On the Other Side (19 page)

“Probably a little bit of both.”

“How the hell could you love someone who beats the hell out of you?” Carmella questioned.

“If I knew the answer to that it would make my job a whole lot easier. You have no idea how many women there are out there getting beat by their husbands and boyfriends every day. Some of them never leave and then there are the others who never make it out alive.”

“Maybe it has something to do with the way a person is wired. I can't imagine putting up with something like that. Until now I would have thought the same thing about Damita.”

“I offered to speak to her husband again, but she didn't seem to want me to. Although, she did say she would think about it.”

“Where would be the harm in speaking to him without waiting for the go-ahead from Damita?” Carmella asked.

“I don't know, Carmella. That may not be the best idea. She has to want help. It can't be forced upon her.”

“Isn't that what interventions are all about? If anyone needs an intervention, it's Damita.”

“That wouldn't really be Damita's intervention. It would be Neal's.”

“Do it for me,” Carmella said seductively.

“Woman, are you trying to use your feminine wiles on me to get me to do what you want?”

“Of course I am.”

Derrick looked at Carmella lustfully. “What do I get in return?”

“Bring your fine ass over here and I'll show you.”

Carmella watched as Derrick removed his robe. His body was perfect; the well-defined broad shoulders, his chiseled chest and bulging biceps. When he turned to place the robe over the arm of a chair, she remembered her favorite part of his body. The man had an ass of stone and the muscles visibly flexed with every movement. His raw umber tone against the pale hues of her bedroom created a sharp contrast. When he turned back around her attention was riveted to his steely, unyielding hard-on. Under the covers, her legs opened instinctively. She threw back the blanket.

“Is that all for me?” she asked.

“Every last inch.”

Carmella was suddenly so happy she had played hooky from work. The feel of his facial hairs against her exposed, wet flesh as he went down on her was glorious. She threw her head back and exhaled. The simultaneous emission of breath and his tongue buried deep inside of her was enough to cause her to orgasm almost immediately. Before she had a chance to recover, his manhood was
inside of her, drilling her into an absolute frenzy. She thrashed about beneath him before he pulled out quickly, flipped her over and into a kneeling position, before entering her from behind. With each thrust, she bucked against him, trying her best to keep from collapsing from the sheer pleasure and the weight of him. As he gripped her breasts, her taut, pink nipples jutting past the openings between his fingers, he squeezed her right nipple and she rained down on him with such force it laid them both flat on the bed. Derrick continued to slide in and out of her and as her warm wetness wrapped around his member began to intensify, his speed increased, before he exploded inside of her. He collapsed on top of Carmella, still inside of her, as they both drifted off into sweet slumber.

When Carmella woke up, Derrick was dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep.

“Hmmm. Going to work?” she asked.

“If I can get my legs to work?”

Carmella reached from under the covers and rubbed his leg. The thickness of sleep was still in her voice. “Do you know there is nothing sexier than waking up to find your lover watching you sleep?”

“Don't start anything. I'll never get to work.”

“To be continued?” Carmella asked.

“Absofuckinglutely!”

“A man after my own heart.”

“Do I have it?”

“Have what?” Carmella asked.

“Your heart?”

“You know you do. You don't even need to ask.”

“So, why don't you move in with me then?” Derrick asked.

“I would in a heartbeat if it wasn't for Damita. I can't leave her here alone.”

Derrick's look suddenly turned serious. “Carmella, you can't watch over her forever.”

“I'd like to be here for her; at least for now.”

“In the meantime, I'll have a little talk with Mr. Neal Westman and see where his head is.”

“Thanks, Derrick.”

“Anything for you. Just remember, if your girlfriend is pissed, it's your fault.”

“I take full responsibility,” Carmella agreed.

Derrick kissed Carmella goodbye and left.

•  •  •

Once at work, Derrick decided he would find Neal and have a talk with him.

“I'll be back in a few,” he said to his partner, Detective Palmer.

“Where are you going?” Palmer asked.

“I've got some business I need to take care of.”

Palmer looked at Derrick questioningly. “Police business?”

“It's sort of police business.”

“I'll ride with you,” Palmer offered.

Once in the car, Derrick felt he could speak more freely.

“Remember the guy I spoke to that was outside my girlfriend's building?”

“Yeah, that Neal guy? He's the husband of Carmella's best friend, isn't he? Is he hitting her again?”

“He hasn't hit her lately. She's been staying with Carmella. He calls her night and day. He showed up at her office high, so her company doesn't allow him anywhere near the building.”

“Isn't this guy like some rich hotshot?”

“Yeah, he is. What's that got to do with anything?”

“From where I'm standing, he's got it all. Why waste his time pursuing this one woman with all the other available women out there.? That must be some good stuff she's got.”

“I didn't know I was partnered with a Neanderthal,” Derrick said.

Derrick looked at his partner, Gerald Simpson. Despite the fact that Gerald had two black parents, he was so light, he was often mistaken for white. Derrick enjoyed seeing people's reaction when they learned that he was indeed black and not white. It made for some interesting occurrences when they were on duty. Gerald was pretty-boy handsome and though he was physically fit, his body wasn't necessarily the most muscular. His appeal was all in the face. He was charming as hell and good-looking and had an easy smile, even under the worst circumstances. All of this meant Gerald had a constant flow of women all too eager to bed him. Derrick often cautioned his partner that the life of a playboy would eventually get real old. That undoubtedly had not yet happened for Gerald. His pat response was always that
in the meantime he was going to enjoy the ride.

“You can make fun of me all you want. I'm merely stating the obvious. They haven't made the pussy I would chase after like that.”

“Well, good for you. I'm glad to hear it. But, you and I both know this isn't about pussy. It's about power and control. That's exactly why I'm going to have a little talk with Mr. Westman. He needs to know who is
really
in control.”

