“Unbelievable!” Wiz swiped most of the items off his desk and onto the carpet with one smooth sweep of his arm.
Olivia jumped, her hand over her heart.
“Un-frickin-believable! I just don’t get you. Hasn’t her presence in our life wreaked enough havoc?”
“I’m not sending her on her way without answers. Besides, she doesn’t look drunk or high. Maybe she’s finally gotten herself together.”
“Forget what she looks like. After all the shit she’s put you through you’re still believing anything she says! Did you miss the part where I said that she’s in trouble?”
“No, I didn’t.” She stood, anger creeping faster through her body. “I also didn’t miss you not giving me a straight answer about why’d she come to you. Or the fact that you didn’t tell me days ago that you had been in contact with her!”
He glared at her as if she had lost her mind.
“You’re kidding, right? That’s what you’re concerned about, that she came to me? You’re not concerned about her setting another house on fire, stealing from you again, or letting some assholes drug you and then leave you for dead?”
Olivia said nothing. What could she say? Yes, Keisha had done all of those things and more, but Olivia had forgiven her. And just because she had forgiven her, didn’t mean that she was letting her back into their lives. But of course she was curious about where her sister had been and what she’d been up to.
Wiz moved toward her, but stopped. “Do you have any idea how it felt to get a call from my dad saying that you were missing and I was thousands of miles away?” His voice hitched, deep heart-felt emotion strangling his words. “Do you know … what it was like on the ride back to the U.S.? Or what it was like when we found you in that drug house? I had to carry you out of there because you were unconscious, Olivia. I had no idea if you were even going to live long enough for me to get you to a hospital. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”
Olivia released an uneven breath, trying to choose her words carefully, feeling overwhelmed by his words, his emotional state.
“No. No, I don’t, and I’m so sorry for all that my sister has done and for how it affected you. How it has affected us. I’m trying to tell you that I don’t plan on letting her back into our lives. I just want to have a conversation with her. But you know what, Cameron? I left that time in my life in the past. I can’t keep holding onto that hurt, the feeling of betrayal and at times even fear. And neither can you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe this shit. After all of that, you still think there’s hope for her? You still think you can save her.”
“I’m not trying to save her. I just want to talk with her, and I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. It’ll just be a conversation. Why are you so afraid of me talking to her?”
“Well, you know what? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t stand by and watch her screw up something else in our world.” He snatched his keys and picked his cell phone off the carpet, leaving the rest of the mess on the floor. “Speak to her all you want, but not in this house! When I return, she better be gone.”
“Where are you going?”
Olivia hurried behind him, barely keeping pace as he flew down the stairs. He left through the garage without looking back.
She turned to see Malik walking toward her.
“Malik, can you go after him? I’m afraid he’s going to do something crazy.”
“As long as Midnight is still here … he won’t.”
Olivia frowned. “Midnight?”
He cursed under his breath and glanced away before turning back to her. “Your sister. As long as your sister is still here, Wiz won’t do anything crazy. It’s when she leaves you might need to worry.” He strolled away, leaving her standing there.
Olivia stared after him. What does that even mean?
*
Wiz left the motel office fifty dollars lighter in exchange for a key to Keisha’s room. Had it been anyone else, he would have been concerned about how easy it had been to get access.
He pulled the brim of his cap lower, and adjusted the collar of his leather jacket as he hurried across the parking lot. The wind whipped around him, lifting dust, debris, and a light dusting of snow, but that didn’t slow his steps. He had one thing on his mind—show Keisha what it felt like to have an uninvited guest in the place where she called home.
A new wave of fury surged through his veins at her boldness. She had to know he’d be out for blood. And that I wanted to see my sister crap hadn’t helped her case. She was definitely running some type of game and he needed to find out what it was sooner than later.
After driving around for the past two hours trying to clear his head, he ended up at her motel. Probably not the smartest move considering the way he was feeling, but he needed to make something clear to Keisha once and for all.
Wiz glanced around the darkened parking lot before heading toward the cement stairs, taking them two at a time. He headed straight for room 214. After knocking and not getting a response, he checked his surroundings then eased the door open. His gun at his side, he stepped into the doorway, a small amount of light filtering into the room from the outside fixture. He was able to see enough to know he hadn’t been her only visitor tonight. Drawers hung open, clothes littered the floor, and the mattress hung partially off the bed. Thieves rarely left behind items like the television, an iron that sat on the dresser, and even the digital clock on the bedside table hadn’t been touched.
Clearly, someone had been looking for something, but what?
One last glance toward the stairs and he moved farther into the cluttered space, letting the door close behind him. A sliver of light shone through the pair of dingy curtains hanging at the window, illuminating the room just enough for him to double check that he was alone.
Tucking his gun in the back of his waistband, Wiz flicked on the lamp sitting on the edge of the dresser, giving the room a little more light. He stood in the middle of the floor, slowly scanning the space. With gloved hands, he rummaged through an opened suitcase that sat on the other side of the bed, checking every pocket. He had no idea what he was looking for, but he’d know the moment he found it.
