by Tiana Laveen
“Shit!” He slammed his fist against the black tiled wall as he tried to work out the details in his mind, play back the whole sordid encounter, rewind the tapes of time. After rinsing himself twice, he jumped out of the shower and dried off. He picked up the razor he’d placed on the sink counter and began to trim up his facial hair and brows. As soon as he stepped foot back into his bedroom to turn on his computer and do a bit of research, his phone rang once again.
“It’s about damn time!” he answered. “I’ve been waiting to hear back from you. I have left a shitload of messages. Do you have any idea of what happened to me in Vegas, man? And to make things worse, your best friend called me and told me he didn’t have shit to do with it!”
“I’m in Tokyo, Savage. I’m sorry about the delay,” Austin said, sounding truly exhausted. “I won’t be back for another week or so. Yes, I was briefed on what happened… Jesus Christ. Harlem filled me in, and I read the reports.”
“Longhorn claims to be none the wiser about the Vegas shit. I don’t know.” He shrugged as he paced back and forth. “He’s a master manipulator so I can’t take his word for it.”
“As much as I would like to encourage you to do him in at this point, I don’t think Longhorn had anything to do with it. I found out quite a bit of stuff while you were away. When I get back in town, we’ll need to meet face to face and strategize. I believe you’ve made your fair share of enemies, Savage, but this one may have to do with a prior hit. This sort of thing happens sometimes, as you know. We’ll discuss more later and maneuver as needed.”
“Yeah, we do need to talk. First on the agenda, I need to set up some new ground rules because as it stands, I’m doing all the work while other people are fuckin’ up, making assumptions that could cost me my life. I understand that my job has occupational hazards, but sloppiness is some shit I just can’t accept. I am not getting the bare necessities and I’m pissed off.”
“Savage, yes, we can—”
“Don’t try to sweet talk me this time, either. We had an agreement. I don’t think my demands are unreasonable. If I get my own self killed, then that’s that. But if I die because you or your guys were not watching my back, then that’s a whole different issue. The shit that went down at my house should’ve never happened. Longhorn’s crew should’ve been wiped out before they even entered the damn house! I reviewed the footage. It’s like everyone was on vacation until the last minute. You can’t send me on the frontline with no army behind me, man!” Austin gave a loud sigh. “You’ve got me going after bigshot callers, not corner drug dealers sellin’ dime bags. This isn’t nursery school. This is no peewee group. This is the big leagues! The money and adrenaline rush doesn’t mean shit if I’m dead.”
“I get it, Savage. A lot of what you’ve shared is justified. We’ll discuss this further. Try to get some sleep.”
The call ended. Savage looked at his phone, gritted his teeth, and groaned. A sinful, hellish heat, born from the mother of resentment and the father of frustration, boiled up inside him and poured out his mouth in the form of a scream.
His phone rang once again, and he cursed… sick of the calls, sick of everyone…
He looked down at the Caller-ID, then smiled.
“You have no idea how glad I am that you called me, Zaire…”
“I was thinking about you, Maximus. In fact, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you kissed me goodbye…”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Best Kept Secrets
The past few days had been nothing short of surreal. From the time she’d laid eyes on Maximus Savage, Zaire had entered a dream world up until she’d finally made it home again, her feet on familiar ground.
The podcast show that evening had been successful, without unnecessary shenanigans or P.I.T.A. (Pain in the Ass) interruptions—liked the one with the idiot who liked to call in and curse her out, or send her inappropriate emails, some threatening in nature. Thank goodness she hadn’t heard from the imbecile in over a couple of weeks and hoped his reign of stupidity was finally over.
Zaire turned off the last light in her studio and stood, stretching her arms and groaning from sitting for so very long. Her staff was gone, so she was alone. Exiting the dark booth, she grabbed the stairway banister. The air conditioning above her head cooled her as she climbed the stairs, barely able to wait to indulge in a glass of wine, a bubble bath, and some silly TV show. Cell phone in hand, she made her way to her kitchen. She placed the phone on the counter and closed the window as the smell of the salmon, wild rice, and Caesar salad she’d had for dinner was now gone. Heading to the pantry, she found her built-in wine rack inside.
