Ten, she thought with tremendous regret. If she still had her phone, she’d find a way to push some buttons and scream for help. Onika licked her swollen lips. “Can you take some of this tape from around my arms?” she asked, appealing to Nazier’s sense of compassion. “And can you get me some ice from out of the freezer? I gotta put something on my lips,” she whined.
Nazier became quiet and thoughtful. “Oh, aiight. I got something for your lips.” He stepped behind Onika and moved toward the stove. Turning on a burner, he waved the knife over the flame until the blade was red hot.
“Whatcu doin’, Naz?” She turned her head sharply and then hopped up and down, trying to turn the chair around to see what Nazier was up to. She didn’t have to wonder long. A few moments later, Naz presented the hot, smoking knife.
The urge to scream was overpowering, but she resisted, knowing a loud outburst would incite Nazier to unspeakable violence. Recoiling, she mumbled in fear, making horrible little sounds of terror.
Nazier brought the smoldering blade close to her face. “Get it together, bitch! Start talkin’.”
“I don’t know his number. I don’t know where he went,” she said in a panic, her words muffled by painfully swollen, balloon-like lips.
Nazier swiftly pressed the hot metal against the center of Onika’s puffed-out lips and held it there for several agonizing seconds. Too shocked to scream, Onika gasped and shivered violently.
He removed the knife, pulling away a layer of shriveled flesh. Dazed, Onika’s eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Nazier slapped her. “Don’t pass out on me. Wake up, bitch.”
Ghastly moans and garbled words escaped through lips that were so badly burned, the remaining skin stuck together, making her lips appear to be sealed shut. “He went home,” she murmured, barely coherent.
“Where your man live at?”
“I don’t know.”
Using a pant leg, Naz wiped the charred skin off the knife and heated it up again.” Aiight…you ain’t talkin’?” he asked as he once again brought the burning blade so close to her lips, she could feel the pulsing heat. “Guess I gotta help refresh your memory.”
Fear twisted through her. Onika moaned loudly, trying to awaken Puddin. She screamed for her friend as best she could, but could only manage a hissing sound that slipped through an opening at the corner of her mouth. Nazier set the scorching metal at that spot, burning and sealing off the area where the sound had escaped. He repeated the torturous burning at the other side of her mouth. “Ready to talk?” he asked the semiconscious woman. When he didn’t get a response, Nazier slapped her again, but she remained unresponsive. Frustrated and furious, he kicked the chair, sending it crashing to the floor.
CHAPTER 21
The next morning Regina woke up with a smile on her face. Gazing at her still-sleeping young lover, her smile widened at the memory of the passion and tenderness they’d shared. As she watched the bright sunlight shining on his handsome, chiseled face, Regina accepted last night without regret.
However, the difference in their ages, their life experiences, and the disparity in her and Cochise’s financial situations reminded her that it wouldn’t be wise to put too much of an emotional investment in this young man’s affection.
As if sensing Regina staring at him, Cochise opened his eyes and greeted her with a lazy smile. “Hey, sexy,” he said and gave her a flirtatious wink.
She felt at once sensual, beautiful, and young. When was the last time she’d felt like that? Too long ago to remember. After twenty mostly loveless years with Matt, Cochise was just what the doctor had ordered. It wasn’t as if she were shopping for another husband.
“What time is it, baby?” Cochise asked.
Baby! Oh, she loved the way he called her baby. Regina sat up. “It’s six-thirty,” she replied in a casual tone, though her heart was pumping with delight. “I’ve been awake for a half hour, trying to decide if I should go to work or come back home after I drive you to Chester.”
Cochise frowned. “You don’t have to take me all the way to Chester. Buses should be rolling by now. Just drop me off at the bus stop on the way to work, aiight?”
