An affronted Lieutenant Castillo attempted to calm the angry man who’d blown into the hospital like a tornado in search of his daughter. “Sir, please. You’re upset. Maybe this conversation would be better down at the station?” she suggested.
Cargill’s face glowed red as his eyes narrowed. “You’re lying. Where is she?”
“Excuse me?” Castillo stepped forward, her hand landing where her service weapon was supposed to be, had she not been suspended hours earlier. She’d taken a huge risk in forging a judge’s signature on a warrant for Craig Avery. It was a Hail Mary that cost a few of her men’s lives, but saved the three teenagers huddled naked in that madman’s basement.
One teenager had left the hospital with her band of friends before anyone obtained her full name or contacted her parents. Now here they were, howling in Castillo’s face.
Quick for a man his size, Cargill grabbed Castillo’s arm and jerked her forward. “I don’t have time to play these games. Where are you hiding my daughter?”
“Cargill.” The timid and well-polished woman at his side placed a hand on his arm. “Please, darling. Calm down.”
“Shut the hell up, Marion,” he hissed.
Marion shrank as if he’d bitten her.
Castillo warned, “Take. Your. Hand. Off. Of. Me. Mr. Parker.”
His grip tightened.
“Or lose it,” Castillo added. “Your choice.”
Sensing his intimidation tactics weren’t working, Cargill released her. “My apologies,” he said gruffly. “My wife and I have been through a lot these past few months. We just want to take our daughter home and put this whole madness behind us.”
Castillo nodded, though she didn’t buy the man’s bullshit for a second. Her mind zoomed to what the doctor, who’d checked Abrianna over, had said about the years-old bone breaks and scars on the teenager’s body. Castillo was now certain where those injuries had come from.
Marion asked, “Can we please see Abrianna now?”
“Abrianna,” Castillo repeated. It was a pretty name. Up until then, the girl had only been known as Bree No Last Name. The teenager, as well as her friends, had been careful not to give that information. “Look, Mr. Parker, I wish that I could help, but your daughter left of her own volition about thirty minutes ago. I didn’t even get a chance to finish interviewing her.”
“Where in the hell did she go?” Cargill thundered.
Castillo shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he growled. “You people call yourselves professionals? Who’s your supervisor?”
“Mr. Parker, your daughter was not under arrest. She was free to go.”
“Free to go where? She’s a teenager who’d been a prisoner of a madman. You didn’t think to detain her until her parents arrived?”
“I’m sorry, sir. But—”
“You’re damn right you’re sorry. Your whole department is sorry.” He turned and stormed away, leaving his wife behind.
“Please, excuse my husband. He can be very . . . passionate at times,” Marion said, fidgeting.
Castillo’s brows came close to touching her hairline. “Passionate?”
Marion’s smile wobbled. “My daughter,” she said. “Did you get to see her at all?”
“I spoke to her for a few minutes.”
“And . . . how did she seem to you?”
“Damaged,” Castillo answered. “I suspect that she’s been that way for a long time.”
Marion’s eyes watered.
“I may be stepping a toe out of line, but you seem a bit damaged yourself.”
“Marion,” Cargill bellowed from halfway down the hallway. “Are you coming or not?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I’m coming,” she shouted, and then addressed Castillo, “Look. If you’re hiding her—”
“I’m not—”
“It’s okay. I understand. She’s right to stay away. It’s best that she does.”
Castillo frowned. “Mrs. Parker, if you’re telling me that your daughter is in some kind of danger, then there are steps we can take to protect her—and yourself.”
Marion laughed.
“Marion!” Cargill shouted again,
Marion backed away. “You don’t understand.”
Castillo moved forward. “Try me.”
“You can’t protect us. He’s too powerful. But you can help Abrianna by keeping her away. Promise me you’ll keep her away and that she’ll be well looked after.”
“Mrs. Parker, I—”
“Damn it, Marion!”
Marion spun around and raced toward her husband. “Here I come, sweetie,” she sang like Mary freaking Poppins.
