by Shelly Ellis
“No,” he said, shoving the pillow aside. “I want to see you, baby. Yell all you need to.” He spread her legs and plunged into her again, making her cry out like he was torturing her. “But I want to see your face.”
He wanted to see the ecstasy and loss of control when she finally came. He didn’t want her to hide anything from him.
“I love you, Lissa,” he said, raising her left leg, bracing her ankle on his shoulder so he could dive even deeper.
“Shit! I . . . love . . . you, too!” she shouted between gasps, making him grin again.
And she did come about five minutes later, and it was as glorious as he’d anticipated. She screamed. She cursed. She shouted his name as she pounded her fists against the mattress and clawed at his back. He came about a minute later, seeing bursts of stars in his line of vision.
They both lay in bed holding one another. She rubbed his back. He tiredly trailed butterfly kisses along her neck.
“Tell me why we stopped having sex?” she asked when their heartbeats finally returned to a normal pace. “I forget.”
He raised his head so he could gaze down at her. “You said we were better off as friends and you weren’t ready to start another relationship.”
“Oh!” She squinted. “That was really stupid of me.”
“I agree,” he said with a laugh before kissing her neck again.
“So we’re officially boo’ed up now.”
“I guess so.”
“No backing out! No changing your mind, homie.”
He laughed again. “Hey, I wanted this from the beginning! You were the one holding out.”
She went somber. “I’m sorry. I had a lot of baggage. I still do, Jay.”
“I know. I’ve been there and I’ve definitely got my own. We’ll work through it. Just meet me halfway,” he said, rubbing his thumb and forefinger along her cheek. “Okay?”
She nodded, and as if to illustrate her point, she raised her mouth to his for another kiss.
He met her before she was even halfway there.
Chapter 33
Ricky
Ricky practically ran down the linoleum corridor, dodging past a man in a hospital gown hooked up to an IV and a woman lying on a hospital bed in the hall. He drew curious glances from those he passed.
“Can I help you, sir?” one of the nurses called to him, but he ignored her. He was on a mission and he wouldn’t be deterred from it; he had to find Derrick. He had to make sure his boy was okay.
Ricky glanced at the plaques along the entrance of each room he passed, looking for the right number. When he finally did, he shoved the door open and yanked back the tan curtain encircling the hospital bed. He saw a nurse bending over Derrick, taking his blood pressure, as he sat up in bed looking simultaneously bored and annoyed. Both she and Derrick looked at Ricky in surprise when he burst into the room.
“Shit!” Ricky yelled, grabbing his chest, catching his breath. “Nigga, I thought you were at death’s door! What the hell are you doing sittin’ up?”
“Uh, excuse me, sir?” the nurse said, looking mildly horrified. “Do you mind?” She gestured to Derrick and the pressure cuff.
Derrick grimaced. “Ricky, can you give us a couple minutes? She won’t take long.”
Ricky looked at Derrick, then the waiting nurse. “Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah, umm . . . yeah, sure.” He then closed the curtain again.
Five minutes later, the nurse exited. As she walked out of the hospital room, she looked Ricky up and down. “You can go in now.”
He stepped back inside the room and found Derrick where he’d left him, sitting up in bed with monitors and an IV connected to his arms, hands, and torso. Derrick’s dark skin looked a little gray, but otherwise he looked all right. Ricky’s relief was indescribable.
“I didn’t know what I would find when I came here, Dee,” Ricky said, walking toward him. “I thought you would be hooked up to a respirator or something. I thought you’d be covered in bandages.”
Derrick gave a smile. “I am covered in bandages. You just can’t see most of them. They’re all under my hospital gown.” His smile quickly evaporated. “But at least I’m alive. Two of my boys didn’t make it.”
Ricky took one of the chairs near the bed. He nodded. “I heard.”
He had seen the aftermath of the melee on the news. The blood on the concrete. The police officer, and the police tape encircling the basketball court. Pictures of the two boys who had been killed. They looked a lot like him and Derrick at that age.
“Twelve and fourteen years old,” Derrick said, almost in a whisper. “They were even younger than Cole was when he got killed, Ricky. One of them was set to go home next month.”
“Damn,” Ricky muttered.
“You know he did it, right? He killed them and he tried to kill me, too.”
Ricky braced his elbows on his knees and lowered his head. He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
He had secretly hoped that Dolla Dolla wouldn’t follow through with his threat, but he should’ve known better. Once again, he had foolishly placed his hopes in a man who proved to be more ruthless and deadly than he could anticipate.
“Which one of them is next, Ricky?” Derrick asked. “Who else will he kill?”
Ricky raised his head and vehemently shook it. “No one else will be hurt or killed. I promise you, Dee.”
“How can you be so sure though? How the hell can you make that happen?”
He sat back in his chair. “I’m not. The cops are gonna do it.”
“But you said you already asked them to—”
“Yeah, but this time I’m not asking them to take care of it. I’m telling them.” He shot to his feet and pointed down at the floor. “Enough of this shit! This ends today.”
* * *
Ricky looked up and down the roadway for the gray unmarked police car, praying this was the last time he’d ever have to do this. He glanced down at his cell phone screen and tucked it back into his jeans pocket. Detectives Ramsey and Dominguez should’ve been here ten minutes ago.