“No, I’ll drive you. It’s not a problem.” She patted the top of Cochise’s hand. “I doubt if I’d be able to concentrate at work, so I’m going to take the day off. With Matt locked up until Lord knows when, I’m going to need a few days off to go over his business records.” Regina sighed. “I have to talk to an attorney and…you know…I just need some time off to gather my thoughts.” A crease of worry formed in the area between Regina’s eyes. She gazed off into space, trying to prioritize her to-do list, but quickly became overwhelmed. She decided to play it by ear. One step at a time.
“I’d offer to cook you breakfast, but I know you’re anxious to give the men their vouchers.”
Cochise nodded. “Thanks, I’m straight, though. I don’t need breakfast,” he said pleasantly. The man was fine as hell and unbelievably well-endowed. He was easy-going and accommodating, he didn’t seem conceited or high-maintenance at all.
He hadn’t budged from bed, and gave no indication of how soon he needed to get back to Chester. To be honest, Regina wasn’t mentally prepared to begin tackling the job of separating her and Matt’s finances. Not yet, anyway. What she wanted to do was play hooky from work and spend the entire day in bed with Cochise. She couldn’t think of a better time to start getting her walls stretched. She presumed she could take the head and perhaps an inch of shaft. Mmm, the very thought of him pumping his length inside her gave Regina shivers of excitement.
But she couldn’t tell him what she was thinking. He’d think she was a nympho. Regina frowned. Was she? No, she was a late bloomer—a thirty-eight-year-old woman who’d finally experienced a sexual awakening. Hit with the raging hormones of a teenager. The downside to feeling young and sexy was being in a constant state of horniness—having a libido that demanded constant attention. She cut an eye at Cochise and imagined fucking him in every room in her house and in every imaginable position. Her lips curved into a slight smile.
“What’s so funny?” Cochise asked, bringing Regina out of her sexual fantasy.
Feigning innocence, she lifted a brow.
“You were deep in thought. Whatever you were thinking about made you smile.”
Giving Cochise an honest answer could make her appear too eager—too needy. Realizing the truth could possibly drive him away, Regina responded with the first thought that popped in her mind. “I was smiling as I imagined myself trying to run a business I know nothing about. I have an investment in Matt’s business and if I expect to protect my assets, I need to know how the cleaning business works.” Regina shook her head. “Maybe you can help me. Matt told me more than once that you were his best worker, and in my current position I sure could use your expertise.”
Interested, Cochise sat up. The man was gorgeous. Regina had to drop her gaze for a moment and mentally shake her head. It made no sense for him to look that appealing first thing in the morning. His dark eyes were squinted in curiosity. Mmm, you better stop looking at me like that. His jet-black hair was wild and loose. It flowed past his broad shoulders and down to his well-developed chest. Want some pussy? Say the word and it’s yours. I’m willing to deal with the pain. Aroused, Regina could hardly pull her eyes away from him and assume a business-like persona. “I don’t want to lose any of the contracts Matt has,” Regina continued, forcing herself to push away all thoughts of sex. “I assume his van’s been impounded. That heavy equipment is expensive. I hope nothing happens to it.”
Cochise shook his head. “We didn’t load anything. Mr. Wheeler never came back with the van. Most of the heavy stuff is still inside the building on Germantown Avenue.”
Regina breathed a sigh of relief.
Cochise gave her another serious look. “Like I told you last night, I didn’t have the keys, so I couldn’t lock up. Everything’s probably cool, but I think we should swing by
the job to make sure. You’re gonna have to get that equipment out of there. You can’t hold the company responsible if something turns up missing.”
“Move it? How? It won’t fit in my car.”
Cochise was quiet, pondering. Then he leaned forward. “I have an idea. Can you rent a truck?”
“Sure.”
“There you go,” Cochise said, nodding. “We’ll pick up a van and I’ll move everything for you. Where do you store the equipment?”
“Matt keeps some of it in the garage, and some things are kept in the shed at the back of the house.”
“Do you have a list of the inventory? You know, the equipment, cleaning products…”
“No, but I’m sure I can find a list. Matt is very meticulous with paperwork.”
“Okay, but before you think about trying to run the business, don’t you think you should get in touch with the clients and let them know that you’ll be handling things temporarily or…you know…until he gets out?”
