by KR Bankston
“We get to present our side tomorrow,” Kaitlyn told him as he nodded.
“Hopefully this judge will see the smoke screen for what it is, rule, and let us take our girls home,” Tariq replied.
Kaitlyn nodded, but wasn’t sure it would be that easy. The knot in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away, telling her something was about to happen and it wouldn’t be good.
“Is this how it’s going to end KiKi,” Tariq asked, desperately wanting her to talk about them.
“How what’s going to end Tariq,” she asked, genuinely confused.
“Us, baby,” he replied softly, reaching out to stroke her face.
For the briefest of moments her resolve weakened.
“Tariq, we’re not enemies,” she told him carefully.
“I love you,” he admitted freely.
Kaitlyn felt the tears and immediately blinked them back. “That’s irrelevant,” she told him, her tone becoming robotic once more.
“I know I hurt you KiKi, baby I’m sorry,” Tariq told her.
“We’re not rehashing this,” Kaitlyn replied, rising from the couch.
Tariq rose as well, grabbing her arm. “Why won’t you even talk about it,” he asked, becoming slightly annoyed.
“Tariq, why don’t you let this die,” Kaitlyn replied, her eyes vacant now, her tone even colder.
“I’m sure Carlita is waiting in the wings to comfort and help you be over me,” she told him. “So why don’t you let her?”
Tariq took a breath and blew it out to keep from cursing when he spoke.
“I’m going to fight this divorce,” he told her evenly.
Kaitlyn smiled slightly. “No you won’t,” she told him calmly. “Tariq I’m poison and I’m slowly killing you, can’t you see that,” Kaitlyn replied, pulling away and turning toward her bedroom.
Tariq grabbed her again, pulling her close and kissing her deeply.
Ending the kiss Kaitlyn again regarded him evenly. “It’s over, Tariq,” she told him. “Let it die.”
*****
Kim was moaning lightly as Mook continued sucking her hard clit gently. His hands were palming her breasts tenderly, twirling the nipple between his fingers. She felt the tremendous rush and bit her lip to keep from screaming and waking Sean.
“I guess you did miss me,” Mook teased, gently biting the inside of her thigh now.
“Whatever,” Kim returned breathlessly.
He chuckled at her stubbornness, kissing his way up her body again, stopping at her nipple and beginning again. Mook was grinding his hardness against her throbbing sex as he sucked the nipple and Kim was gripping the sides of his face loving every moment of it.
“Mmmm,” she moaned as he continued stroking her clit with his erection.
Without warning Mook slid deeply inside her as Kim opened her mouth and cried out how good he felt. He stopped, returning to her lips as Kim pleaded with him to not tease her.
“Why you playin’,” Kim whispered urgently.
She felt his body as he chuckled silently.
“Keep playin, I’ma make you get up,” she threatened.
Mook returned to her lips, kissing her gently before speaking.
“Yeah,” he taunted moving slowly inside her. “You sure you wanna do that,” he continued to taunt, deftly bringing pleasure with each stroke, her clit hard and screaming for release. “You sure you want me to get up, Miss Kim,” Mook questioned, his rhythm increasing.
He put her legs on his shoulder, held her hips tightly, as he dipped lower and went deeper.
“You want me to take it out,” Mook asked as Kim continued biting her lip.
He smiled seeing the struggle to not explode painted on her face.
“I can you know,” Mook teased, stopping mid stroke.
“Boy, stop, shit,” Kim groaned angrily as he chuckled and went back to work.
“Stop talking all that shit then,” Mook told her as he arrived at her g-spot and brought her to a loud, drenching, climax.
“Say you’re sorry,” he taunted again, still giving her slow, deep, strokes.
“I’m sorry,” Kim told him as they kissed passionately and Mook thrust into her once more, both exploding in release, their mingled moans of pleasure permeating the room.
