Xavier: (Indestructible) (2 page)

“Where is Cameron?” Cassandra Kelly asked Duane, her oldest
brother. She had just finished her shower after returning from basketball
practice. At eight o’clock in the evening, she’d expected Cameron, her eighteen-year-old
brother in his last year of high school, would still be in his room studying
for the national high school final exams.

“Cameron doesn’t need a damn babysitter,” Duane snarled. “You
ain’t here most of the time anyway. Why you trippin’?” He stared at her with a
piercing brown gaze. The vicious knife scar above his right eye was the only
mark on his toffee-colored face. All of them had that smooth toffee complexion,
light brown eyes, and curly raven hair. Cassandra often thought that they got
away with half the shit they did because no one expected such beautiful people
to be so evil. Sons of Lucifer, she often called them.

There were five boys and three girls among them. At twenty-one,
Cassandra was the second youngest of the eight children, and her brother
Cameron was the youngest at eighteen. The other siblings—Duane, Tyrone, Anton, Dylan,
Keisha, and Monique—were all older and took part in varying degrees of criminal
endeavors. Keisha and Monique, at twenty-nine and twenty-eight respectively,
already had four children each with eight different men. Duane and the other
brothers, all one year apart from thirty-five to thirty-two, ran a lucrative business
dealing drugs and guns.  Keisha and Monique had no problem being drug mules
whenever they supplied cocaine to their customers in North or South America.

They lived in a massive twelve-bedroom house with almost an
acre of land for the backyard. On such a small island, this was generous,
expensive real estate. Life should be good, right? For Cassandra, the answer
was no. She had been fighting her entire life to get out from under the specter
of her family’s criminal lifestyle. She wanted to make it without aid from her
brothers or sisters. Now Cameron was being groomed to enter the family
business.

“It was just a question, Duane. And I would have expected him
to be studying. He has biology and math tests tomorrow.”

Duane laughed. “What dat boy need with biology and math? We are
millionaires without even finishing high school. Ain’t all of us want to be
like you, you lil’ shit. What? You think because you gat a college degree you
better than us?”

Cassandra knew there was no point in arguing with her brother.
He hated everything she stood for and often tried to stop her from training. She
had long gotten used to her siblings’ taunting and discouraging attitude to her
wanting a college degree and playing basketball.

Cassandra was incredibly tired. In the three weeks she had been
home from college, she had maintained a grueling schedule. Now in her senior
year, with a major in sports broadcasting and having a full athletic
scholarship at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill (UNC), Cassandra
knew she had to keep her shit together. With seven unsupportive siblings and a
mother who had overdosed on cocaine, this was proving to be a difficult and
lonely task.

“Cameron has a chance to get a scholarship and get into
college. He’s a phenomenal basketball player. Why can’t you see that?”

“He is needed here. The more of us in the business, the less we
have to depend on outside help. Do you think it’s an accident no police has
taken us down yet? We don’t trust anyone but each other, not even our lazy-ass
cousins. Everyone want some of this, but mudderfuckers can’t mess with us
because our loyalty to each other is tight. The business is growing, and we
need all hands in. You could be useful too. Just take some of the merchandise
with you when you go to school. You think those fancy students in North
Carolina ain’t using drugs?”

“I’m not wasting my breath telling you the same thing I’ve been
saying for the past three years,” Cassandra muttered. There was no way she was
going to help them by selling drugs at school. “Where is Cameron? What have you
guys done?”

Duane laughed. “Go to bed, little girl. You ain’t run shit
around here. Stay out of my fuckin’ business, and maybe you’ll remain healthy
for your final school year.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Duane. I just want you to leave Cameron
alone. Now, where the hell is he?”

Duane advanced on her with his gun aimed toward her head. He
stopped inches away and glared down at her. “See, you have a fuckin’ hard head.
Stay out of our mudderfuckin’ business! Dis the las time I tellin’ you dis
shit. Leave Cameron be,” Duane roared.

Cassandra was so pissed she threw caution to the wind and closed
the distance between them. “No, you’re the hardhead,” she shouted at him,
ignoring the lethal weapon pointed at her. “I won’t let you turn Cam into a
degenerate like you. You hate who you are and want to drag everyone else down
to your level so you can feel better about your fucked-up life. No, Duane. You
better shoot me now, asshole, because I’m not letting you do this to Cam.”

