One kid with his arms wrapped around his mother’s legs kept staring up at Zeke. The one time that he glanced down, the chubby-cheeked kid ducked back behind his mother’s thick thigh and cried.
“Aww. What’s the matter with you?” his mother asked.
Zeke smiled as the doors slid open to his floor, and he stepped out alone. In the hall, he glanced around and then followed the signs hanging above his head. The floor was virtually empty, except for the two nurses huddled behind their workstation. He breezed past without them looking up. When he reached the right door, he glanced around again and then slipped into the room. In bed lay a thin man with the face of a teenager. As Zeke approached, he noticed the man’s blond hair sprayed across the pillow, his long, curly lashes, and his plumped lips. If it wasn’t for the Adam’s apple, the boy could pass for a girl.
Abrianna had an interesting group of friends.
Zeke stopped at the bed’s railing and suppressed the urge to put a bullet in the kid’s forehead and keep it pushing. What he needed first was answers. Gently, he reached underneath the man’s head and removed the extra pillow. Once he had it in hand, he shoved it down onto the kid’s face.
Shawn woke and thrashed beneath the pillow. Zeke counted to ten before lifting it and staring into the kid’s brilliant blue eyes.
“Hello, Shawn.”
Shawn drew a breath to cry out, but Zeke crashed the pillow back down again and the thrashing resumed. After another ten seconds, Zeke removed the pillow.
“Don’t piss me off by doing something foolish . . . like screaming.”
Shawn glued his lips together.
“Good. See? We already have an understanding. If this goes well, I may let you leave this place through the front door instead of the morgue. Do I make myself clear?”
Shawn swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He leaned closer. “I’m looking for a friend of yours: Abrianna Parker. Care to tell me where I can find her?”
With his breathing returning to normal, Shawn erased all emotions from his face.
“Ah. You’re one of those loyal muthafuckas, aren’t you?”
Shawn stared.
Zeke’s lips twitched. “Now see? That’s something that we have in common. When muthafuckas fuck with my friends, then I’ll see you for it. But then when one kills my lady . . .” He shook his head. “There is nothing but hell to pay. You catch my drift?”
Shawn didn’t respond.
“Has Abrianna been here to see you lately?”
Silence.
Zeke’s fake smile turned downward. “See? You’re already fucking up. I don’t like repeating myself. Has that bitch been here?”
Silence.
Zeke crashed the pillow back down onto his face. Ten, fifteen—twenty seconds passed, but this time Shawn didn’t fight back. Zeke whipped the pillow off the boy’s face, and he immediately drew several deep breaths but still refused to say anything. Pissed, Zeke whipped out his pistol from his waist and crammed the barrel into the boy’s mouth. “You think that I’m playing with you, muthafucka? How about I blow your shit wide open? Huh? Would you like that?”
Shawn’s throat made gagging noises, his eyes remained wild, but his face remained cold as stone. He wasn’t going to say shit.
“Fuck you, muthafucka!” Zeke clicked off the safety.
A sound outside the door wrenched Zeke’s attention. He eased his finger away from the trigger when a voice drew closer. He clicked on the safety and glanced at the door. There were several voices now.
Zeke’s gaze returned to Shawn. Those cool blue eyes reflected the kid’s resignation to his fate. Zeke chuckled and removed the pistol from Shawn’s mouth. Grudgingly, he respected the young man. “All right. To be continued.” He slipped his weapon back into his back holster. At the door, two nurses entered and jumped at seeing Zeke.
“Oh, my! You startled me,” one said, frowning. “I’m sorry but visiting hours are over.”
“Yeah. I was just leaving,” he said, and then glanced over his shoulder at Shawn one last time. “Catch you later.” He winked and slipped out of the door.