19
Shells quietly made his way to the loft area he’d scouted almost a week ago. He quickly laid down the large case opening it and removing the Smith & Wesson .500 Magnum high powered rifle. Attaching the scope and checking it for vision and accuracy, he was ready to complete the next portion of his task. As if queued by a director the door of the warehouse opened and the two men walked inside. Shells calmly watched as they began walking into the warehouse, laughing and talking with each other, picking up the mail that was accumulated on the floor. Still laughing and talking they headed to the table and chairs assembled in the middle of the small storage area of the enclosure. Shells watched, allowing them to get completely comfortable before he picked up the rifle once more and aimed at his target. The man unfortunately rose to go and check something in a corner out of Shells sight and he sighed lightly, slightly irritated but not hurried or deterred. Shells simply waited for the man to return as he observed his partner now on his cell chatting. Because of the distance between him and his targets, Shells couldn’t hear the conversation, but from the smile the man wore he assumed it was pleasant.
The original target now made his way back to the table and sat once again. Shells again shouldered the weapon and trained the sight directly on his target, finger on the trigger. He felt the cold steel at the base of his skull causing him to pause.
“Put the rifle down slowly, Shells,” the familiar voice told him.
Taken by surprise and at a distinct disadvantage at the moment, he complied.
“Good, now get up slowly,” the man once again instructed.
Again, Shells complied, slowly rising to his feet. The gun was removed and Shells turned around. If he were going to die, he wasn’t planning to be shot in the back.
“Man, what de hell,” Shells hissed quietly.
“Bet you’re surprised to see me, huh,” Jaron returned as Shells continued to regard him.
“So you turncoat too, huh,” he asked distastefully.
Jaron frowned slightly. “I’ve learned to be a businessman,” he replied as Shells sneered and said nothing. “Top is a cool dude, and I appreciate him for giving me a start,” Jaron began anew. “But Mr. Lockhart, and Ice, shit, he ain’t no match for them two dudes,” he continued as Shell noticed the envy in voice, his mind still whirling.
“When you go over to the other side,” Shells asked. “You supposed to be outta de country, Top, him give you time for you and Gabrielle,” he added, alluding the loss of their child from sudden infant death syndrome.
“Gabrielle is at Hillcrest,” Jaron replied edgily, referring to the private mental facility. “She had a breakdown after we lost our son,” he added as Shells grunted slightly.
No one knew. Jaron told them that he simply wanted time to help Gabrielle heal, which Top graciously gave him.
“That when you decide to sell him out,” Shells again reminded.
Jaron frowned deeply, telling Shells it wasn’t like that.
“How was it then,” he asked, buying more time as he watched the man closely.
Jaron told him about returning to the Bayou for a couple of weeks before running into Creeper.
“I thought dude was gonna kill me,” he told Shells, explaining how the man had the drop on him. “Instead he offered me an interesting proposition,” he told Shells who again nodded but said nothing.
“Look Shells, like you and Mook always telling me, its survival of the fittest in this shit,” Jaron began again, growing slightly agitated. “Top can’t beat them, shit, those two fools are the devil and his brother,” he said again.
The loud crash of several barrels falling echoed through the warehouse, as the two men still talked in the loft. It was enough
to divert Jaron’s attention for the split second Shells needed to disarm him. Jaron’s head was still spinning as the multicolor stars danced wildly in his view. The kick to the bottom of his chin was quick and effective as it came from Shell’s foot. Quickly reigning in his would be captor, Shells decided on another course of action. Holding Jaron around the neck with one arm, he used his free hand to pick up the same .10mm being held to his head moments earlier and aim at the original target. Firing quickly he managed to get off two shots, both hitting their mark.
“What the fuck,” Shell’s heard the other man scream as his friend crumpled to the floor, remaining still.
“Muthafucka,” he heard again as the man recognized the clothing of Jaron and began firing back.
Shells was successfully out of harm’s way, having pushed the still disoriented man against the banister, where he foolishly held on for support. The bullets from the man’s guns tore into his flesh again and again as Shell’s watch Jaron’s life force leaving him. The firing stopped as Jaron’s body toppled and fell over the banister, landing with a loud thud as it hit the floor.
