Her Shield (The Uncut Series Book 1)

by D. Camille

  “Okay sweetheart, if you want this to stay slowed down then you should slow down,” he warned against her lips.

  “You're changing my mind,” she whispered back grinding against him.

  He kissed her again. “A few more days, we'll talk...and get very freaky,” he promised. “Now, I need to go and you need to take a cold shower then go to bed.”

  Isis laughed. “Okay. Thank you for the flowers.”

  Marc kissed her some more before finally departing for good. Isis walked into her room and kicked off her shoes. Heading back out, she checked Tasha's room. Seeing that it was empty she wondered where she was. She decided to text her and was on her way to get her phone when the doorbell rang. She smiled wondering if Marcus had changed his mind.

  Looking through the peep-hole she didn't see Marcus, but his brother Jeremiah. She froze then looked away. Next, the knock on the door startled her and she let out a little scream.

  “Isis? Open the door. It's Jeremiah.”

  Isis turned her back to the door. She didn't like Jeremiah and honestly, he scared her a little.

  “I'm here to see Tasha,” he called through the door.

  “She's not here!” Isis called back.

  “I brought her some stuff she needs for her project,” he explained.

  Isis looked around the room. “Can you just leave it out there?” she asked.

  “Really Isis? You want me to leave my sister's stuff just sitting out in the hall?” he asked. “Just open the door. I'll put it inside and leave.”

  Isis felt her heart beating then blew out a breath. This was Marcus and Tasha's brother. If she called Marcus, what would she say? Your brother is here to see your sister at her apartment but I'm scared to let him in?

  Neither had warned her against him in any way, but she'd learned that she had to trust her gut instincts. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed a knife from the drawer and placed it behind her back.

  Slowly she walked back to the door and opened it slightly. She glanced down and saw the boxes on the floor then looked up at Jeremiah as he smiled.

  “Damn girl, you act like I'm going to try to kill you or something,” he said picking up one of the boxes.

  Isis stood holding the door open as he sat the box inside. He turned and quickly retrieved the second box and sat it next to the first.

  He turned to Isis. “Tell Tasha if she needs anything else, just to let me know.”

  Isis nodded quickly still holding onto the open door. Jeremiah walked towards her and stopped. “So you and Marc are serious now? Momma's already planning the Graham/Martin union.” He looked her over.

  “I'll tell Tasha what you said,” Isis said firmly.

  He smiled. “It's okay Isis. Marc's the killer, not me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “It's Marcus' job.”

  Jeremiah laughed. “Marc was a killer long before he became the FBI.” He continued to laugh as he walked out the door and Isis slammed it closed behind him, quickly turning the lock.

  Standing rooted to the spot, she stood for a long while trying to calm her breathing and slow her beating heart. When she heard the lock turning, she jumped and pulled out the knife as Tasha came through the door.

  “Isis, what the hell are you doing?” Tasha yelled seeing the knife in her hands.

  Isis closed her eyes and lowered the knife. “I'm sorry. You scared me.”

  Tasha came over and hugged her. “What happened? Are you okay?”

  “Your brother Jeremiah brought some boxes for you,” Isis explained.

  “Did he do something to upset you?” Tasha demanded.

  Isis shook her head. “No, I just didn't know he was coming.”

  Tasha released her. “I'm sorry. I asked him to bring some things I need for my project. I didn't know I'd be this late.”

  Isis sighed. “It's fine. This is your apartment.”

  Tasha looked at Isis sensing her distress. “You don't have to be afraid of Jeremiah. He knows that you're Marc's woman and he would never cross Marc again, because he knows exactly what Marc is capable of.”

  *********

  Jeremiah left Tasha's apartment and headed to meet Millie. He wondered about her because she was always so secretive and only wanted to meet at hotels. He knew that she was grieving her father, but he didn't even know who her father was or the sister that killed him, for that matter.

