Chapter 4 #4
“She knows our fucking faces. The fuck? You acting like this just some random bitch off the street, Free!” Ledge hissed across the table. “We kidnapped this bitch. She can pick us out a fucking line up—”
“Unless I give her reason not to.” My tone gave him pause.
I was a confident nigga, and I knew how to manipulate just about anybody into doing anything. Ledge adamantly shook his head. I could see from the glare in his eye that he was pissed off.
“You way too confident in this, bruh. This bitch is a major liability,” Ledge conveyed.
“What if I put you in position to keep an eye on her?”
“So now I’m a fucking babysitter?” Ledge muttered, shaking his head. “We got too much riding on this to be trusting her with our operation. Chevy might be a loose cannon, but I can keep her in line.”
“Fall back. Let me take the lead on this. I’ll talk to her.”
His eyes lowered into suspicious slits as they burned into mine like he was trying to read a nigga’s mind or something.
“Talk to her like she a give a fuck what you got to say. The fuck is this really about, bruh? You feeling this bitch or something?” He asked that question like the shit had been on his mind, and I tilted my head in return.
I didn’t like what the fuck he was insinuating for one. I didn’t catch feelings. I shut that part of me off long time ago, and it had never been revived. There wasn’t a bitch walking the earth that could replace what I lost already.
“The fuck you say?” I sneered, mouth tight while I waited for his reaction.
“You done had her locked up for a fucking year now. The fuck am I supposed to think? This shit was supposed to have been over. But you keep using excuses to keep her around. Why the fuck is that?”
“Because she’s fucking useful,” I answered sternly. “And I don’t appreciate you questioning me on how I get shit done,” I growled.
“And I don’t appreciate being pacified. This bitch can not only ID me, but you too. Why the fuck you ain’t concerned about that?” Ledge demanded.
“Because I got this shit under control. I ain’t never needed another mothafucka to tell me how to control a bitch.”
“You banking on your charm and all that other shit you use to get women to do what you want. This ain’t that, nigga.
” Ledge pointed out with a grim smirk. “You kidnapped her. Been holding her up in your house like a porcelain doll or some shit. She ain’t like any of these other bitches that you used to pulling.
That’s what the fuck you forgetting.” Ledge aimed a finger at me.
“This is a bad fucking idea, Free,” Ledge pointed out.
“I gotta deal with some other shit. I’ll just hit you up later.” I stood and prepared to leave.
“One wrong move can blow our shit apart. Remember that,” Ledge advised, staring up at me from his seat.
I could understand him having his reservations about some shit, but he had known me long enough to know how I got down.
Harbor was no different from any woman because at the end of it all, I was that nigga.
I didn’t get played by bitches. Once a woman had the experience of fucking with me, she knew she had a real one, and there were very few that compared.
Ivana was the only woman that I didn’t have to manipulate, because she gave it to me straight.
It would require a little more finesse with Harbor, but that shit wasn’t impossible, and I was up for the obstacle.
* * *
When I walked into my house later that evening, it smelled like a cake or something was baking, leading me right along to the kitchen. Celine and Ivy stood at the island counter, and my daughter mixed something in a bowl. Bright eyes peered up at me when I walked through the doorway.
“Hey, Daddy. We are making brownies,” she announced.
Her smile reminded me of the woman that birthed her, and although I was more than happy to have my daughter, it only reminded me and made my heart a little more tender to the fact that Ivana was no longer with us.
“Dessert of course. Go get cleaned up, and we will set the table,” Celine instructed.
Like she asked, I went upstairs and changed into more casual attire since I planned on working out after dinner.
My mother sent a list of schools, so I was going to go over them with Ivy and discuss options so that we could set up a few on site visits.
I wanted her to have an opinion and be involved in the process.
After changing, I decided I would go and talk to Harbor and see what I could do about my current situation.
At this point, a nigga was desperate, and I needed her.
I unlocked the door to her room, and when I entered, found her laying in bed staring up at the ceiling.
She didn’t notice my presence right away.
