After a few more minutes of crying, Tracie’s sobs quieted. Quinton continued standing vigil, waiting to hear what she wanted to do. He wanted to be there with her, but doing that now wasn’t an option he could offer.
“Trace, what are you gonna do? You gonna let me drop you off?”
“No,” she said, quietly. “I think I’m going to stay here. I don’t really feel like being around anybody right now.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Just go, Quinton.” She turned to him and nodded her head. “I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I should be by myself. I might remember something. I want to remember any and everything that I can.”
“Remember something . . . like what?”
Tracie hunched her shoulders, slightly, before allowing them to relax again. “On Criminal Minds they always have the people sitting in a room somewhere; they’ll close their eyes and try to think back to the scene. Maybe . . .” Tracie paused and inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she exhaled the puff of air, she continued. “Maybe I can remember something else. Like, maybe something weird in the mall, or the parking lot or something. I don’t know. Something. Anything. She’s probably so scared right now. You think she’s scared, Quinton?”
Quinton remained quiet. He knew that her questions were rhetorical, that she just needed to say them aloud. He was helpless. The only thing he could offer was to be there, but he’d have to leave her soon. She was in the most fragile state he had ever seen her in and he felt bad for her. She was restless with emotion. There was no telling the full extent of those emotions. Seeing someone snatched, and then possibly thinking about the fact that it could’ve been her, wondering what was going on with Chanel—all of it was probably fucking with her in a major way.
In the moments that Quinton stood watching Tracie, he realized, for the first time, that he cared about her. It was what kept him standing there for so long after he’d told her he needed to leave. It was why he wanted her somewhere with somebody who could watch over her while he couldn’t. He cared about her. But this wasn’t the time to express that. He didn’t even know if there would be a right time to express it.
“If she is scared, it won’t be for long,” Quinton finally offered.
“Do you think they hurt her? I keep thinking about that, even when I’m trying not to. If you’re that bold to take somebody in broad daylight, is the plan to keep them alive or—”
“Tracie.”
“Yes?”
“Stop. Don’t think about the worst-case scenario.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “You’re right. She’ll be fine. She’ll be fine and she’ll be home soon. Yeah, she will.” She walked over to Quinton. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”
After several, long minutes, Quinton settled on the fact that he wouldn’t be able to talk Tracie into going where she could have company, so he headed to the front door, with her on his heels. After the door was open, he stood in the doorway, looking down at her.
“You gonna be alright here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine,” she smiled.
“Okay.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll check on you later. Is that cool?”
She produced a faint smile. “Of course, it’s okay. I’ll be here.”
They broke from their hug and Quinton turned to walk to his car. Sensing that Tracie was still watching, he turned around to look back at her.
“You felt me watching, huh?” she queried.
He nodded and smiled. “I did.”
“Well . . . I uhhh.” She stalled, and bit down on her top lip. It was almost like she was trying to seal her lips closed to keep her from saying something.
“Spill it, girl,” Quinton said, jokingly.
“I just wanna say that umm... Well, you know. Today really made me look at stuff. I uhh... Damn,” she sighed, under her breath, struggling to get her words out. “I know you have to go so—”
“Aww, she punked out,” Quinton teased, letting out a light chuckle behind the words.
“No. I just don’t know if the time is . . . right. I mean, I just want to say that I would like to see where we could go. Life is short and you never know what can happen. So, I just figure—”
“Come here,” Quinton requested, sending Tracie bashfully walking toward him.
When she got near enough to him, Quinton pulled her in. He covered her lips with his, then slid his tongue into her mouth. The kiss lingered. It was passionate. And while it was quick, it was filled with meaning that they both felt.
CHAPTER 30
Dex
Dex needed a drink and bad. On a fucking weeknight, at that. Oh yeah, he liked to drink with the best of them. Only, the reason he wanted any kind of libation tonight was to escape—not for leisure. He should’ve been at home, relaxing, fucking a beautiful woman and just loving life. But no. That wasn’t the way his life was progressing at the moment. Much too much bullshit had infiltrated Dex’s life, all at once. And it sure as fuck wasn’t in a good way.
He was all about being in control, and at present, he was not in control. That, he didn’t like. A short while earlier, he had blown up at his nephew, Dante, and the two fools he had referred to get a job done. A job they fucked up! They had one job to do, and now as a result of their messiness and stupidity, the plan Dex had put in motion could possibly go far left. If that happened, there would be bloodshed, and that wasn’t what he wanted. At least not in this particular situation. This was supposed to be all-business, and nothing more. He, especially, wasn’t in the habit of hurting women. Yet, if this plan backfired, he might have to do just that.
He inhaled, then released a deep sigh, as he swallowed his first shot of Tres, Quatro, Cinco. He figured the more he drank, the further into numbness he could get. Then, maybe he could free his mind, if only for a few hours. His brain was on overload with what the next steps needed to be. He had less than two weeks to make something happen. Only now, something additional had been added for him to contend with, if they were unable to get the police off the case.