Derrick and his partner first went to Neal's apartment and when they didn't find him there they went to his office. They got out of the car and went up to Neal's office.

The detectives showed their badges to the receptionist when they arrived.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Can you tell Neal Westman that Detectives Simpson and Palmer are here to see him?”

“I'll let him know you're here.”

Mr. Westman's secretary came out to the reception area and brought them to Neal's office.

“Denise, please don't go to lunch until I'm done with my meeting,” Neal said to his secretary.

Derrick watched as Denise left the office. Just looking at her he could tell there was no love lost between her and her employer.

“Denise, shut my door,” Neal barked, before turning his attention to Derrick and his partner. “Is Damita okay?”

“She's fine, Mr. Westman. She would be even better if you stopped harassing her,” Derrick responded.

Neal flashed Derrick a feigned look of surprise. “Harassing her? I'm not even living with her. My wife has left me to go live with your girlfriend. Strange, don't you think? Tell me, Detective Simpson, you ever wonder if those two have more than a simple friendship going?”

“No, Westman, I never wonder about that. I'm here to tell you that you
will
leave Ms. Whitmore alone or you will have me to contend with.”

Suddenly Neal started clapping. “Bravo! Did you get that from a script somewhere? That was pretty good. You ever think about trading in your badge for a card from the Screen Actors Guild?”

Detective Palmer looked over at Derrick and laughed.

“Real funny fucking guy, huh, Simpson?”

“I'm glad to see I amuse you. Now, get the fuck out of my office! I can do whatever I want to do. She's my wife. I would strongly suggest you and that whore girlfriend of yours stay out of our relationship.”

Neal's last words were barely out of his mouth when Derrick reached out and dragged Neal over the top of his desk. He slammed him against the nearest wall and punched him several times.

When Palmer thought Neal had enough, he intervened. “Simpson, that's enough, man.”

Both Derrick and Palmer expected Neal to immediately shout police brutality, loud enough for everyone to hear. Instead, he began laughing. He laughed hysterically, until both detectives had left his office.

“I'll drive,” Palmer offered, once they were outside.

“Did you see his reaction? I hit him and he stood there laughing. He's completely insane.”

“You've got that right.”

As soon as the detectives left, Neal picked up the phone. “I've got a job for you. This one I think you'll enjoy. And Jeffrey, I want it done tonight.”

After a long day of work, Damita stopped by Wendy's office to say goodnight.

“I'm heading out,” she said.

“Look at you, taking advantage of the perks of being a VP.”

“What perks? It's nearly eight at night.”

“Like I said, you have to
love
those perks. Grunts like me, on the other hand, will be here until at least midnight.”

Damita looked at Wendy with a fake pout. “Poor baby; maybe I'll take you out for a drink later this week, so you can drown your sorrows.”

Wendy waved her hand at Damita, shooing her out of the office. “You better. Now go home.”

Damita wanted to stop at a home furnishings store in Midtown to pick up a vase Carmella mentioned she liked, so she took the subway to Fifty-ninth Street. She was happy that the subways were running quickly, since the store closed at nine o'clock. Once she got out of the train she walked toward the First Avenue store and under an overpass. She glanced at her watch and it was only eight twenty-five. She was glad to see she had time. She thought she felt someone walking behind her. She quickened her pace to get out from under the overpass as quickly as possible. As soon as she had cleared the overpass and was about to cross the street, a van
pulled up in front of her. The van door opened up and the person behind her shoved her toward the van. Two sets of hands grabbed her and pulled her inside. Damita put up a fight but there were too many of them. They were all wearing ski hats. Damita could see there were three men in the back of the van with her, including the one who had pushed her in. She tried to scream and fight, but one of them pulled out a gun and put it to her head.

Damita's expression was one of fear and agony. “You make a sound, bitch, and I will blow your brains out,” he said.

He ripped her clothing from her and began touching her breasts and her stomach. Damita tried to struggle and fight again and he punched her in her stomach and face. Damita could feel her mouth filling up with blood and, for a moment, thought about her ribs and hoped they weren't broken again. One man held her arms above her head, while the other held her feet and the one holding the gun roughly ripped her panties off and brutally shoved his dick inside of her.

Damita cried, silently, afraid he might hit her again or even worse, make good on his threat of killing her. When he was done each of the other men took turns raping her as well. When they were done, she hoped they would simply let her go. They drove for a while before stopping the van. Her heart was beating wildly in anticipation of possibly being killed. Whoever was driving came around to where she was being held. He was also wearing a mask. He got in and looked her over, before pulling down his pants. He too held a gun. He bent over her, with both of his knees on either side of her head. He held the gun to her temple.

“If you bite me or do anything else I don't like, your brains will end up scattered all over this van. Do you hear me?”

Damita nodded her head in agreement.

“Now suck it. You better make it good.”

The other men in the van laughed. He shoved himself inside of Damita's mouth and from the position he was in Damita felt as though she might choke to death. She gagged and prayed for him to finish quickly. Finally he did. When he was done, he got off of her, wiped himself with his hands and smeared it on her face.

Damita was crying and he reached down and caressed her face. “Don't cry, I'll be back,” he said.

When he first spoke, Damita thought she recognized his voice, but now she was sure. This man was someone she knew.

One minute she was sitting in the van, wondering if this was the moment she was going to die, the next she was lying in a bed and a middle-aged black woman in a light blue uniform was telling her she was going to be okay. She tried to move, but her head was throbbing relentlessly.

“Lie still, you probably have a concussion. You have a pretty bad gash in your head.”

Damita frowned. “Where am I?”

“You're at Jacobi Hospital.”

“Isn't that in the Bronx?”