“You’re absolutely right. I hadn’t thought abut contacting the clients. Or checking the inventory.”
“With both Mr. Faison and Onika out of commission, it might be a good idea for you to cancel the cleaning jobs until you get more help and get things organized.”
Regina flinched when Cochise mentioned Onika’s name. She wondered if Onika had been arrested with Matt.
“Tell you what. Take me to Chester so I can submit the vouchers and check on Mr. Faison. Oh yeah, I have to let the house manager know what’s going on.”
Regina frowned. “Do you have to tell him exactly what happened? Can’t you just tell him that I’m taking over for Matt? I don’t know if I can show my face if everyone knows the whole sordid story. My husband’s predicament—his affair with the girl who worked for him is embarrassing.”
“I won’t give up every detail, but the fact that the boss got arrested is bound to come out sooner or later, especially with Onika involved. I gotta let the men know that it’s a strong possibility that we all might be out of work for a while.”
“I guess you’re right,” Regina said wearily.
“The main concern right now is to get the equipment. Mr. Wheeler might get out a lot sooner than you think. If that happens, let him handle his own damage control.” Cochise cradled his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Aiight? So, we’re gonna drop off the vouchers, rent the truck, and pick up the equipment. And after that, I guess it would be a good idea to go through his books and find out what’s what.”
Gratitude tugged at the corners of Regina’s mouth, pulling it into a wide grin. Thank God for Cochise. How would she have managed without him?
CHAPTER 22
A bell rang persistently. The sound was muted, but annoying nonetheless. A loud pounding started. Was it in her head? She felt disoriented, couldn’t make sense of what was happening. Then the pounding stopped.
Male voices murmured in the distance and then grew stronger. The pounding began again, grew more insistent—bang, bang, bang. It seemed like someone was pounding on her head, but she couldn’t move her body or turn her head. She couldn’t stop the pounding or the aggravating ding dong sound that seemed to alternate between poundings. Oh God, make it stop, she moaned.
“Regina Wheeler!” a male voice shouted from somewhere in the distance. “Delivery for Regina Wheeler!”
Shuffling, unsteady footsteps approached from behind, responding to the racket, she presumed. Good. Somebody would take care of it. Make it stop. But there was more noise. A blood-curdling scream. “Onika! What the fuck happened?” Puddin shouted and kneeled down to get a look at her friend. “Oh, shit! Who fucked up your lips?” Puddin covered her own mouth in horror. She quickly tried to pick up the chair that Onika was taped to, but Onika was dead weight, resistant to her friend’s effort to lift her. Puddin accidentally dropped the chair and screamed again when she heard Onika’s head bang against the protrusive edge at the bottom of the refrigerator.
“Ohmigod! I’m sorry, Onika!” Puddin blurted.
A deep gash opened on the side of Onika’s head; blood gushed and sprayed Puddin’s neck and the front of her T-shirt.
“Somebody, help!” Puddin jumped up and ran screaming to the front door. She swung it open and yelped, shocked that two men stood on the other side of the door.
Startled, the two uniformed men, wearing shirts that read Vanity Furniture jumped when Puddin appeared in the doorway. They gawked at the blood-spattered woman. Taking several steps backward, one of the men, a clipboard in hand, said in a shaky voice, “Delivery, ma’am. We brought your furniture. Is everything all right? Are you Regina Wheeler?”
“Regina who?” Puddin shook her head and waved her hand impatiently. “Look, fuck all that. Somebody tried to kill my best friend. Call an ambulance and call the cops. She’s in there dying right now!”
Later, the police took a statement from Onika. She didn’t provide them with Nazier’s name or whereabouts—doing that would involve court and testifying and risking retaliation from Nazier’s peeps. So she claimed she’d been raped, robbed, and brutalized by an unknown, masked assailant.
