7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) (41 page)

When I take my final gulp from my first glass, shit changes. No matter how hard I try to bring back the connection between my whiskey and me, I cannot. Instead, I’m forced to remember her final words.
“I’m not ready to give up my dreams and my life here just because your career is over.”

She was right. Nine months ago, I was spiraling into a deep hole since learning that I had to leave the force after serving only five years. I couldn’t fathom the idea of my career ending early all because of my fucked up shoulder.
“Its either desk duty or retirement kid,”
said Captain McManus during my final evaluation.

Four months before that final evaluation, I got shot while following up on a call that we received about shooting in the Pink Houses in East New York.               It was a day that I will never forget.  5:45 AM had been the time. I know because I always counted to sixty each time that I followed up on a lead. It was a technique that I used while on patrol. Daybreak was starting to peek through the moment we arrived on the block.

Gunshots erupted the moment I stepped out of the patrol car. Somehow, it all seemed to be aimed in my direction. As I duck on the opposite side of the car, Lenny Rigs, my partner at the time, leaned in and radioed for help. Even as I took the safety off and prepared to fire, there seemed to be no down time for me to even do so. Shots just kept coming in, as if they never even had to reload their clip. After a minute of non-stop shooting, I hear a faint cry that sounds like it came from a woman. I look to my right and see an elderly woman pushing her a little boy to the ground.

There was a moment in which there was a brief pause, and that is when I aim up and start shooting in the direction that I believe the bullets came from. As I did that, I ran to the elderly woman and pushed her to the ground, shielding my body over hers and the little boy’s. And that is when the barrel of a gun sinks into the back of my left shoulder.

Pop
!

That had been the first bullet piercing into the back of my shoulder. Even then, I had refused to go down. I turned around and came face-to-face with my shooter and aim my gun.

Pop!

Pop!

One bullet had been for my shooter and the other bullet had been for me, as he managed to shot me. As I blink in and out of consciousness, the image of Ashley’s face keeps me going.  I later learned that the bullet damn near grazed my heart.

A few weeks after, as I lie in my bed, I put the pieces of the puzzle together. Things didn’t add up. Where the fuck was Lenny throughout all of this? The motherfucker walked away untouched.

He had always been suspicious, like most of the other men in my squad, but I never knew how low they’d go to disrespect their badge and part ways with their honor. As I think back about the weeks leading to my attempted assassination, I’m brought back to a particular incident that occurred between me and self-proclaimed “God of the Pink Houses”, Rolo, the infamous drug lord who polluted the community for years, but was not even on the police’s radar. When I had been assigned to patrol the Pink Houses, I was completely shocked at the gaudiness of this fucker.

We met once, Rolo and I. But our encounter had been anything but brief. It all started while I was on my scheduled summertime foot patrol in July. Since the summertime was when the most crime occurred, the mayor had kicked down his new idea to the force and we had all been assigned to walk throughout some of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Brooklyn. By that time, I had already caught wind of the do’s and don’ts while patrolling the Pink Houses
:

“Don’t go around digging for shit. Keep it moving and you’ll be alright,” Lenny Riggs, my partner at the time, had advised after witnessing an exchange go down between one of Rolo’s guys and a fiend.

Shit just didn’t feel right. How the hell did all of us vow to honor and protect; yet we allow motherfuckers like him to terrorize the streets?

It had been my third week of patrolling when I got to meet Rolo. He’d been the name whispered amongst my squad mates for the past few weeks. From what I gathered through the quiet stammers, Rolo had influence beyond the Pink Houses. Yet, I still couldn’t understand why there seemed to be a fear circling this fucking man. But, whatever it is, if left an impact. 

As Lenny and I walk through the housing units, I become suspicious after hearing a deafening wail coming from behind building 190.

“What goes on behind that building…” Lenny points out. “…is none of our business.”

Disregarding his last statement, I follow the sounds of the dirge pleas that came from around back. The smell of trash thriving from the scorching heat was the first to meet me as I carefully tread. Moving my feet to the left and right, I try to find a smooth surface that’s free of broken pieces of glasses from liquor bottles and syringes that covered the pavement leading into the back of the building. As I drew my gun out of my holster, I quietly stumble upon Rolo beating the shit out of some naked woman who wore a veil of bruises and blood.