15
After her call with Davidson, Kitty needed a drink. She was still in her Jimmy Choo pumps; her heels’ staccato clack echoed throughout the graveyard-like silence of the house. She had gotten used to it since her husband’s death seven years ago. Her two daughters were grown and off raising her grandchildren. Calls home came mostly on birthdays and holidays, contributing factors that had sent her spiraling into the married arms of Kenneth Reynolds . . . and others.
Mind spinning, Kitty marched to the downstairs wet bar. Tonight, she wouldn’t bother with ice or even a glass. Instead, she grabbed her beloved Jim Beam and downed the brown liquor straight from the bottle. Despite the rush of fire that blazed down her throat, she chugged a good third of it before breaking for air.
In no time, she was lit, and her tornado of thoughts slowed. She had no idea what to do or what she expected Davidson could do about that damn news story. Maybe there would be another terrorist strike before the morning edition, allowing the scandal to be buried among another wave of fear and mass hysteria.
Sanders took another chug from the bottle. Think. Think. Think.
This couldn’t be the way that her career ended. Please, God. Not like this.
Something moved in the corner of her eye, and Sanders’s heart leaped in instant paranoia. Someone is here. Why didn’t she switch on the lights when she entered the room? She attempted to dismiss her fear, but couldn’t.
Abrianna smiled at the scared, deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on Kitty’s face. Her hands itched to wrap around her pasty-ass neck. She had this bitch right where she wanted.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” Sanders asked.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Abrianna asked, stepping into the thin strips of moonlight streaming through the venetian blinds.
The silence roared.
Sanders set down the whiskey bottle, trying to figure out how to play this situation.
Abrianna’s smile expanded.
“What do you want?” Sanders asked.
“Take a guess.” Abrianna moved closer.
“Money?”
Abrianna laughed. “Hardly. Why did you do it?”
“Humph. If you’re here, you already know why.”
Abrianna nodded. “Congratulation, Chief Justice Sanders. Looks like you got what you wanted.”
“I didn’t get everything I wanted. You’re still breathing.”
“What can I say? I’ve grown fond of the habit.”
Again, Kitty snickered. “You only know half the story. It wasn’t all my idea to kill Reynolds.”
“You’re referring to your collusion with Madam Nevaeh?”
“Who?” Sanders blinked.
“C’mon. No more games. Madam Nevaeh—my former employer.”
Kitty laughed and reached for the Jim Beam again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not talking about some damn pussy-peddler. I’m talking about the White House.”
Abrianna froze, her profile illuminated by moonlight. “What are you saying?”
“C’mon, girl. How dumb are you? I’m not the only one who had something to gain by Reynolds’s death.”
The president of the United States?
Sanders snickered. “Betcha your reporter friend would love a sip of that tasty tea. The administration wanted to stop an impeachment and I wanted my seat on the Supreme Court. One hand washes the other. In case you didn’t know: that’s how shit works in this damn town.” She exhaled. “And now you’ve gone and ruined everything. Had I known how resourceful and indestructible you were, I would’ve put a bullet in your head while you were passed out that night.”
“But you needed a scapegoat. Me.”
“Well, look at that: a hooker with a brain.”
“Fuck you.”
Sanders’s right arm leveled above the bar, in her han
d a .38 special. “I’m going to rectify that situation right now. I may not be able to stop that damn story, but I sure as hell can take you out.” She pulled the trigger.
Click.
Abrianna laughed. “Aw. I think you need these.” She held up a handful of bullets and let them all fall to the floor. “I had some time to kill while waiting for you to come back downstairs. I figured that a chick known as iron balls on the bench would be a card-toting NRA member and had weapons stashed around the place.”
“You fucking bitch!” Sanders launched toward Abrianna, her acrylic nails ready to strike.
Abrianna had been sitting ready, hoping this dumb bitch would do something stupid. Trick was going to catch hands tonight. The first blow was a right hook that lifted the skinny judge out of her expensive pumps and sent her reeling sideways over a coffee table.
