The Pleasure's All Mine (45 page)

Forty-One

Raven groaned in the back seat as Scoop rounded a curve. She opened one eye in time to see Scoop trying to snatch the cigarette from Keith’s hand.

“Put that shit out! She can’t breathe as it is.”

Keith lowered the window and tossed out the cigarette, then scanned the street noticing they were traveling in the wrong direction. “We’re taking her to Simeon’s, right?”

“Naw, man, we’re going to the hospital.”

Keith folded his arms over his beefy chest. “Man, we shouldn’t get involved.”

“News flash, dude—we’re
already
involved.”

“We ain’t going to no fucking hospital.” Keith moved to grab the wheel without success.

“If she dies ‘cause we didn’t do something, can you live with that?”

“I’m from Brooklyn,” he said with a shrug. “That shit happens every day—it’s life.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Keith tried to grab the steering wheel again. “Man, if you don’t get moving in the right way, I’ma go ballistic.”

Scoop swerved, trying to maintain control of the vehicle.

“I don’t give a fuck what Pierce said,” Keith shouted, struggling with Scoop. “I ain’t going down like that for no female. She shouldna had her ass up in there if she was gonna say no. Simeon don’t play that shit. She shouldna betrayed Pierce. Like all them other ho’s.”

Scoop slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “She wasn’t there for that, man!”

“How the fuck do you know?”

“Didn’t you see his face? She whipped that ass like a pro!”

“So? That means she likes it rough.”

Scoop swallowed to keep from throwing up at Keith’s ignorance. Instead, he said simply, “That woman loves Pierce.”

“Yes, love Pierce,” Raven croaked from the back seat. “Wouldn’t betray him.”

“Raven, it’s gonna be a’ight. Stop trying to talk, a’ight?” Scoop yanked the wheel, pulled over to the side.

“What the fuck?”

Scoop flicked the locks. “Get out, man. You ain’t down for doing what’s right, then walk your ass back to the office.”

“Man, I ain’t got time for this bullshit!” Keith screamed and punched his fist into the car roof. “You better get yo’ head on straight. Pierce can’t keep my ass from going to jail. Pierce ain’t got no pull. His ass is struggling, man. Ain’t one record come from that punk ass company yet. That should tell you something.” He looked back at a groaning Raven. “Put the pedal to the metal. Let’s drop her off at Simeon’s and keep it moving.”

Scoop leaned over him and opened the passenger door. “Get out. Now!”

Keith slammed it shut. “Man, quit trippin’.”

Scoop leaned over him, opened the door again. “I mean it.”

“I’m calling Simeon. I’m coverin’ my ass.”

“Call whoever you want, but get the fuck out.”

Reluctantly, Keith shoved Scoop’s hand off his shoulder, then opened the door and stepped out.

“That’s Eric’s mother, man! That could be your mother or sister back there. Would you let it go down like this?”

Keith hesitated, then got back in and slammed the door.

Scoop pulled back into traffic, unplugged his cell phone from the charger, and passed it to Keith. “Put Pierce’s number into my phone, man.”

Keith grumbled, snatched up his phone and did as he was told.

Scoop plucked his phone from Keith’s hands and tucked it safely in his left pocket. He lowered his window, grabbed Keith’s cell phone, and tossed it against the nearest building.

“Why the hell you doing that?”

“Buying some time. Your ass might try and call Simeon and tell him what the fuck’s going down.”

“Fuck you!”

Scoop’s grin widened as he flipped the man the bird.

“And your ass is buying me another phone.”

The two men fell silent as the hospital came into view.

“So what’s the plan?” Keith asked.

Scoop pulled the Escalade over, about a block away from the emergency entrance. He flipped open the glove compartment, found a small tool kit, and passed one of the screwdrivers to Keith. “We take off the license plates,” he said as he opened the door.

They got back in and pulled up to the sliding glass doors. “Follow my lead, and keep your hood on and your face down.”

“Bet.”

The men carried Raven into the emergency room, stopping at the triage nurses’ station. “This woman needs help. Her name is Raven.” He paused, then added, “Randall, Raven Randall.”