The strange encounter never left Castillo, mainly because she hadn’t been able to do what Marion asked: make sure that Abrianna was well looked after.
According to Tomi’s article, Abrianna had had a difficult life after leaving the hospital that night so long ago. She’d survived by hustling: drug trafficking, prostituting, stripping, and finally landing on being an escort girl for D.C.’s rich and powerful. Abrianna would rather do all of that than return to the lap of luxury with her billionaire parents.
What the hell happened in that house?
20
After a ten-hour FBI interrogation, Abrianna was released.
Kadir wasn’t so lucky.
With the warning to remain in D.C., Abrianna and her attorney, Joseph Bowen, plowed through the reporters.
Once Abrianna climbed into Joseph Bowen’s Mercedes, she hammered him. “Why isn’t Kadir being released? Why are they holding him? Are they arresting him?”
“I don’t know any more than you,” the attorney said.
“They can’t believe that Kadir had anything to do with that bombing, can they?”
“Maybe, maybe not. There are other factors at play.”
“Like what?”
“Like his parole. Mr. Kahlifa had been captured on camera engaged in a speeding gunfight.”
“He was driving. I was shooting,” Abrianna exclaimed. “In self-defense.”
“I know. However, the government can be hard-asses. Plus, I got the distinct feeling Agents Bell and Hendrickson have a hard-on for Mr. Kahlifa. They aren’t too eager to let him go.”
* * *
After listening to Kadir’s story for the hundredth time, Special Agent Bell stretched back in his chair, sighing. “We got ourselves a problem.”
“We do?” Attorney Marcus Johnson asked.
“We sure do.” Hendrickson rolled and cracked the tension from his neck.
“And what problem is that?” Kadir asked, not amused.
Bell said, “I know that you got your dick hard to be hailed as the next American hero in this cockamamie story about the president, a hooker, and a murdering judge, but the wrinkle in your plan is that you violated your parole. Car chases, shoot-outs, and there are serious questions as to how you and Ms. Parker acquired that surveillance video from the Hay-Adams.”
Kadir’s features smoothed out into hard granite.
“I mean. You had to have hacked into the hotel’s security system, right?”
Silence.
“That’s a big no-no, not to mention a major violation to your parole.” Bell laughed and waved a finger in Kadir’s face. “Yeah. It was you.”
“Maybe you should stick to what you can prove,” Kadir hissed.
“I can prove you violated your parole.” Bell stood and reached for his cuffs. “Mr. Kadir Kahlifa, I’m placing you under arrest. Stand up, asshole.”
Marcus Johnson stood. “Now there’s no need for that type of language.”
Bell ignored the attorney to hiss into Kadir’s ear. “I’m sending you back to your jailhouse girlfriends. They can suck you off like old times. If we hurry, I can have you back there before lights out.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?” Bell rocked back. “Nah, muthafucka. Fuck you.” Bell head-butted Kadir and reeled him back a few steps.
Johnson jumped to his feet and shouted, “Whoa! Agent Bell!”
Pissed, Kadir lunged before his attorney could stop him.
Bell’s sharp reflexes helped him land a punch across Kadir’s jaw.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen,” Johnson shouted, scrambling. “Stop this!”
Kadir retaliated with a hard punch, rocking the agent’s head back. Blood sprayed from the agent’s lips.
Late, Hendrickson tagged into the battle with hands of steel.
Johnson raced and pounded on the door for help.
By the time more agents arrived, Kadir was knocked out cold.
21
Tomi Lehane’s blockbuster story landed her on every cable news channel for multiple shows. In a furor, pundits speculated what this game changer meant and when the president would step down. It was inevitable, they said, but no one told that to the president. President Walker’s supporters cast blame and suspicion on Abrianna, called her every name but a child of God. However, when the Washington Post uploaded the Sanders confession on their website, the naysayers were shut down.