Of course, when it’s important, they make my ass wait, he thought with exasperation.
Finally, he saw the car rounding the corner, following close behind a Dodge Stratus. He jogged toward the sedan as it pulled to a stop. He opened the back door and hopped inside. As usual, as soon as Ricky slammed the passenger door shut, the detective floored the accelerator, pulling into D.C. traffic so fast that he almost got whiplash.
“I believe we told you the last time that we call you and tell you where to meet,” Detective Dominguez said over his shoulder. “It ain’t the other way around. It’s not like we’ve got—”
“Shut up,” Ricky said. “I don’t have time for this shit. We’ve got stuff to take care of and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.”
He could see Dominguez’s eyes go wide in the rearview mirror. The detective sputtered for several seconds. “The fuck!” he shouted, now fuming. “Did this piece of shit just tell me to shut up?”
“Dominguez, don’t start,” Detective Ramsey said.
“You’re lucky I’m driving, you son of a bitch,” Dominguez shouted, pointing at Ricky’s reflection in the mirror, “or I’d come back there—”
“Stop,” Ramsey said, once again acting as the mediator. “Just stop! He’s right. We’re wasting time with this bullshit and we need to get back to the station.” He turned in the passenger seat and glared at Ricky. “What is it? You made it sound like you needed us to come right away. Whatcha got?”
“Dolla is doing everything I said he would. He’s pimping out girls again. He shot up the Institute and killed two kids because my friend won’t help him get his smuggling operations started back up. He almost killed a man who’s like a brother to me. Y’all have to act now. No more bullshitting around. You need to arrest him and make it stick this time! You should have enough evidence now. It’s time to do this!”
“Ricky, I know you’re upse
t. We get it,” Ramsey said calmly. “But we told you before that we can’t just—”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m not listening to that shit anymore. You’re gonna do it. You’re gonna arrest his ass and put his whole fuckin’ crew in jail. No more excuses.”
“You get a load of this bullshit?” Dominguez asked Ramsey, jabbing his thumb at Ricky. “This is what happens when you treat these animals like they’re regular people, Eddie. They start making demands and giving out orders like they mean something.”
“They do mean something,” Ricky said through clenched teeth. “Because if y’all don’t do this, I’m out. I’m not fuckin’ cooperating anymore.”
“Wait. Wait one damn minute!” Ramsey exclaimed. “What the hell are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m done being an informant. If you can’t arrest him now, this shit is over.”
“If you’re done being an informant, then we’re done protecting that bitch and that kid of yours!” Dominguez shouted.
“You really think I trust that he isn’t gonna find her or our kid sooner or later if he’s still walking the streets? You really believe I’d leave that shit up to y’all to protect them for the long term?” He sucked his teeth. “You haven’t protected any of the other witnesses. You couldn’t even protect a school filled with kids! It’d only be a matter of time before he’d kill them both. Dolla better go down, and he better do it if not today then tomorrow, or I’m blowing this shit up. You hear me? If I gotta confess everything to him . . . if I gotta tell him what I’ve been doing for almost a year, so fuckin’ be it! But I’m not playin’ your games anymore!”
“This is insane. If you confess everything to him, he’ll kill you on the spot,” Ramsey argued. “You know that, Ricky.”
“And? It’s better than the slow torture of watching everyone I care about get picked off one by one,” Ricky said—and he meant it.
He had thought about what he was going to say today to the detectives, the promise and the threat he would make, even before he got here. Jamal had almost been killed, now Derrick. And who’s to say their lives still weren’t under threat. Skylar was dead and so was her mom, along with all of the other women Dolla Dolla used to pimp out. Derrick’s student had been killed in jail and two more kids had been killed only yesterday. This had all happened in less than six months. The body count was stacking up and accelerating at an alarming rate. Ricky wasn’t going to sit around anymore watching the chaos from the sidelines. He knew he had to do something drastic. All his options had been taken away.
For once, Dominguez went quiet. Ramsey did, too. They drove in silence for a minute or two before Ramsey gradually nodded. “Fine, we’ll talk to the lieutenant,” he said.
“No!” Ricky bellowed, pounding his fist on the back seat. “No more fuckin’ talking! I told you—”
“Conducting a raid like this isn’t some shit we can authorize or do all by ourselves, Ricky,” Ramsey insisted. “We’ll show him the evidence. We’ll tell him what you said. We’ll tell him that you mean it . . . that it has to be done right away.”
“You better,” Ricky said. “You’ve got three days.”
“Three days?” Dominguez squeaked.
“You heard me! Now pull the fuck over. I’m not havin’ you drop me off on some random street corner where I have to walk a quarter of a mile back to my damn car.”
Dominguez skidded to a halt at the light and Ricky stepped onto the sidewalk. He slammed the door behind him and watched as the sedan pulled off, hoping to God that they weren’t bullshitting him yet again. He hoped they could finally do something this time around.
He didn’t want to consider the alternative if they didn’t.
