Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Special forces.
Trijicon RMR red dot sights
Threaded barrel
Enhanced triggers
Polymer
Enhanced magazines
16 rounds
Ambidextrous capabilities
Lightweight
She was as pretty as her handler.
I’d used the same weapon twenty times or more in the field. It was a well-oiled machine. Slightly compact. Easy to conceal. Easy to carry. But, it packed power.
“Don’t do that, my baby. I won’t be able to forgive you for that.”
“You will. I’m not worried about that. Me forgiving you is what you should be worried about.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Royce.”
“Say the truth. That’s what I want. We’re four days away from voting and the world finds out you’re expecting a child. When, Ishmael Samuel Grayson? When was the last time you stuck your dick inside of Asia?”
A silencer appeared from her handbag. A handbag I’d insisted she purchase. The beautiful piece fit the barrel like a glove. They were a perfect match.
I closed my eyes, accepting my fate. It wasn’t the first time I’d been on the opposite side of the trigger. Though I’d put that life behind me, I was still certain it wouldn’t be my last. Especially not if I kept pissing my baby off.
“August.”
“August when because the math ain’t mathing.”
Her mind was made up. She was ready to burn down the bridge we were building and I would be tasked with rebuilding it.
“August, Royce.”
“August when, motherfucker?”
“The day you walked into my office.”
She smirked. I braced for impact, knowing it would come.
“Hmph,” she scoffed.
Silently, she screwed on the silencer. I released a deep breath.
“Royce– what the fuck are you doing?”
“By any means, Ishmael.,” she sighed.
She aimed at my side, firing a single shot.
“Fuck!” The grunt escaped me though it was no indication of how I truly felt.
Her eyes rolled upward.
“So dramatic.”
I didn’t take my eyes off Royce. She was a mad woman, but she was my mad woman. I’d experienced her vulnerability and I’d experienced her viciousness. I wasn’t sure which one made me fall deeper or which made me fall faster.
She concealed her Glock and snatched the brown paper bag from my desk. In awe of her audacity, I observed every move she made.
“That should put you ahead in the polls,” she tittered with a shrug.
“Are you fucking insane?”
“Yes. And, to win, you have to be. Tight screws don’t leave room for successors. Loose screws do.”
She stomped toward the door with her chest out and her chin up. As she opened it, Matte fell through.
I placed a hand on my forehead, rubbing the worry lines that creased it.
“Oh shoot.”
“Girl, grow a fucking spine,” Royce demanded.
“Sorry– I– uh–”
“And stop apologizing so much.”
“Yes. Right.”
Matte regained her balance and stood on both feet.
“Is everything okay?”
She approached my desk, completely baffled.
“Oh God, Mr. Grayson. You’re bleeding! Oh God! Oh God.”
I placed a finger over my mouth as I stood from my chair. It wasn’t until then that I surveyed the damage.
“Oh God. What should I do? Should I call the police?”
I shook my head.
“No. Don’t make any calls. Find us a way out of here without detection. There’s a media storm downstairs and I need to get to Berkeley medical.”
I unbuttoned my shirt and wrapped it in a ball. I pressed it against my wound and waited for Matte’s feet to move.
“But– but why aren’t you– doesn’t it– are you sure you don’t need me to call you a medic?”
“I need you to do what I’ve asked of you. I can handle the rest.”
“Right. Right.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Matte. It won’t be my last.”
I didn’t need Berkeley City Medical. Neither did I need Matte’s assistance.
I could remove the shell, clean, bandage, and stitch.
But, I wasn’t sure if Royce would put another hot one in me if I didn’t find my way to the hospital.
She was pulling the sympathy card. Though I despised it, I wouldn’t hinder her plans.
The weight of my world rested on my shoulders.
The weight of her world rested on my shoulders.
The weight of us… our world… her pain. Rested on my shoulders.
It was heavy, but I carried it without complaint.
I didn’t have room to moan or mumble or grumble.
I’d made a mistake and Royce had every right to demand payment for it.
Twenty-four hours had escaped without me hearing her voice, touching her body, or feeling her against my skin. Withdrawals led me to Clarke. Desperation led me to her door. Desire forced me to knock. And, regret forced me to stay even after she refused to let me in.
Rain poured from the skies, signaling my despair. I pressed the doorbell a third time and stepped backward. Nothing was right without baby girl in my corner. I’d much rather crawl into an early grave than to go another day without her at the center of my universe.