Next, he went through the pockets of a pair of jeans, pulling out receipts. Maybe they could tell him something.
He moved closer to the lamp and sifted through the small slips of paper, noting the dates. Well, they held answers to a couple of his questions. One, based on the gas receipts, she had driven from New York, and two, she had been in Chicago for at least three weeks. Longer than he had originally thought.
When he heard someone coming, he clicked off the lamp and pulled his gun from his waistband, holding it close to his side.
Seconds later, Keisha rushed into the room. She stopped just inside the door and peeked out the window. Wiz wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but apparently she was satisfied that there was no threat beyond the window. Her shoulders relaxed and she breathed a sigh of relief.
He flipped on the light, ignoring her startled gasp. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I were you.”
“Oh my God, Cameron! You scared me to death.” Her hand covered her heart, but then she looked around. “What did you do to my room? How dare you just come in here—”
“It wasn’t me.” He tucked his gun away and leaned his hip against the dresser. “You have a lot of damn nerve. You show up at my house as if you belonged there and now cock an attitude about someone tossing this rat hole?”
“I … I ca—”
“Sit down.” He pointed to the only chair in the room, positioned near the window. He wasn’t in the mood for bullshit and that’s exactly what she was about to start spewing. When she just stood there, he snapped. “Sit your ass down!”
She plopped down into the chair and he tried to rein in his rage.
“What are you involved in? And this time be straight with me. No more of your bullshit.”
She fidgeted with the he
m of her short wool jacket that looked so much like one that Olivia owned. If she were here for the past few weeks, that was plenty of time to study Olivia’s coming and goings as well as her style. What he wanted to know was why she was going through the trouble.
“Nothing,” she finally answered. “I told you everything. I just need help getting out of the country. I know you’re angry about me crashing the birthday celebration, but I wanted to see my sis—”
“Let me try a different approach.” Wiz reached behind his back and pulled out his 9mm from the back of his waistband and a silencer from his pocket. He quickly attached it to the gun, ignoring her pleas to just listen to him.
“I’m going to ask you again. What are you involved in?”
The fear in her eyes showed that she believed he would kill her. And at the moment, he couldn’t say that he wouldn’t.
“I told you the truth, Cameron. I did witness Dwight killing one of his boys and all I could think to do was run.”
“So you ran to Chicago, the last place you should’ve come.” With the safety still on, Wiz lifted the gun. He wouldn’t kill her, but he wanted her to think that he was willing to do the deed if she didn’t cooperate. He knew her well enough to know that to get her to come clean, she had to think her life was being threatened. Yet, even then, he’d known her to lie.
“I know there’s more to this story of yours than you’re telling. You have five seconds to start telling me the rest of it.”
Just then his cell phone vibrated. He had planned to ignore it until it started vibrating again.
He pulled it out of his pocket without taking his eyes from Keisha. The cell stopped and then started again, meaning it was Malik.
“Yeah,” Wiz answered.
“Where the hell are you?” Malik growled into the phone.
“I can’t talk right now.” Wiz watched Keisha fidget in her seat, glancing around as if looking to see what he’d found in her room.
“God, I hope you’re not where I think you are. You cannot be that stupid.” When Wiz said nothing, Malik continued. “Okay, since apparently you are, I’m going to save you from yourself. You have five minutes to get your ass out of there. Otherwise, we’re coming to get you. The last thing you need is for that woman to scream rape, or some other shit. You know how she operates, Wiz. She’ll do it. We’ll find out what she’s involved in, but not like this.”
It wasn’t often that Malik was the voice of reason, but he was right. Keisha wasn’t going to volunteer any information. They would just have to wait it out.
“I’ll be done in a minute.” Wiz disconnected the phone to the sound of Malik yelling his name.
“Cameron, I’ve told you everything. You have to believe me.”
“But I don’t.”
She stood. “I swear, I’m telling you the truth. I need your—”
“Enough!” He sliced his hand through the air. “I’m done, Keisha. As a matter of fact, I don’t give a damn what you’re involved in or with whom. I’ve had enough.”
“You promised you would help me.”
“The type of help you need, I can’t give you. You need a damn shrink. But what I will do is give you one last warning. Stay the hell away from me and my wife or else … you will be sorry.”
Chapter Twelve
Once the last of her guests had left, Olivia sat in the semi-dark family room, jazz playing softly through the overhead speakers. Wiz, being the techie he was and loving anything electronic, had wired the house years ago to include an intercom, as well as a sound system throughout the 3500 square foot Tudor home.
She lifted the hot cup of herbal tea to her lips and took a careful sip. My house. Wiz’s words bounced around her mind. He’d said them out of anger and she could tell he had regretted them the moment they left his mouth. But knowing that didn’t make it easier to hear.
Technically, it was his house. After much discussion, regarding selling her townhouse in D.C, which until recently was her place of residence, she had finally agreed. Having the townhouse made sense when she did a lot of traveling on the East Coast because of her art. Now that she and Wiz were remarrying, they agreed that Chicago would be home.
