his touch.
“Be gentle, Indie. She still has a long way to go on the road to recovery,” Zya said.
He released her face and turned to Zya. He had never been so grateful for anything in his life. “Thank you,” he said with so much emotion it brought tears to Zya’s eyes. She knew what love looked like, and she was witnessing it in its truest form. There was no doubt that Indie was head over heels for YaYa.
“You’re welcome,” she answered. “I’ll give you two some privacy. YaYa knows how to reach me.” She left the villa, knowing that the two had some reuniting to do. Indie turned around, picking YaYa up off her feet, his arms wrapped around her waist.
“I love the shit out of you, YaYa. I’m so sorry, ma. I should have been there,” he said.
“You weren’t, though. It seems like every time I need you, you’re never there,” she whispered sadly.
Indie placed her on her feet. Her words wounded him like a man on a battlefield. In her eyes he saw doubt, doubt in his love for her, and he took one step back to make sure that he was seeing things clearly.
“Please, let’s sit down. We need to talk,” YaYa whispered. She had mixed emotions regarding Indie. Every time she came to a pivotal point in her life, she never knew exactly where Indie stood. Leah was always able to get under his skin. The bitch stayed lurking in the shadows because Indie allowed her to. Although it was YaYa who Leah obsessed over, Indie was the bridge between the two. He gave Leah access to touch YaYa, and because of that, her trust in him was fading. Why was he so vulnerable to Leah? YaYa had to know. Before she gave her heart to him ever again, she needed to be sure that he deserved it and that he knew whose team he was on.
She led him to the custom Venetian furniture and sat beside him.
“You paid Leah’s medical bills. Why?” she asked. She tried to keep her voice stern, steady, but her feelings were crushed, and Indie knew her too well to not be able to sense her hurt.
“No. No, ma. I thought she was you. I thought I was taking care of you. She pretended to be you. I would still be there with her if the doctors hadn’t figured it out,” he admitted.
“It shouldn’t take a doctor to figure it out, Indie. You’re my man. You should know me. My scent, my mannerisms, my heartbeat. My eyes! Why didn’t you figure it out? How could you not know that the woman lying in that bed wasn’t me?”
“I wasn’t by her side, YaYa. She wouldn’t let me be. She was too afraid that she would be caught. Her eyes . . . your eyes can’t be duplicated, ma. She knew that the moment I looked into her face I would know she was a phony.”
“I’ve been through so much,” YaYa said, choking up. “My face feels different, and although I know it’s not as bad as it could be, I feel damaged. My heart hurts, Indie. My hands.” She choked up as he held her hands up and kissed them softly as he noticed for the first time how scarred they were. “My hair . . .”
Indie’s hands traced her jaw line, then moved up her neck to her newly cut hairstyle. Much of her hair had been seared in the blaze. She was left with a short Nia cut. Indie could tell that she was uncomfortable in her own skin, but what she didn’t quite get was that she could be bald and still be one of the most beautiful women in the world.
“Don’t do that, baby girl. You’re beautiful. Your face, your hands, your hair . . . you, YaYa. Every part of you is beautiful, baby. You’re a fighter,” he whispered as he pulled her near. “Don’t ever doubt me, YaYa. I know shit with me hasn’t been perfect, but I love you.”
“How can you love me like this? I feel like I’ve been put back together. Like it’s all fake. My nose, my skin . . . they pieced me together like a puzzle,” YaYa said while crying.
“Look at me, YaYa,” he said. She matched his gaze insecurely as he held her hands gently. “You are loved. It wouldn’t matter if you had never fixed your face, ma. I would have loved you anyway. I see past the surface. I love you as you are. I love what’s in here.” He pointed to her chest. “Sky loves you. So many people love you.”
YaYa nodded and smiled at the thought of her precious child. “Is she okay?” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“She is. You saved her life. There is no telling if we would have ever gotten her back if you had not gone after Leah. You did that,” he said. He cupped her chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he kissed her lips.
She took his hand and led him up the steps to the room she occupied.
“You’ve been here all this time?” he asked as he stepped inside.
She nodded then released his hand as she walked over to the nightstand and opened up a prescription bottle. She poured three large pills into her hand then grabbed the water that she kept at her bedside. She swallowed them down with one gulp.
“What do they have you on?” he asked.
“Vicodin, Percocet,
Oxy, you name it,” she responded.
“Is it that bad? That’s a lot of pills,” Indie said in concern.
“Yeah, well, right now the pills are my new best friends,” she replied with a meek smile.
Indie could not imagine how she felt, but he could see the strife in her eyes. They had once sparkled with happiness, but he noticed that now they were dulled with misery. She was trying to put up a good front for his sake, but he could tell that so many burdens troubled her.
“I’m sorry you’re in so much pain,” he said with sympathetic eyes as he grabbed both of her hands in support.
“I’m better now that you’re here. Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll be right here when you get out,” she said.
Seeing him again was bittersweet. Her love for him was so great, and she instantly reconnected with him, but she knew that Indie’s expectations of her were always so big. He thought the world of her, and at this moment she simply wanted to be weak, to be vulnerable, to admit that she was flawed. She could no longer be his perfect Disaya. Everything about her had changed.
Indie never wanted to leave her side, but he could see that she was silently begging him for space. She needed a moment to herself, and he knew her so well that he recognized that. He kissed her cheek and then disappeared as he closed the en-suite bathroom door.
She quickly walked back over to the nightstand. She opened it and took one more pill, closing her eyes as she swallowed it. She sighed and then quickly swiped away the single tear that had escaped from her eyes. The medicine dulled the physical pain indeed, but what she told no one was that it settled her emotions. It made her numb to all of the inner turmoil that had plagued her life ever since she was a little girl.
Chapter 8
The next morning YaYa awoke to the sight of Indie staring at her as he stroked her face. He had held her all night, keeping her close to him in hopes that when they awoke she would still be there. YaYa had slipped through the cracks of his life so many times that he now feared losing her. It was as if they shared a forbidden love, one that the universe couldn’t appreciate and continuously tried to pull apart, but he wouldn’t let it. YaYa was his solace. She was his better half. This was their third shot at love, and he was determined to make this one last until the end of time. To bury someone only to have them rise from the dead made Indie appreciate her so much more. He just wanted to protect her. He wanted his family complete.
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