by Ashley Jade
starts spinning.
With the exception of the most vile, and disgusting man to walk this
earth who's currently staring right at me through the television screen.
"I love you, baby girl," he begins, his voice shaking. "And I hope that wherever you are...you're safe and not in any pain."
He sniffs and I instinctively reach for my gun and pull it out.
"And I want you to know...I'll never stop looking for you,” he continues.“Daddy will find you."
The fuck he will.
His expression turns hard and I aim my gun at his head right before he says, "Daddy's coming for you, Lucianna."
And that's when I pull the trigger. So many times I lose count.
Behind me, both Momma and Alyssa start screaming their lungs out, but I don't give a fuck.
I immediately pick up my phone and start barking orders to the P.I. team on one line and my own men on the other.
All I see is pure black and my rage takes over as things begin shattering and crashing all around me.
I swear to Christ— I will happily kill each and every last person who is currently breathing on this fucking planet right now in order to get to her before he ever does.
It isn't until Momma starts screaming, “I know where she is, Ricardo. Sugar, please stop and listen to your Momma. I know where she is,” through large sobs that I finally come out of my haze and my eyes begin to focus and take in my surroundings.
Alyssa and Jackson's apartment is a mess. Everything in my near vicinity is trashed and Shelby is holding a shaking and absolutely terrified Alyssa in a small corner of the room far away from me.
When I look down I notice that Tyrone is grabbing one of my legs and Jackson's gripping me by my shoulders.
From the look at the destruction around the apartment, it's clear that neither one of them were able to stop me in time.
But at this moment, I don't care, because Momma just said the only thing I want to hear.
And now she's my target.
“Where?” I grunt low and deadly as I maneuver out of Jackson's hold.
I love this woman, I remind myself as Jackson attempts to grab hold of me again. It's Momma, I tell myself. You can't kill Momma.
“Ricardo,” Jackson grinds out through clenched teeth. “If you hurt Momma...I'm gonna end up in jail again.”
“Look at me, Ricardo,” Tyrone shouts desperately as he claps his hands.
When I do he says, “We're gonna find her, brother. We're gonna find her and keep her safe. Momma knows where she is...and if Momma knows where she is...that means she's safe.”
He reaches up and squeezes my shoulder. “Ain't nothing gonna happen to her. He won't touch her again.”
His eyes turn dark and hard. “Because you're gonna make that motherfucker pay for every horrible thing he did to her...but first—you have to go get your girl, brother. Which means you need to take it down a few notches and fucking focus. Knock this shit off and get your head in the game. You hear me?”
Everyone around me gasps, but I don't have the time to explain to them all what Tyrone already knows.
Besides, Tyrone's right...I do need to focus...but more importantly, I need to get to her.
I can figure out a game plan later, once she's under my protection.
I look at Momma and she takes a deep breath. “My house,” she begins. “She's been staying at my house in Alabama for the last two months. She's been doing real—“
Momma doesn't have time to finish that statement because I start ushering her toward the door. “You can tell me what she's been up to on the plane ride, Momma.”
Luckily, she doesn't argue, she just nods and starts walking.
And that's when Jackson stops me. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“You can't,” I whisper while subtly nodding in the direction of Alyssa.
He opens his mouth but closes it when I say, “Ford's in the hospital. The new guard on shift didn't know the protocol when it came to him.”
When Jackson raises an eyebrow I grumble, “I can't tell you everything right now because I don't have the time. But long story short—I figured out Ford had the answers to things that I needed to know. Things like what I found out before. But when I confronted him at the prison a few days ago, he wouldn't budge—”
“I guess that would explain why the last time I saw him he was wearing an eye patch, huh?” Jackson notes.
“Yeah...let's just say I let Dwayne stick it anywhere.”
Jackson grimaces. “Damn.”
His brows knit together and he appears to be lost in thought right before he says, “Shit, Ricardo—if that didn't get him to speak...he must be getting something in exchange for his silence. Something he wants. And there's only one thing I can think of...given he's currently stuck in prison and all.”
I begin walking again. “I know, and something tells me that him ending up in the hospital last night was no coincidence. I thought he was hiding from me so I couldn't visit him last night and attempt to make him talk again, but the more I think about it...he's probably planning on breaking out of the hospital. And if not, it's because he thinks someone in a position of power is going to grant him his freedom sooner rather than later. Which means you need to—”
“Watch over Alyssa.” His entire body tenses. “Trust me, that's not something you or anyone else ever has to worry about.”
“I'm sending extra security to the complex,” I inform him as I reach the front door. “Make sure no one leaves until I get back to New York. And don't attempt to handle the Ford situation without me.”
I snap my fingers as my next thought hits me. “And you might want to find a way to either warn or threaten a certain ex-wife of his—depending on which side of the coin she falls on.”
I slam the door behind me and look at Momma. “Let's go.”
She purses her lips. “I'm ready when you are, sugar.” She glances at the gun I'm holding and frowns. “Or should I say, Mr. DeLuca?”
My expression hardens and I start walking ahead of her. “I don't have time for this crap, Momma.”