Before Kitty could shake off the stars circling her head, Abrianna leaped. However, it was hard to land blows. Kitty was one of those windmill swinging and leg-peddling bitches. All that was in Abrianna’s face for a few seconds were spinning body parts.
Abrianna’s patience snapped. She put her head down and went in, pounding.
The fight went out of Kitty on the second punch, but Abrianna was deep in a red rage. She didn’t pay attention to the sickening crunch of bone.
“Bree, stop,” Kadir barked, jumping in and dragging Abrianna off the bloody woman.
Sanders gasped and wheezed as she scrambled away in true fear for her life. “It’s you.” She swallowed, pointing at Kadir. “The terrorist they’re looking for in the news.” She mopped at the blood pouring from her nose.
Kadir shook his head. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Sanders’s brows crashed. “Should I?”
“Six years back?” he prompted. “You tossed me into a cell for hacking into your daddy’s pet project T4S.”
Sanders’s eyes widened.
“Yeah. I thought that might ring a bell,” Kadir said.
Sanders looked back at Abrianna. “Who are you?”
“I’m the bitch that’s going to bring you down,” Abrianna boasted, panting. She plastered on a smile and lifted her shirt to show the judge that she was wired. “Thanks for the confession.” Abrianna stepped back. “I’m sure a whole lot of people will find this conversation interesting. We were only missing the motivation to accompany the video from the hotel’s surveillance.” She winked. “See you in the news. You know, when they slap the handcuffs on you and make you do that long perp walk in front of the cameras.”
A sob broke from Sanders’s throat as she dropped to her knees. “Oh God! I’m ruined.”
“You’re damn right.” Abrianna backpedaled to Kadir. “Let’s go.”
Kadir lingered, shaking his head and staring at the broken judge for a few more seconds before he turned and left the house.
16
Office of the Washington Post
In the parking garage, Abrianna and Kadir climbed out of the back of the van and walked over to Tomi, who was waiting next to her car.
“I have a present for you.” Abrianna held up a recorder with the digital voice file.
Tomi removed her shades. “Holy shit. You got it? A confession?”
“Yep. Prepare to have your mind blown.” Abrianna pushed the play button. Tomi’s jaw dropped and remained open while Sanders said Reynolds’s murder led all the way to the White House.
Abrianna shut off the recorder.
Tomi made a grab for it, but Abrianna pulled back.
“What gives?”
“This is going to clear my name, right?”
“Are you kidding me? This is about to make you—us the biggest story to hit this town since Trump and Putin.” Tomi lunged again and snatched the recorder. She clutched it like Gollum’s precious in Lord of the Rings. “You have to come upstairs. Give me a real exclusive of what happened that night. My editor is up there, waiting. He wants to meet you.”
“What?”
“C’mon,” Tomi pleaded. “When I told him about this story, he looked at me like I’d grown two extra heads. He read my first draft and saw the pictures, but let me tell you, he’s nervous. But this”—she held up the recorder—“is one hell of an insurance policy.”
“Then you don’t need me.”
“I do. The story needs a face.” She glanced at Kadir. “Needs both of your faces. This story clears you, Bree, but not you, Mr. Kahlifa. It’ll help, especially if we show that you’re a hero in all of this.”
“Hero is pouring it on a bit thick.”
“Not from where I’m standing,” Tomi countered, grinning.
Abrianna lifted a brow and gave a really, bitch? stare.
The grin melted off Tomi’s face.
Unaware of the silent conversation transpiring between the women, Kadir said, “I still have to turn myself in to the FBI.”
“Yeah. You both do,” Tomi admitted. “But not until after the story breaks. Then, I think you’ll find law enforcement a little more cooperative.”
Kadir guffawed. “Are you kidding me? We’re about to tell the world that our president murdered a member of Congress and you think that will make the FBI more cooperative? In what world?”
“A high-profile case like this, you bet your ass. Without it, they could make you disappear.”
Abrianna and Kadir shared dubious looks.
