Chapter 13
Kincaid.
“What do we know about her?”
“Basic shit. Name, background, family, work history. She’s a college student. The catering gig is part time to help with expenses. She’s in law school and lives with her boyfriend. He’s a DJ at Bleu.”
“That piece-of-shit club?” I said, but more so speaking my thoughts out loud.
“Yeah, same thing I said.”
“This place is decent. Not exactly cheap.”
“They both drive nice cars and you know he’s not making shit at Bleu. My guess is he’s using it to build a name for himself so he can move onto one of the bigger clubs.”
“You question them yet?”
“No. I figured you’d want to do it, but it’s definitely her. The same woman who was there at your house. She’s supposed to work tonight, so she’s in her uniform now.”
I nodded and brushed my palm down my face before following Cast into the apartment.
After doing a sweep, I located the woman in question sitting in a chair near the kitchen table.
Her eyes landed on me the second I was in the room.
The man, who I assumed was her boyfriend, was in the living room on the sofa with one of my men in front of him, gun in hand.
Instead of aiming it at the guy, the weapon rested beside his thigh.
When I walked over to her, I placed a small recording device on the table and kneeled down to get eye level. Her hazel orbs went wild briefly before they settled back into the worried expression she had when I walked in.
“We need to talk.”
“Talk? Why the fuck you need guns to talk?” her boyfriend based from the living room.
With the location of where he was sitting, there was a clear view of the kitchen, which meant he could see my every move.
I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t acknowledge him.
I wanted him to feel disrespected and unsure of my motives.
“Name?” I didn’t have to look at Cast for him to know who I was talking to. He quickly rattled off the woman’s identity.
“Darian Blakey.”
“Darian . . .” I began slowly. Her eyes bounced around before connecting with mine. “I’m not here to hurt you, but I will.” Those hazel orbs, already uncharacteristically large, expanded again before she looked past me at her boyfriend. He gritted his teeth but didn’t say anything.
“Darian, look at me. He can’t do shit for you. I’m the only chance you have, okay?”
She nodded quickly with anxious energy. She kept smoothing her hands down her thighs and shifting in her chair.
“You work for Elegant Eats.”
She nodded again.
“You were also at my house on Friday.”
She hesitated, as if weighing her options on how to answer. But before she could lie, I told her it wasn’t necessary.
“You were there, Darian. We’ve pulled up the footage from my surveillance system and know for certain you were.
It’s taken us a few days to decide how to handle this, which is why you’re just now seeing me.
My guys have been watching you to get a more vivid picture of who you are.
From what I’ve learned, you seem to be a decent person. Both of you. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes.” This time, she used her voice.
“Good girl. Now, let’s get down to business.
” I stood and pulled an empty chair closer to the one she was in, positioning myself right in front of her.
I rolled my shoulders back, resting my hands in my lap.
I stared at Darian for a few minutes, not saying anything.
That made her even more antsy because she did not know my intentions.
Her eyes bounced around the room and she shifted in her chair.
I allowed this to go on until I was sure she was close to losing her composure, so I eased slowly into the reason for my visit.
“Who paid you to leave that package at my house?”
Her eyes went wild again, revealing she knew what I was talking about. However, she denied any acknowledgement verbally.
“I didn’t leave a package at your house.”
I flashed her a smile that didn’t help her anxiety.
“Sweetheart, my time is very valuable. Let’s not waste any more of it than you already have.
” I lifted my hand, motioning over my shoulder, and Clay’s gun met with her boyfriend’s forehead.
I didn’t bother looking behind me for verification.
The way she gasped and the alarm in her eyes was proof enough.
“He will shoot him and it will be your fault. Now, let’s try again. Who paid you to leave that package at my house?”
“I don’t know. The man didn’t give me a name. Just paid me five grand and told me to mix it with the other gifts and not to open the box. I swear I don’t know the guy.”
I studied her face a little longer, attempting to decide whether she was lying.
Darian was telling the truth, which I already assumed.
It would make sense for whoever paid her to keep their identity hidden.