Chapter 34
Derrick
Derrick sat on the edge of the hospital bed, gazing out the window at the parking lot several stories below. It was good to finally be out of a hospital gown, to be wearing his own clothes, but he still felt drained physically and emotionally.
“You’re all set, Mr. Miller,” he heard his doctor say behind him, making him turn slightly on the bed.
He found a short, Indian man in a lab coat with brown skin and warm eyes. A stethoscope dangled around his neck and a clipboard was in his hands.
“You’re clear to be discharged today,” the doctor said. “Just make sure you take care of those wounds, take your meds, and have plenty of rest. No work for another couple of weeks. I mean it! Follow up with your doctor as well.”
Derrick nodded. “Yes, Dr. Anand.”
“Do you have someone who’ll be taking care of you in the meantime? So you can take it easy?”
Derrick nodded again. “My mom said she’ll handle it. She’s picking me up today. In fact”—he glanced down at his wristwatch—“she should be here soon.”
“Good to hear. You take care of yourself, Mr. Miller.”
“I’ll try, Dr. Anand.”
Derrick watched as the doctor left his hospital room, then turned back around to gaze listlessly out the window. He sighed.
He’d lost Cole—and now two more boys. He had been in the hospital and hadn’t been able to share the tearful news with the families, though he felt like it was his duty, his responsibility to do it himself.
Derrick planned to hire additional guards for the Institute and had asked for police to sit in squad cars around the property, but he knew that would only do but so much. With Dolla Dolla still on the loose, they were all still at risk. He could still pick them off one by one. Ricky had promised he would finally take care of the problem, but Derrick knew his friend was limited in what he could do. Ricky had good intentions and usually got good results, but this feat might be beyond even him.
The only solace that Derrick took in all this was that Morgan hadn’t been harmed. After he’d woken up, he’d seen her lingering on the periphery of the hospital room, behind his mother and the rest of his relatives who hovered over him. He’d tried to call out to her, to get her attention, but she’d disappeared into the hall. Now that she knew he would survive his wounds, he imagined she was safely on a flight back to Atlanta. At least nothing could happen to her there.
He glanced at his watch again, wondering where his mother was. He was getting impatient. The wheelchair he was supposed to sit in as he exited the hospital already sat in the corner waiting for him, though he really didn’t need it. Frankly, he could walk out himself, but the hospital staff wouldn’t let him do it. He still needed someone to push the damn thing.
“Ma, where the hell are you?” he muttered.
“Are we ready to go?” he heard a familiar voice call out.
Derrick whipped around again and found Morgan strolling into the hospital room. She was holding one of his jackets in her hands.
“You got everything you need?” she asked, glancing at the plastic bag that sat on the bed beside him. “I brought you a coat. I thought you might need one since it’s a little chilly today. Almost in the fifties, and I know how you are about the cold.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “W-what . . . what are you doing here?” he asked, almost with disbelief.
“I’m here to take you home. Your mom’s at your apartment right now getting everything ready for you. She wouldn’t let me do that,” she said with a rueful laugh, holding out his jacket for him to put on. “But she let me pick you up, so I guess I should be happy with that.”
“But I thought you were headed to Atlanta,” he said dazedly. “I thought you were already on your flight there.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, well, there’s been a change of plans. I know you’ll need someone to help you for a while before you can go back to work. I have nowhere to be now that I’ve officially quit my job, and this way your mom doesn’t have to take any days off from her job to do it. She and I talked it over. It seemed to make sense.”
“You’re gonna take care of me?” He still stared at her, confused. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to, Derrick.”<
br />
“Then why are you?”
She lowered his jacket and took another step toward his hospital bed. “Because you risked your life for me. Because I owe you big, though I know I’ll never be able to repay you for it.”
His shoulders sank. He had hoped she was staying for another reason—that she had finally forgiven him, that she wanted to be with him again. But he guessed he would have to be happy with that answer. Derrick nodded.
“Okay, well, thanks . . . for everything—again. I guess we should head out,” he mumbled.
She offered his jacket to him again and he tried to raise his arm to put on one of the sleeves but he winced in pain at the movement.
“Let me help you,” she whispered and eased the jacket onto his arm, then his shoulder. When they finally got it on, she adjusted his collar and patted it gently. He could see there were tears in her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip as tears streamed down her cheeks. She tightened her grip on his jacket collar. “You scared the shit outta me! I thought . . . I thought I lost you. I thought I lost you!” He was caught off guard when she looped her arms around his neck. She squeezed him so tight that his wounds started to hurt, but he didn’t tell her to let go. He didn’t want her to let go. “Don’t ever do that shit to me again!” she sobbed into his ear. “I love you so much! So damn much! I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you, baby.”
She finally loosened her hold around him and gazed into his eyes. Her face and green eyes had gone red. Snot was sliding down her nose, but she had never looked more beautiful to him.
“I love you, too,” he whispered.
He brought his mouth to hers for a long, hard kiss that didn’t erase all his sadness, but it came pretty close. A few minutes later, they gathered his things and managed to get him into his wheelchair. Fifteen minutes later, they were in her car, headed back to his apartment—the one they had found together. But this time, they would try their best to make it a home for them both.
Chapter 35