Glancing around the space, she recalled the renovations that had gone on for the last two months. Unlike most Tudor style homes of that age, they had opened up most of the first floor, but still kept as much of the architectural detail as possible. She absolutely loved the dark, timber ceiling beams and wood trim, as well as the wrought iron details. It was truly a dream home. Too bad they wouldn’t be keeping it. She wanted something that they could really call theirs.
Olivia took another sip of her hot tea, unable to stop thinking about Wiz. He still wasn’t home and she was trying not to worry. She hated when they argued, but this time she had to stand her ground. Most times she appreciated his protective behavior. Yet, there were other times she didn’t, like when he got into that alpha mode that drove her crazy. But that was him. He had been that way for as long as she’d known him.
Olivia lowered her cup, but stopped midway when she thought she heard a sound at the patio door. With the remote to their sound system, she turned down the music but didn’t hear anything.
Relaxing against the sofa, she pointed the remote to the system and stopped.
There it was again. Someone was jiggling the handle.
With shaky hands, she set the cup on the table and quickly turned off the lamp next to the sofa, her heart pounding faster than the wings of a hummingbird.
It could be Wiz, but she would have heard the overhead garage door or at least saw the headlights through the family room window. No, Wiz wouldn’t be messing around in the back of the house, especially at one in the morning.
She hurried to the hall closet near the stairs and pulled down the lock box that held a .45 ACP. If she was overreacting, so be it. She’d overreact with a weapon.
Gun in hand, adrenaline surged through her body as she eased around the corner leading to the kitchen. Thankfully there were no lights on except for a night light near the kitchen bar.
She crept along the wall. Though she was comfortable with a gun, the sudden thought of using it on someone made her blood pressure rise.
She swallowed hard and stood near the kitchen sink. The window over the sink wouldn’t give her a complete view of the backyard, but she would be able to see some of it.
Easing the curtain back, her gaze darted back and forth. Seeing nothing, she released the curtain, but at the last second, thought she saw movement near the patio stairs.
Okay. Don’t freak out.
Releasing a shaky breath, she lifted the curtain again and jumped back when she heard the garage door go up.
Heart pounding loudly in her ears, she hurried away from the sink and stood behind the door that led to the garage.
Please let it be Wiz, she thought. It had to be him. Surely no one would be able to open the overhead door without a remote or a code to the garage door opener keypad.
A car door slammed and seconds later, a key jiggled in the lock.
Olivia’s stomach clinched. She lifted the gun and held it the way Wiz had showed her, with both hands. A second later, the door swung open and the house alarm beeped several times waiting to be disarmed. It wasn’t until she heard the alarm code being entered did she release the breath that she’d been holding and slowly lowered the gun.
When Wiz didn’t flip on the kitchen light, like he usually did, her breath caught. She stayed behind the door as it closed slowly, her heart in her throat.
The sight of him should have made her relax, but she couldn’t move. He stood stock-still. His hand was behind his back, no doubt either reaching for a gun or holding one in his hand. His keen senses never ceased to amaze her.
Without a word, his sharp eyes quickly scanned her body, before settling on the gun at her side. His questioning gaze moved to her eyes.
“I’m okay.” She released a sigh of relief.
The adrenaline racing th
rough her body only moments ago skidded to a sudden halt, and she would have slid to the floor had Wiz not reached out for her.
“What happened?” He tucked the gun he’d been holding in the back of his waistband and quickly gathered her in his arms, disarming her at the same time.
He sat her gun on the kitchen counter, holding her tightly against his body as he glanced around the living space.
Lifting her effortlessly, he laid her on the sofa and placed his gun on the coffee table before sitting on the edge of the table facing her.
Pushing hair away from her face, he studied her, concern in his eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” he said calmly, though she knew his heart was racing just as fast as hers. Whatever skills they had taught him during his military days were still as acute as they had been when he was active duty.
Olivia shook her head, feeling a little silly. “Nothing,” she finally answered. “I thought I heard something in the backyard, but I don’t think—”
Before she could finish her sentence, he was out of his seat. With his gun in hand, he headed to the door that led to the backyard, not bothering with the lights.
She tiptoed behind him, careful to stay out of sight and out of the way. He glanced out the door window before disappearing outside.
Olivia moved back to the family room and laid her head on the arm of the sofa, taking several cleansing breath.
Maybe she had been overreacting, but she could have sworn she saw movement out back.
Wiz reentered the house a short while later.
She lifted slightly. “Did you see anything?”
He shook his head. “If someone was out there, they’re long gone.” He set his gun on the counter, but returned hers to the lock box.
Early in their marriage when he had first showed her his gun collection, she freaked. She hated guns. But he insisted she learn how to use one. She got more comfortable with them, but vowed she would never touch one unless he was nearby. Yet, when he enlisted in the Navy and was gone more than he was home, not only did she get used to having them in the house, he bought her the .45.
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