  Jeremiah hadn't lied to Isis, he wasn't a murderer but he would plot to get whatever he wanted. He'd told Millie he'd help her to get revenge on her sister and he would, he just needed her to open up to him, so tonight he was determined to get her to tell him everything.

  Millie was waiting for him in the room when he entered and smiled as he came towards the bed. Jeremiah for the umpteenth time felt that she reminded him of someone, but he was not able to place his finger on it. Maybe he could make the connection when she told him who she really was.

  Jeremiah knew he had to be careful, being the son of a prominent Hollywood actor drew a lot of pariahs after his family's wealth. Jeremiah had aspired to follow his father's footsteps but that had not been in the cards for him. Marc had been the one gifted in theater but he'd shunned it at every turn. Everything that Jeremiah would have died for, Marc had walked away from it.

  Their father had gotten Jeremiah a job at one of the major studios where he worked as an assistant. His allowance from his father paid all his bills so he was free to continue to pursue his dreams to one day fill his father's shoes.

  He climbed on the bed next to her and she took him into her arms. “You're late,” she told him.

  He smiled. “I know. I had to drop off some boxes for my sister.”

  Millie ran a hand down his chest. “Do you like your sister?” she asked.

  Jeremiah nodded. “I love her and my parents.”

  “You just don't love your brother?” she questioned.

  “I didn't for a long time,” he answered. “I hurt him and he hurt me.”

  Millie frowned. “I don't love either of my sisters. They can rot in hell.”

  Jeremiah looked at her. “Who are your sisters Millie? And who are you?”

  Millie sat up. “What do you mean, who am I?” She huffed. “I'm the chick you've been smashing for the past month!”

  “Outside of that...all I know is that your name is Millie and we met outside of a restaurant.” He sat up. “I don't know your last name, where you live or any damn thing! In addition to that, you want me to help you do something to your sister. Hell you could be setting me up!”

  Millie jumped off the bed. “Setting you up? Don't get it twisted Jeremiah, your brother is the FBI...not you!”

  Jeremiah slid off the bed watching her. “How do you know my brother is FBI?”

  Millie shook her head. “I swear...men are so damn dumb sometimes.”

  He walked over to her then gripped her shoulders. “What does my brother being FBI have to do with this?” he demanded.

  She smiled softly up at him. “That's why I need you Jeremiah.”

  “Need me for what Millie?” he gritted out becoming frustrated with her antics.

  Millie reached up and touched his face. “My sister is Isis Martin. I want her dead and you're the only one who can get me to her.”

  Chapter 15

  The next day Marc showed up at the theater. Flashing his badge he headed back stage to the actors' dressing room. Without knocking, he entered the room full of men and looked around slowly. Everyone froze and turned to the tall man in dark glasses, wearing both a shield and gun on his waist along with a deadly look on his face.

  “If your name is not Denzel Carter, you should leave the room now,” Marc announced and a mad scramble to the door ensued.

  When the room was cleared except for the man he'd come to see, Marc closed the door.

  “Mr. Carter, I understand that you have some questions for me.”

  Denzel sat unable to move. “No, I don't have any questions.”

  “It seems that last nig
ht you were tossing out theories and assumptions, so I think we should discuss them,” Marc told him folding his arms.

  “I didn't mean anything,” Denzel said slowly.

  Marc nodded. “Well see, here's the problem with that Denzel. You upset Isis and that's just not something that I will allow, whether you meant it or not.”

  Denzel put his hands in the air. “Look, I was just talking. I'll make it right with Isis.”

  Marc shook his head. “No, I don't want you to say one word to Isis. In fact, if you're not reciting lines, you won't utter a word in her presence unless she addresses you. Understand?”

  He frowned. “You don't want me to talk to her?”

  “Not...one...word.” Marc confirmed. “Since you're so reckless with your mouth, you'll learn to keep it shut.”

  Denzel shrugged. “Yeah, okay...whatever.”