He wouldn’t even be in this shit at all, if it wasn’t for Ace’s stupid-ass. Calling him a burden was an understatement. If he had just learned to listen, and stopped thinking that he knew it all, his fucking career could’ve reached levels that he would’ve never thought possible. But nobody could tell him anything. The end result of that was that Dex was often left playing clean-up man for his bullshit. And he was over it.
Dex didn’t realize that when he told his best friend of 22 years that he’d look after his sons, as if they were his own, just how much fucking work that would be. He had one who was a talented fighter but had the bad habit of letting his own stupidity get in his way. If it wasn’t bitches, then it was gambling. If it wasn’t either of those, he was chasing behind a younger brother who insisted on being a damn thug when he had what it took to be a threat in the music industry. Trying to manage the lives of both of them was way more than Dex could chew; but, he’d made a promise. A promise that should’ve never been made. He’d neglected his own damn life, trying to keep theirs straight, and he was tired.
Because of them, he had somebody’s woman, loved one, stashed in one of his homes for safekeeping, until their project was done. All that recklessness because of a fucking promise! On at least two occasions, he thought about taking Ace and his stupid-ass brother out, so that he wouldn’t have to be caught up in the bullshit anymore. They were too fucking dumb to live.
He was set to bring his double shot of Tres, Quatro, Cinco to his lips when, he heard, “How are you tonight, handsome?”
Dex turned to his right and locked eyes with a pair of soft, blue eyes, and smiled. He scanned her face and took in the thin, pink lips, nice teeth, and silicon-filled breasts with nipples pointing right at him. Upon closer survey, he saw the small frame and his smile brightened. He loved small hips. He liked the way they crunched under the
pressure of his unrelenting stroke, as he KO’d the pussy.
“I’m doing pretty damn good,” he responded, shamelessly sizing her up. “How about you, sexy?”
His words gave her the invitation she needed to slide onto the stool right next to him, making sure to brush against him while doing so.
“Now that I’m with you, I’m doing pretty damn good, myself. What you drinking on?”
“Tequila, but I’m sure you ain’t about that life.” He raised his arm and signaled for the bartender. “What’s your poison? I got you.”
She tilted her head, slightly, her blonde tresses falling off the side of her shoulder. She bit down on the meat of her lip, before responding. “I’ll take a scotch… Horse’s Neck.”
“Aww shit! You are about that life, girl!” he exclaimed, impressed.
“I’m all about this life. Why don’t we go back to your place after these drinks and live a little . . . together? I think you could show me some things about life that I don’t already know,” she flirted, looking toward his crotch.
An hour and some change later, on the way to Dex’s house, his new friend kneeled in front of him in the back seat of his car service, her head bobbing up and down his thick rod. He showed her no mercy, as he grabbed both sides of her head and fucked her throat, as though it was a pussy hole. And just as she said, she was about that life. She sucked his dick like the pro that she probably was. And a veteran she was, swallowing him back to the tip of her tonsils—zero gag reflex.
Dex didn’t even know her name, and she had his full attention, after making him bust globs of seeds down her throat in record time. This one day alone, had his stress levels up high! So, her relieving his stress was something that he needed. For that, she deserved a reward. A reward that she would remember for days to come.
“What are your plans for the rest of the night?” he asked, when she rose from her knees a short while later.
She dabbed at the corners of her mouth, then said, “Whatever plans you have for me, as long as your driver can bring me back to my car.”
“Done. Take us to the condo,” Dex instructed his driver.
“And this condo of yours. About how long will it take us to get there?” she asked, looking at Dex, suggestively.
“About 20 minutes.”
“Perfect,” she said. “Then, I have the perfect thing to make the time cum quicker . . .”
CHAPTER 31
Dario
Night was closing in, as the day began to fade. I hadn’t felt as lost since . . . forever. I had just hung up, talking to Rai. Luckily, he had beat me to the punch by calling me. Thankfully, his call wasn’t about what time I was picking him up, but whether he could spend the night at Freddie’s. A huge weight was lifted, because I wasn’t ready to have the conversation with him just yet. There was no way that I could—or with the rest of the family, for that matter. So, I got permission from my aunt for Lennox to stay as well. That way, I didn’t have to go over there and risk being discovered. It would be evident, either by the look in my eyes, or my demeanor.
On the way home, I just kept thinking about how much more damage was going come, fucking up my life. The shit was fucking with me on the inside, tearing me the fuck apart. But I knew that I had to stay strong—or at least try my damnedest. I had to try my best to think with a clear head, too. I couldn’t buckle all the way under. Too much was at stake.
My foot was on the gas and I was sure I was way over the speed limit, but I was in a daze. Didn’t care. My mind wasn’t on the road at all. It was on the fact that hours and hours were passing by and I still hadn’t brought Chanel home, and I still didn’t know where she was. The picture that Wayne texted to me of her settled my mind a little bit. She had a blank stare on her face, that had traces of anger all over it. It both angered, and hurt me to see her that way. I looked hard for tears in her eyes, but didn’t see any. There were no visible bruises on her. With what I could see of her surroundings, by all accounts it appeared that she was being kept in a nice place. It just wasn’t home, where she should be. But knowing that she was okay, settled my mind a little bit.
