Power (Romantic Suspense) (45 page)

“Kiss of death? It doesn’t even make any sense.”

“It makes sense to me.”

“What is it?”

“Mary Jane, we have to make it look like we’re not together. I got to get her out of whatever hiding place she is in and make her think that I’m weak and alone.”

I blinked as my hands shook. “I don’t like this plan.”

“It’s the best one I’ve heard so far.”

“Maybe, we should think of more.”

“Mary Jane—”

“I don’t want to be away from you.” Desperate, I grabbed his arms as if he was about to float out of the limo. “Let’s think of something else.”

“We don’t have time—”

“We do.”

“Do we?” Noah wiped the tears that fell from my eyes. “Baby, we just fought an evil house. I don’t have any answers to anything anymore. All I know is that I have to destroy any enemy in front of me and do it fast. I won’t sit on my ass while Butterfly or something else gets in our way. This shit ends soon.”

“I don’t want to separate.”

“If we don’t get rid of Butterfly now, then we may never be together.” He held my chin and lifted my view to him. “She’ll try to kill you. For now, she hasn’t touched any of our families, but she will. Do you want that?”

“No.”

“This will just be for a short time.”

“But—”

“Fuji and Crusher will be with you.”

My voice cracked at the end. “I want you with me.”

“I’m sending you to my parents. I’ll have some more men following your mother around. She doesn’t know it, but there’s five guys watching her every movement.”

“What?”

“Apparently, she loves the all-male-revue downtown on the weekends.”

I scrunched my face up in disgust. “You’re lying.”

“It’s true.” Noah grinned.

“Wait a minute. You’re trying to get me off of the topic of you leaving me.”

“There’s no other option.”

“I’m not fucking going.”

“Trust me, Mary Jane. You will.” He gathered me into his arms and held me as he stared out of the window. Rain blurred the view of Din City. “I’m done with always coming close to losing you. I’m done with these crazy moments being a daily part of our lives. I’m done with the streets and having to shoot another gun. I’ve seen enough shit now. I just want a simple life.”

“We could take her down together,” I begged again.

“No, baby. She’s my problem. I’ve got it.”

I won’t let him separate us. Whatever he tries I will stop it. I can’t be without him.

We said nothing else. Once we arrived at his nightclub, 305 parked in the back. All three guys carried a sleeping and nude Aristotle into the building.

“Stay right here.” Noah climbed out.

“What?”

He closed the door behind him.

I tried to open it, but Noah wagged his finger no as he continued to block the door. Crusher and Fuji returned to the limo. Noah spoke to them and I tried to make out the words, but couldn’t catch anything. And then Fuji got in the limo and sat next to me.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Plan B,” Fuji said.

“What’s plan B?”

Crusher raced back into the building.

Noah walked off to the parking lot toward a white car—something new. If I’d been a car person, I might’ve been impressed.
Wait. Where is he going?
He climbed in the vehicle that had a futuristic look to it. Something right out of a science fiction comic. Knowing my man, Noah had probably spent hundreds of thousands on it.

“What’s Plan B, Fuji?” I reached for the door.

Fuji yanked me back and held me to him hard like Crusher had trapped Aristotle to his body earlier. “He wants you to stay with us. He’s going after Butterfly.”

“But he didn’t say goodbye!” I pushed Fuji away and tried to go for the limo’s door. “Noah! Are you fucking kidding me? We don’t have to separate now!”

There was no way Noah heard me. Not even glancing my way, he started the expensive car and sped away.

“Noah!” I pushed at Fuji again, but the big guy wouldn’t let up. He knew all of my moves, making sure to cup his groin just in case I tried to knee him. “Noah! Wait!”

I must’ve tried to fight Fuji for a good two minutes before passing out in exhaustion. The man had too much mass. He wouldn’t let me get out of that car. I might’ve had better chances with a brick wall than him.

Fuji clamped my hands to my sides. “Sorry, MJ.”

Tears fell from my eyes and then a Volvo pulled out of the parking lot too.

Who’s in there? What the hell is wrong with you, Noah? You should’ve said goodbye. We could’ve spent tonight together. We could’ve kissed or said something. It would’ve hurt less.

I knew he would be back. Knew he’d win. Knew he’d kill that bitch. Knew that this couldn’t be the end of our story.

Yet, doubt lingered in my heart. Fear pummeled my mind, triggering scary thoughts.

What if this is the last time I see him? What if Butterfly somehow convinces him that she’s better? What if he doesn’t make it somehow? What if he is happy being away from me? What if. .

Fuji offered me a sad smile. “Everything will be okay, MJ.”

I had nothing else to say to anyone. The pain hurt too much.

He just left.

I wiped away the tears and slumped into the back seat.

Minutes later Crusher returned with Harmony in his arms.

“Boss didn’t say you could bring her?” Fuji said, when the scary, silent girl in the rainbow sequin dress scooted inside, sat in the Indian position, and shivered in fear as she watched us.

“Boss didn’t say I couldn’t bring her, either.” Crusher slammed the door, moved to the front, and drove us away. My heart ached. Fuji finally let me go. “I really am sorry, MJ.”

