“Same shit. Anyway, she’s out there for safekeeping, until shit go down this weekend.”
“That’s crazy as hell. I had no idea,” Mikhail forced out a laugh, although he was disgusted as hell. “So, when are you going out there?”
“Goin’ today. You wanna ride out?”
“Oh . . . yeah, I’ll ride.”
Perfect! Mikhail thought, as he went to the back to grab a jacket. While he was at it, he made sure to shoot off a quick text to Giuseppe in the process. This was the information that he had been waiting for.
CHAPTER 62
Chanel
With each ring, I became more afraid. I hoped that the line picked up. I needed it to pick up. But even if it didn’t, I had started to think of the joy I’d feel just hearing his voice on the greeting. Did he have a greeting, though? I couldn’t remember. Just pick up, I begged, inwardly. Just pick up . . . please.
My eyes began to gloss over, by the time the third ring sounded out, because I knew that voicemail was about to pick up. I inhaled a deep breath, so that when I left the message, I would sound as normal as possible. As much of a wreck as I was, I didn’t want my baby to hear that turmoil in my voice. I was a thousand percent sure that he was already going through it enough. I didn’t want to add to that.
I laid a hard glare on the monster staring at me, then released a puff of air, preparing my message voice. My heart was breaking into even more pieces, but then . . .
“Hello?” His voice sounded so deep, I wanted to cry right then and there! “Hello . . .?” he said, again.
“Hi, baby.” My voice came out, just above a whisper.
There was about a two-second pause before it registered and he said, “Mama?”
“Yes, it’s me, baby,” I said, smiling, forgetting that big-husky was even there. Right then, in that important moment, it was just me and my baby, in this small part of the world. “How are you?”
“Mama? For real, for real? It’s you?”
“It’s me, baby.”
“Awww man! Daaaang! I’m so glad I ran out of class!”
“I figured you’d be at school. I was hoping you’d answer. And you did.”
“I’m glad I answered! I felt it vibrating and told Ms. Coleman that I had to go to the bathroom.”
“Thought it was some little girl, huh?”
“Ma, nah, that’s not it,” he said, solemnly.
“Better not be. You know I’ll fight a little girl about my baby.”
“Never gonna come to that. And I don’t wanna talk about that. I legit was hoping it was you.”
“How is everything going? With school, your grandmas and all that?”
“School is okay. Of course, I’m not doing as good. But . . . I’m keepin’ up ‘cause I know you’d want me to do that. And I knew that when you got home, after you hugged on me and all that, you’d start yellin’ if the grades were bad.”
“I don’t think I’ll be yelling at you ever again . . .” I told him.
Rai and I grew quiet at the same time. “Are you okay where you are, Mama?” he asked. “Because I think about how I could kill the people that took you. I think about it all the time.”
I heard his voice crack, and my insides went numb. My heart fell into my stomach. These people had my child talking about murder—outside of a damn video game! Real-life shit! Made me hate them even more! The tears I was trying to fight, were fighting to fall. But I couldn’t allow that to happen.
“Don’t talk like that, Rai,” I finally said to him. “I don’t want you having thoughts like that.”
“Too bad, Mama.” He grew quiet for a few seconds.
“Rai . . .”
“Mama! I fuckin’ hate those people! What the hell . . . did they do some shit like that for?! The fight is coming up this weekend and Dario is gonna murder that fool! He’s gonna murder that fool, Mama! Put a dent in that fool’s whole life!” he started to cry and I broke. I broke, and all I could do in that moment was quickly throw my hand over my mouth, so that he couldn’t hear me crying as well.”
“Baby, please don’t,” I begged. “Please don’t . . . I need you to be strong.” He sat in silence for a few seconds. “You there, Rai?”
“You’re comin’ home after the fight, right?”
“That’s the plan, baby,” was all I could make out.
“It better be more than just the plan—”
“Rai . . .” I heard someone call out in the distance, cutting into what he was about to say.
“I’m talkin’ to my mom.”
“Rai, is that your teacher?”
“Yeah, it’s her,” he responded. “I’m coming in a second,” he spat.
“Well, you go ahead, baby,” I told him, knowing that before long, husky would be signaling for me to get off the phone. “I love you. Tell Dario and your grandma that I love them too. And kiss Lennox’s big face for me and . . . tell him I love him.”
“I love you, Ma. I’m glad I finally got to hear your voice. I miss you and can’t wait to see you in three days.”
Three days. I needed to hear that to have some sense of time. At least now I knew a timeframe and where we were with everything. It settled me a bit more than I already was.
“I miss you more. So much more than you know. And when I get home, I don’t wanna hear no complaints, don’t wanna feel you so much as squirm, when I grab you up and hold onto you! I’m not letting go until you fall asleep in my arms.”
“Okay, Ma,” he said, his voice low and slow, probably trying to savor just as many of the moments as I was.
And even after our call ended, I held onto the phone. I wasn’t ready to let go. Three days, I replayed over and over in my head. So, go to sleep for three more nights and then I’d be at home with the people that I loved.
