by Naomi Chase
She was a modestly attractive woman, which sounded better than calling her a plain Jane—as Dre’s mother had done. She was light skinned with amber eyes and a freckled nose. Her tall, thin frame made her look like a clothes hanger in her baggy blue scrubs. If it were up to Brandon, she’d be eating steaks and cheese grits for lunch every day instead of salads. Looking at her, he couldn’t help wondering how he and Dre had both ended up with skinny women when they’d always preferred sistas with ripe curves, luscious breasts, thick thighs, and phat asses.
“Mmm, this hits the spot,” Leah murmured around a mouthful of chicken salad. “Thank you, Brandon.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Do you want some?”
“Nah, I’m good. I already had lunch.”
Leah nodded, chewing quietly.
“So,” Brandon said, clasping his hands on the table, “how you been, girl?”
She gave him a wry look. “How do you think I’ve been?”
Observing the deep bags under her eyes, Brandon said ruefully, “I think you’ve probably been better.”
She grimaced self-consciously. “Do I look that bad?”
“Not bad,” Brandon said diplomatically. “Just unhappy.”
She nodded glumly.
“If it’s any consolation, Dre isn’t doing too well either. In fact, he’s barely holding it together. He misses you, Leah.”
Her lips twisted bitterly. “Guess he should have thought of that before he fucked another woman in my house.”
Brandon grimaced, watching as she viciously stabbed the fork into her salad, as if she could see Dre’s face floating above the lettuce. “He feels really horrible about what happened, Leah.”
“Only because he got caught,” she said scornfully. “If I hadn’t walked in on them, he would have continued screwing Fiona behind my back. And after she got hauled off to prison, he would have found another side piece.”
“That’s not true,” Brandon objected.
“How do you know?”
“Because he loves you, Leah.”
She snorted derisively. “He sure as hell has a funny way of showing it.”
Frowning, Brandon reached out and put his hand over hers, stopping her assault on the poor lettuce. When she released the fork and slowly lifted her eyes to his, he said quietly, “What Dre did was inexcusable, but should one bad mistake erase four years of him being good to you?”
Leah stared accusingly at Brandon. “Are you actually defending him?”
“Hell, no. What he did was fucked up, and I’ve told him that. So have Justin and Cornel. Believe me, he understands how much he hurt you and betrayed your trust. He knows how lucky he’d be to get a second chance with you.”
Leah frowned, staring down at her half-eaten salad. “I don’t know, Brandon. I’m not like you. I don’t have the capacity to forgive cheating.”
He smiled sadly. “You’d be amazed what you can forgive of someone you really love.”
Leah’s nostrils flared, eyes blinking rapidly.
Sensing the waterworks to come, Brandon eased his chair around the table. Seconds later when the dam burst, his shoulder was there to absorb the deluge of tears.
“I saw them,” Leah sobbed piteously. “I saw them screwing while I was right down the hall! How could I ever forgive him for doing that to me?”
Brandon rubbed her back and murmured consolingly as she wept.
He suddenly felt guilty for coming there because he knew his motives weren’t as pure as they should have been. Though he’d been debating whether or not to get involved in Leah and Dre’s breakup, Brooke’s confession had made up his mind. But was it fair to ask Leah to reconcile with Dre? As if it weren’t bad enough that he’d cheated on her, he’d also gotten the other woman pregnant. Leah would be devastated when she found out. And who could blame her? If Tamia had gotten knocked up by Dominic, Brandon would probably be in prison right now.
After several minutes, Leah stopped crying and lifted her head from his shoulder. He grabbed one of the paper napkins and handed it to her.
She wiped her eyes and quietly blew her nose, then gave him a rueful smile. “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder. Hope I didn’t ruin your Armani.”
Brandon chuckled. “It’s all good. That’s what dry cleaners are for.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m sorry for coming here and upsetting you,” Brandon told her. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.” Leah smiled, cupping his cheek. “You’re a great guy, Brandon. Sometimes I think I fell in love with the wrong friend.”
“You didn’t.”
She sighed. “Maybe not, but I sure as hell wouldn’t mind getting back at Dre by sleeping with you.”
Brandon’s smile evaporated. “Uhhh . . .”
Leah laughed. “I’m kidding, Brandon.”
He believed her. But after the madness with Dre’s mother, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Well, I’d better head back to work and let you get back to your patients,” he said, rising from the table.
Leah nodded, gathering her unfinished food. “I have to scrub in for surgery soon.” She smiled warmly at him. “Thanks again for everything, Brandon.”
“You’re welcome. At the end of the day, I just want you to do whatever’s best for you.”
Leah nodded. “I will.”
As Brandon left the hospital, he hoped that Leah and Dre’s relationship would have a better outcome than his and Tamia’s.
But he wasn’t very optimistic.
Chapter 30
Tamia
“Tamia Giselle Luke, you got some ’splainin’ to do!”
Tamia cringed at the sound of Shanell’s voice.
She’d been lazing on Dominic’s plush sofa that afternoon when her phone rang. Even before she’d checked the display screen, she’d known it was Shanell. And she knew she was in for an epic tongue lashing.