A tug at my arm draws my attention away from the scene to look behind me. I look down and see Lenny’s fat fingers clenching tightly over my forearm. As I meet his pleading eyes with a hard stare, I can’t help but to grow more disgusted of the man I called partner.  

“Jax, come on, man,” he murmurs through clenched teeth.

Ignoring him, I snatch my arm from his grip and walk up to the scene.  “Police! Step away from her!”

Rolo looks up and laughs before continuing his assault. “Take a walk boys,” Rolo says after punching the woman in the face. 

“Let it go,” Lenny’s steady voice was brought down to almost a whisper.

“Yeah, let it go, Jaxon Right,” Rolo says as he wipes his hands with his handkerchief. As if reading my mind, Rolo continues, “Yeah, I know who you are. I make it a point to know all fresh meat that walks through my hood. I guess now is a better time than any to finally introduce myself to you and possibly discuss future employment.”

My eyes remain on his, never once wavering from the motherfucker. “You’re Rolo?”

“That’s me,” he responds with a smug look and a cocky attitude. He had reason to be. After all, people were afraid to touch him.

“You lookin’ at me like you’re infatuated with me,” Rolo smirks, causing the men behind him to snicker like little schoolgirls.

“No infatuation. I’m still trying to figure out what people are afraid of. You look harmless to me,” I say, putting an end to their reign of giggles. It was the truth, Rolo looked to be about 6’2”, give or take an inch. His back hunched over slightly, and he looked to be a lot older than I suspected him to be. Hell, the man wore his receding hairline proudly, as if he was waiting until the last strand of hair was gone in order to realize he was bald.

Rolo snorts. “Lenny, get your partner out of my face before I treat him like this whore right here.”

“Jaxon, let’s go, man,” Lenny says from behind.

Ignoring him, I remain in place, looking at Rolo with hard eyes.

“
You know, kid; you could make a lot of money just by being silent,” Rolo says as he tosses the handkerchief at the woman who is sprawled out on the floor. Then he spits at her. “Clean yourself, bitch, and don’t fuck with my money ever again.”

“Ma’am, would you like to press charges?” I ask.

The timid woman shakes her head violently before limping away. As I refocus my attention on Rolo, a cocky-ass smirk is plastered against his lips like all of this amused him somehow. “Didn’t your pops do foot patrol around here too?”

It was more of a rhetorical question rather than a question that begged for an answer. But even if he were asking out of pure curiosity, I would’ve still felt my blood boiling. The motherfucker had brought my father up. Back when my father did open patrol around this public housing, it was known as Sugar Terrace. It was in these exact projects that he died from a shot to his heart.

“I bet you didn’t know this, but I spat on him as he took his final breath. Even back then, as a kid, I knew how to treat you fucking pigs.” Rolo makes a coughing sound, mocking my father’s final moments leading to his death.

But, with my left hook, I connect my fist to Rolo’s jaw, shattering it completely as he stumbles to the floor.

“You’re dead motherfucker!” he manages to squeal out as he held onto his jaw.

“Yeah, whatever. Go get your jaw checked out first, bitch.”

“Rolo, you want me to get him?”

“Get who motherfucker?” I turn my attention to the young kid that kneeled beside Rolo. “Take your best shot!”

I stretch my arms out, completely fired up as I dared him. Rolo stretches his arm out, stopping the kid dead in his tracks.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Go listen to your pimp,” I spat.

Lenny looks completely floored, speechless even. As I walk slowly out of the Pink Houses, all eyes rest on me while silence circles the air.

After that day, everyone in the Pink Houses kept a close eye on me as I did my patrol. Even some of the officers on my squad start to keep their distance. Frankly, I didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t join the force to make friends. I never was one to fake the funk by living up to someone else’s standards.

As much as I wanted to take Rolo out, I remember my father and the way he wore his badge with honor and upheld the law. Since there was no viable proof to connect Rolo to my shooting, I made a promise to my father and myself that I would bring hardcore evidence to put Rolo away for good.  But then my evaluation came after my shooting, and shit changed forever. Apparently, the NYPD could withstand me being injured in the line of duty, but they couldn’t tolerate the permanent nerve damage in my shoulder.