Her family thought that because they lived in one of the
largest houses on the Eastern Road of New Providence in the Bahamas, drove fancy
cars, and wore designer clothes that they had made it. The material strapping
of wealth was their measure of success. Cassandra hated that they had destroyed
so many lives in order to achieve even that small measure. They considered her
a threat to their lifestyle because she refused to fall in line. She knew that
her brothers would have killed her by now to maintain their lifestyle if she
didn’t have some leverage over them. Seeing the look in her brother’s eyes now,
she knew he suddenly remembered that fact.

Duane lowered his gun and glared at her. “Get your bougie ass
out of my face. Step up to me again and I’ll put a bullet in your ass, sister
or not!”

Cassandra didn’t press her luck. She spun around, ran up the
stairs to her bedroom for her pocketbook and keys, headed back down the stairs,
and then exited the house.

When she was home, she always drove her mother’s grey Honda
Civic. Her mother, Roberta, had died about two years ago. When she had been
alive, she had been so drugged out most of the time that she hadn’t often been lucid
enough to drive.  The car was relatively a new model because of it.

Knowing her brothers, she knew they did most of their work on
Paradise Island. They had a firm hold on the local market; however, they were now
putting more resources in dealing to tourists at the various properties on the
private resort island. In their stylish designer clothes, jewelry and shoes,
they blended in well with the tourists. Security guards and resort employees
were well paid to ensure their unrestricted access to the properties.

Cassandra drove along the Eastern Road trying to decide how to
handle her brothers. Duane was violent and abusive, but Tyrone, Anton, and Dylan
were even more so. They would think nothing of slapping her around.
I’m
prepared for their asses. I didn’t get through living in a house with four
violent brothers without learning a thing or two, and I’ve learned even more on
the basketball court.

Cassandra arrived at the Atlantis Hotel parking lot about
twenty minutes later. Dressed in her sneakers and dri-FIT workout clothes,
which seemed to be the only clothes she owned lately, she jogged to the marina
less than a quarter of a mile away. It took her less than five minutes to find
her brothers in the outdoor pizzeria talking to a few American teenagers. The
security guards littered throughout the property conveniently looked the other
way. Cassandra shook her head in disgust. The guys seemed to be joking around
with the tourists, but just then, Cameron reached into his pocket.

Cassandra took off in a full sprint, running to intercept him,
almost toppling him to the ground when she embraced him. “Cameron, hey,” she
shouted breathlessly. “I have something to tell you,” she continued in the same
loud voice.

“Get the hell out of here,” Anton growled. The fierce scowl on
his face would have frightened anyone. It certainly frightened the teenagers,
who immediately turned and stumbled away from them.

Dylan grabbed a fistful of her thick black hair and pulled her
away from Cameron. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Told you we should have kicked her ass out of our house weeks
ago,” Tyrone muttered.

The security guards, who, only moments ago, had been diligently
minding their business, surrounded them. “Hey, not around the tourists, man.
Y’all take that shit home,” one of the guards demanded.

Dylan loosened her hair and stepped back.

Cassandra drew back and socked Dylan as hard as she could with
a closed fist in his eye.

Dylan roared in pain.

“Don’t touch me again, you lil’ punk,” Cassandra yelled so she
could be heard above him, “or I’ll gouge your damn eyes out next time.”

Cameron wrapped his muscular arms around her and pulled her
away from a furiously advancing Dylan, Tyrone, and Anton.

Cassandra knew it was stupid to antagonize her brothers when
she still had to live with them, but she also knew that if she showed an ounce
of weakness, their treatment toward her would be even more violent. She had
learned at an early age that if she didn’t fight back, they would just keep
attacking and tormenting her. They were all bullies, quick to pounce on any
sign of weakness. But they were also all very big men at over six feet tall and
very fit. They competed aggressively among themselves on who had the fittest
bodies, resulting in them spending a lot of hours in the gym on a daily basis. So
a five-foot-ten basketball point guard wasn’t going to intimidate them.

However, a pissed-off sister, who had always given as good as
she got, certainly made them think twice about taking her on individually. To
her advantage, Cassandra was quick, knew how to street fight with the best of
them, and was very unpredictable. But she also knew that if they ever closed
rank and attacked her together, she would be significantly outnumbered,
overpowered, and probably decimated.
Thank God they’re too dumb and too
egotistical to ever think like that.