“Hey, girl,” she said meekly.
“Don’t you ‘hey, girl’ me after you’ve been ignoring my calls for the past three days!”
Guilt swept over Tamia. “I’m really sorry about that, Shanell.”
“You should be. Not only for avoiding my calls, but for lying about where you were going on Saturday when you snuck out of my house. I couldn’t believe it when Marcellus called to tell me that he ran into you at a model home on Saturday. What the hell were you doing there with Dominic Archer? And wearing an engagement ring?”
Tamia grimaced. “It’s a long story.”
“I got time, heffa. So start talking.”
Tamia heaved a resigned breath, then sat up and reached for the glass of wine on the ottoman. She took a long sip, stalling.
“I’m waiting,” Shanell prompted impatiently.
Settling back against the sofa cushions, Tamia told her friend the whole story, starting from the night Dominic had showed up at the restaurant and ending with the romantic weekend they’d just spent together.
When she’d finished her account, Shanell was silent.
Deafeningly silent.
“Well?” Tamia prompted nervously.
“Well what?”
“Don’t you have anything to say?”
Shanell sighed heavily. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
Tamia gulped hard, bracing herself.
“I understand needing money to start your business, and I’ll admit that it was very generous of Dominic to hook you up like that. But honestly, Tamia, when you told me you were moving onward and upward, I didn’t think that included getting involved with that bastard again. I thought—hoped—you were done with him after everything he put you through. I mean, you’re a smart, gorgeous woman who can have any man you want. You already know that Gavin is totally smitten with you, and he never came close to even sniffing the pussy. Hell, some of the guys at Richards Carruth still ask me about you. Like I said, you a badass chick who can pull any dude you want. So I don’t understand why yo
u keep fooling around with that lowlife. I mean, is the dick that good?”
Tamia’s face heated. “It’s not about that.”
“But the dick is good,” Shanell said knowingly.
“It is,” Tamia admitted. “Dominic is an amazing lover.”
“Better than Brandon?”
Tamia hesitated for a long moment, thinking about the explosive passion she and Brandon shared . . . the powerful connection . . . the depth of emotion between them. It was never just fucking for the sake of fucking.
She sighed deeply. “You know, when I first started sleeping with Dominic, I thought he might be better in bed than Brandon. Being with him was new and dangerous and exciting, and I couldn’t get enough of him. And I’m not gonna lie—part of me took some satisfaction in getting back at Brandon for not being more committed to our relationship.”
“Is that what this is about, Tamia?” Shanell quietly probed. “Is that why—out of all the men you could be with—you’re still giving Dominic the time of day? Because you subconsciously want to punish Brandon?”
Tamia frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t want to think so.”
“No . . . I honestly don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t want to punish Brandon. I think he’s hurting enough.”
“Girl, he must be,” Shanell said grimly. “According to Marcellus, Brandon looked devastated when he saw that ring on your finger. Marcellus didn’t know whether the brotha was gonna break down in tears or fuck somebody up.”
Tamia swallowed tightly. “It was a misunderstanding.”
“That’s what I told Marcellus. I knew there was no way in hell you’d gotten engaged without telling me.” Shanell snorted. “Little did I know you and Dominic were off having a romantic tryst at some B and B.”
Tamia couldn’t help smiling. “It was romantic.”
“So you’ve said.” Shanell sounded disgruntled. “How do you know you can trust him?”
“I don’t,” Tamia admitted.
“Then why even take a risk?”
Tamia didn’t respond.
“Oh my God,” Shanell murmured. “You have feelings for him, don’t you?”
Tamia sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Shanell. I got to know him better this weekend, and he’s not the man I thought he was. What he told me about his marriage to Isabel gave me a different perspective on him. I’m not justifying his infidelity, but I could definitely relate to what made him stray.”
“So now you’re kindred spirits,” Shanell mocked.
Tamia smiled. “Maybe we are. Stranger things have happened.”
She could almost see Shanell rolling her eyes.
“So where are you now? At his place?”
“Yeah,” Tamia answered.
When she and Dominic got back to Houston that morning, he’d asked her to come home with him and spend the night. She’d agreed, but only on the condition that they stop at her apartment first to pick up her car. Though she was enjoying Dominic’s company, she didn’t want to be trapped at his apartment if he started working her nerves.
“Oh, before I forget,” Shanell said, “Marcellus wants you to call him to schedule an appointment so he can see your house. I’ll text his number to you.”
“Cool. Thanks. I’ll get in touch with him tomorrow.”
Just then Tamia’s phone beeped. When she saw Officer Greene’s number on the display screen, she said, “I gotta run, Shanell. Talk to you later.” She pushed the button to receive the incoming call. “Hello?”
“Hello, Miss Luke. This is Officer Greene. How’re you doing?”
“I’m fine.” She felt uncomfortable talking to him now that she knew he was the same asshole who’d put his hands on Honey. She wanted to cuss him out, but she’d promised not to say a word.