When Uncle James made the decision to sign over his sixty-acre property over to me, it had been at a time when I was not quite ready to trade in my badge for a life of cattle chasing and ranching. Eventually, I learned that the ranch was my saving grace; yet a curse too. Even though leaving New York was the best decision for me, it was also my greatest regret since I had to leave the woman that I love behind.

And with all honesty, I knew that I had become a monster, unbearable to be around. Through it all, she stayed by my side nursing me back to health and doing workouts with me as I prepared to go back to the board for another evaluation. But, I still kept being cold, distant, and brutish towards her. I guess that it shamed me that she had to see me like that. It weakened my manhood immensely.

I knew that she deserved to be with someone who was not rattling off the deep end. But damn if I did not need her back then too; that’s why I made sure to leave behind a one-way ticket with the ranch address. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, and yet like a fool, I’m still waiting. But my heart refuses to move forward from her.  Loving someone else was completely foreign to me.

Fuck, I’m doing it again; drifting from what happened in the past between us to what my reality is. This is when my second glass of whiskey came in handy. I quickly down my drink; making sure every last drop is drained from the glass. I dig into my jean pocket, pull out my wallet, and toss a few bills over the counter before exiting the pub.

A gush of fresh country air is exactly what I need. Taking in deep breaths, I inhale the soft breeze and bathe my face with some much-needed air. With all of my willpower, I regretfully push Ashley to the back of my mind; something that I thought I’d never do but had learned to be fluent in. She made her decision, and as much as I hate it, I must respect it.

As I walk closer to my black, Ford F-150 pickup truck, I pat my jean pockets in search for my key. Hopping into the car, I shift gears and pull out to make the forty-five-minute drive back to the Right’s Ranch.

-Ashley-

Splash!

             
“Get the fuck up!”

If the sound of AJ’s voice did not stir me awake, the fluid that he splashed on top of me surely did
.
My eyelids peel back slowly as I meet his cold greyeyes
.
The swelling had gone down a little bit, just enough to where he could use both eyes instead of one.

              “Make me some breakfast,” he spits out before kicking my leg as he walks away.

              A yelp escapes me as I immediately reach for my thigh. But as I sit up, a flood of pain washes over me like a wave. I slowly lift up my shirt and stare down at my stomach, which is covered in bruises. A flash of what occurred the night before enters my stream of consciousness
.
Realization settles in; I had fallen sleep in the same spot that he beat me in, and he’d left me there.    

I release an exasperated breath in order to control the tears that are begging for freedom.  With the back of my hand, I wipe away the water from my face. And that’s when I feel my cheek, swollen and tender to the touch. As I struggle to stand, I hold my breath to reduce the pain. Once on my feet, I make my way to the bathroom.

I lean over the counter and stare up at the mirror. Horrified by the woman who stared back at me, I cut my eyes away out of embarrassment. Though I already knew that my mahogany skin no longer had its glow, I accepted it. But as I stare at myself—like really take a good look at the woman I’ve become- I can’t see Ashley. Hell, I don’t even see Kaylee. All I see is a walking corpse waiting to be put to rest once and for all.   

             
BANG! BANG! BANG!             

“Don’t make me come in there and drag your ass out!”

Frightened, I jump up and turn the faucet on. I slowly lather my face and rinse off the soap. As I pat dry my face, I call out to God.
Please don’t forsake me
…

The second set of bangs at the door tore me away from my prayers. As I twist the doorknob, I’m half expecting a slap in the face for taking too long, but he was already sitting in the living room watching a morning talk show.

              As I enter the kitchen, I notice a rusty grey security box on the kitchen table. Beside it is a key and a bronze lock. Curious, I take a step closer to the box and touch the lid, but not without glancing over my shoulder to see if AJ is watching. He’s too caught up in a paternity test drama to even notice anything. Shifting my focus back to the box, I lift the lid and see a fob key, two prescription bottles, and a few bundles of cash held together by a rubber band.   

              “Make me pancakes and bacon!” he hollers from the living room.

              I jump back at the sound of his voice and avert my gaze away from the box.
Shit!
The pounding of my heart racing drew my attention away from the box and back to preparing his breakfast.

              As I retrieve all of the items that I need to make his breakfast, my eyes drift over to the box and back at AJ. He was still wrapped up in the show, often hollering and making obscene comments about the guest on the segment.