When I handed grizzly back the phone, it was the first time I had smiled since my whole ordeal.
Let the countdown begin . . .
CHAPTER 63
Suite 713
Bridgette exited her car and was retrieving items from her trunk, when another car pulled into the parking lot. She proceeded to do what she was doing, before shutting the trunk and heading to her office inside of Suite 713, where she was employed as the senior project manager.
“Excuse me,” she heard from behind her, causing her to turn around.
She eyed the driver of the late model Infiniti. He was a nice-looking white man, dressed business casual—at least from what she could see of his button-up shirt and tie.
“Yes? How can I help you?”
“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Chanel Norwood, if I can.”
She stared, curiously, for a few seconds before asking, “Do you have an appointment?”
“I don’t have an appointment. Do I need one to check on her?”
“Who are you?”
It was at that point that he offered her his badge. Extending it outward, he stated, “I’m Detective Ralph Knight, from the San Francisco Police Department. I worked the case when she was missing.”
“Hmph, you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” Bridgette asked, suspiciously. Because she was Chanel’s right-hand person, she was well aware of everything that was going on. Dario had long ago filled her in, which was why as he was responding, she casually shot off a text message to Dario, alerting him of the guy’s presence.
“Not really. Just a hop, skip and a jump.”
“Well, I need to offload these items in my arms; if you’d like, you can come in for a few minutes.
“I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “Let me park my car, and I’m there.”
Several minutes later, Bridgette sat across from the detective, waiting to hear what he had to say. She watched his face, as his eyes roamed her office, doing the observant cop thing.
“You done assessing my life, Detective? They’re just pictures of loved ones. None of them serial killers or anything like that. We’re a good bunch.”
“That’s great. So, what time does C
hanel arrive?”
“Chanel’s not coming in today. She’s a business owner, with her own staff . . . i.e. me. So, her presence isn’t always required.”
“So, she’s not coming in at all today?” he asked, as though it went over his head the first time.
“No, she’s not.”
“You couldn’t have just said that at the beginning?”
“I could’ve,” she stated, sarcastically, with a shrug of her shoulders. “But my hands were full and you were trying to engage in full conversation. Didn’t know how long you’d be.”
“Miss, uhh . . .” he said, from the seat he occupied.
“It’s Bridgette.”
“Bridgette. Okay, so, I wanted to see if she was doing okay. She had quite an ordeal.”
Bridgette stood up, then walked around to the front of her desk and leaned against the edge where she could face him. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Do you always make special trips to check on closed cases, Detective?”
“Thank you for your time, Bridgette,” Detective Knight said, standing to depart.
“Leaving? You want me to call Chanel?” she asked. “Or better yet, let me call Dario.”
“That won’t be necessary. You said she’s not here, so I’ll just leave it at that.”
Bridgette shook her head and smiled, as she watched the detective walk out of her office. She stood after a few seconds, so that she could follow behind him and lock the doors. The smile on her face broadened when she saw Dario’s car pulling into the parking lot.
“So much for your snooping, Detective.”
Bridgette sighed and turned on her heels to get her workload down to a minimum.
CHAPTER 64
Dario
I was pissed off when I drove into Suite 713’s parking lot. My foot was like lead on that gas pedal. There were only two cars in the lot and I knew that one of them was Detective Knight’s. I was hoping that Bridgette was able to keep him there until I could arrive, and by all accounts, it looked like she had succeeded. When I saw the reverse lights illuminated on the dark blue Infiniti, I leaned hard on the horn, which caused him to press his brakes. I pulled on the side of him and hopped out, meeting him on the driver’s side.
“Get out so I can talk to you,” I requested.
My initial intent was to be cool about shit and not come off as forceful, but the fact that he was snooping put me in a place of not wanting to be cool at all. He cut the engine of his car, and then exited.
After he had leaned against his door, he folded his arms across his chest. “I see she let you know that I was here.”
“She did. And, why is it, exactly, that you’re here?”
“I came to check on Chanel to make sure that everything was okay with her.”
“Really? And that would be for what? Because you’re out of your jurisdiction. Right? Especially, for a case that’s closed.”
“You seem pressed, Mr. Caivano. For no reason. I’m simply here to make sure that the victim is doing okay.”
“And as we told you, there’s no actual victim, because it was bullshit and a prank gone wrong.”
The detective chuckled, looked me in the eyes and then nodded. “If you say so. But out of curiosity, can you tell me why on the heels of this so-called prank, you’re all of a sudden out of retirement?”
“I could, Detective. But it’s not your fucking business. Neither is my wife.”
“Your wife? Hmmm. A fiancée does not make a wife.”
Before I knew it, I’d stepped into his space. Very close. But I caught myself before my hands got loose on him and took a step back.
“Like I said, my wife.”
“Wives go out to dinner with other men?” he pressed.
My anger fueled. Not only was this fuck trespassing across lines that had nothing to do with him, he was trying to provoke me. As bad as I wanted to make his day, and mine, I refused. I had way too much to lose.
“She told me that she ran into you. Are you following her now? Is that what you’re doing? Because that strikes me as real odd.”