Abrianna blocked out the noise. Today, Tivonté and Shawn were being released from the hospital. She woke early, disguised herself in a platinum wig and a pair of Jackie O sunglasses, and ventured to the hospital. She wasn’t out in the streets a full minute before she was convinced that she was being watched. Scanning over her shoulder, she picked up the pace. Her paranoia had people on the street and the city bus eyeballing her.
At the hospital, Abrianna went to Shawn’s room first. A nurse was rolling him out of the room when she arrived. “Hey, diva,” she greeted, removing her glasses and leaning in for a hug.
Shawn glowed. “It’s about time!”
“I’ll take him from here,” she told the nurse, taking hold of the handlebars. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“You better have while you’re out there enjoying your newfound fame,” Shawn said.
“Ha. I’m off the grid. I’m still enemy number one with half of the country hating my guts.”
“You know what I always say: You’re nobody until somebody hates you.”
“Amen.” Abrianna chuckled. “Which room is Tivonté’s?”
“He’s up on the next floor.”
Tomi was on yet another political show when Abrianna rolled Shawn into Tivonté’s crowded hospital room.
“Hello, stranger,” Abrianna greeted, beaming.
“Bree!” The group of friends shouted.
Tivonté beamed. “Come through, bitch. Come through.” He opened his arms.
Tears brimming in her eyes, Abrianna rushed forward.
When Tivonté’s arms wrapped around her, they were thinner than usual, but felt good. Her friends were her life, her treasure.
“Are you two about to make out?” Draya joked. “Do we need to leave?”
They laughed and pulled apart and wiped their eyes.
“Glad you made it,” Tivonté said. “I thought your ass went Hollywood. Your name and picture is plastered everywhere. The thot that brought down a presidency.”
“All right. I got your thot!” Abrianna rolled her eyes. “But I can’t wait for this mess to blow over. Reporters are worse than bill collectors, if you can believe it.”
“Now you’re making shit up.” Tivonté swatted her arm.
Draya cut in, “I, for one, am glad that some of the foolishness is over. Maybe we all can stop getting shot.”
“I’m so sorry that I dragged you all into my chaos. I put you all in so much danger.”
Tivonté waved her off. “Girl, please. My daddy beat me worse than this when I came out of the closet on my thirteenth birthday.”
Shawn joked, “I’m jealous. I think she cried more for you lying in here than for me.”
Abrianna shoulder-bumped Shawn. “Stop! I love you both the same.”
“And we love you,” Tivonté told her. “When a muthafucka comes for one of us, they come for all.”
Draya nodded. “Yeah. I was joking about the whole getting shot thing. There’s no one I’d rather catch a bullet for.” The two hugged.
“Let me get some of that,” Julian said, wrapping his arms around Abrianna. “If you ever need another getaway driver, I’m your man. The shit was kind of fun.”
“That’s because you weren’t shot.” Draya smacked the back of Julian’s head.
“Ow.”
Tivonté harrumphed and batted his eyes. “Next time y’all snatch somebody else’s catering van when y’all are playing private eyes and kidnapping bitches, especially if it’s dealing with that sick muthafucka Zeke leave me out. I hope you’re still keeping an open eye out for his ass. He’s gotta be slinking around here somewhere.”
Abrianna rolled her eyes. “Fuck him.”
“All right,” Tivonté warned. “You know my grandmother used to say, ‘a hard head makes a soft ass.’ They don’t call him the Teflon Don for nothing.”
Abrianna considered his words. “I’ll deal with it later.”
Shawn added, “Maybe you should see Castillo. She’s still lurking around, too. But at least she’s no friend of Zeke’s, either. Maybe she can keep an eye out for him.”
“A cop?”
“She’s not a cop anymore, remember? She came by after you guys crashed that party, pissed as shit. But I really think she wants to help you.”
Draya folded her arms. “I don’t get it. Surely that dirty muthafucka Zeke don’t think he’s still getting those eight stacks from you. Not after all that you’ve been through.”
“If so, he’ll be waiting a long damn time.”
“Let’s hope not. But . . .” Julian hedged.