Shells wasted no time, quickly grabbing his rifle, still assembled, the case, and hastily retreating down the back staircase he used to enter the building. He paused slightly as he neared the bottom, hearing activity.
“Is he dead,” the man asked, wheezing from his wounds.
“Yeah, muthafucka,” the other answered.
“Hmph, good, knew his ass couldn’t be trusted,” the first said, before succumbing and remaining quiet.
Shells again began his descent making it outside and into the adjoining alley without being spotted. He stopped momentarily behind a large dumpster, breaking down the weapon before emerging from the same alley moments later and casually sauntering to the rental car parked two blocks in the opposite direction. Arriving he placed the case in the trunk, closing it just as the first police care came screaming down the street, followed closely by the ambulance. Shells allowed the other two police cars to pass his own, before pulling away from the curb, making a U-turn, and going on about his day, pulling out his cell and making a call.
*****
Ryan took in his surroundings asking himself once again why he was even there. The doors opened and broke his thought as he waited for the man to arrive. He withheld comment as he arrived moments later, walking slowly into the room, breathing labored from the effort and sat down. Ryan watched him silently, waiting for him to speak and tell him the why behind the summons.
“I’m glad you came,” the man said calmly, voice ravaged and gravelly.
“You ordered me,” Ryan replied calmly, not wanting the man to believe he was at all happy to be in the room with him.
The man smiled slightly before addressing him again.
“I’ve had disturbing news about Jalen,” he addressed Ryan.
Sighing lightly, Ryan shrugged and told him Jalen had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“You never loved your brother did you,” he accused as Ryan again shrugged.
“Not really no,” he replied calmly.
The man said nothing for a few moments more.
“You think he was favored don’t you,” he asked again.
“Yes,” Ryan replied simply, the answer anything but.
“He wasn’t, it was simply a choice made, good or bad, it was made,” the man replied, as Ryan again stoically sat and said nothing.
“Why did you command my appearance,” he finally asked, wanting to end the visit and leave.
“You need to remember who you’re talking too and show some respect,” he told him the danger evident in the statement.
Ryan bit his tongue and sighed lightly, offering a lame apology.
“That’s better,” the man replied, going on to tell him why he’d called him.
“He doesn’t know about you,” Ryan told him, not at all liking the request being made.
“I know that,” the man retorted as his anger again boiled. “It’s time for him to know me, and to know himself,” he told Ryan.
“Why now,” Ryan threw back. “You’ve stayed in the shadows all these years, why reveal yourself now,” he asked as the man sighed deeply.
“Too many lies, too many years, and my sons are lost to me now,” he finally admitted.
Ryan fought to keep the bile from rising in his throat as the man called them his sons. He hadn’t been anyone’s father in a very long time. Ryan only knew of his existence because of the deathbed confession of their adoptive father. Ian nor Jalen knew of him at all.
“Ice is fine, he doesn’t need this,” Ryan tried to reason.
The man waved his objection away and spoke once more.
“I’m not asking for your permission,” he told him tersely. “I don’t need you in order to contact him, I know exactly where he is, I know exactly what’s going on in his life,” he told Ryan, the cold snake like eyes watching him calmly.
“I’m giving you a chance to explain things to him before he arrives and we talk, that’s all, nothing more,” the man again clarified.
“Fine, but I need time,” Ryan told him. “And since you know what he’s going through right now, even you should understand this isn’t the time,” he added, burning up inside.
The man nodded slightly, acquiescing to Ryan’s sentiment.
“He has two weeks from the day the case is decided,” the man replied, letting Ryan know he did indeed know exactly what was going on with Ian.
“OK,” Ryan replied simply as the man again nodded and the door opened once more.
This time he sat as Ryan turned and strode out of it, hearing it close behind him and not turning around.
“You think he’ll come,” the other man asked, stepping out of the shadows now.
“Yes, Ryan loves Ian more than his own life,” the man replied. “He understands what’s at stake, he’ll be here,” he added simply before rising and leaving the room himself, waiting and again biding his time.