Keith looked at him as if to say,
What?

“You’ll need to answer some questions, sir.”

“This woman needs attention! She can’t breathe!”

That made the ER team spring into action.

“Why Randall?” Keith asked, whispering to Scoop.

“I don’t know her real last name.”

“Why not say she’d been raped?”

Scoop responded with, “They’ll get to her faster if she has some sorta breathing problem.”

“How you know that?”

Scoop flicked out his inhaler and took a deep pull. “People with breathing problems get seen faster than those with bullet wounds.”

Raven was being placed on the gurney when Scoop said, “We’ll be right back. There’s one more in the car.”

“Wait, we’ll send—”

The two men didn’t hear the rest.

“Now what?” Keith asked, trying to keep up with Scoop’s mad sprint.

“Now we haul ass.”

❤ ❤ ❤

Eric greased his face, neck, and arms, slipped on his gloves, then a skull cap. He tiptoed past the security station, entered the stairwell, and sprinted past another bank of elevators. He scaled the stairs three at a time, ignoring the tightening of his thigh muscles when he reached the twentieth landing. Thankfully, no one used the stairwells unless it was to sneak a smoke or grab a quickie.

He couldn’t get the gruesome images of his mom out of his mind, and that morning, Marie had finally given him the details about the day Simeon had tried to get her to his place. He didn’t know if he was angrier at Simeon, or at Marie for being so naïve. But more than that, he was pissed because she hadn’t trusted him to handle the issue.

Oh yes, Eric Ripley had a score to settle with Simeon Cahill. And if he did things right, no one would ever find out. He had purchased all new clothes at the airport when he touched down from Chicago and was now covered from head to toe in all black. He’d combed out all excess hair, then the Vaseline layered on all exposed skin would create a barrier against leaving excess DNA. He would be careful. Very careful.

Eric reached the twenty-fifth floor, cracked the door, and looked in to see how many people were around. It was quiet. No one was in sight. He dashed out, made a beeline to an empty cubicle, and curled his body under the desk. A sharp pain and heavy pressure just behind his nose blinded him momentarily, giving him pause. He steadied his breathing, crawled out from under the desk, and cautiously looked over the top of the cubicle. Simeon paced in his office, a bloodied towel pressed to his face.

Eric waited, timing his movements to coincide with Simeon’s footsteps. When the shorter man made another pass in front of the door, Eric crashed in, using the door to put Simeon on his back. He followed up with a few punches to Simeon’s face. “You asshole. Raped my mother.” Bam—another fist landed. This time in the chest.

Simeon shoved him. “Man, get the fuck off me before I kick your puny little ass.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Eric snarled, continuing to use Simeon as a punching bag.

Simeon’s body caved in under the well-placed blows.

“You put your hands on my mother! She’s done
nothing
to you!
Nothing!
Where’s my mother? Where is she?” Eric punctuated every remark with another savage blow.

Simeon rolled to his side, protecting his hideously swollen face. “What’s wrong with y’all?” he growled. “First your fatass mama. Now your crazy ass—”

“Wrong answer!” Eric lit into him again, then left off to scramble to the desk and pull out Simeon’s gun—the one Simeon thought no one knew about.

Eric dragged the battered man to his feet, released the safety and planted the barrel against his chest. “You’re going to take me to my mother. And I mean
now!
”

❤ ❤ ❤

As Pierce and Ava stood at Raven’s bedside, his phone rang, jolting them.

“Pierce, turn that off in here.”

“It’s Marie,” Pierce informed Ava after he glanced at the screen. “Eric could be trying to find us. I’ll make it quick.”

He listened to Marie’s impassioned voice and went cold. “When did this happen?” he said into the phone.

Pierce hung up and didn’t mince words. “We’ve got more problems.”

Ava’s gaze fixed onto him.

“A woman at MEG called Marie to tell her she saw Eric drag Sim out of the building.”

Ava shrugged, relief flashing in her hazel eyes. “That’s nothing serious.”

“At gunpoint.”

She covered her eyes. “Oh, sweet Jesus!”