“What strikes me as odd, is that you’re okay with it. I mean, do you guys have some sort of open relationship? Or are things not as peachy as you’re portraying? Maybe she was never really a part of any prank. Maybe she was snatched off the street by the guy she was with. The guy she really wants to be with.” He shrugged. “Then, got back home and realized that it really was him that she wanted. Because they looked pretty cozy to me.”
I almost laughed at how pathetic he sounded. Clearly, he had some sick fascination with Chanel’s sister. Luckily for him, it wasn’t really Chanel that he was debating, because that would be a really bad situation, with an even worse ending.
“Damn, dude. You’re inappropriate as fuck. I mean, for a cop. I almost feel sorry for you, though. I hate that your life lacks so much that you have to insert yourself into mine. Unfortunately, there’s nothing here for you to find. I’d suggest you go and give your energy to some open cases. You know, the ones where families are in dire stress, looking for justice? Yeah, those. I’m sure you have a backlog of them, considering the high crime rate in San Francisco.” I turned away from him, at that point, and proceeded to my car. Feeling his glare still on me, I turned to him. “I’ll let my wife know how concerned you were about her.”
CHAPTER 65
River Islands, Development
Lathrop, CA
At around 2:30 in the afternoon, a UPS truck drove up the long driveway leading to the residence at 45555 Eldridge Court. Down the same street sat a newer model, pearl-colored Escalade, its driver patiently, keeping watch. The home was located in the exclusive neighborhood of Swan’s Cove, on River Island. The UPS truck idled for a few seconds, as the driver touched a few keys on his DIAD device, then scanned the box that was to be delivered to the residence. No one would be the wiser that prior to him picking up the box, he tucked a Glock G20, complete with its compressor, into the front of his pants. It wasn’t the only piece of business he was packing. He also had a small pistol placed in the upper part of his work boot.
He exited the truck and walked to the top of the stairs and rang the doorbell. He could hear its chime ricocheting in a soft melody from where he stood. Seconds later, a young, white woman appeared at the door, wearing a short, navy blue dress that fit way too tight for her to have been professional staff.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted, smiling in admiration. She sized up the tall, muscular man, with the beautiful, dark eyes, full lips, and a dark mane of hair, hidden beneath a UPS beanie. “That’s a big delivery,” she said, looking at the box, but clearly referring to the person holding the box.
“Yeah, it’s pretty big,” Quinton responded. “Will you be signing for it?”
“Yes, that would be me,” she replied, reaching for the DIAD.
The moment she had the DIAD in hand, and her focus shifted from the driver to the device, four men, all dressed in black, rushed past her and into the home. She shook her head, furiously, and her eyes bulged in fear when she realized that a home invasion was in progress. Quinton sat his box on the floor and joined the others, as they split off in different directions.
One of the men who stayed behind closed the door. “Don’t let anything come out of your mouth,” he urged, backing her into the house.
In her visibly shaken state, her lips trembled in fear. “Are you going to hurt—?”
“Unfortunately, yes . . .” he told her, in earnest.
He grabbed her tightly, and yanked her toward him. She twisted and turned in his arms, trying her best to break free.
“Please, don—!”
But before she knew it, his hand was over her mouth, his strength too much to escape. As she continued her fight, the look on her assailant’s face was emotionless. He remained in that spot, with his victim, until she had no more fight in her, and her body went limp. After she was taken care of, he took off to join the others. They were there for one mission
and that was to bring Chanel home.
“Good, everybody in one place,” Quinton stated, when he made his way into the chef’s kitchen where several individuals had been assembled.
An older, attractive woman, who Quinton already knew to be Dex’s mother, was present. A large-framed guy, who he assumed was the security, had already been bound and gagged and was slumped in a corner of the kitchen. The only ones left were two guys, one of whom was Mikhail. They had already decided that he would be spared, since it was on his word they’d found the location they needed. The other one was Dex’s cocky nephew who was already shooting daggers when Quinton walked in.
“What is going on here?!” the woman asked, when Quinton appeared. She was clearly shaken, standing near her fallen guard. “How the hell did you get into my home?!”
“Grandma, stop . . .” Dante instructed. “Just hold on.”
“Get the woman and have her take you to Chanel,” Quinton instructed one of the guys.
“Fuck that! You better not lay a muthafuckin’ hand on my grams!” Dante yelled, attempting to spring forward.
One of the men with Quinton drew his weapon and aimed it directly at Dante’s head. “Be stupid if you want to!”
“A’ight! A’ight!” Dante succumbed, his hands raised just high enough. “Don’t touch her! It’s me you want!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Quinton yelled out.
“Nooo!” she yelled, as one of the men approached. “I’m not leaving my grandson!”
“Leave her alone!” Dante hollered, attempting to spring into action. The butt of a gun to the side of his head halted any attempts. “Aggghh! Fuck! Mutha . . . fuck!”
“Bitch, chill the fuck out, or there’s more where it came from!”
“You’re Mikhail, right?” Quinton asked.
Having been muted the entire time, Mikhail finally spoke. “Yeah, that’s me,” he answered.
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