There you are, my love…
She selected a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, popped the cork, and poured it into a large glass, to the rim. One wrong move and it would definitely spill all over the place. Leaning back onto the counter, she crossed her ankles and relaxed a little. Herbie Hancock’s ‘Cantaloupe Island’ played through her home speakers, filling her with the rhythm. As she bobbed her head to the beat, thoughts of Savage swam in her head, doing Olympic, tipsy laps. She stared at her cell phone and pursed her lips, remembering the conversation they’d just had right after the show, before she left her booth. From a quick check-in call as she’d expected, he ended up inviting himself over. His excuse: to see her before he got too busy. Also, he’d asked some questions she’d been expecting.
Had she whispered a word of what happened in the hotel room to anyone?
Definitely not…
Was she afraid?
Definitely yes…
Then he’d said something that had sent chills up her spine.
“Zaire, there’ll be some men contacting you to arrange to see you. It’s protocol. They may even pop up in person, out of the blue. They work for the same agency as me. Don’t ask them a bunch of questions—only make sure they give you their names and show you their I.D. It’s a special badge, a black and red shield. They’ll ask a few questions. Just be honest. You won’t see their weapons, but they’ll be armed. They won’t hurt you…”
What have I gotten myself into?
She polished off the glass and started to trudge outside the kitchen, her bare feet felt cold against the slate flooring, then stopped in front of the photo of her, Kim, and Allison hanging on the wall. Her eyes watered as she dragged her fingertips down the protective glass of the framed image and shook her head in disbelief.
I’m not a good friend. I’m not even a good person…
She’d kept so many secrets from the two women she adored almost more than anyone else in the whole world. Zaire was accustomed to keeping up appearances, to helping others in their time of need while acting all prim and proper in the face of scrutiny, evaluation and adversity.
Lies to self, lies in stealth… What was one more lie? And then another?
The entire road trip back, she’d laughed with her buddies as they teased her, calling her a whore but applauding her at the same time. They talked to one another about all sorts of things, and she kept on smiling, gritting her teeth, keeping secrets, not once letting on she’d witnessed a double murder… that she’d fallen hard for a man she barely knew and that she was addicted to the thrill. That perhaps she was sick. But worst of all, she knew better. That realization made her die a little on the inside.
None of the great music they’d played in the car—Aretha Franklin, Beyoncé, Janet Jackson, and Maxwell’s greatest hits—could make the slow, nasty sludge of blood-tinged memories go down any easier.
I’ll never forget those two pairs of dead eyes…
Turning off the kitchen light, she stepped out into the hall and was bathed in a soft, warm motion-detecting light. As she reached the staircase, she kneaded on her shoulder, working out a kink. Wicked thoughts swirled within her like dense cigar smoke slipping from the lips of a beautifully truthful, verbally irresponsible, slightly sadistic and complicated individual…
Something about Maximus Savage
called to her and would not let go. Allison had seen it, too, and felt drawn to him. He had that sort of power. He was alluring, magnetic, and dripping with the shit. It had now gone way beyond boredom, lust and curiosity for her. She’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for. This was an entirely new scale of ‘fuck my beliefs and principles.’ She’d graduated into a rebel without a cause.
Her cap and gown were blood red and drenched in treachery.
I am involved with a trained murderer. DID YOU HEAR THAT? He is a fucking assassin. I could be in danger. Everyone I know or associate with could also be threatened. And yet, I still want to fuck him. I still want to hear his voice. I still want to see him. I want to hear all about his life. I want to go out to the movies and dance the night away with this man. I want to lay my head on his chest and fall asleep. Yup. I’m crazy.