*****
Kaitlyn rose to walk to the stand as Akil called her name to testify. She wanted this ordeal over as quickly as possible. Kaitlyn felt all eyes on her as she sat and raised her right hand, swearing to tell nothing but the truth.
“Mrs. Taylor,” Akil began kindly. “Can you tell us about your relationship with Mr. Taylor,” he asked allowing Kaitlyn the opportunity to show the stability of her life with Tariq.
She told the court a very antiseptic, rose colored version of their meeting, courtship and subsequent marriage. She told of their losing a child and making it through it together. Kaitlyn shared how happy she and Tariq were finding out about her pregnancy.
“Since this suit has been filed, has your husband been any different with the children,” Akil asked.
Kaitlyn assured that Tariq’s behavior had not altered in the slightest.
“He loves the children, without question,” she told them as Volena nodded slightly and made a quick note on her pad.
“What do you think would happen if Mr. Bailey is awarded custody of the child in question,” Akil asked.
Sighing deeply Kaitlyn told the court how much it would devastate her, as well as the other sibling. “They’re extremely close and they can tell when one is missing,” Kaitlyn told him. “They look for each other,” she added quietly.
The judge again nodded and jotted a quick note.
“Thank you Mrs. Taylor, that’s all I have,” Akil told her as he sat. Kaitlyn steeled herself, seeing Ray rise and walk toward her.
“Mrs. Taylor,” he began, looking her directly in the eye. “Tell us about your relationship with Mr. Bailey,” he threw out as Kaitlyn again described an antiseptic version of her time with Ian.
“So, you were married to Mr. Taylor, when you and Mr. Bailey conceived the child in question,” Ray asked pointedly.
“Yes,” Kaitlyn reluctantly replied.
“Hmph, I see,” he replied. “So you had an affair with Mr. Bailey,” he fired off.
“Yes or No, Mrs. Taylor,” Ray fired again, sensing her hesitancy.
Before she could answer, Ray switched gears, having proven his point to his satisfaction.
“Have you ever been treated for mental illness, Mrs. Taylor,” he grilled.
Akil was in helpless. He knew that at some point Ray would bring up Kaitlyn’s breakdown. He couldn’t object since it definitely played a part in her ability to raise the child safely and rationally.
“I had a breakdown a few years back,” Kaitlyn replied, her tone changing.
Ray missed the switch, but Ian immediately noticed. Her defenses were locked now and Ray was about to get a rude awakening.
“Were you an outpatient,” he asked again.
“No,” Kaitlyn replied flatly, no emotion.
“So you were committed to a mental hospital,” Ray asked condescendingly.
“Yes,” she again answered without elaboration.
“Why,” Ray returned once more.
“I needed intensive counseling obviously,” Kaitlyn replied, slightly surprising Ray with the sarcasm.
“Intensive counseling for what,” he asked, going for the kill.
“Intensive counseling for the four plus years of being fucked every night by my father,” Kaitlyn replied in a dead monotone.
The courtroom gasped, and Judge Baiswell banged her gavel, visibly shaken herself.
“Order,” she boomed giving Ray a warning look.
Startled himself at the admission, Ray looked into her face again and saw nothing. It was if the woman wasn’t in the room with them, yet she was functioning. Ian looked at her and saw her father. Kaitlyn was every bit as cold as Hangman had ever been described. If she could have, Ian was sure Ray would be dead right now.
“I’m well now though,” Kaitlyn continued without prompting, loving the discomfort on the attorneys’ face.
“I’m whole and fully capable of taking care of my children,” she completed before Ray nodded slightly and told her thank you, he had no further inquiry.
Kaitlyn’s eyes met Ian’s before she left the stand. He wasn’t shaken; Ian simply matched her stare, an unspoken communication passing between them, before she rose and stepped down. Volena spoke and recessed the court for fifteen minutes, admonishing everyone to return on time. Akil asked Kaitlyn if she were all right when she returned to their table.