19. Chapter 19
The rest of my weekend goes by far too quickly for my liking.
Staying in the spare room of my old house so that I'd be able to have as much time with Gracie as possible is nice, though forcing myself not to think any further about what Nina could possibly be getting up to while I'm not there to keep an eye on her is proving difficult.
I push all that aside so that I can watch the movies my daughter wants me to and actually get some quality time with her. I'm grateful that I have this opportunity because there are so many who don't get the same chance.
The sting of knowing that Geno was going behind all our backs and was still able to be close enough to me and my family is sharp.
At some point, Redd came over, and it brings the same thing to mind.
At what point can we build trust with others in this line of work?
Where does the loyalty stop when it comes down to it?
If the money is better somewhere else, or if the protection is somewhere else, what would make someone stay?
Is integrity a question of making a better choice to keep safe or is it in the loyalty to your family?
I couldn’t know Geno’s motivation for betraying us all.
I couldn’t know what was on the line for him to do such a thing.
I’ll only know the repercussions of his action and how it felt personal to me.
What was given to him that made him put me and mine in danger? In more danger than we already are in…
Is the kind of dirt he was doing more wrong than the dirt we’re already doing?
We're selling weed. We should be protecting those who are selling the weed. That's my main thing. It's what I do best, and right now, I'm not even technically doing that.
I'm watching over a woman who has been murdering men like it's nothing.
Her impulsivity or just desire to take lives is not protecting the people in this family.
It’s putting them in harm's way, with every sloppy attempt she makes. I’d helped her cover it up, and though accessory to murder doesn't necessarily come with the job, it's becoming something that I'm concerned about.
Is she doing okay?
What ended up happening the other day?
Is the dirt Geno did, worse than helping cover baseless murder?
It's taken everything in me not to follow up with her just to make sure that she did get out okay. That there's not some big issue that I wasn't there to help her fix.
But it's not my job to help her fix it.
The only reason why she sent me a text is because she thought that I would help her. Here I am, feeling guilty that I wasn't able to help her.
It's ridiculous.
And on top of everything else, I can't stop thinking about the last time I had her in my hands.
I'd be a fool to say that I didn't want it again.
I'd be a fool to say I don't want her again.
I'm smart enough to know that just fucking someone else won't clear my head of Nina. But I also have to think about the implications of having her again.
Someone who submits that beautifully needs someone who can take care of her.
Can that person be me?
Do I want that person to be me?
On a carnal basis—Of course, I want to bend her. I want to bend her to my will, just to see how beautifully she submits again.
But there's also a responsibility in being someone's Dom that I don't know I can take on right now.
I couldn't possibly be the best person, but I can't imagine that anyone else would be a better person for her.
She has a lot that she needs to work through, and though I don't feel like I've taken advantage of that pain, I know for a fact that there's much to heal within her.
Am I the person to help her do that?
There are too many questions when it comes to her.
Thankfully, I have plenty of time to think it over as I sit through another airport visit to get back to Atlanta to explore a new trail to lead us to the man we're looking for.
Redd had sent me plenty of information about blue hat, and we needed to follow that as much as we possibly could.
As soon as I get to Atlanta, I go to Nina's place, only to realize she's not there. Redd doesn't ask me any questions when he gives me her location upon request.
So, as I stand outside of this restaurant, looking inside, I can see her at a table with a man who is very much not in a blue hat. They look cozy and it’s hard to miss that she is believably into what he’s saying. Her body language gives every cue that this date is legitimate.
Is it?
I get an opportunity to finally talk to her when she excuses herself to the bathroom. The restaurant is large enough that the hallway is far from the table she was sitting at, so I catch her right before she turns into the multi-stall room.
She jumps, but only slightly, placing a hand over her chest. “Jesus, Vert, what is your problem?”
“What is my problem?” I question, searching her face for any sort of brattiness that would give away that she’s joking. “What are you doin’ here with him?”
In the seclusion of the hall I can get a look at what she’s wearing.