  Marc nodded and turned toward the door. He stopped and snapped his fingers before looking back. “Do you know what Isis' favorite flower is?” he asked pointing at Denzel.

  The man looked confused. “What? No.”

  “It's pink tulips,” Marc answered then lowered his head in thought for a long moment.

  Denzel watched wondering what he was thinking and what he was going to do next.

  After the dramatic pause, Marc looked up. “By the way Denzel...don't fuck with me.” He turned and exited the room.

  When Isis exited the theater, she spotted her man waiting near her car. She smiled as she got closer and he opened his arms to her.

  Willingly going into his embrace, she laid her head on his chest. “Are you coming to see me every night?” she asked.

  “If you want me to, then I will.” He held her close inhaling her fragrance.

  Isis looked up at him. “You came to feed me?”

  “Anything you want Princess.” He looked down into her pretty dark brown eyes. As they stood watching each other, the cast began to file out. Some said greetings as they made their way to their vehicles. Isis looked up as Denzel approached. He looked at Isis then at Marc before turning and walking to his car.

  “Come on, let's pick up some food and I'll take you home,” Marc told her.

  Isis froze for a moment. “Let me make sure Tasha is there.”

  Marc felt her response and watched her. “What's wrong?”

  She lowered her head.

  “Isis? Talk to me.”

  “Your brother came over last night and...he scared me.” She looked back up at him.

  Marc removed his glasses. “What did he do?”

  Isis held on to his lapel. “He didn't do anything. He was bringing some things for Tasha.”

  “Why were you afraid?”

  She shrugged. “I don't know,” she said softly. “He scares me for some reason.”

  Marc pulled her into his arms. “I'm sorry he scared you. I'll make sure he's not around when you're alone.”

  Isis held him tightly. “Thank you. I know he's your brother. Maybe it's just the effects of the hostage situation...I don't know.”

  He slowly stroked her back. “It doesn't matter Isis. If you're uncomfortable, that's all to it.”

  She lifted her face to his and he kissed her gently. “Come on. If Tasha's not there, I'll stay until she gets home.”

  Isis smiled at him then Marc helped her inside her car before following her to get food and take her home.

  Denzel watched Isis and her FBI Agent from his car and shook his head. He didn't know who this guy thought he was, but he didn't scare him. He might have Isis thinking he was some bad dude, but that didn't fly with Denzel. He started his car and drove to his small apartment.

  He thought about the watch that Isis' boyfriend wore on his wrist. The dude's entire ensemble could feed a small village. Denzel was surprised that Isis would find such a guy attractive. She was of good breeding and very polished, why she would settle for some type of drug dealer or hit man, was a mystery to him.

  She was beautiful and graceful and he'd made plans to make a move on her. He knew that her family was wealthy and her father had recently passed away, which certainly meant he'd probably left her a fortune. Being a struggling actor, having a woman with a few coins certainly didn't hurt.

  Denzel parked in his tiny parking space in one of the less desirable neighborhoods in LA and walked up the stairs to the door leading to his apartment. He went inside, closing the door behind him and locking it securely. Dropping his wallet and keys on the table, he headed to the bedroom. He stepped into the room and immediately noticed the large bouquet of flowers in the middle of his bed. He looked around before cautiously walking over to the bed and staring down at the arrangement. There was a card attached and he plucked it from the flowers and turned it over to find the words... DON'T FUCK WITH ME.

  Startled he dropped the card and it landed on the dark comforter. Denzel turned and headed into the bathroom where another bouquet laid on the sink. He looked up at the mirror and read the words...DON'T FUCK WITH ME written on the glass.

  Rushing out of the room, he dashed into the small living room looking around for any more signs. Not seeing anything, he walked into the kitchen. On the counter was another large bouquet but this time sitting in an expensive crystal vase. There was another card attached and he walked over and snatched it before reading what it said...ANY MORE QUESTIONS?