She swallowed hard at the notion, beating herself up with several uppercuts to the thoughts in her head, just as she had a million times over recently.
I have given my body, bits and pieces of my mind, and parts of my hidden self to a man who empties clips and knocks the life out of men for sport. I have willingly lost complete control of myself! I am battling within, I am hurting, I am confused, I am struggling here! I tell my callers and readers to never deal with men like Maximus… or do I?
Things had become so weird, she could no longer see straight.
Is Maximus truly like the men I warn against? This is a fair question, right? I mean, I tell them to avoid habitual liars all the time. He’s not a habitual liar, or at least doesn’t appear to be. No one in their right mind would lie about some of the things he shared. It didn’t make him look good. It wasn’t a feather in his cap.
I tell the women I try to help to steer clear of cheaters. To watch out for the red flags. Okay, so he’s not a cheater either. He was upfront and honest about his feelings regarding us and what he wants. He admitted he has concerns about marriage. I still think he has problems with women, but I wouldn’t say he hates us.
I tell my audience to not loan money to a guy, to not be used and financially abused. He’s never asked me for a dime and probably makes triple what I do on any given Sunday.
And from what I can tell, what he is doing is not illegal. He is literally backed by our government. How strange! Maybe it’s like the army—only he is an army of one? I guess that’s how I could look at it. It doesn’t sound as odd when I think of it that way. I mean, our Armed Forces, The Marines, the Navy… all of them kill. It’s the same thing.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she worked out the complexities of this shit in her mind…
Once she reached her bedroom, she opened the door and walked in. Her queen size bed was dressed in a rich sangria and eggplant colored fabric that gleamed under the small chandelier and recessed lights of the ceiling. She neared the bed, taking note that one of the pillows showed slight ripples, so she smoothed it out just so, then stared at it for far too long, the notions in her head spinning like wheels once again.
And now, I’ve called this man, after all he’s admitted to, the stuff I’ve seen, and everything he’s done. I had the audacity to pick up that damn phone and call him after my podcast, just like he’d asked. Just like I wanted to. As soon as he said, ‘Hello?’ I was his… I melted. Something is definitely wrong with me, broken inside, because when he said my name, it was over. Much to my surprise, he had invited himself into my girls’ weekend, busting it wide open, and now he’s coming into my home… It’s my choice whether I allow him into my heart or not.
She shook her head, both disgusted and slightly amused with herself. How she wished she had someone to talk to and confide in, but she couldn’t go there. It was far too risky. One word to the wrong person could bring everything crashing down, and there was no guarantee she wouldn’t be buried beneath the rubble. She was sworn to secrecy. Then too, few would believe her if she spilled the beans. She’d lose credibility at the least, or worse, but even if they believed her, it wouldn’t change the bottom line: The fact that Maximus Savage was a true protector turned her on.
The secrecy, the mystery, the smell of the hotel room after the kill…
That fateful day in the hotel room, the adrenaline had flowed so fast, so strong, seeping in her damn bones. All the colors around her seemed more vivid, and the odor of hot gun smoke filled the room. Time remained still though, like the display on a broken watch, the long hand cradled against the short, both jerking every so often to free themselves from their tortured embrace.
She got chills thinking about Maximus, about his voice, about that night… It would forever remain imprinted on her mind.
His face… Jesus. The way the place was cleaned up in no time, as if nothing had ever happened. I felt safe with him. Before anything had even happened, I felt like he’d offered me something I needed; even with all the crazy things he’d say, I felt different with him… It’s so hard to describe, but it just felt right, even though I fought it tooth and nail.
She ran her hands along the fabric of her bed, falling even harder into her daydreams. She went somewhere carnal and seedy within, and it felt so amazing…
The way he looked at her with those astonishing, glimmering eyes. The entire weekend they’d spent together, he’d smelled like expensive cologne, burnt Autumn leaves, fresh sprigs of mint, the muted blue smolder of dense smoke, worn leather and musk.