Ashley! Get the prescription bottle!

My eyes went from the pancake batter and back to the lock box. Taking one final look back up at AJ, I quickly reach for the box and slowly lift the lid to retrieve both bottles. As I held them close to my stomach, I look over at AJ and back down at the labels.  I scan the label on the bottle I held in my left hand and saw that it was Ambien, and I look over at the bottle in my right hand and see that its Percocet. As I untwist the lids of each, I uncap two capsules from each bottle pour the contents into the pancake batter. I take another two capsules from the bottle labeled Ambien and slip them into my pocket.

              Recapping each bottle, I look up to see if AJ is still watching the show.

Thank God!

His back is still facing me, so I push the lid down and slowly walk back over to the batter. As I prepare his breakfast, I’m overcome with joy. It's like God’s actually listening.

But as quickly as my smile appears it floats away. Where am I going to go? Yeah, I can take the money from the box, but then I’d have to leave New York. My only saving grace comes in knowing that he doesn’t know my real name. Any ties to my old life are stored away in a manila envelope taped in the back of our dresser. Still, I have to get away from him. This is my only chance. If I have to leave New York, then so be it.

              “Hurry up in there!” AJ shouts.

              As I grease the pan, I’m wracking my brain about where to go. I have nothing really, but the clothes on my back. My mother was my only family, and now that she’s gone, I have no one. Tears slide down my cheeks as I scoop up some pancake batter and place it on the pancake griddle.

              “Get me some orange juice,” AJ orders, causing me to break away from the pancake griddle. 

              “Okay,” I respond through muffled tears before making my way to the refrigerator. As I stare at the pulpy orange juice, I think about the two pills that are in my pocket. Then my eyes drift over to the pancakes.

Fuck him!
I retrieve a glass from the cabinet and pull out the two capsules from my pocket.

              I dump the contents from inside the capsules into the glass and fill it up with orange juice. I pull out the drawer and quickly grab a spoon. As I mix the juice, I look over at AJ with great detest. If the man never woke up after drinking this, I wouldn’t care. 

This should be good enough.

I place the spoon in the sink, cross over to the room and hand the glass over to him.

“Here you go.”

A smile tugs at my lips as I walk away from him and enter the kitchen.

Damn, what if it doesn’t work right away, though?

I look over at the pancake batter and the griddle.
For extra measures, I might as well make the pancakes.

As I flip the pancake onto the plate and add another scoop into the pan, I look over at AJ. I try searching for any sign that he is closer to knocking out, but I see none.

As I dress his plate with bacon and pancakes, I start to hyperventilate. What if he doesn’t knock out? What if he’s so used to taking these peels that he no longer feels any effects?

The plate is shaking in my hands as I stand before him. The glass of orange juice was halfway empty, yet he seemed normal.

“Go get ready. We’re leaving after I’m done eating,” he says as he takes the plate from my hands.

I back away slowly when he takes his first bite, followed by another one. My minds racing, overcome with fear, yet thrilled with excitement as I watch his eyelids flutter. Each time his neck snaps up, and he starts blinking to stay awake, I start to breathe heavy. It’s not until the plate hits the floor, and the pancakes and bacon are beneath his feet, do I breathe easier.

I ran as fast as I could into the bedroom; the torture chamber that held so many fucked up memories over the past three months.

I keep looking over my shoulder. From where I stand, I can see the side of AJ’s body still slouched over. As my heart beats a mile a minute against my chest, I can’t help but feel like this is all a dream.
I’m free! I’m actually free! Fuck! Am I really free?
After many failed attempts at running away before, this seems way too easy. 

The truth was even more frightening as my fingers shook against the cherry wood dresser near the door. As I push the dresser to the side, the manila envelope that held my true identity was the first to greet me.

With shaky fingers, I look over my shoulder once more before tearing the envelope off of the back.

“Shit!”

As I glance down, I’m met with all of the contents that I secretly tucked away a

few months ago from AJ scattered all over the floor. It housed everything that tied me to my old life; a life when my only worries were maintaining my scholarship to Julliard Dance School and never waking up from the love spell that Jaxon had cast on me. Next month will make it nine months since I last saw him or heard from him.

When he left everything seemed to wash away into the wind, leaving me nothing but a broken heart and a trail of regrets. 

