No More Mr. Nice Guy (27 page)

The sounds around me in what I assumed by the dampness was a basement were exaggerated because of the mask over my eyes and the gag in my mouth. When one or more of your senses are compromised, the rest overcompensate and become stronger. I tried with all my might to see through the mask, but the shit they had used blocked out everything.

I had to figure a way out of this. Whoever had snatched me in the parking garage couldn't be as smart or as dangerous as El Gato. They were just damn lucky. They certainly weren't showing any signs of being in the same league as that sadistic prick, or else I would have been in serious pain already. God, if Jonathan and them ever found out I'd been taken down by two stun gun toting thugs, they'd laugh me out of the agency—that is, if I survived this mess.

Thinking of El Gato made my thoughts turn to Niles. Hopefully he'd survived the mission, and if so, he was probably looking for me, which gave me a little bit of comfort. However, as much as I liked the idea of being a damsel in distress, right now that wasn't doing me a whole lot of good. How would he know how to get in touch with the organization and let them know that I was missing now that I was code Alpha-Omega? Even Winston didn't have that intel once they coded me. This convinced me that I had to go back to thinking like myself, my hard-ass, take-no-prisoners, don't-depend-on-nobody-for-nothing self, because I was the only one who could save me. Hell, I had survived worse, which made me feel a modicum of hope that somehow I'd figure a way out of this situation. The fact that I was still alive meant something. Maybe they needed to get something from me.

I thought I heard a noise. Then I became sure I could hear footsteps far off. As they came closer, I knew the person was male by the heaviness and size of each step he took. He kept coming closer, until he was right there in front of me. That's when I felt his hands on my face, rubbing against my cheek as he removed my gag.

“Take off this blindfold so that I can see who the hell you are, you coward,” I shouted, relieved that I was able to speak.

He gave me no answer. Instead, he took four steps away from me, and I heard a chair in front of me move as he sat down like this was going to be some kind of fucking show.

“I don't know who you are, but you best fucking believe I'm going to kill you when I get these off,” I shrieked as I tried to wriggle out of the restraints. If he thought I was going to be some complacent victim, he had totally underestimated Bridget St. John.

He began tapping his foot on the floor as if he was just waiting for me to finish trying to escape.

“Who are you? You have no idea who you are dealing with. I will have your ass for this,” I warned him, still trying to loosen those damn restraints.

I felt terrified but knew better than to show it. “Tell me why I'm here. Tell me, goddammit.”

Still, there was no answer from my captor. When I realized my threats were hollow in my current position, I decided to use some of the tactics I'd learned to manipulate him into revealing himself.

“So, you like your women tied up. Is that what you like? You're too weak to deal with a real woman, so you need one who is helpless? Is that your thing?” I pushed, trying to see if he'd react but all he did was continue that annoying tapping of his foot “I like real men, the kind who like strong, smart women. Do you know any of those?” Still nothing, no response, which was making me nervous. I was trying my damndest to keep up the tough girl thing, but all I wanted was to get out of there and to get back to Niles. I just wanted to be with him.

I needed to figure out who was holding me captive, in order to come up with a plan to get out of there. Who would want to get to me? Sure, I had a lot of enemies, but it was a pretty sure bet that this all had something to do with the murder of Fuller and my name written in his blood at the crime scene. I started talking again to see if I could incite this guy to finally talk.

“Congratulations. You finally found me,” I said. “Wasn't very smart of you to leave a trail. Actually, it wasn't smart at all. You basically told me you were looking for me. What? You don't think I prepared myself for this?” I lied. “That I didn't make certain that there were people who could find me? Yeah, I'd say you fucked up.” I laughed, hoping like hell he bought my little act.

“Plus the whole killing-a-cop thing? Wow! I mean, technically a retired cop, but you know the ‘bleed blue' thing and how they stick together. Seems cops don't really like cop killers, so there are a lot of people looking for you.

“But, instead of being scared shitless, you come looking for me. That's some set of balls. And all this is over a worthless, piece-of-shit gangbanger.” All of a sudden he stopped tapping his foot. Game on, Bridget. Girl, that's it.

