Defenseless (17 page)

“Bridget, tell me everything!”

Bridget heard her father's bedroom door open, then close. “I can't, Aunt Sharon. Call me back later.” Bridget reached to hang up the phone. She heard Sharon calling for her as she placed the phone on the receiver.

Dwayne entered the kitchen dressed only in a pair of black, short pants. He immediately noticed the extravagant breakfast Bridget had prepared. There were plates of pancakes, sausages, bacon and eggs. She had even cut up fresh fruit and placed it on the table.

“Are you expecting an army?”

“No, I was just in a cooking mood. I hope you like it.”

“It smells delicious.”

“Thank you.” Both fell silent. Bridget bit her lip while plastering on a look of amusement.

Dwayne crossed his arms, then searched for the right words. “Bridget, I think we need to talk.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

Dwayne sat at the table, and Bridget pulled her chair beside him. When she took her seat, Dwayne reached for her hand.
Here goes.
“I want to talk to you about a very delicate matter.”

Again Bridget nodded, her amused expression still in place.

“I want to talk to you about what happened last night.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Bridget urged.

“It wasn't something planned.” Dwayne couldn't think of where to go from there.

“I understand, Daddy. I'm cool with it.”

Dwayne frowned. He wasn't handling this well. “You don't want to talk about this?”

“Daddy, I know what goes on between men and women. I'm not naive, you know.” Bridget stood and walked to the cabinets.

Bridget's words shocked Dwayne. “What?”

Bridget jumped, causing a plate to slide out of her hand and crash loudly onto the floor.

“Just what do you mean by that?”

Bridget stepped back. “I just meant, I know about the birds and the bees.”

“How do
you
know about the birds and the bees?”

Bridget dropped her shoulders and looked shocked by his question. “You can't be serious.”

“Answer my question.”

Bridget placed her hand on her hip. “They teach sex education in school.”

Dwayne's face dropped. “Since when?”

“Come on, Daddy. What did you expect? Besides, we have cable.”

Suddenly Dwayne didn't want to pursue this conversation. He shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. For some reason, he believed that she would be naive about the subject until he was ready to approach it. Maybe he was naive.

“Is Sonya going to come down for breakfast?” Bridget asked, trying to change the subject. She reached for the broom and began sweeping up the broken glass.

“We'll finish this discussion when I'm able to get my hands on some heart medication.” Dwayne left the kitchen. By the time he reached his bedroom, he had made a mental note to attend more PTA meetings.

“How did it go?” Sonya stood up from the bed. She had already dressed and returned quietly to his room. She wore a pair of baggy jeans and a midriff T-shirt. It was clear to him that Bridget had picked out most of her clothes.

“She handled it well.”

“Tell me the truth, Dwayne. She was angry, wasn't she? She resents me. Oh, God, what a mess.” She slumped onto the bed.

Dwayne sat beside her. “No. Believe me, she had no problems about this situation. In fact, she seems…content with it. She's waiting for us to join her for breakfast.” He hugged her when he noticed her worried expression. “Trust me. She's fine with the idea.”

Sonya nodded as she pulled out of his arms. She hugged herself as she stood up from the bed. “Let's give it a try,” she said bravely.

They left the bedroom and descended the stairs hand in hand. The doorbell rang, and Bridget raced from the kitchen to answer it. She stopped when she saw her father and Sonya on the staircase.

Relief swept through Sonya as Bridget gave her a heartwarming smile. Sonya returned the favor as the doorbell rang again.

“I'll get it,” Bridget said.

Dwayne leaned in and gave Sonya a kiss on her cheek. Bridget opened the door just as Sonya returned his kiss, then she felt Dwayne's body stiffen. She pulled away from him and looked curiously at his expression. At that moment, a familiar syrupy voice echoed up the stairs.

“Good morning, Bridget. May I speak with your…”

Sonya turned her head, shocked to see Carmen at the door.

C
armen stood in the doorway dressed in an emerald, skin-tight, rayon dress that left little to the imagination. Sonya's eyes followed Carmen's long legs, which trailed to a pair of matching pumps.

Carmen looked from Dwayne to Sonya. “I don't believe this,” she announced, dropping her hands to cradle her hips. “Are we now sleeping with our clients? I didn't realize that business was so bad.”

Before Sonya could respond, Dwayne released her hand and raced down the stairs. He took Carmen by the elbow and dragged her into his office.

Dwayne swirled Carmen around and glared at her. “That's enough Carmen. What the hell do you want?”

“I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?” Carmen sneered.