I wondered what she was in such deep thought about, and her head shifted in my direction.
Slowly, she eased herself into a sitting position and faced me.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked smartly.
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. With my back pressed against it, I kept my eyes glued to her.
“I have an offer for you.” I began, standing upright.
She rested each hand on either side of her while she waited for me to continue. Her hair was long, flowing past her shoulders, and it was different from any other time I had seen her. She looked soft and not as guarded as she usually was.
“The only offer that I am interested in is getting out of here.” She brought herself to her feet, arms tucked across her perfect, ample breasts. “So you gonna remedy that for me?”
“What if I offered you… an opportunity instead?” I suggested.
“There ain’t shit that you can offer me other than letting me go.” She disputed, her nostrils flaring sexily.
I peered around the room and took a couple of steps forward.
The setup was plain, resembling a hotel suite.
There weren’t any sharp objects, but there was a row of mirrors that she had put to use.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I continued to take a couple of steps until I was front and center.
Harbor’s eyes never left me. She looked at me like she was peering into a fucking microscope, right through me.
To her, a nigga was transparent. And oddly, my mask wasn’t on with her.
“What do you know about your father and what he does for a living?” I questioned, and her face immediately went into a tight grimace.
“Why are you questioning me about that? Why am I still here after a year? What is it that you really want from me?” She interrogated, turning the tables on me.
At first, I wanted to snatch her up and slam her against the wall to remind her who was running shit around here.
I thought against it after taking a minute and soaking her in.
I made her that way—defensive and wound tight.
She always stuck her chest out and kept her nose turned up.
We needed to find a common ground. I was in a position where I needed her more than I thought I ever could.
“My daughter is here. She’s twelve years old. When her mother was six, she was killed,” I revealed.
The hardened stare that she had penetrated me with softened with those words, and her dark, upward-slanted eyes landed on the ground.
When she brought them back to me, there was something there that I hadn’t counted on, and it surprised me.
Did she actually empathize with me? Was she still capable of that after everything I had done to her?
If she was, she was one hell of a woman.
And I didn’t deserve an ounce of compassion from anyone.
I accepted six years ago that aside from my daughter I didn’t deserve anything else good in the world.
I spent a good portion of my life taking the lives of others, and although a nigga walked around like his soul was in check, that was far from the case.
“Ivana Samuels,” I stated evenly. “I mentioned her already. Her file was sealed. She died on a flight taking over fifty passengers to San Tropez. The media called it a freak accident. They tried to seal it off as if it was some random shit, but they won’t allow anyone to access this file.
I need you to bypass all that. Is that something that you think you can handle?
” The aggression in my tone startled her, but she didn’t seem afraid.
“And what does my father have to do with any of that?”
“Harold Lawson was the one who helped seal her records. I want to know why.” I concluded. “I need to know who’s pulling his strings.”
Confusion spread across her face. It was clear that she had no idea what the fuck I was talking about. I could practically see the thoughts bouncing around her head.
“So… that’s why I’m here?” she whispered.
“You didn’t think it was your charm, did you?” I kidded very dryly.
She cut her eyes at me but kept a blank face. “Whatever he did or didn’t do, it has nothing to do with me.” Harbor threw her arms up. “My father worked for the government, and he never talked about his job with us.”
“And yet you ended up on a path similar to his.” I ran my hand down my beard and studied her from where I stood.
“You don’t know shit about me or what I do,” she clapped back, her defenses high.
The spark behind her eyes was different from when she first arrived. In a year’s time, she’d gone from a bright-eyed girl to a woman with fire in her eyes.
“First, let’s get something clear. I brought you here, and I’m the only reason that you’re still alive. I could have your throat slit and you in the fucking dirt before the sun goes down. I… have shown you mercy,” I pointed out to her.
“Am I supposed to be grateful or jumping for joy?” she asked, brows dipped above her angered irises. “You snatched me out of my life. It wasn’t perfect or no shit like that, but it was mine, and I was starting to finally feel like I belonged in it. Do you know what that’s like?” she questioned.