“Please. Don’t disappear on me this time,” Tomi pleaded.
Abrianna’s nerves were frayed, but Tomi was right. She couldn’t disappear like she did after the Avery case.
“C’mon.” Tomi walked and gestured for her to follow. “It’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Abrianna hesitated.
Kadir moved behind her and pressed his hand against her back. “C’mon. It’s almost over.”
His words sank like a stone in her gut. Was he talking about them? Were they almost over? She hadn’t given much thought to what they were or what they would be when this was over.
“So . . . you’ll come up?” Tomi asked.
Abrianna sighed. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Sanders’s sobs racked her body long after Abrianna left. This was rock bottom. What can I do? Where can I go?
Envisioning the police handcuffing and parading her before the news cameras or her having to stand before a judge, a lower court judge after ascending to highest court in the land, was too much. What will my daughters say? My colleagues? The world? Sanders sobbed until she heard footsteps.
She lifted her head. “Davidson.”
Dressed in black, he stood over her; in his hand, a silencer-tipped gun. “Goodbye, Kitty.” He aimed.
“No. Wait!”
He tapped the trigger and blew a hole into the side of her head.
* * *
Office of the Washington Post
Abrianna’s interview went on for hours under the watchful eye of Tomi’s editor, Martin Bailey, and photographer Jayson Brigham. She kept some details out of the article. Details like how she became an escort and who she worked for. The police car chase to Madam Nevaeh, the kidnapping and the shoot-out with the police, hacking the hotel security cameras, and breaking into judge Sanders’s home. Other than all that, she was completely truthful.
Exhausted, Abrianna sat next to Kadir with her head buzzing and sweat beading her hairline. After another hour, she was done.
“That’s it,” Tomi boasted proudly. She hadn’t stopped typing since she sat down. Bailey edited as fast as she wrote. Together, they were a well-oiled machine.
Head pounding, Abrianna stood, but wobbled on her feet. “You have everything you need?”
“Everything except how you managed to get the hotel security video,” Tomi said.
Abrianna smiled. “Sorry. I can’t reveal our sources.”
“Uh-huh.” Tomi’s gaze cut to Kadir.
Bailey said, “I called a good friend of mine, who happens to be a damn good attorney: Joseph Bowen. He has offered his
services. He can also arrange for you to turn yourselves in to the authorities.”
Abrianna and Kadir hesitated.
“Pro bono,” Bailey added.
“And he’s good?” Abrianna asked.
Tomi answered, “One of the best law firms in the city.”
Abrianna glanced to Kadir, who shrugged. “Can’t beat free.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that you get what you pay for?” she asked.
“In this case,” Bailey said, “you’re getting a hell of a bargain.”
“Then he’s hired,” she said. “Hey. Do you have a bathroom around here?” She needed a bump, bad.
Tomi glanced up. “Uh, yeah. Go straight down this row of cubicles to get to the hall, and then go straight down that hallway until you reach the vending machines and hang a right. The ladies’ room is the first door on your left.”
“Thanks.”
Kadir stood and offered, “Hey, I’ll go with you.”
Tomi and Bailey looked up then.
“I can manage. I don’t need a babysitter,” Abrianna said dismissively. She avoided his gaze as she rushed off. In the empty ladies’ room, she entered the first stall and locked the door before digging out her last twenty-bag.
The stall door burst open.
Startled, she dropped the bag. “Fuck!”
“I knew it.”
Both dove for the drugs.
“What are you doing?” she screeched. “Give me that back.”
He growled, “You don’t need this shit!” He struggled, playing keep-away while he dumped the contents into the toilet and flushed.
“Nooo!” Abrianna went ballistic, swinging away.
Her punches were like hammers, threatening to break his back.
“Goddamn it!”
Bang!
A geyser of water blasted him from the broken toilet bowl.
The small news team stormed into the flooded bathroom.
Collusion Page 9