This little—
Nina: Me? I didn’t send you anything [[wink emoji]]
Nina: So which is it? Pink or Black?
I don’t get to finish my thought before another text comes in.
I check the time and curse. She distracted me with sex to get what she wanted anyway.
God, I’m dumb.
Fuck, I fell for it. How often does she do this? I have too many follow up questions but the one I settled on is…
Vert: When did you take these videos?
Nina: What videos? I played with my toys? Like you told me to.
Is she really going to pretend that she didn’t take those videos that she sent me? How in the hell did she even do that?
They’re gone.
And I’m half hard standing in my bathroom with no real proof that I was set up just so she could get fifteen extra minutes to get ready.
Vert: I’m on my way.
Nina: Great [[smiling emoji]] I’m ready now.
This fucking brat.
When we get to the location specified, I didn’t expect it to be another bar. At this rate, I will have had a drink every time Nina has gotten under my skin. That’s a habit I don’t need to form since she’s made it her business to do that any time she can.
I don’t know how Redd knew that this guy would be meeting friends here, but I won’t question it either. It’s not my job to question. It’s my job to keep us safe on these streets.
The man in the blue hat still has no name, but I can recognize the hat now. Nina and I try to look casual in the high top table that gives us a good view of the six men all talking in the far corner of the bar. No one else looks like someone I know but isn’t to my benefit right now.
An olive falls from the chip Nina grabs before she pops it into her mouth. “Aren’t you going to have some of these nachos? They’re actually pretty good.”
“I’m not here to eat nachos, doll” I grumble, making a choice to look away from the noisy table so I don’t appear obvious.
She licks cheese from her finger before grabbing another. The movement makes me think of how she licked something else and I don’t know if I can handle any more of her teasing.
I’m not going to have the conversation I know she’d love to about those videos she sent me. Hell, she’s probably still waiting on me to address her phone call too.
But I’m not taking the bait.
She’s too young.
Too volatile.
I don’t need those kinds of problems.
“Look! Blue hat’s going out the back.” Nina says, pulling my gaze from her mouth.
I curse under my breath, dropping some money onto the table.
Nina grabs her things and I guide her by the waist out the front door.
If we’re quick we can catch him before he goes wherever he’s headed next.
It could be his house, or it could be another location that leads to where these dissenters are meeting.
The rain has already begun, sudden and dense. Large droplets falling onto us as we sprint to find some cover. I’m certain the time she spent getting ready is going to hell under these heavy southern rains.
“Fuck,” she says, hurriedly taking off her jewelry.
I give her a look but she volunteers a response before I have to say anything.
“They’ll slip off in this rain with my body lotion and I’ll have to go looking for them.
” She drops them into her purse taking her rings off and putting them in her purse as well.
“Ask me how I know. Who knows how long we'll be out here.”
Once we round the corner to where the back of the bar is, there is no sign of blue hat but at least the rain is slowing down and there is a somewhat covered area here.
She’s checking her makeup and hair on her phone when I catch sight of something that piques my interest. “What is this?” I ask, taking her arm to better see.
I look at the small spot on her wrist that had always had some sort of large bracelet or cuff or watch band or always something.
Her outfits are elaborate and I have noticed how much effort she puts into her appearance.
The copious amounts of jewelry on her arms and/or extra long sleeves even when it's warm served a clear purpose.
Her wrist had never been bare before, and the bandaid’s placement is too suspicious, even as it hangs there with the stickiness gone from one side tab.
What was being covered by the bandage is clear for me to see.
I probably wouldn't even think anything about it if I hadn't realized how often it was covered. I've never seen her expose this part of herself, and the twitchy way that she's trying to pull her arm from my grasp tells me everything I need to know.
This is something she wants to hide, and I don't know if I can let her hide it.
“Nina, what is this?” I ask again.
She fidgets for only a moment, expressions changing from irritation to desperation, and then back to the falsely pleasant mask she has on more times than not.
She's tucking whatever this is away from me and from everyone else, it seems.
Am I the only person who's ever seen this little spot on her arm?
While she's preparing to say something likely annoying or something to rage bait me, I take the rest of the bandaid off, so I can see what's underneath.
They're small, tiny little lines, some that are still pink and healing, some that are obviously fresh, and others that are just scars. There has to be at least ten of them, perfect little lines that would easily be missed by someone who wasn't looking for them.
Her name leaves my mouth on an exhale as the air rushes from my lungs at what I am absolutely seeing.
I've seen Nina do some pretty horrible things, caught her in the act of taking a man's life without even a second thought, and but this might be one of the worst things I've ever seen.
