3. Chapter 3 #2
The shift made my chest tighten with a rare spark of alertness. I hated anomalies in behavior.
"Is he okay?"
Idris sighed. "The same as when you left."
I processed the answer, calculating the variables, but nothing aligned with the tension bleeding through the phone line. "Okay. I'll be home soon."
Idris held her breath. The silence stretched across the satellite connection. I heard the sharp catch in her throat, but I didn't press. I waited, letting the silence of the call force her hand.
"Your mother would be so proud," Idris mumbled suddenly.
My eyes squinted in the dark. It was a strange pivot, but I received it anyway, adjusting my expression. "If only she were alive to see me."
"Right," Idris murmured.
The line fell dead quiet again. The normalcy of her emotional dancing was grating on my nerves. I needed a concrete response. "Did I accidentally leave my bullets out on the table again?"
"Not that I've seen."
I nodded to the empty car. "Okay. I gotta go."
Idris sighed one last time. "Be safe."
"You too."
I hung up and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, irritation settling right in my chest. I hated when people held back on me, and I couldn't stand how damn fragile regular people were.
They wasted so much energy tiptoeing around, worrying about saying the wrong thing instead of just spitting out the cold facts. It was all just useless, padded-up bullshit, a complete waste of time meant to protect feelings that didn't even matter.
Literally every normal habit I had was something I’d copied from watching Idris and Nana. Ever since my mom died, they were the ones who taught me how to fake it—how to smile on cue, how to blend into a room, and how to pass as a regular human being.
But right now, the main person who taught me how to play this game was keeping me completely in the dark, and it was getting right on my last damn nerve.
I hated feeling blind, and I hated not knowing what the hell the next move was supposed to be.
I rode out the rest of the drive running through the math in my head.
The quiet inside the Porsche wasn't even peaceful anymore.
By the time I pulled up near his complex, the irritation had burned off, leaving behind a cold focus. I parked down the street, stepped out into the dark, and slid toward the perimeter gate.
People always made stupid assumptions based on shit that didn’t even matter.
They’d look at the curve of my hips, my thighs, and my chest, and automatically believed I was slow.
They thought a thick woman couldn't climb or move fast. If we being honest, that was lazy thinking from idiots who only knew how to look at a woman as eye candy instead of a threat.
People should be far more terrified of a woman who actually knows how to move her body, thick or not.
I caught the iron bars of his gate, hoisting my body up and over without making a single damn sound.
I remembered the girls in grade school joking about me sitting on people if they made me mad.
It was always a laugh to them. A joke. But when I actually used my weight to pin a boy down behind the bleachers and shattered three of his ribs just to see how much pressure it took to stop his lungs from expanding, suddenly it was a crime.
Fuck that. Leverage is leverage. My mama taught me that shit, and she was telling the truth.
“So damn lazy”
I popped his balcony lock with a thin strip of metal, sliding the glass door open just enough to slip inside.
The place was silent. It smelled like him, but there was a faint trace of perfume hanging in the air that definitely didn't belong. Movement near the kitchen counter made me freeze, my hand dropping straight to the piece at the small of my back, until I realized it was just his big-ass tabby cat.
I eased my hand off my piece and tried to step right around the damn thing. I had more pressing shit to deal with than a cat.
However, he wasn't having it. The stubborn bastard cut me off, planting a paw right over the toe of my shoe. When I tried to slide past him anyway, he flattened his ears and let out a petty hiss.
“You’re doing too much.” I rolled my eyes before I reached down, digging two fingers into the scruff behind his ears just to keep him from making enough noise to blow my entry.
The second he got his bribe, he leaned into the scratch, satisfied with my display of forced affections.
After he was greeted, he sauntered back off into the dark.
I just unbuckled my heels and started down the short hallway toward the bedroom.
I was prepared for the quiet, I was prepared to watch him sleep, but as I rounded the corner, my foot brushed against something soft on the floor. I looked down. It was a cheap, lace-trimmed beige bra, tossed carelessly near the baseboard.
My blood didn't just boil; it turned to ice, freezing the air in my lungs as the urge to tear the walls down ripped through my brain. I stepped into the bedroom as my bare feet sunk into the thick carpet without a sound.