Royce’s home was beautiful. There was over ten thousand square feet of silence.
I was certain her thoughts were echoing in the silence.
Aside from them, all she heard was the sound of her heartbeat.
My heart beat. If there was nothing else I’d learned about her, it was that she hated being alone.
It hadn’t always been this way, but as life progressed, so did her urge for companionship.
I peered at my cell. A full two minutes passed.
Open up, my baby.
I pressed the doorbell a fourth time. Instead of waiting for the inevitable, I unlocked my screen and dialed the digits that would connect us.
“Go home, Ishmael.”
Her voice appeared on the line almost instantly. The pain in my chest thickened. Sadness sat between each syllable she released. So did strength.
“I’m at home, my baby. I just need you to let me in.”
Silence constricted my heart.
“Royce.”
“Goodnight.”
The line died. So did something inside of me. The disappointment in her tone was devastating. I needed to repair what I’d broken. I needed to bring peace to the war I’d caused inside of her.
I shoved my cell in my pocket. The bouquet of flowers in my hand was restricting. I set them next to her door.
Suit yourself, my baby.
The edges of the hoodie I wore were last to climb over my head. I wrapped the fabric around my knuckles as I observed the lovely front door before destroying its beauty.
WHAM.
I launched my fist into the fourth square of glass, shattering it on contact. The hoodie slid from my skin with ease. I stuck my hand inside of Royce’s home and twisted the lock on the handle. The door opened with ease.
Commiseration forced me inside. As quickly as I’d entered, I remembered I was leaving so much behind. I exited.
The bouquet of flowers rested on my arm. The large Hermès dangled from my hand. With my right foot, I closed the door behind me. Pausing briefly, I twisted the small button on the knob to lock it.
As if I’d stalked her floors a hundred times, I widened the distance between me and the door. Warmth engulfed me. The smell of well-seasoned food lured me through the foyer.
Beige.
Brown.
Black.
Gold.
I took note of every aspect of Royce’s residence. The study was the first room I approached. Directly across the hall was another room, one filled with packages, mail, and shelves to keep them in order.
The room next to the study connected by a sliding door. Books lined shelves that filled nearly every inch of the cases.
Her library.
On the other side, just feet away from the mail room was a stair stepper, treadmill, ab cruncher, weights, pilates machine, spin bike, and a television that nearly filled every inch of the wall it was on. Mirrors lined the back walls. A water station hid in the corner.
Go Girl. was scribed in swirly letters on the wall, lined with a strip of light that was a golden white. Around it, in different spots, were affirmations that would surely keep her moving during sessions.
Her gym.
A long stretch of hallway and a single left turn led me to the openness of her home.
Two sets of stairs raced to the second floor.
Beyond the stairs was more footage, free of furniture.
And, beyond the stretch was the dining area.
A table for twelve was perfectly centered with chocolate chairs surrounding it.
There was a plate setting in front of each. Yet, only one chair was occupied. The head of the table, closest to the dining room wall.
There goes my baby.
Fear and fascination gripped me simultaneously.
I released my frustrations and embraced whatever was to come of my intrusion.
Silently, I asked God to keep her finger off that fucking trigger.
But, should she decide to send another hot one through my ass, I’d be back at her front door as soon as they patched me up.
Just like tonight.
Just like any other night she wanted me to pay for the pain I caused.
I’d accepted my fate. I knew who I’d laid down with.
I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted everything that came with Royce, even if that meant an occasional bullet.
I’d slid into her pussy. I knew it was worth the ER visits.
My body would sort itself out. My heart couldn’t if she wasn’t in my world.
Slowly, Royce slid her Glock across the table, drawing it closer to her chest. Still, her fork entered her broccoli and brought it to her mouth.
My mouth.
I blinked away the images of what she loved to do with that motherfucker. How wet it was. How skillful it was. How warm it was. How good it felt.
“I come in peace, my baby.”
I lifted my hands, gifts in tow.
“You can’t come in any other fashion,” she assured me.
In a house slip, she was stunning. Her nipples pressed against it, hardening as I closed the gap between us. Royce was utterly alluring. My feet weren’t moving because of me.
It was Royce. It was always Royce. Without words, she demanded so much of me.
My stomach rumbled as I drew closer. She’d prepared dinner, but my hunger was mostly due to her absence. I needed a serving of Royce.
Her voice.
Her laughter.
Her pussy.