I like how he touches me…
His big, warm hands had felt rough and powerful as they’d glided across her skin. His kiss was all consuming, passionate, and administered with the softest lips she’d ever felt.
Everything that Maximus Savage was, she wanted.
Everything he could be, she needed.
She’d do almost anything to fall down face-first into that addictive adrenaline rush she’d felt when he’d wrapped his hand around her throat seconds before thrusting her to the ground… his gun blasting… He’d manhandled her not to hurt her, but to help her and get her out of harm’s way.
She jumped, startled by the sound of her house phone ringing. It was so rare for anyone to call her on the landline. She walked to the vanity and answered the call.
“Hello?”
“Hello, princess.” She smiled at her father’s husky greeting. He fell into a spell of coughs, then cleared his throat. “Just checkin’ in on you. Hadn’t heard from you in a while, Eva. How have you been? Your podcast and all of that?”
“Great! Everything is just fine… going well. Just busy,” she said. “You sound like you have a cold. Is everything okay?” She leaned against the wall and wrapped the cord around her fingers.
“Yeah, just a little cold. No big deal. I was caught in the rain a few days ago. It started to pour all of a sudden while I was trying to finish mowing the grass. I wanted to get it done but that wasn’t the best idea, I suppose. Glad to hear you’re doing okay.”
“How’s Mom?”
“Oh, she’s fine… She’s fine.” Dad’s voice trailed a bit, as if he’d stepped away from the phone. “Your grandmother came to visit. Asked about you.”
“I’m surprised she left the house,” Zaire teased. Grandma was known to be a hermit and enjoyed complaining twenty-four-seven. “How’d that visit go?”
“As good as could be expected.” Dad chuckled. “You know how your mother’s mom is. I just tried to be accommodating and get her the hell out of my house as soon as possible. Sounds like a contradiction, but you know what I mean.” They both laughed at that. “Well, I won’t keep you. Just wanted to make sure you were okay. Oh, I spoke to your sister last night. She’s going on some European cruise. Isn’t that something? I’ve never been on a cruise. Maybe that’s something I’ll look into, but with your mom and all, it’s not really…”
“I know, I know.”
Emotions welled within her. Dad was pretty much a slave to Mom. He had to wait on her hand and foot and he’d become so paranoid of her getting hurt. In the past, she’d walked out in the middle of traffic or accidentall
y cut herself badly with a knife while making a salad. He was so absorbed with taking care of her, he barely made time for himself.
“Dad, you have to take care of yourself. Would you please consider a psychiatric nurse for Mom? I know you refuse to put her into a facility. I get that. But there were two incidents that I know of when she was pretending to take her medicine but wasn’t. That put both of your lives in danger.”
“Eva, just like I told you, your mother doesn’t trust strangers. The last time I tried to get someone in here for more than a few minutes, she had to be restrained after attacking them, believing they were someone they weren’t. The time before that wasn’t much better. I… I’d like to do all sorts of things. I miss going to the library for instance and taking walks by myself, but I married your mother for better or for worse.”
Zaire slowly closed her eyes and a deep ache radiated throughout her body. A sense of helplessness overcame her.
“Dad, you have to let me and Star help. I’m busy, yes, but I don’t have children or those sorts of obligations, so…”
“No. You comin’ over a couple times a month so I can run some errands and grocery shop is enough. Star helps when she can.” He began to cough again, this spell longer than the first.
She’d offered her money and her time to her father, but he barely accepted either. He’d told her many times that he didn’t want her or her sister’s life impacted. Their brother’s already had been, the consequences irreversible. Dad felt a part of their childhood had been stolen, along with the tattered pieces of Mom’s mind. The two went hand-in-hand, but no one was to blame. Her ailment was an invisible culprit, a thief of peace and tranquility, a tyrant who stole family unity and left behind a hole that could never be filled.