  Denzel looked at the flowers, which were the match to the ones on the bed and the ones in the bathroom. He recognized them immediately. Pink tulips...

  *********

  On Sunday, Marc drove to pick up Isis and escort her to the Black/ Jackson/ Parker co-ed baby shower. He didn't understand what men were supposed to do at a baby shower, but figured the fathers just wanted to keep an eye on their wives. After the shower, he and Isis had plans to go away for the next two days. He had his bags in the trunk and would add hers after he picked her up.

  He smiled to himself as he recalled the visit from the LA police to his office, a few days prior. The detective had walked into his office and taken the seat across from him.

  “How's it going Marc?”

  Marc nodded from behind his desk. “Good. What can I do for you?”

  The detective smiled. “We had a complaint from a Denzel Carter. He alleges that you broke into his apartment and left flowers and threatening notes.”

  Marc lifted a brow. “Really...why would he allege something like that?”

  “He says he pissed off your girlfriend which in turn pissed you off.”

  Marc nodded and sat back in his seat watching the man.

  After a while, the detective shook his head. “You are so damn dramatic. Pink tulips man?” He began to laugh.

  Marc shrugged. “They're her favorite.”

  “I told him that there was no proof and I'm sure you will provide a solid alibi, so he should just do what the cards suggested.”

  “That's in his best interest,” Marc agreed.

  The detective got to his feet. “Just don't drop any bodies in my precinct.”

  Marc stood as well. “No bodies,” he agreed.

  The detective stuck out his hand and Marc shook it. He continued to chuckle as he walked out the door.

  Marc wasn't surprised that Denzel had called the cops. He had expected no less. The man was scared and wanted it to be known that he had been threatened. Marc knew it was not an idle one and so did the detective. Marc had decided to still keep an eye on Denzel. He seemed like the type who actually had to feel the wrath. Like Jeremiah...

  He'd visited his brother the day after Isis telling him of her fear of his brother. That conversation had certainly been an interesting one.

  Marc headed up to the apartment and Isis was waiting for him at the door with her bags. He stepped inside and kissed her softly before stepping back and looking her over in designer linen walking shorts that showed her luscious creamy thighs, a silk halter-top blouse and high heeled sandals. He scanned her shapely bare legs and manicured feet.

  “Hello sweetheart.”


  She smiled at him. “Hi, I'm ready.”

  “I see.” He looked around the room for a moment. “You have the gifts?”

  Isis put a hand to her forehead. “Oh man...how could I forget those?”

  She turned and walked into the bedroom returning with three gaily-wrapped boxes. “I think I was so ready to go away with you that I forgot all about it.”

  Marc glanced at her cases by the door. “What did you pack in there?” he asked turning back to smile at her.

  She winked at him. “You'll like it.”

  He slipped an arm around her waist. “I like it naked.”

  “And warm,” he kissed her neck. “And wet.”

  “Mmmmm...I hope this shower is over quickly,” she whispered as he caressed her behind.

  Marc kissed her again before grabbing her bags and showing her down to the car. They drove to the venue engaging in light lovers banter while Marc held on to her hand. Isis looked him over in dark slacks and a casual white shirt that shone against his brown skin in the sunlight. His hair was freshly cut and he was wearing his patented sunglasses.

  “You like what you see Princess?” he asked without glancing in her direction.

  “I'll like it better later today,” she teased.

  “Exactly how long is this shower supposed to last?”

  Isis smiled. “I think like two or three hours.”

  Marc frowned. “Three hours? What are we going to do for three hours?”

  She laughed. “It's a party Marcus. Have you never been to a baby shower before?”

  He turned to her. “Of course not. I don't have friends who have babies or showers.”

  Isis turned to look out of the window. “Do you want babies someday?” she asked quietly.

  Marc toyed with her fingers that he held in his hand. “I want babies with the woman I marry after we've both accomplished what we want in our lives and we're both ready.”

  She turned to him. “So you wouldn't expect to have kids right after you're married?”