I couldn't believe it. With all the hits I'd done throughout my career, I would have expected to be kidnapped over the death of some international arms dealer or a head of state. Instead, I was being held captive because of some low-level street thug. This was about Niles and street justice. If only I'd paid closer attention, I would have figured that out as soon as I saw Fuller and his wife lying in a pool of blood with my name in it. I had been slipping big time, distracted by my feelings. This was just further confirmation that I needed to get the hell out of this career—as soon as I could get myself out of this basement.

“So you're pissed about your hustler buddy getting killed, is that it?” I asked him. “Well, understand something: When my man finds out about this, he's going put all you droopy-drawer motherfuckers to sleep, so if I were you, I'd fucking let me go.”

I heard the chair hit the floor and I thought I must have hit a sensitive nerve. The gag was slapped back over my mouth, and whoever this person was, he got up and walked away.

“Let me go! Let me go!” I tried to scream through the gag, but the only response I heard was the slamming of the door.

During the whole ride from the house out to Teterboro Airport to scoop up Niles, I kept replaying the events of the last few hours in my head. I'd done everything I could think of to try to find Bridget, but the trail went cold at her car, and I didn't have a clue what to do next.

Winston was in Lenox Hill Hospital being treated for complications from the gunshot wound. The bullet had hit a couple of bones, so he needed to have a gang of tests to make sure that was the extent of the damage. The cops treated the thing as a basic breaking and entering with the intent to steal, and he was considered a hero thwarting the would-be robbers. He told me he made sure they knew he was the only one in the apartment and that he had reacted in self-defense, which wasn't that hard to convince them of, since the assailants had murdered the doorman on the way into the building. There were lots of questions about what they could have been looking for, but Winston was a pro, so I had no doubt that he answered those questions without raising any suspicion. It probably helped that he looked like a kind, elderly grandfather. He'd probably told them he served in Vietnam and a whole bunch of other bullshit. It made me realize I needed to have a story too, in case I ever found myself in that position.

By the time I got to the airport, Niles's plane had just landed. It seemed like it took forever for the stairs to be lowered. Then there was Niles in the doorway, carry-on in hand, looking very worried. When he hit the bottom step, I was waiting.

“What's up, Unc?” Niles greeted me in what he probably thought was a cheerful voice, but I could see the anxiety in his eyes. We hugged.

I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but I didn't have time to sugarcoat anything. “We got a problem.” I got straight to the point as I took his bag and led him to the car.

“Tell me everything when we get in the car.” His scratchy voice sounded like he'd stayed awake worrying for the entire six-hour flight.

He threw his carry-on in the trunk and got in beside me.

I began telling him the details. “After you called me, I hit up Winston, and the two of us met at Bridget's apartment.”

“Uh-huh,” he answered, his head doing a slow bob as he waited for more information.

“We get there, and the door to the building is open, and then we find the doorman on the floor in a pool of his own blood, which we can see is fresh—like this guy was smoked in the past few minutes. We run up the stairs, and soon as we hit her floor, we can see that her door is open.

“Now we sneak in, and then a couple of guys come running out of the back of her apartment, but the place is a mess, like they were looking for something.”

Niles reacted. “Shit. This is not good.”

“I know. Believe me. But you guys had prepared us for this, so it took me less than five seconds to know what to do. Winston took out the first one; shot his ass dead with one bullet. Then the other one comes for me, and I wasn't having that, so I fired off a shot and dropped him,” I said, leaving out the part about what happened to Winston before I shot the guy.

“Look at you, all James Bond and shit.” Niles cracked a smile, and I could see he was proud of me. As much as I hated to ruin this moment, he needed to hear the complete story. I couldn't help feeling like I had let him down.

“Hold on. That's not everything, though.”

The smile fell from Niles's face. “Go ahead.”

“Winston got shot. He took a bullet to the shoulder. The doctor said he's gonna make a full recovery, but he never should've been hurt. I'm sorry, man. ” I was staring out the window, not wanting to see my nephew's disappointment.