“No. I just think we need to speak in private, Miss Deaton.”

“What happened, Dwayne? Or is this additional services provided by our firm?”

Dwayne's jaw clenched in outrage. “You're out of line.”

Carmen's beautiful face turned sinister. “She can't have you.”

Dwayne grabbed Carmen's forearm. He loosened his grip when a flash of pain crossed her features. “I think it's time you left. I don't know what has gotten into you.”

Carmen stopped and gazed softly into his eyes. “You don't know, do you? You honestly don't know how I feel?”

Dwayne's furious gaze turned into a questioning one.

Carmen shook her head and chuckled to herself. “You can't be that blind.”

Dropping her shoulders, she looked defeated. She turned away from him.

Dwayne witnessed the tears glistening in her eyes and had the disturbing feeling of guilt attack his conscience. “Carmen,” he called to her then walked over to stand in front of her. The misery etched in her features tugged at his heart. He reached out to caress her cheek tenderly. “I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't know.”

Sonya pushed open the door and stepped inside Dwayne's office. She stopped when she saw Dwayne caressing Carmen. A smothering heat of betrayal rose within her to melt her heart. She crucified herself for believing that Dwayne was different. Just as quietly, she turned and slipped out of the room.

Carmen attempted to wipe away her tears. “I must look like a fool to you.” She smiled weakly at him.

Dwayne shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Well, I feel like one.” She managed to compose herself. “I came over to tell you that my contact at the police department informed me that they discovered two sets of bullets at Walters Intercorp.”

Dwayne shook his head in confusion. “Two?”

Carmen nodded then crossed her arms. “I think we may be over our heads in this.”

Dwayne thought heavily on their new discovery. “Whatever is going on, we can't just walk away.”

“We? Or you?” Carmen asked then shook her head. “I'm sorry.”

Dwayne looked into her eyes. “I mean me. I can't walk away.”

Carmen smiled sadly. “Then maybe you should consider police protection.”

Dwayne laughed. “That's not an option.”

“I'm worried about you, Dwayne. This is too dangerous and you're not a…”

“A superhero?”

They both laughed.

Carmen became serious. “I must be going. Anthony went to see Malik for you. The sooner we find Laura the better.”

“We?”

Carmen walked to the door then turned around to face him. “Of course. We are a team.”

Dwayne walked her to the door and thanked her for the information.

“Just promise me one thing,” Carmen said.

“What's that?”

“That you will take care of yourself.”

Dwayne smiled broadly. “I promise.”

Carmen walked out of the house and Dwayne headed to the kitchen to join Bridget and Sonya. But when he entered the kitchen, Bridget sat alone at the table.

“Where's Sonya?”

“She left ten minutes ago,” she replied quietly.

“Damn!”

 

Anthony sat in Malik Moyers's office, tapping his pen against a small notepad. A single cigar that burned wastefully in an ashtray caused a thick cloud of smoke to fill the room.

Anthony looked around, noticing the furniture must have been purchased from garage sales. He never understood why Malik chose to keep his office this way. He was no cheap detective. But Malik would only say that he'd never forget his roots. Anthony could understand that, but the man still had a rotary telephone.

Malik sat opposite Anthony and was dressed head to toe in black leather, regardless of the ninety-degree weather outside. Leather had always been Malik's trademark. Rumors had it that Malik was kin to Iron Mike Tyson. Both resembled pit bulls, and both were known for their fighting ability. No one crossed Malik or at least no one lived to tell the tale. Muscles bulged throughout every inch of his body.

Malik was Atlanta's best detective, according to Dwayne. Anthony now shared that same opinion. The detective grew up on Atlanta's toughest streets and was well connected. Whenever Dwayne found himself in a jam, he would always call Malik for help. There wasn't anything that Malik couldn't find. Or anyone.

“So Dwayne needs another favor?” Malik laughed.

Anthony smiled. “Yes, and this time he wants you to report all information to me.”

Malik leaned back in the wooden chair. “Ah, must be a woman he's looking for, then.” Both men enjoyed the joke before the detective said, “Is this the file?”

“Yes.” Anthony turned serious and watched Malik open the small folder. “Her name is Laura Durden. Age, twenty-six. Height, five foot six.” Anthony stopped when Malik peered at him over the folder. “Is something wrong?” he asked innocently.

“Despite popular opinion, I can read.”

“Sorry.”

“She's up on murder charges?” Malik read from the folder.

“I'm afraid so.”

“So there may also be a bounty hunter on her trail?”

“It's possible.”

“Sounds like an interesting case. Does she have any family she can run to? Any out-of-town friends?”