I couldn’t wait to see her again, to hold her, to kiss her. The crazy thing was that at the end of this ordeal, it was highly likely that I wasn’t going to get to have the life I wanted with Chanel and Rai—because I was pretty sure that there was a jail cell in a maximum-security prison, waiting with my name on it. But that was a risk I was willing to take. As long as Chanel was free.
I was just about to make a call to Quinton, when his incoming call came through. I accepted, immediately, so that I could update him on where things were.
“Hey, man, what’s up?”
“That’s what I’m calling to find out. You know anything?”
“Shit, man,” I said, shaking my head, in disbelief. “If you only knew.”
“We need to meet up? Might be easier to put our heads together on this shit.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. How’s Tracie?” I asked, genuinely concerned about her.
“She’s as good as can be expected, man. Tryin’ her best to hold it together, but she’s all fucked up.”
“I can imagine. I’ll meet you at my house. I’m going there now.”
“I’m on the way,” Quinton said.
Ten minutes after I drove into my driveway, Quinton showed up at my door. He looked agitated and ready for whatever was next. It was no different than any other time we had business to do. The dude was probably the best friend that a man could have. That was why, even before I knew the situation that he called about had to do with Chanel, I was there for him without question.
We bro-dapped and then he followed me through the house and out to the courtyard. I needed the air. Being in the house made me feel claustrophobic. Once outside, we each took a chair, where we fell into silence for a few seconds. It was the shock of it all, I guess. It came with a lot of emotion, and restless energy.
“This shit is crazy, D.C.,” Quinton said, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs, before folding them across his chest. “I’m sorry that you’re going through this. But just know—”
“Man, this shit is all about me. This boxing shit.”
Quinton’s brows furrowed, in confusion, as he released a heavy sigh. “Translate . . .”
“I mean, this whole goddamn thing is about me getting back in the ring. That’s why Chanel is missing . . .” My voice trailed off. It was the first time I spoke the words out loud and it hurt—bad. “It’s because of me.”
“Wait,” Q said, speaking out. He scooted to the edge of his seat, placing his hands on his thighs, in contemplation. “I don’t get it.”
“You get it, man. It’s exactly what you’re thinking. These assholes put their fucking hands on my woman because they want to bring me out of retirement to fight a dude that’s not shit. I wanna kill all of them fuckers. You hear me? Kill them with my bare-ass hands.”
“I feel that, man. For real. Trust me, I do. And who’s the bitch they want you to fight?”
“Ace Wilder.”
Quinton dropped his hand from his forehead. “Hit Man?”
“Yep, him.”
“You got me fucked up with this shit. So, they took Chanel so that you—”
“Would go back to fight him.”
“Hell nah! Hellll nah!” Quinton yelled out. “He was just about to fight Shane Michaels. I guess that shit fell through. You heard he got arrested last week on some rape charges?”
“Nope. Didn’t hear shit about it. I don’t follow that shit. I barely fucking watch TV, unless it’s a goddamn movie.”
“Well, Shane was supposed to be Ace’s next fight. Now, this fool’s in jail on rape and shit. So, now, they come out of nowhere and want you—”
“Apparently, it’s not from ‘nowhere.’ Apparently, Wayne knew about it before I retired.”
“Wait a fuckin’ minute! Wayne? Wayne knew about Chanel being in danger?”
“He’s been trying to talk me into
fighting since I left. He stayed in my ear about not retiring in the first place.”
“So, is he in on this shit too, then?!” Quinton hissed, standing from his seat in the process.
“No. Not from what I got, and I beat the fuck out of him enough for him to tell the truth.”
After the initial shock wore off, Quinton started to laugh, hysterically. “You whooped Wayne’s ass, man?”
“Sure the fuck did. I blacked out, Q. I don’t even know how I’m so calm right now.”
“I do,” Q spoke up. “It’s the calm before the storm.”
“Definitely gonna be a storm. You’re right about that. The only reason I can be as mild right now, is knowing that she’s safe, and that they haven’t hurt her. They want me . . . in the ring.”
“So, that’s simple. We get Chanel home, you fight this muthafucka, and then we kill all of their bitch-asses. It’s that simple. This is fuckin’ no-brainer shit.”
“That’s just it. They’re not lettin’ her go just because I agreed to the fight.”
“What the fuck?! So, you mean to tell me that they’re keeping her?!”
I nodded my response, not wanting to say the words. “That’s why I already know that at the end of this . . .” Once again, my voice trailed, thinking into the future. “At the end of this, I won’t even be around to share a life with this woman that I love more than the air I breathe. Shit is killing me, over and over, every time I think about it.”
I looked over at my friend and didn’t care about the fact that there were tears burning at the front of my eyes. It was a pain that I wasn’t in any way too proud to show.
“It’s not gonna come to that.” Quinton came and stood near where I was and leaned down. “We get the police off the case, manipulate this shit like it never happened, it won’t come to that. You get what I’m sayin’?”
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