The long tight nature of the dress hides none of her curves from the imagination.
My eyes pause over her side that I had covered with a bandage the last time it was exposed to me.
It doesn’t look like she has anything on under that dress.
Her pink hair is bone straight today, brushing over her shoulders and highlighting the wine color of this dress.
She’s here using herself as bait with long lashes that blink curiously at me when I make it back up to her face.
“What I always do, which is getting rid of another disgusting man.”
“What do you mean, Nina? I thought we talked about this.” I reach for her, don’t know why, but she steps once away from me.
“We did, and I still think that I'm doing much better work than what the police could, or what they want to.
My God, this man is absolutely the worst. I was on a dating app, as I'm liable to do, and matched with him.
I had already seen comments from other women talking about how this dude was assaulting them.
I can't let that stand, with one woman saying that she woke up knowing that he had already defiled her body.”
My twist more as she talks, “Woke up? Why was she asleep?”
She scoffs, placing a fist on the hip that wasn’t injured. “I don't care, actually. What reason would I need other than him doing something she never agreed to. I believe women, and I believe that I have a solution to help said women.”
“That's not enough reason for you to be doing this. We have an actual task—”
Her finger presses over my lips. “Oh yea, did I forget to mention that he is also the guy who we've been looking for. Remo Bailey.”
I stare at her for a while. How did she get blue hat? How did she— “You cannot kill him. We need answers.”
“I never said I was going to kill him.” Rolling her eyes, she adds an annoyed sound to her explanation. “I just said I was going to get rid of him, and I had a plan,” she sniffs. “I was going to call you after.”
“You were gonna call me after?” I droll, unhappy with that plan entirely. The last time I had her on the phone she was undoubtedly in the middle of or just finished offing someone.
“Well, yea.”
A woman rounds the corner to use the restroom and hurries past us to get there. Sometimes it’s difficult to believe how out in the open Nina is with her plans. In a low tone I ask, “What if I wasn't able to come?”
Seemingly bored, she leans against the wall. “Then why are you here to begin with? This is your only task, which is to find the person who is rallying people against the others in Lafayette, and to find out if there's more defectors other than just Geno.”
“So, what are we talkin’ about here?” She’s not wrong, but I still feel like I’m missing something.
“I'm doing my part of the job, which is to lure the man.”
“You didn't discuss it with me first.”
Her eyes narrow in that way when she’s going to say something bratty. “Discuss what? We aren’t partners, remember? What is there to talk about anyway? You're here now, aren't you?”
This time when I reach for her face, she’s not able to back away with the wall behind her. My hand sits comfortably at her hip, bringing her close. “Only because I wanted to make sure that you weren't in trouble.”
“Me?” She questions, true confusion playing over her face.
“Yea, you do realize that you're the size of a miniature toy you can get with a fast food meal? By some stretch of the imagination, you've managed to make it out alive in these circumstances. It's impressive, but luck don't last that long, sweetheart.”
She gets into my face, as best she can in her six-inch heels, to sneer, “It's not luck that got me here. It was all the preparation that I put into being here—the makeup, the clothes, the personality. The fucking research. Don’t pretend that you know how I operate.
I mean, have you seen the photos I take for my profiles? Men don't even think I'm real.”
“And you're not, doll.” Despite her ire, I rub circles over her hip bone still under my hand. Her in my room is not this same woman in front of me. Maybe they are and I’m just missing a lot of the context but I can see how different they are.
“You're not real. That person you show them is not real.”
“That person is me,” she intones, holding my gaze and getting closer.
Our faces aren’t that far from each other and it makes me want to lean down to kiss her.
My eyes flitting to her lips for just a moment.
The glossy shine of them too enticing and I know that.
Looking away is my best course of action in this moment.
“Fine,” I concede. “But people have many sides and the one that is most true for you is not this one.”
“Is this really the time to do this? He's going to think that I'm doing something in here that is not a part of being a super attractive, unattainable match that will do anything he wants…”