“Don't do that, Vert,” she says, and I finally let her take her arm from my hand, “and it's nothing. Just give me my bandaid back.”
“I'm not givin’ you this bandaid back. What the hell is this?” I can hear my own words. They come out much too harsh for the situation we’re involved in, but I cannot begin to imagine why she would be cutting.
A woman who's more vibrant than the sun. A woman who I've spent the better part of two months witnessing doing impossible things that I could never imagine she was even capable of.
Terrible things but impressive nonetheless.
Why would she be doing this?
And then it makes even more sense.
Hurt people hurt people, and though Nina doesn't ever show anyone that she is hurt, she is absolutely hurting.
I wonder, from what? Why?
I'm stuck here, still trying to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do about this, who can I tell? Who can I talk to? Who can she talk to?
She's already gotten a small pouch from her bag, and it seems to have all the things she needs.
She cleans the spot and applies a new bandaid and adds her watch over top, so that she can pretend like what just happened didn't happen.
But I've already seen, and now I need to figure out how I can get her to stop.
Whatever it is that was motivating her to murder all these men, it goes much deeper than just a general hatred of the gender.
Whereas I don't condone it, if I don't find a solution to this, Dupont’s only going to be in worse and worse danger.
Nina's already headed back down the breezeway, the rain having stopped enough for her to hide under the side of the buildings to keep dry. I'm sure she won't make the mistake of getting wet enough to lose the second bandaid.
“Nina, wait.” I'm always on her heel. I'm always a few steps behind her.
Where could she possibly be going now?
And I can only imagine she's off to do something more horrible after I found out something that she very clearly didn't want me to know.
But what am I supposed to do?
Ignore what I've seen?
Ignore the fact that she's hurting and no one is helping her, that she won't ask for help?
“Nina, I need you to slow down. I'm not gonna be able to keep up. If you don't slow down, I'm gonna take you down.”
She lets out a cackle that reverberates around the narrow passageway we're in, in the most menacing way possible, but I'm not deterred.
I meant what I said.
So as she continues to saunter off, darting in and out of trash cans and boxes and a few delivery vehicles, I take my opportunity. Slowing my steps, I get close enough to an open way to take the woman down.
Is it conventional? No.
Should I be tackling a woman in broad daylight? Also, no.
But this isn't just a woman, it's Nina Wilcox, and if there's anything I know, she will get what she wants regardless of what she feels stands in her way.
Today is not that day.
Since I've slowed my footsteps are hidden by the patter of rain beginning again. I take off, using my speed carefully to get closer and closer to her as she feels that she's slinking away from me. Likely getting away like usual, but she's not.
I'm on her tail, and not only am I on her tail, I'm motivated to take her down.
Once she gets within reach, I use every bit of my strength to launch myself at her, landing with her on top of a stack of boxes that have been piled up neatly after being broken down.
It's better than her landing on the wet concrete, and it's certainly better than her landing inside of a garbage can. So I consider it a win.
She struggles beneath me, and as much as I love getting the upper hand with this woman, who I seem to be multiple steps behind, I don't love how she's fighting me in a time where she needs someone to see her and help her get past whatever this pain is.
“Get the fuck off of me, Vert.” Her voice cracks on the words. I don't know if it's just from frustration alone or if there's something else there.
She's petite, and even in comparison to me, there's no match in the strength that I have and the motivation I have to keep her.
I lock my arms around her body, pulling her up as I stand, locking my hands around her torso, so that she's not able to wiggle out. Her legs kick mindlessly as she aims for anything that could free her, but I have handled several tantrums in my lifetime–many, many tantrums–and this is no different.
I'm thankful that today I didn't bring my bike to Atlanta, so that I can throw her in the back of the rental car.
I don't have any extra guards and most people in Dupont don't even know I'm here.
If they do, I have Nina, who, though she is sanctioned to protect Lafayette, she's not sanctioned to have done as much as she's done before.
She struggles and curses in my hold, but I'm not listening to any of it.
I very well know that she has her own way of protecting herself. I've seen it firsthand, and anyone who gets in her way or tries to get away with something around her is not going to get very far.
I’ll take my chances.
Throwing her in my trunk, which already has every single method of emergency escape removed.
I had to be prepared for any possibilities that could arise.
Duct tape and some other essentials are here but the tape will be the easiest. I get it over her wrist and then ankles despite how hard she’s resisting.
It’s unfortunate for her that I have experience in this particular task.
I close it, so that she's not able to get out.
I don't care what I have to do.
We're going to talk about this, and we're going to figure out exactly what is her fucking problem.
I get in my driver's seat and take off towards the extended stay I opted for to do just that.