“But what?” Abrianna snapped.
Julian shrugged. “Has he ever written off a debt?”
“It was never my debt to begin with. Moses’s ass owes him for those bricks, and he owes me for stealing my shit out of the bank. I’m not paying a muthafuckin’ thing and I’ll tell it to his face, too.”
“Oooh. Look at the balls on you,” Shawn sassed.
Tivonté harrumphed again.
“Oh. Spit it out,” Abrianna said. Tivonté always had the juiciest gossip on the streets.
“Well, it’s not concrete or nothing, but word is Moses’s ass has already gone on to glory. Ain’t nobody seen hide nor tail of his ass in a hot minute.”
Abrianna’s annoyance melted.
Tivonté continued, “People talking. Do you remember that hoe Simone? Moses moved in with her after you put his ass out?”
“Of course I remember.”
“Girl, she been cryin’ on every shoulder that’ll hold still. Told everybody how violent you are and how you broke Moses’s arm and then put him through a wall.”
“He stole my money.”
“Yeah, well. She ain’t buying the story about the judge killing that congressman. As far as she is concerned, you’re a cold killer.”
Abrianna waved off the story. “I ain’t worried about what that knock-kneed heifer got to say. Moses probably stashed my shit somewhere and, after he sold me off to Zeke, high-tailed his ass out of D.C.”
Tivonté hedged.
Abrianna cocked her head. “But?”
“But, Mimi—you probably don’t know her. She was Roach’s side piece that stays out there in Forestville.”
“Roach—Zeke’s man?” Draya asked.
Tivonté smirked. “He used to be until Bree and her Arab superhero had that gun chase that’s playing all over the Internet.”
“So where does this Mimi chick fit in?” she asked Tivonté.
“Well. Mimi told my girl Sheena at the nail shop that Zeke had outmaneuvered Moses’s double-dipping ass. Roach said that they stole Moses’s supply. Moses never owed that eight stacks.”
Floored, Abrianna blinked. “What?”
Tivonté nodded. “Uh-huh, chile. She also said that Zeke jacked a bag full of money before he put a bullet in Moses’s skull.” He threw up his hands. “I ain’t
saying I believe her, but it sounds like some shit Zeke would do.”
“That muthafucka.” Abrianna seethed. “He got those bricks, my money, and had me out here selling my ass?” She slapped her hand on the hospital tray table. Behind her, the suspended television exploded.
“Holy shit!”
Everyone dodged as shards of broken Plexiglas and electronic parts rained down onto the floor.
After the shock wore off, Julian laughed. “We need to hurry and get you out of here. This place has exploding televisions and shit.”
Shawn frowned. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Embarrassed, Abrianna swiped under her nose. “Damn it.”
“Here.” Julian picked up the box of tissue from the tray and handed it to her.
“Thanks.” She snatched a few sheets and dabbed it clean.
Her friends’ gazes darted among one another.
Abrianna’s head buzzed. She couldn’t make out their exact words, but she knew what they were thinking. “I’d quit if it wasn’t for the headaches.”
Draya sighed. “You promised.”
“I know and I will. It’s just that . . . they’re so unbearable,” she added.
Shawn took her hand. “Maybe you should see a doctor? It’s past time.”
He was right, but she feared what a doctor would tell her. She couldn’t imagine that it would be anything good. “I’ll . . . think about it.”
Knock. Knock.
Abrianna and her clan looked up to a familiar face.
“Hello.” Castillo crept in with a bundle of carnations. She stopped when her gaze crashed into Abrianna. Castillo stared as if she’d stumbled across Big Foot.
“C’mon in,” Tivonté invited, smiling.
Castillo blinked and approached the bed with the flowers outstretched. “I hope I’m not imposing. I remembered that you said that you’d be leaving today, so I figured I’d stop by and give you these,” she said to Tivonté, but never took her eyes off of Abrianna. “Hi.”
“Hey,” Abrianna said cautiously.
“What happened to your arm?” Julian asked.
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