The security guards surrounded them then and coaxed her
brothers out of the Marina Village. Once they were outside the resort, they all
walked toward the parking lot with her brothers leveling all manners of threats
at her.

“You gonna be sorry you ever did that, bitch!” Anton scowled.

“Somehow I doubt that.” Cassandra, staying well out of their
physical reach, continued taunting them. She grabbed Cameron’s hand, ensuring
that he remained close to her and wasn’t going anywhere with their brothers.

They had just gotten into the almost deserted parking lot where
she had parked. It was a relatively well-lit lot with security within shouting
distance. At this time at night, the lot was essentially used by the employees
and a few locals visiting the resort. There weren’t many people mulling about,
mostly locals with a few tourists in the mix. The locals all knew who the Kelly
brothers were, and none of them would dare challenge them.

Dylan advanced on her, got in her face, and glared down at her.
“You hit me,” Dylan said through clenched teeth. “I’m going to beat the shit
out of you! I don’t give a fuck who you are!” He grabbed her by the throat.

“Man, don’t do dis, Dylan,” Cameron pleaded. “Y’all know how
much Cass don’t like the family business.” Cameron moved closer to his brother
and sister, grabbing Dylan’s arm.

Xavier Bautista rolled his six-foot-seven muscular frame from
the bed and stood to his feet. Called X by his friends, he surveyed the calm
ocean view from the double windows of his bedroom. He was a massive man at over
two hundred pounds of sculptured muscle. He had velvet chocolate skin with
numerous scars on his face and body and piercing onyx eyes. No one would ever
call him handsome. His features were too harsh, too devoid of emotion, permanently
frozen in cold disinterest. In fact, his brutalized features and size gave men
and women pause; they were leery and intimidated by his size and ruthless
looks.

On orders from his bosses, he had been on the island of New
Providence for almost two months, recuperating from the violent assassination
of his teammates and his grandparents. After he’d been undercover for over
three years in Colombia, his assignment had ended more deadly than any of them
had anticipated. As a United States DEA agent for six years and US Special
Forces before that, he had gone undercover in South America in his last
assignment.

In Colombia, because of his intimidating presence and ability
to speak flawless Spanish, he had been Ramón García’s bodyguard while
undercover. García had been one of the most deadly drug dealers in South
America, extremely violent and a sociopath. The fact that he was ridiculously
wealthy and had a large amount of men under his employ meant that he had the
resources to carry out decades of atrocities. It didn’t hurt that García also
had the Colombian, Venezuela, Mexican, and Panamanian governments well into his
pocket. The corruption had been so deep it was almost insurmountable. For over
fifteen years, the US government had tried time and again to bring García down.
It had taken Xavier’s team a year to get Xavier into García’s inner sanctum and
two years before they brought the entire operation down. But this hadn’t been
done without major casualties to the DEA unit. When they had returned Stateside
with their prisoner, a hit had been placed on all six members of the team. After
the seven months’ trial, García had ordered that the entire team and any close
relatives be hunted down and killed. García’s men had succeeded. All of
Xavier’s teammates and their families had been assassinated. Xavier had been the
only one to survive, but he had been fatally wounded and left for dead.

Xavier had been in the process of moving his grandparents—his
mother’s parents—to a secure location when they were ambushed by a swarm of García’s
men in Miami. When he had regained consciousness hours later, he was told that
the doctors had removed fifteen bullets from his body. Although he had killed
their attackers before passing out, Xavier had been furious by the death of his
grandparents. They had been cold, emotionless guardians, feeling that their
only responsibility toward him was to provide food and shelter. Despite this,
he had still cared that they were the only family he had had left. His mother,
originally from the Dominican Republic, had been killed in a car accident when
he was twelve years old. The sound of his mother’s tormented moans of pain
after the collision still haunted him even as an adult. She had been the only
person who had ever loved him.

He had lived with his maternal grandparents ever since.  Xavier
had never known who his father was. The fact that he had killed all nine men
who had attacked them was the only fact that had kept him sane.

Xavier had walked out of the Mount Sinai Medical Center one day
after the bullets were removed from his body and had immediately boarded a
flight to Nassau, Bahamas, on orders from the special agent in charge of the
Miami office. The doctors were astounded by his swift one-day recovery. He had
silently listened to their befuddled musing, not once offering an explanation.
They
won’t believe me anyway.

The DEA owned a few properties in the Bahamas, and he had been
given indefinite use of a house on Paradise Island. It was a pretty sizable
house in a gated community on the private island.