The woman was tangled in the sheets with her bare arm thrown over his chest, holding him like she owned him.
I knew she was completely naked since his boxers were twisted on the floor right near the doorway.
It was a sloppy trail of their recent activities.
I stood at the foot of the bed and eyed the man who used to be mine.
Even in the dim light cutting through the blinds, every detail of his face was burned into my head.
The razor bumps along his chin, the dark shadow of his beard already creeping back in, that arrogant jaw.
He was undeniably fine, and I knew it better than anyone.
He shifted in his sleep as his lips parted so his tongue could lick over them.
That simple, familiar habit sent a dirty jolt straight between my legs.
It was a quick reminder of what those lips felt like when he was mine.
I stood close enough to smell the oil in his hair, but I didn't reach out.
The rest of the room faded out until he was the only thing in focus.
I pulled the steel piece from the small of my back.
dicking my head to the side, I raised it, aligning right between his eyes.
My finger rested on the curve of the trigger, itching to squeeze.
It was raw impulse fighting hard consequences.
Dropping a body in the states carried way too steep a price, and the cleanup would be too messy for even Idris to bury a fifth time.
Right in the middle of my math, his breathing changed. His chest hitched and his eyes cut open. Before he could even process the shadow standing over him, I stepped in and cracked the steel barrel across his jaw.
He let out a muffled groan as his body jerked awake.
The noise startled the woman beside him.
Her eyes flew open, and the second she caught my outline looming over the bed, a high-pitched scream started to rip from her throat.
Before the sound could even clear her mouth, I jammed the flat of the barrel against her lips, pinning her head back into the pillow.
“Quiet,” I gritted out. “Before I shoot your throat open.”
She went straight into hyperventilating, tears leaking down her face as her chest heaved. Watching her panic made my lip curl. The spike of horror in his eyes was sweet as hell. I could smell her fear, and the scent was so strong, I could barely contain myself.
"Who—who is that?! Should I call 911?!" the woman shrieked, scrambling backward until her back hit the headboard. "Quan, who the fuck is this?!"
"Babe, don't move, just stay quiet—" Quan mumbled through his split jaw, holding his hand up to soothe her. "Just stay calm, don't say anything—"
I clicked my tongue, cutting straight through their desperate whispering.
"I'm losing my patience, Quan."
The shift in my tone cut right through his hero act.
Cradling his bleeding face with one hand, he snatched the shaking woman by the arm and dragged her toward the bathroom.
"Get inside," he rasped out. He shoved her through the doorway and gripped the handle tight. "It’ll be okay. Lock it and stay inside. Do not come out."
He slammed the door shut, locking her away.
As he stood there trying to calm his breathing and take the situation down, I didn't look at him.
I looked past him. It then that I noticed the bedroom was devoid of his usual clutter.
The laundry was put away, and the nightstands were wiped down.
His usual mess was cleaner than it had ever been.
Oh. He was trying to impress her?
He was putting in effort for this basic woman. A nobody who didn't have a single thing to offer him. How could he no longer be mine? How could he look at this empty, ordinary life and choose it over the kingdom I was willing to give him?
He turned back to face me. Quan was mad as hell, but the moment his eyes locked onto mine, that heat splintered into pure dread. He knew exactly what it was, and he knew why I was here.
I stepped into his space and sent open-palmed licks to his chest and shoulders.
"Danni, stop—"
He grabbed my wrists, trying to pin my arms to neutralize me.
Bad move.
The second his hands clamped down on my forearms, I dug my free fingers into the meat of his left breast, grabbing his nipple and twisting with enough force to tear skin. When he hissed in pain, I ripped my other hand free and delivered three stinging, back-to-back slaps right across his jaw.
That broke his composure.
Quan’s hand shot up to wrap around my throat. He shoved me back against the wall, and his grip tightened until the air cut thin. His face was inches from mine.
"Cut that shit out!" he barked.
I didn't panic. I didn't reach for my gun, and I didn't struggle for air. Even with rage burning in his eyes, I caught the split second where his gaze flicked down, lingering on my lips. Even bleeding, even angry as hell, he couldn't help himself.