The hospital treated the burns to her lips and stitched the head wound that had bled profusely but was actually a minor injury, and then released her. But terrified of returning to the apartment and meeting Nazier’s wrath again, Onika convinced Puddin that they both needed the protection and drug treatment that the Recovery House offered. Onika was lucky to be alive. She figured after surviving the horror of being duct taped, and after having her lips seared together with a fiery knife, she damn sure deserved a second chance. After the ordeal she’d gone through, there was a strong possibility she’d take her butt to church and turn herself over to the Lord.
Her body ached from head to toe. She thought about getting high one last time, just to dull the pain. But she changed her mind when she thought about the strong possibility of running into Naz. So with Puddin’s assistance in holding her up, Onika, the prodigal daughter, limped back to the Recovery House, where both young women were welcomed back into the fold.
Other than a quick head nod, the public defender ignored Matthew Wheeler. He placed his battered briefcase on the table and began to pull out papers. Frowning, he silently glossed over the paperwork, and then gave a huge sigh and turned his focus on Matt.
It was bad enough that Regina wouldn’t post bail for Matt, but to find himself looking in the face of an indifferent public defender instead of planning his defense with an aggressive, highly paid, hot-shot attorney was as preposterous as it was for Matt to be behind bars.
“Borrowing a phrase from the street thugs I usually have the honor of representing,” the public defender said in a voice thick with sarcasm and arrogance, “that loaded nine-millimeter Glock they found in your possession had a couple of bodies on it.”
“Excuse me?” Matt didn’t know what the man was talking about. How dare he expect Matt to interpret the language of street thugs. Matt thoroughly detested his lawyer. He intended to dump the incompetent city-paid employee the moment he made bail and could maneuver within the legal system without having to rely on his scornful wife.
“It’s been determined that several men were murdered with the gun you had in your possession.” The public defender cleared his throat. “Well…that gun is being tied to you. I hate to be the bearer of such bad news, but in addition to the other charges—illegal gun possession, drug possession, and trafficking—you’re going to get charged with a murder rap. I have to warn you that your bail is going to be much higher than the original set bail and from the looks of things”—the attorney scowled down at the papers—“you may be standing trial for at least two counts of first-degree manslaughter.”
Shocked, Matt stared at the attorney, speechless. Then, the enormity of his words sank in and Matt sprang out of his seat and leaned across the table. Seething, he reached out and collared the smug attorney. “Manslaughter! Are you crazy?” Matt was so furious, he could hardly speak. Spit spewed f
rom his lips as he tried to gather the words to express his shock and rage. “They think I’m a murderer? I don’t own a gun, never carried a gun in my life, and I most certainly never killed anyone. Some young punk stole my van and left that gun, the drugs, and any other crap they found in it. The person who committed those crimes is still out there on the loose.”
“Guard!” the public defender shouted while trying to break from Matt’s iron-clad grasp.
Guards immediately swarmed around Matt. They tussled with him and quickly overpowered and cuffed him.
Kicking and thrashing as he was dragged out of the interview room, Matt bellowed, “Call my wife! I’m being railroaded and I want a real attorney. Do you hear me? Call my wife!”
CHAPTER 23
Cochise fiddled with the radio, scrolling past head-pounding rap music until he found a station that featured R&B and classic soul. “Aw, that’s my jawn,” Cochise announced, settling back in his seat when smooth male vocals poured from the speakers.
Regina found herself mesmerized by the style of the vocalist. He reminded her of a modern-day Marvin Gaye. “Who’s that?” she asked Cochise.
“That’s Raheem DeVaughn. That track is called Believe. If I could blow, that’s what I’d be singing to you.” Cochise smiled and then became quiet so Regina could hear the lyrics.
When the love song concluded, Cochise turned the volume down. “My man was putting it down. He said everything I wish I had the nerve to tell you.”
She couldn’t help from blushing. It was flattering to know that Cochise was interested in a long-term relationship, but a million unsettling thoughts ran across her mind. “Cochise, there’s something I need to ask you.”
Giving Regina his undivided attention, Cochise turned the volume down. “Ask.”
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