Xavier took a last look at the now deserted beach from his
bedroom window, pulled his hoodie over his head, and exited his temporary home.
Although he had been on the private island for more than two months, Xavier
rarely left the house during the day. He usually did all of his exploration
during the night, walking the five miles to downtown Nassau and back again to
his condo. He drove around the island numerous times, exploring some of the
darker areas of the city. While the DEA had a team working with the local
authorities, Xavier was still surprised by the level of illegal weapons and
drugs readily available on the streets; obviously the work of law enforcement
was inadequate. His curiosity over this resulted in him prowling the local
streets at night trying to find out what was going on. With silent
surveillance, he quickly uncovered numerous gangs and criminal syndicates operating
almost without any opposition from the police.

During his exploration, he also found it incredible the amount of
liquor stores, churches, and gambling housings around the island, all three
almost within mere feet of each other. He shook his head at the irony of it
all.
For a population of only four hundred thousand, these streets are
certainly not boring.

It was on one of his return nightly trip from downtown Nassau, when
he was taking a shortcut through the parking area of the Atlantis Hotel, that
he saw four men surrounding a young woman. He moved in closer to hear what was
being said as one of the men grabbed the woman by the throat. Up to now he
hadn’t interfered in the criminal activity going on, but the sight of this
woman stopped him in his tracks.

“Bey, Dylan, let her go,” the young man with them pleaded.

“No, Cam, let him try me,” the woman hissed, obviously having
trouble speaking with the grip around her throat. “He thinks I won’t kick his
ass right here, right now. Think you can take me on now, Dylan? You don’t
remember the last time?”

“Shut up, bitch!”

Xavier could see the man’s fist tightened.

Even while being held by the throat, the woman continued to
taunt him and laugh in the man’s face. “I made you bleed last time, pig,” she
reminded him.

“Yeah, but who the fuck was crying?” the man she called Dylan
yelled.

“Yeah, I cried. I cried because I have a pussy for a brother!”

Dylan roared in frustration and raised his other fist to strike
her, but the woman viciously slammed her knee with a loud smack into his groin.
He immediately released her, fell to his knees, and grabbed his injured
appendage, howling in pain.

Xavier blinked in commensurate sympathy with the other man.

The woman wasn’t finished with him though. She kicked him hard
in the chest, causing him to fall on his ass. ‘Don’t ever touch me again, you
big douche,” she yelled.

“You bitch!” One of the other men shouted, advanced on her, and
swung his fist.

She ducked smoothly, avoiding the violent swing. “What, Anton?
That little pussy can’t fight his own battles? You have to beat up the little
girl for him?” she taunted.

“Shut up, Cass!” the younger man yelled, trying to shield her
again. “Y’all need to stop this before someone gets hurt.”

But Dylan had recovered sufficiently to rise to his feet, and
he had a gun in his hand. “I’m gonna kill dis bitch!”

Xavier had seen enough. He walked silently toward the now tense
group. “Good night, do any of you have directions to the Marketplace Restaurant?”

They all turned to him and tensed further. Xavier knew how
menacing he looked. The black hoodie was pulled over his head, obscuring his
face, not that the sight of his face would have given them any comfort. He
towered over the men in front of him, but he knew that their numbers might give
the bully with the gun some confidence.

Dylan turned and pointed the gun at him. “You see any damn tour
guide here, grim reaper looking mudderfucker?”

Xavier raised his hand in a conciliatory manner, still not
revealing his face. “Hey, man, I just want directions.” But his gaze landed on the
young woman, really seeing her for the first time. He felt like he’d been
poleaxed directly in his chest. She was one of the most beautiful women he had
ever seen. Smooth toffee skin, golden-colored eyes, long thick curly hair, and
an incredibly sexy body. She was dressed in dri-FIT-shirt and sweatpants that
were molded to every inch of her curves.

Xavier had met many tall women, some taller, but he had never
seen any with such lush contours. It was obvious that she was quite fit, not an
ounce of fat on her, but she was unmistakably round in all the right places.
She had round high breasts, not too big but enough to fill his large palms, and
a curvy ass that rivaled Beyoncé’s. This woman was the physical embodiment of
his dream woman, but he knew he didn’t stand a chance in hell of ever having a
woman like her. His cock, which had been relatively dormant during the past two
months, was making itself known with a vengeance now. His excited member
pressed insistently against the hard material of his jeans. Xavier came out of
his trance to hear her brother threatening him again.