I gather everything into a bunch and walk with my knees over to the bed. As I dump everything onto the mattress, I look back to see if there was anything left behind before standing. I quickly run into the kitchen in search of a plastic bag. Each time I opened the cabinets, my eyes would roam over to AJ’s body.

After retrieving a bag from under the sink, I quickly run back into the bedroom and dump everything inside. As I make a dash for the door, I glance over at the table, specifically at the box that held his car keys, pills and more money than I’ve ever seen at one given time.

“Fuck him,” I mumble while lifting the lid and emptying the contents of the box into my bag. This bastard ended my dream of being a dancer, the least I can do is fuck him over. As I make my way over to the front door, I toss the box over at him, hoping that my aim is on point. It’s not. The box lands in front of him. But it was worth a shot. Lord knows how many times I just wanted to gouge his eyes out, especially each time I remember losing my scholarship. It had been the only thing left that I hung on to closely. But now that’s gone.

As I open the door leading to freedom, I refuse to look back at the empty cage that AJ tried to keep me in. I refuse to allow the walls, which closed in on me each and every time he felt the need to treat me like a punching bag for the past five months, to continue to entrap me. Each step that I took was another step closer to regaining control of my life.    

A smile tugs at my lips the moment the cool air hits my face. This is the first time in months that I have been able to smile like this, and it feels freaking amazing. I withdraw the fob key from inside of the plastic bag and press the unlock button for AJ’s black Honda Accord that is parked across the street.

              “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t take his car.” I muse over the thought of AJ being able to track me down. Things were already off to a great start. AJ knew me as Kaylee Francis, a college drop-out. That was the extent of the information that I allowed him to have. Now that freedom is within my reach, I can’t risk being caught.

             
Shit, what am I going to do?
I look over at the car, then at the bus stop across the street.

Damn if I do, damn if I don’t.

Without thinking any further on it, I walk over to his car and unlock the door. As I settle inside, my mind drifts over to the money.

God, I hope it’s enough.

              With no set plan in place, other than to get far away from AJ, I push in the press start button, shift gears, and pull out of the parking space.

*~*~*

              “Do you have a smaller bill than this?” asks the older woman in the tollbooth who sounds like she suffers from nasal congestion.
She waves the hundred-dollar bill that I pulled out moments before at me. 

              “No. Sorry.”

              She shakes her head and pulls her hand back into her booth. As she hands me over my change, she says, “Next time have smaller bills with you.”

“I’ll try to remember that next time,” I respond, trying to remain calm. “Do you know where the nearest Walmart is?”

“Take US 1 and 9 south. You’ll come across signs directing you to Walmart.”

“Thank you,” I say through a tightlipped smile.

As I merge to the far left lane, I glance up and look at the rearview mirror. It is something that I’ve been doing since leaving. Even though I’m a few miles away from Brooklyn, I can’t escape the paranoia that is starting to settle in. The rush of energy that I had upon leaving was now replaced with the daunting truth; I had no place to go, and my body was severely injured. I guess in the midst of fear and excitement, I forgot about the injuries I sustained at the hands of AJ. Now, the pain was surging through.

A few short miles later, I come across a large sign reading “Wal-Mart on the next left.” Soon after, I pull into a parking spot near the entrance doors.

I pull down the sun visor and scan my face through the vanity mirror. Although I do not have many bruises, my cheek is swollen and has a dark tint to it against my brown skin. An exasperation of air releases through my nostrils as I push the sun visor up and grab the plastic bag from the passenger seat. Digging into the bag, I peel away two-hundred dollars and stuff it in my pocket.

Instinctively, I reach up and pull the hair tie, which held my wild mane in a ponytail, out and try to manipulate my kinky hair to cover the side of my face. I glance at the rearview mirror before pulling the latch. “Only twenty minutes,” I remind myself as I step out of the car and walk towards the entrance doors.

Feeling self-conscious, I take one of the shopping carts and try to walk faster.  Despite my ankle and stomach aching, I remind myself that I am on a time limit. As I limp throughout the store, I manage to quickly pick up some toiletry items, sports bras, panties, soap, washcloths, towels, painkillers, three leggings, two sweatpants, five shirts, a wallet, a duffle bag, and a purse.