His next words surprised me. “You kidding, man? You really stepped up for me. Now tell me the rest, and don't leave out the smallest detail.”

I hated to have to tell him the worst part. “Well, I'm almost one hundred percent sure someone snatched Bridget.”

“What makes you so sure? She's a pretty resourceful girl, and you didn't find her in the house. She could be laid up somewhere, just waiting for things to blow over.”

“So Winston put a GPS on all of Bridget's cars, and he didn't tell her because, well, you know Bridget. She's her own army in her mind. But he knew that it was his job to try to keep her safe, in case something like this happened.”

“Dude is smart—and devoted,” Niles commented.

“Damn straight,” I agreed. “So before I left the apartment, I tracked her car to a parking lot in SoHo. I found her car, but she was gone, and all her stuff was lying on the ground near her car. Her phone, keys, and her purse. Like it had just happened. If he had only thought about the tracker before we went to her apartment, we could've gone straight there first, and we may have been able to stop them,” I said, feeling guilty that we hadn't been smarter about things.

“Fuck!” Niles slammed his fist on the dashboard. “She'd been acting all skittish lately, talking about getting out, like she was afraid and didn't want to worry me; but I should have been worried. I should have been a lot more worried. I should have never left her.” Niles pulled out his phone and dialed, but when no one answered, he hung up and turned to me.

“Where to now?”

“To get some goddamn answers,” he told me

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Niles's face was a mash-up of emotions, none of them good. Bridget had become more than his boss, and I knew she felt the same way about him. It was one thing to lose someone you work with, and another to lose the woman you're in love with. Yeah, I was really worried about my nephew. I knew that determined look on his face. Somebody was about to be in real shit.

“What are you gonna do?” I asked.

“I'm going to find out who has my girl,” he told me, sounding serious and determined. “Take me to the city, Unc.”

“Okay,” I answered as I got on the highway headed into New York City, wishing things had gone differently.

Thirty minutes later, I pulled the BMW into a parking spot in front of a tall skyscraper. We sat there for a while, staring at the building, until I said, “Where the fuck are we?”

“Dynamic Defense,” he said quietly.

“So, this is headquarters?”

Niles reached for the door handle without answering.

“Want me to come with you?”

“Nah, stay here. I'll be right back. Just stay here and stay ready to go,” he told me as he jumped out.

“Niles!” I yelled out before he ran off. He looked at me and waited in silence, “Whoever took her was a professional.”

“That's why we're here, Unc,” was all he said before he darted into the building.

Pooh's loud footsteps sounded like a team of Clydesdales riding through the hallway as he approached. “Get your ass in there!” he snarled as he shoved Keisha into the screening room, where Bruce and I kicked back, watching ESPN.

Whack! I reached out and backhanded Keisha's face. She grabbed her mouth in shock. She was lucky I didn't kick her ass—or worse.

“You fuckin' bitch!” I screamed at her. Everything in my being wanted to do a whole lot more than give her one slap. Pooh, knowing his job was done, nodded to me, backed up, and left the room. Bruce grabbed the remote and shut off the television, but he didn't move.

Keisha's voice was shaking when she spoke. “What was that for? I didn't do anything,” she cried out, looking confused. My more violent tendencies were usually reserved for my work, but lately, she'd been making me cross that line.

I glared at her, struggling to contain myself. “Yes, you did, you fuckin' lying bitch.”

Her eyes darted away from me, which told me she had an idea what this was about. “When have I ever lied to you? I don't, and if anybody is telling you otherwise, then they're lying.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if to make her point.

“Oh, really?” I dangled those simple words in the air to see what the hell she would do with them. The ones who are guilty always struggle to convince you of something, while innocent people usually stand their ground. Now, this wasn't an exact science or nothing, but most times I found it to be a good indicator of whether someone was full of shit.