“Get the fuck out of here before I put a bullet in your ass.”

“Bey, Dil, that’s a tourist bey! You better calm the fuck down!
We don’t need the US government coming after us,” the man called Anton cautioned.

“I’m going to kill Cassandra! That bitch almost slammed by
balls into my stomach. This time I’m going to kill her, tourist or no tourist.”
Dylan kept his gun trained on Xavier. “If this sucker don’t get the fuck out of
here, his ass will be gone too.”

“I don’t know what you still crying about. Your balls are like
tiny grapes,” the young woman they called Cassandra taunted Dylan. “I’m
surprised you felt anything. That little thing you call a dick is the size of
my pinkie.”

Dylan swung around and pointed the gun back at her. “I hate—”

“Shoot her and your brothers will be collecting your brain
matter for days,” Xavier said calmly, his weapon now visible to all of them. Xavier
nonchalantly pushed the hoodie off his head.

There was a collective gasp, and they all froze.

Yeah, I’m an ugly mudderfucker.
Xavier stared at them
coolly. He didn’t need to glare; his size and stillness was enough to encourage
fear in anyone trying to oppose his will. He ensnared the young woman’s gaze,
and he was shocked that she didn’t seem to be repulsed by him in the least. She
was giving him the same curious perusal that he was certain he had given her.
She smiled softly at him, but he couldn’t return the expression. His face
remained frozen in the expressionless stare that he had been wearing since his
mother’s death. He couldn’t even remember ever smiling since then; there had
been nothing in his life to bring that about.

Xavier was surprised that, even though he didn’t return her
smile, her warm regard never wavered. With her gaze steadily on him, she spoke
confidently, “Dylan ain’t stupid enough to shoot me. My brothers may be dumb as
doorknobs, but I’m sure they remember what would happen if I suddenly died. If
I don’t make my daily check-in with my contact, all of their business will be delivered
to the relevant authorities and their lives won’t be worth living. Y’all still
remember that right, geniuses?”

“I really hate dis bitch,” one of her brothers growled.

“Love you too, big brother.” Cassandra smirked. “Y’all just
being salty cause I win
again
.” She frowned at Dylan. “You’d better put
that thing away before you hurt yourself. Nothing says dumb more than a man who
shoots himself in the foot, both physically and figuratively.”

To Xavier’s astonishment, he felt his face starting to crack.
Was
that a fucking smile? Sweet Jesus!
He almost raised his hand to feel his
face in wonder.

The previously hostile Dylan dutifully put his gun away while
glaring at his sister.

Cassandra smiled and playfully punched Dylan in the arm. “You
know better than to be threatening tourists in this country,” she scolded him
before turning and walking toward Xavier.

Dylan continued to scowl and mutter under his breath.

Her scent immediately filled Xavier’s nostrils, and he inhaled
the alluring fragrance before he could stop himself. She was all woman,
smelling feminine and soft with a hint of something exotic. His body incredibly
hardened further, and he felt dazed from the unexpected emotion she elicited
from him. He almost jumped out of his skin when she reached up and touched his
bicep, but of course, he hadn’t visibly moved a muscle.

“What the hell?” he grunted under his breath. No other words
passed his lips.

She simply smiled and curled her finger at him, silently asking
him to bend so she could talk more privately.

Xavier was shocked to find himself so easily obeying her. He
bent his head.

She spoke directly in his ear. “Sorry to disrupt your night.
Thank you for trying to protect me. If you wish to remain undercover on this
island, you shouldn’t blow your cover so easily.”

Xavier swallowed, too stunned to speak. He simply stared down
at her, his expression blank, neither acknowledging nor denying her comment.

She turned and walked away from them toward the parking garage
that was yards away from the clearing where she had been fighting with her
brothers. “Come on, Cam. I’m not leaving you with these street thugs, and don’t
bring their shit in my car. I’m too pretty to go to prison.” She activated the
doors to a car on the perimeter of the open garage.

After seeing her in action, Xavier wasn’t surprised that Cam
obediently handed over something to his brother and followed her to the Honda
Civic she had climbed into.

Three pairs of angry eyes turned on Xavier. “Despite what you
just saw, she’s our damn baby sister. So get your fucking eyes off her ass,”
Anton growled at him.