“Just don’t say anything for a while. Okay? I get it.” I scooted toward the other side of the limo and leaned my face against the window. The rain had returned, scattering hard drops along the glass. No one walked or drove on the streets. The city appeared empty and storm ridden.

Why wouldn’t you say goodbye or at least just give us this night?

Some stupid song filled the limo.

Is that Beauty and the Beast?

I almost wanted to scream. Inside of me a storm churned darkness and pain, and Crusher had the nerve to be blaring a fucking Disney love song through the speakers.

I’m going to slap you when I see you next, Noah. First, I’ll hug the shit out of you and cry, but then I’m going to knee and slap you. Why would you just leave me like that? Why did you have to run off and save the day so soon? Why couldn’t you give us one more night?

Chapter 31

Noah

An intellectual got a slave pregnant. At the birth, his father suggested that the child be killed. The intellectual replied:
"First murder your own children and then tell me to kill mine."

–Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)

W
ind
whipped. The sky remained dark. Tonight, the moon held no glow through the cold sheets of water that blurred every unlucky driver on the flooded streets.

I could barely see in front or behind my car and had no idea if the Volvo still followed me.

Of all nights, did it have to rain this evening?

The storm poured down on Din City like an irritated mother pissed that her son had covered himself in mud when he had school in an hour—clumps of grass sticking to his hair, gunk under his fingernails, pebbles in his butt, and sandy snot dripping from his nose. The war with Butterfly had dirtied Din City. We’d coated this place in blood and bodies, fires and emptying businesses, fear and terror, despair and unrest.

Had God or some higher power rushed to the rescue to cleanse our city?

The windshield wipers screeched along my window. Other than that, it was a smooth ride. I drove slowly and headed North toward Mercury Hotel. Fuck the rain, the lightning, and thunder. I couldn’t wait and plot. I had to seize the moment, before Butterfly struck again.

Besides the long, lonely ride gave me time to rethink everything.

I considered my childhood. When I was young, I never thought about girls or love. Instead, I always imagined what a gunshot would sound like. Did the movies get it right? Were those noises at night from a gun or something else? The possibilities fascinated me. Guns filled my dreams.

I would ask my friends all of the time and they would all give me different answers.

“A gunshot sounds like a firecracker, but louder,” Domingo had bragged and then would go on to boast about all of his kills and all the sex he’d been having. All lies, of course. At that time, Domingo had only been eight years old.

“A gun sounds like a desk drawer being slammed shut.” Crusher did it to his kitchen’s fork drawer. “Like that. Mom used to take me out in Ebony Forest and shoot shit all of the time. We never saw any animals, but if we had, we would’ve killed them and Mom said I could’ve snapped their necks.”

Aristotle had the best answer as he lit one of the cigarettes he’d snuck from his father’s glove compartment. We’d cut class and sat behind the cafeteria, wondering what shit we could get into. “The sound of a gunshot? It’s like this thunderous roar. Ear shattering. Boom. Pow. But it’s more than that too.”

With my small hands, I grabbed the cigarette from him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s also the sound of power.”

I coughed from the nicotine, blew out some smoke, and gave the cigarette back to Aristotle. “The sound of power? You always talk like an adult.”

“If you want to be an adult, you have to act like one really early.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Why do you think the gun shot sounds like power?”

“Because of what happens around it. Everyone always stops when a gun shoots. First time I heard one, Mom shut off the tv. I’d been watching Batman and was so mad. She didn’t even say anything. She just slammed me to the floor and was shaking too. ‘Somebody’s shooting outside, baby. Be quiet. That’s why I hate this fucking city.’ The whole time I just thought, man, that guy out there just made the whole block pause. That’s power.”

I nodded. “That’s power.”

Later, I heard my own gunshots. By my teen years, I could tell a person what gun was shot just from the sound—a .22 made a cracking noise, a 9mm went off with a bam, and the large caliber weapons like a .44 boomed.

All guns made some sort of explosive noise due to high pressure gases exiting at hyper sonic speeds. Some popped. Others banged. Sounds varied because of the cartridge, shells, barrel-length, and firearm being used. The more gunpowder, the more noise. High velocity rounds had a deafening crack and then a soft whine. Shotguns produced piercing thumps. And if sawed-off, the noise ripped at the ear drums.

Sometimes, rolling thunder came when the bullets flew long distance, the echoes of the shots reflecting off nearby buildings. Sound carried more in icy weather. If freezing one could hear a gunshot several neighborhoods away. Summertime held quieter nights.

The moment I realized I could not live without Mary Jane reminded me of a gunshot.

It was an ear shattering realization. A boom inside my chest. A sharp noise that I could not deafen by cupping my ears. An intense roar that lasted five seconds and then echoed off of all the things around me—my men, the streets, my enemies, the reality of my life, and everything that I thought I’d loved. The moment I realized I loved Mary Jane was the same moment I realized that I’d never loved before.

How funny that love would teach me how to love.

When I drove away from Mary Jane, gun shots boomed in my head. Although the noise wasn’t real, I still flinched and gripped the steering wheel hard.

This is going to work. I’m going to end this with Butterfly.

These past months, I’d learned a lot. I thought street life was reality, that blood and violence steered the path of real men.

I was wrong.

Humans weren’t put on earth to kill each other.

I was so wrong. We are here to love. If my men could hear me now, they would laugh.