Anthony crossed his legs, resting his left ankle on his right knee. “According to my report, the only one she has is her sister, Sonya Walters. Her mother has been incarcerated for over fifteen years.”

“Sonya Walters?” Malik looked up from the folder.

“Do you know her?”

Malik nodded with a crooked grin. “I know her.”

Anthony's curiosity led him to probe further. “How do you know Miss Walters?”

“She wasn't always eating caviar. We go way back.”

“Techwood,” Anthony concluded. “You grew up with her in Techwood.”

“Yeah. So this is Laura Walters? She has definitely grown up,” he commented, taking the small photograph from the folder.

“If you think she's something, wait until you see Sonya,” Anthony said, nodding his head in approval.

“Well, Sonya was always a looker. She was a little uptight, but she had all the brothers after her.”

“Do you think you'll have any trouble finding Mrs. Durden?”

Malik laid the picture back in the folder. “If she's in Atlanta, I'll find her.”

“Well, you're the man,” Anthony said, standing up from the chair.

“As long as you stiff-shirts recognize that.” Malik laughed, then reached to hand Anthony a cigar.

“No, thanks. I'm trying to cut back,” Anthony bluffed.

“Come on, man. Just try it.”

Anthony knew it was an insult if he declined the cigar. “Thanks.” Much to his horror, Malik pulled out a lighter. “I think I'd better save it for later.”

Malik slowly shook his head as he flicked on the lighter. Anthony bit off the end of the cigar, something he saw Malik do, and accepted the flame offered to him.

Anthony inhaled and immediately felt sick while Malik commented on how green he looked. He coughed so hard and so long, he just knew he was going to lose a lung.

Malik roared with laughter while Anthony fought for oxygen. “I'll make a man out of you yet.”

Tears stung Anthony's eyes as he struggled to breathe again. Maybe I shouldn't have inhaled, he thought bitterly. After he felt better, he handed the cigar back to Malik, vowing he'd never touch another one for the rest of his life.

 

“We've looked everywhere. We can't find it.” Samuel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His expression was apologetic. The dark scar that covered half his face helped make him legendary on the streets but it was his loyalty to C.J. that made him deadly.

“If you don't have it, then you obviously haven't looked everywhere,” his boss retorted.

Samuel retreated backward but stopped short when he bumped into a solid figure. He had forgotten about the two guards by the door.

C.J. stood from his chair as anger flashed in his midnight eyes. “We're running out of time,” his voice thundered. He hovered above Samuel by a full foot, but it was his power that intimidated everyone.

Samuel watched the .45 lying inches away from his employer's hand. Sweat rolled down his forehead. His lips trembled as he tried to swallow the large lump in the middle of his throat.

“If you could just give us forty-eight hours, I know we can get your merchandise. Forty-eight hours, that's all I ask.” Samuel's eyes widened when C.J. picked up the gun.

“You will come through for me this time.” The statement was a command, not a question.

Samuel knew his life was at stake. “Yes, sir. We won't let you down this time.”

Samuel watched C.J.'s towering frame return to his chair. The gun remained in his hand. Fear slithered down Samuel's spine when their eyes met.

“No, I don't think you'll disappoint me, Samuel. You got your forty-eight hours. I want you to keep Benjamin posted on your progress.”

“Of course, sir.”

C.J. fanned him away, and a pair of rough hands seized him by the collar. The guards lifted him in the air and tossed him from the private office.

Samuel crashed hard against the cement. The office door slammed behind him. Pain ripped through his body as he pushed himself off the cement and looked back at the closed door.
Forty-eight hours.
The number loomed over his head. He had to work fast. He walked down Henderson Avenue, constantly glancing over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't followed.

He made it to the blue Nissan parked two blocks up, confident he was alone.

“What happened?” Odell asked.

Samuel looked at his brother and shook his head. “It ain't good. Let's get out of here.”

“What did he say?”

“We have forty-eight hours to get our hands on that merchandise. So far, I don't think he suspects we're also working for Frank. If he ever does, we're dead.”

Odell started the car. They arrived in Kennesaw nearly an hour later. Both men were engrossed in their thoughts.

Odell turned off the headlights and pulled into the driveway leading to a small shack surrounded by large, looming trees. The men got out of the car and walked to the small house.

Samuel opened the door, then stepped inside. Odell followed but kept looking behind.

Once inside, the men walked along the creaking floorboards toward the back of the house. Samuel placed his ear against the door before peeking inside. There, still tied to the small wooden chair, sat Laura Durden.