For a split second, he hoped that Eric would do away with Sim’s tired ass. On second thought, he hoped Simeon was still alive so he could kill the asshole himself.

Raven’s whisper carried over the sound of the monitors. “Save my baby. Please save my baby.” She tried to say more, but wasn’t able.

Pierce leaned over, kissed her forehead, and said, “I heard you, baby. I’ll be right back.”

Eric would have demanded Sim take him to Raven. Since they hadn’t been able to reach him, Eric wouldn’t know that she was in the hospital. Eric knew Sim’s fondness for using his home as his private whorehouse, so Pierce would start looking for Eric there. He flagged the first cab he could and headed for Simeon’s house in the Hamptons. His impatience grew in proportion to the snarl of New York City traffic.

At the black wrought iron gate, Pierce scouted the area, then climbed up over the brick wall surrounding Sim’s estate.

He listened for the barking of the watchdogs. Everything was eerily silent. Where the hell was Eric? And what the hell had he been thinking? Dumb question—he’d been thinking the same thing as Pierce: avenge Raven by killing Simeon. Though he applauded Eric’s courage, he was terrified for the young man, especially since Marie told Pierce that Eric knew what Sim had tried to do to her. Double-barreled fury was fueling Eric’s actions, and that made the young man a deadly adversary.

Pierce sprinted across the lawn, feeling every bit the criminal, then ducked behind a statue. If the dogs were loose on the grounds, they would have had him by now. Sim would be glad to have someone come and get Eric off his ass—if his ass was still conscious enough to be grateful.

He opened the front door. No guards. That alone had Pierce worried. He stepped into the foyer. “Eric!”

No answer.

He started across the floor, his footsteps clattering against the Italian marble tile. “Eric!”

Pierce thought he heard a thump overhead. He charged up one of the twin spiral staircases, and ran down the east wing to the master bedroom.

What he saw on the other side of the door made his pulse trip.

Eric sat on the floor beside the bed, back against the wall, one gloved hand propping the side of his head.
Gloved hand. Gloved hand. Shit! Shit! Shit!
The pearl-handled gun lay in his other hand, deadly and dazzling in the sun splintering through the slats.

Simeon lay sprawled unconscious on his massive bed, the white bedding stained with blood.

“Eric?”

The young man remained strangely still.

“Eric.”

“He raped my mother, Pierce.” The young man’s voice was filled with so much anguish, it tore into Pierce’s soul.

“He tried, but didn’t succeed.”

Eric lifted his head a little. “He hurt her! And he tried to hurt my wife!”

“I just came from the hospital,” Pierce stated carefully as he slowly approached Eric. “They’re taking care of her.”

Eric nodded, but the empty look in his eyes said differently. He lifted his hand and waved the gun.

Pierce jumped back. “Eric, give me the gun.”

“I couldn’t do it.” He lowered his face to his knees, as he curled into himself, but didn’t relinquish the piece.

“Okay, but give me the gun, Eric.”

He waved it again. “He’s an asshole.”

“I agree,” Pierce said patiently, holding out his hand to Eric. “Now hand me the gun.”

“Why couldn’t I shoot him?” Eric whispered. “He wouldn’t have a problem shooting me.”

Pierce waited, choosing his words carefully. “Because you have a good heart.”

“Somebody needs to
hurt him
. He’s hurt so many people.”

“But it can’t be you, son.”

Eric turned his face to Pierce. “He…Marie…he…he…”

“But he didn’t, Eric.”

“He wanted to…to force her…She didn’t deserve that.”

“No, she didn’t,” Pierce said quietly. “Eric, the gun, please.”

Eric’s bottom lip trembled as he held out his hand and looked oddly at the gun. He glanced at Simeon, then at Pierce.

“Eric, give me the gun!”

“Men are supposed to protect their women.”

“Real men are supposed to follow the law and let God sort it all out.”

“I am following the law.
God’s
law.” His voice was hard, eyes steely. “ ‘If thy right hand offend thee, pluck it out.’ Or is it ‘An eye for an eye?’ ”