At this point, she was desperate to save her boyfriend, which meant she understood how serious the situation was.
“That box you left at my house contained the hands of a man I’m sure is dead.
He was likely murdered by the one who paid you.
These are not typical bullies or thugs you’re now connected to.
They’re very dangerous men who don’t mind taking lives to protect their interests.
You made an extremely bad decision when you accepted the money and did what they asked.
My wife is the one who opened that box, and the fact that it was in our home, our private space, left her feeling violated.
That leaves me angry, and like the men who paid you, I’m also a very dangerous man.
The good thing is, I don’t want to hurt you, but if I can’t find a way to ensure my wife no longer has to worry about feeling violated in our home, then make no mistake about it.
Anyone who played a role in the reason why .
. . will suffer.” My eyes fastened to hers and she began to sob lightly while her body trembled.
Threat received: smart woman.
“Don’t tell him shit, baby. He’s not going to hurt either one of us. The cops will be all over his ass. Trust me, D. Don’t cry, baby. We gon’ be straight, I promise.”
Clay snorted behind me, and Cast chuckled, removing his phone. He made a call and put the phone on speaker.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
He took the call off speaker and began playing a role, changing his voice so he sounded panicked and not like a six foot-something, 200-pound Black man.
“There’s a guy in my apartment. He has a gun to my girlfriend’s head.
I think he’s going to shoot her. Please, send somebody now.
I don’t know what to do. Yes, that’s my address.
Please, hurry. I’m gonna hang up now so he can’t hear me.
Please, hurry.” A moment later, “Okay, thank you. No, I’m not staying on the gotdamn phone. If he catches me, he’ll kill us both.”
My eyes lifted to his, and he shrugged, likely knowing I was thinking what the fuck with the whole white-guy voice.
“They’ll move faster.”
I shook my head before staring at Darian again.
Cast moved to the door, pulling it slightly open while we all waited, none of us saying a word.
I was good with silence. It forced people to have to deal with their thoughts, and right now, Darian’s were haunted by just how badly she’d fucked up.
About ten minutes later, two officers arrived, creeping in with their guns drawn.
I had never seen either of them before because knowing their faces wasn’t my burden.
With all the dirty money we shelled out to the city, their superiors needed to ensure they knew mine.
“What the hell is going on—” the first officer started but was cut off by the second who shoved him in the arm.
“Shit, man, shut the fuck up. I got this.” The first officer didn’t recognize me, but the second did.
“Mr. Akel, is there anything we can do to assist you with this situation?” He squared his shoulders and both officers returned their weapons to their holsters after speaking my name.
They may not have always known my face, but they damn sure knew the name.
“No, not at all. Just making sure my money was well spent with you gentlemen. Enjoy your evening, officers. We’ve got it from here.”
They both tipped their heads to me and left, closing the door behind them.
“Now, let’s get back to business. As you can see, the cops can’t do shit for you, but I can. So I need you to search deep inside that pretty little head of yours and try to remember anything that will help me.”
Her eyes moved past me. I was sure she was searching for confirmation from her boyfriend. I didn’t know why because the little shit had proven he wasn’t too bright. He obviously gave her what she needed, though, because she started talking.
“I swear I don’t know his name or anything about him. I can barely remember what he looked like because I didn’t care. He gave me five grand to deliver a box. All I can tell you is that he was Spanish or something. He had an accent and his English was broken. He also had a bunch of tattoos.”
“Think harder, Darian. You’re going to have to do better. That’s not helping me solve the problem you played a role in creating.” I kept my tone even, but my stare was icy. She needed to provide more. None of what she had said so far would be enough.
“The tattoos, he had them on his face too. There was a cross on his left temple. Oh, and when he was leaving, he called some guy named O’Neal and told him it was done. That’s all I heard because he was walking away from me while he finished the call.”
My eyes shot up to Cast’s and we both had the same thought. Initially, we assumed this was Manchester, but it turns out it was a little less complicated.
Fucking O’Neal.