“I wanted to give you an update on the investigation,” Keyshawn said, oblivious to her simmering animosity. “We’ve reviewed the visitor log and security tapes, and everything seems to check out. Most tenants were at work during the hours you weren’t home, so there wasn’t much foot traffic. The few visitors to the building that day have been questioned and cleared. Unfortunately, there was some sort of neighborhood power outage that caused a glitch in the security system, so we lost over an hour of surveillance footage. It’s entirely possible that the note was left during that time.”
Tamia frowned darkly. “How convenient.”
“Seems that way, but as you’ve probably learned, power outages aren’t uncommon in that part of town with all the new construction going on. So whoever left the note just caught a lucky break.”
Tamia blew out a frustrated breath. “Great.”
“I know.” Keyshawn sounded grim. “Our lab guy couldn’t lift any prints from the note, but we’d already assumed that the perp wore gloves anyway. Also, we were able to track down Lester McCray. He admitted that he lied about living near you because he was hoping you’d go out with him if you ran into him enough times. But he told us that he was at a seminar all day on Thursday, and his colleagues vouched for his whereabouts. Now, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have arranged for someone else to deliver the note for him, but it’ll be harder to prove since he has an alibi.”
Tamia sighed heavily. “Another dead end.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I had better news for you, but these cases often take time to resolve. In the meantime, the building management has promised to beef up security, and the front desk staff is on heightened alert to report any suspicious activity. If you can crash at a friend’s place for a while, that’s what I’d recommend.”
Tamia nodded, glancing around Dominic’s expensively furnished penthouse. “Thank you for calling, Officer Greene. I appreciate the update.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Luke. I’ll be in touch.”
Tamia disconnected, then set the phone down and frowned. She didn’t like being a prisoner to some unknown threat. It made her feel weak and powerless—two things she’d always detested.
She couldn’t stay with Dominic indefinitely, nor did she want to impose on Shanell and Mark. Sooner or later she’d have to return home and resume her normal life.
Whatever “normal” means anymore, she mused grimly as she rose from the sofa.
After she and Dominic had made love that morning, he’d left to take care of some business at the office. Tamia had showered and dressed, then pulled out her laptop to work on concepts for the Ehrlichs’ ad campaign until she became too drowsy to concentrate.
Crossing to the wet bar, she poured herself another glass of wine. As she languidly sipped her drink, she looked around the room, reliving memories of the first time she’d been summoned to Dominic’s penthouse. She’d put on her Mystique costume, and she and Dominic had masturbated while watching each other. It had been hot and intense—the beginning of a dangerous affair that had nearly destroyed her.
As Tamia slowly glanced around, something lying beneath the ottoman caught her eye. Curious, she walked over and bent down to investigate.
It was a pair of women’s leopard-print panties.
She recoiled, lips curled in disgust.
Instantly her mind flashed on an image of Dominic fucking some hoochie on the sofa, his ass cheeks flexing as he pounded her from behind.
Tamia scowled.
She knew she had no right to be pissed. Dominic wasn’t her man, and these panties had obviously been left before he and Tamia reunited this weekend.
Her anger wasn’t about feeling cheated on.
It was about not wanting to get played again.
Gritting her teeth, Tamia reached under the ottoman and picked up the underwear, using only the tips of her fingers lest she catch some fungus. She dropped the panties on top of the ottoman so Dominic would see them the moment he entered the room. Then she spun on her heel and marched to the master bedroom.
After grabbing her belongings, she bounced.
Chapter 31
Tamia
Twenty minutes
later, Tamia swung into the underground parking garage at her apartment building. She’d decided to run home, pack more clothes, and head over to Shanell’s house.
It was barely three o’clock, so the garage was practically deserted since most of her neighbors were still at work. Climbing out of her car, she closed the door and pressed the key fob to set the alarm, though she knew no one who lived here would ever want to steal her ride. The tenants of the luxury residence consisted of oil and gas executives, lawyers, doctors, professional athletes, and administrators from the nearby medical center. Compared to the vehicles they drove, her old Accord was a hooptie.
As Tamia started across the garage, she heard footsteps behind her.
Her skin prickled with unease.
She automatically quickened her pace, fingers closing around the compact canister of Mace attached to her keys.
As the footsteps came closer, she realized that there were two people.
A chill ran through her.
She walked faster, nerves tightening as the footsteps behind her accelerated to match her stride.
Heart pounding, she whirled around to see two figures in ski masks advancing on her.
Her blood ran cold.
Before she could raise her arm to get off a shot of pepper spray, one of the masked figures rushed her. She gasped as her keys—and the Mace—were knocked out of her hand, sending a jolt of pain up her arm.
Reacting on instinct, she swung her leg hard, kicking her attacker in the crotch.
A high-pitched scream rang out as the masked figure doubled over.
Tamia stared, stunned to realize that her attacker was a woman.
Before she could process this detail, the other assailant was upon her, viciously snatching a fistful of her hair.
“You fucking bitch!” a muffled female voice shouted.
Tamia started swinging, landing punches wherever she could. The woman was bigger and stronger, outweighing her by at least thirty pounds. But Tamia instinctively knew that she was in the fight of her life, so she couldn’t afford to be intimidated by her opponent’s size.