“Yes. You're the father of my child. You take care of us and provide a good life. Why would I ever lie to you?” Her voice was shaking as she tried to convince me of her loyalty. Too bad for her that it was too late to try to feed me that story. That bitch hadn't come to visit me once while I was locked up, and ever since I'd come home from jail, she'd been acting differently. Hell, even her pussy didn't feel the same; but I kept all those thoughts to myself.

I pulled out my phone and flashed the picture of her and the guy. The bitch looked like a trapped animal in a cage, desperately searching to find a way out.

“Majestic . . .” she started before I put my hand up to interrupt.

“I don't want to hear no more lies. I'm gonna ask you one time: Who is he, Keisha? Who the hell is he?” My voice took on a don't-fuck-with-me tone that I really hoped she was smart enough, and valued her life enough, to respect. She just stared like a deer in headlights, her eyes going from me to the picture and back again.

That's when I lost it. “Bitch, you better fucking answer me!”

She burst out sobbing, barely able to form words, like she expected that shit to work. Did she really think her tears were going to melt me or something?

“A friend. He's just a friend,” she lied. That was enough for me to smack her across the face again, and this time I didn't care if it disfigured her.

I had to step back before I killed her. I started pacing around the room. “This motherfucker murdered my brother?”

Bruce stood up, obviously worried that this was going south.

“It's cool. I got this covered, man,” I told him, and he sat back down.

Keisha shot him a look like she wanted him to jump up and rescue her or something. Dumb, cheating bitch just didn't understand how deep her troubles were right now. There was no way my man was gonna take her side.

“No. He didn't kill Rodney, Majestic,” she insisted.

I couldn't fucking believe that she was still up in my face, defending this guy. “Then who did? If he didn't kill my brother, who did? Answer me that. Better yet, you bring that guilty motherfucker to me,” I challenged her.

Of course she had no defense. “I don't know who did it,” she said, sounding weak as hell. “And I haven't talked to him in a while, so I can't bring him to you.”

“Bullshit! You're going to tell me who he is and where the hell I can find him.” I got in her face and took hold of her arms, leaving no doubt that I meant to cause her harm. Instead of spilling, the bitch actually had the nerve to stand her ground.

“I'm not going to help you kill an innocent man.” She shook her head like she had some options.

“Really? Then I guess you'd rather die in his place.” I let her go and reached for my gun, aiming it straight at her. The fear sprang to her eyes immediately.

“Please!”

“Tell me his name!”

“No, I can't,” she whispered, wincing like she expected this to be the end for her and she was all right with that.

I cocked the gun, pressing it into Keisha's temple. “You always was ride or die, but you just fucked up. I've already accepted the fact that I'm going to be a single parent, so I hope that motherfucker was worth it.”

The terror in her eyes was painful to watch, but she left me no choice she had to die.

“Please. Majestic, please,” she cried out, her eyes pleading, but she had pushed me past the point of having zero fucks to give.

“You got one last chance. Tell me his name or you're dead. And remember, ain't nobody gonna care when you're gone.”

“My son will care. MJ will care,” she blurted out, thinking that my son was going to sway me into feeling something. It was too late. My veins were pumping icicles, and she was shit out of luck.

“He's young,” I said. “Hell, I'm betting in a year he won't even remember you. Shit, maybe I'll get him a new momma. Or a whole lot of mamas.” The thought made me laugh, because I knew these hoes would be working overtime to win the coveted position of new baby mama to my son.

“Please!” she begged, clinging onto me.

“Now, I'm going to ask you one more time.”

“I can't. Don't you understand that?” she cried. “I'm not going to be responsible for his death.”

I smacked her so hard across the face that she crumpled to the floor. Then I pointed my gun at her, ready to end it. If Bruce hadn't gotten in between us, she would have been dead.

“Majestic, I got this. Gimme a couple hours to get you that info. . . then you can kill her ass.”

I lowered my gun and turned to him. He'd never let me down, so I had to at least listen to him. Besides, he was still looking out for me, making sure I didn't catch another case for killing this deceitful ho. “A'ight, man,” I said.

I looked back at this bitch, still groveling and crying at my feet. “While he's gone, you better figure out if this guy is worth dying over.”