“Well you better make some time, sugar,” she shouts, until I spin around to face her.
“No.” I say through clenched teeth. “I have to find her. And not for nothing...but maybe if you had told me that she was staying with you she wouldn't be in danger right now. I've spent weeks looking for her...worried sick about her...and this whole entire time she was—”
“Making me promise to never tell you where she was,” Momma interrupts. “Good grief, Ricardo. You don't think I wanted to tell you? Trust me, darlin', I did. Especially after—” She sweeps a hand up and down. “After you—after this happened.”
“Enough. Let's go,” I say for the second time, trying to ignore the pang in my heart with those words.
Lou-Lou obviously didn't want me to know where she was hiding because she doesn't want to see me again...and I wouldn't go looking for her myself because I don't want her to see what I've become.
Which means I only have one option at my disposal once I find her...because she's certainly not going to come willingly.
Chapter 7 (Lou-Lou)
My head hits my desk with a clunk and I wake with a jolt.
Of course, that's when I hear a few snickers behind me.
I sit up straight and stretch my sweatshirt over my hand and proceed to wipe up the small puddle of drool I've left behind.
Looks like I gave these people one more reason to laugh behind my back in addition to the strange attire that I'm currently wearing during a summer in Alabama.
They'd talk more if they saw what was underneath my sweatshirt, I remind myself.
I've been pulling doubles almost every night at the club this week since Momma's not around to scold me for it.
I'd never admit it to her because I don't want her to feel guilty about visiting her own son—but I secretly kind of hate when she's gone, and working until the sun comes up, or even later; he
lps to keep the nightmares at bay.
It also makes me extremely tired.
Something the teacher chooses this exact moment to acknowledge. Shit.
His face twists into a scowl and he huffs, “I'm sorry, Ms—” He pauses, appearing confused. “What is your name?”
That only earns another round of snickers from the jerks behind me.
“Sindile,” I whisper while seriously debating whether or not I should flip the hood to my sweatshirt up and shrink down.
I thought attending night school would grant me the high school education minus all the bullshit. But seeing as the classroom is filled with what appears to be just shy of 18-year-old boys whose parents are most likely forcing them to attend since they were probably kicked out of their own school for being such little assholes—and girls who look even younger than me and were most likely knocked up by these punks...evidently I was wrong.
I'd assumed I'd be put into an adult class...but it turns out that most adults have made it further than 10th grade before dropping out.
Jesus, I really am a special brand of loser. And everyone here knows it.
Including the teacher who's currently glaring daggers at me. “Well, I'm so sorry to have interrupted your nap, Sindile,” he starts. “But my classroom isn't a place to sleep off and recover from your latest excursion.” He jabs his pencil into the air. “You teenagers always think there will be a second chance. Well, news flash...this is your second chance.”
“I'm not a teenager,” I mumble and the room grows silent. Either everyone assumed I was around their age because of my small stature, or no one expected me to talk back.
Me and my stupid mouth.
The teacher appears both uncomfortable and flustered now. “I'm sorry, I just assumed—” His face grows red with embarrassment and he clears his throat.
I can feel everyone's eyes on me, so I slap my desk and laugh in an attempt to hide my indignity. “Let that be a lesson, kids. Don't assume.” I sigh and pull on my bottom lip. “And don't fall asleep in class, either.”
“How old are you?” some guy beside me inquires with a stupid grin on his face. “I mean, are we talking hot college girl...or hot cougar?”
A few of his buddies start whistling and give him a high-five.
“Alright, that's enough. Eyes up here,” the teacher yells in an agitated tone.
“But for real,” the guy whispers so that only I can hear him this time. “How old are you?”
I'm about to answer in order to shut him up for good when he adds, “Old enough to score me some beer after class?”
I don't know whether to laugh or roll my eyes...that is until I glance at the date on the board and my stomach sinks.
“I'm 25,” I gasp, some weird combination of both sadness and awareness hitting me full force. “I'm 25 today.”
“Sweet, that's definitely old enough to—”
I don't hear the rest of his statement because I'm already on my feet and dashing out the door.
It's not the fact that I forgot my own birthday that's upsetting me...it's that I don't have a single person to spend it with that hurts the most.
Bruno always made a big deal out of my birthday.
The thought causes bile to crawl up my throat, because it's the first and only positive thought I've had about him since the day I blew his brains out.
And just like that the next thought hits me.
Bruno might have made a big deal out of my birthdays—my mind reminds me tauntingly—but Ricardo gave me the most special birthday I've ever had.
I squeeze my eyes shut and force myself to breathe. I don't know why my mind is taking the opportunity to play a cruel game of one-up right now.
Especially when the latter thought only makes my chest cave in and brings me back to the night we were under the stars and surrounded by dandelions.
A night that, I of course; ended up ruining because of DeLuca, my flashbacks, and my past.
Jesus, Christian Grey has nothing on all my shades of fucked up.
I check my watch and sprint for my car, my shift starts in twenty minutes, but if I'm quick I can be there in fifteen.
“Whoa, where's the fire?” a masculine voice with a hint of a southern twang calls out behind me just as I reach my car.
“Atticus?” I breathe out, stopping to turn and face him.
What in the world is he doing here?
He takes a step forward but I halt him. “Look, you seem like a nice enough guy...I'd really hate to have to take out a restraining order on you.”
He looks horrified and I can't help but feel a slight twinge of remorse.
I open my mouth but he tilts his head in the direction of the campus, and says, “I—uh. I work here actually.”
He shuffles his feet and pulls a toothpick out of his pocket. “I'm currently a TA , but I only have one more semester left before I graduate.”
“Shit,” I mutter and his lips quirk up.
“I'll take that as your apology.”
“Yes,” is all I can reply because not only am I embarrassed, I'm running late now.
“Well maybe you can make it up to me by joining me for a drink?”
“I can't. I'm late for my shift.”
I tug the zipper to my sweatshirt down and shuffle out of it before throwing it in my backseat.
“Well maybe I can grab a table and you can spend your break with me?” he offers, taking a step closer to me, appearing like he's fighting to focus on my eyes and not my skimpy work uniform.
To my surprise and I'm sure his, I laugh. “You can't. You're banned, remember?”
“Call in sick,” he suggests, his tone taking on a more desperate one. “Those jerks at the club will be fine without you for one night. Come and hang out with me.”
Before I can remind him that I'm not looking for a boyfriend again, he holds up his hand and says, “As friends. That's all I'm asking for right now.”
“You're not going to give up, are you?”
“I'm extremely persistent.” He bites down on his toothpick and shifts so he's directly in front of me. “It's my second best quality.”
“What's your first?”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “I'm hoping you figure that out on your own.”
“Wow, Atticus...that was really cheesy.”
“I meant, dancing.” He rubs his forehead and I swear he blushes. “I mean, not only dancing,” he amends quickly. “I mean—I'm good at that too.”
When I cross my arms over my chest he glances down at the ground, and mumbles. “Shit, I'm really screwing this up.”
“I'll take that as your apology.”
He grins from ear to ear. “My sincerest apologies.” He licks his lips and moves closer. “And I wasn't kidding about that drink. There's a bar not too far from here...granted it's a bit of a honky tonk but—“
“A honky tonk?” I interrupt. “What the hell is that?”
He starts howling with laughter. “Damn, despite those pretty cowboy boots you got on, you definitely aren't from the south.”
“Not at all.” I lift a shoulder in a shrug. “But I'm team Roll Tide if that helps any.”
He stares at me for a moment before he chuckles and says, “Bless your heart. You're adorable.”
“Screw you, I'm not stupid,” I grind out, turning to my car.
“What? No.” He reaches for my arm. “Darn it, Sindile, I know you're not. It doesn't always mean that, I'm sorry.”
“I'm just—I'm really sensitive when it comes to that.” I swallow hard because I can't believe I'm being so candid with him. “I'm not here because I'm enrolled in college courses like you are. I'm here because I didn't finish high school and I'm taking a night school course.”
Hot tears prickle my eyes and that only makes me feel even more humiliated. “I just turned 25 and I'm enrolled in a course to pass the 10th grade, I'm such a loser it's not even funny. You should probably stop talking to me so it doesn't rub off on you.”
“Hey
,” he says softly, tipping my chin up. “Don't do that, Sindile. Don't tear yourself down when you're attempting to build yourself up.” The corner of his mouth tilts up. “And for the record, I wouldn't mind any part of you rubbing off on me.”
Those honey eyes of his stare down at me and I have to turn my head away.
I won't go down this route again...I won't let some man sink his hooks into me because he thinks I'm weak and vulnerable.
I may not have had a proper education in the conventional sense, but I graduated with honors when it came to the school of hard knocks.
“I—I'm gonna be late for work.” I let out a groan when I look at my watch. “I am late for work.”
I try to turn back around again but he holds me in place. “When did you turn 25?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Why wouldn't it matter?”
“Today,” I tell him. “Look I have to—”
“Oh hell no,” he says startling me. “There's no way you're going to work on your birthday. Give me your phone, you're calling in sick and I'm gonna take you out to celebrate.”
“Atticus—“
“Phone,” he demands.
“I don't have one.”
He digs his out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Lucky for us both, I do.”
Chapter 8 (Ricardo)
I pound my fist on the small table in front of me. “You think you can fly this plane any faster, motherfucker?”
The blonde flight attendant rushes over to me. “We'll be landing in approximately 20 minutes, Mr. DeLuca.”
“Well tell him to hurry up,” I growl. “Or the next time he flies...it will be on his way to the pearly gates.”
The men I brought with me for back up sit up straight in their seats and the stewardess squeaks as she runs off.
Momma turns around to face me, her expression making it more than clear she isn't happy with me at the moment. “Good lord.”
“Momma,” I bite out. “I told you, I'm not in the mood for this shit. I have to get to her.”
“I know you do, sugar.” She looks at me suspiciously. “But just out of curiosity, what do you plan to do with her once you get to her?”
She purses her lips. “Granted, I'm sure she'll go with you once you inform her that her fath—”