Chapter Sixteen. Eshe
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Eshe
I stare at the beautiful Black woman who shouldn’t be leaning up against the living room wall in my mother’s cottage. A warning trips down my spine, like one predator scenting another.
And that’s exactly what she is—a predator. The warm-chestnut skin, tight brown curls, and delicate features don’t hide the monster lurking behind those stunning gray-blue eyes. Like recognizes like.
And yet, she’s a complete stranger.
An oddly familiar complete stranger.
“It took you long enough to get here,” she says with a slight smirk that doesn’t reach her bright but empty eyes.
“I repeat, who the fuck are you?”
She tilts her head, curls brushing her shoulder. “Think on it a little, olori. I’m sure it’ll come to you.”
The front door of the cottage swings open, and Tera, Doc, Nef, Kenya, Maura, and Sienna—pale and arm in a sling—rush in, followed by Jamari.
My heart swells with joy in my chest at the sight of Sienna, even as I wonder why the fuck she’s here instead of at the safe house.
But she’s not paying attention to me. None of them are.
Their eyes lock on the woman across the room, and like one body, they immediately fan out, weapons drawn and aimed at her.
I return my attention to the assassin, staring at her, hard. “You’re Poison.”
Her smirk deepens, confirming my answer.
“The fuck? The bitch who’s trying to kill you?” Tera snaps. “Well, good. She’s made our job a helluva lot easier.”
She lifts her gun higher, ready to fire, but I hold up a hand.
“Wait.”
Tera scowls at me. “Wait? For what? She blew up our warehouse. Probably the same one who took shots at us. She’s the reason Penn is hurt. Unless you’re telling me to hol’ up to break her shit like she did Penn’s, then I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I get it, and I’m right there with you. But”—I turn back to Poison—“you tracked me down here for some reason. And since neither one of us is leaking yet, I’m figuring you have something to say first.”
The assassin pushes off the wall and strolls closer. And I want to choke-slam her for being so fucking cavalier when Malachi is somewhere being tortured at this moment.
“Look, I know you got this whole secret assassin shit going on, but I’m on a time crunch with the life of someone I care about on the line. So if you don’t mind getting a move on?” I ask, twirling my hand.
“I know all about Malachi being held by Abena.”
Ice slicks through me and crystallizes into a freezing, numbing rage. How does she have information we just received? How does she know his name?
I stalk forward, not stopping until we’re damn near nose to nose. I can see the gray striations in her eyes.
“Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?” I grind out. But the longer I glare into her bright, familiar eyes, the impossible, crazy, yet all-too-real answer starts to take shape in my head. And yet, as impossible as it may seem, I still whisper, “Miriam.”
For the first time, emotion flashes in her gaze. An indecipherable emotion, but there just the same.
“I’ve heard you were smart,” she says, and though it sounds condescending, the tone carries a faint hint of praise.
Shock barrels through me, and I lock my knees to keep me upright.
I shake my head, still in denial even though I know it’s true.
“How is this…? It can’t be … You died. He told me he watched you die. He fucking grieves you to this day.”
Fury fast burns away my shock because it’s becoming clearer and clearer that Malachi’s baby sister all grown up is standing in front of me, alive and relatively well, except for the whole psychopathic-killer thing. And she let him believe …
“You bitch,” I breathe, rage lacing my tone.
Before I even acknowledge what I’m doing, my SIG is in my hand, and the barrel is pressed to her forehead.
She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show any reaction at all.
“You let him torture himself all these years for not protecting you. He’s suffered believing he failed you when you needed him most. And all these years, you’ve been alive, been here, and never once thought to ease his pain.
My soul might be dirty as fuck, but at least I have one. ”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” she says, voice even as if she’s discussing the chance of rain. I want her to be rolling in goddamn remorse. Fucking bathing and stinking of it. And … nothing.
“Then enlighten me.”
“No.”
I chuckle, and Tera and Kenya look at each other. Yeah, they know what that laugh means. I’m two seconds from leaping on top of her, and I won’t be hugging the ho.
“I don’t owe you shit except a bullet, since that contract is still open. But since Abena fucked with the wrong person—the only family I have left—I now got skin in the game.”
“That’s a little hypocritical, considering you bombed a place where the only family you have left was at,” Doc points out.
Miriam cuts a glance at her. “I didn’t know he was there, so it doesn’t count.”
“Doesn’t…” I scrub a hand down my face. “Why are you here?”
I can feel the hours, the minutes ticking down, and my skin itches with each passing. I don’t have time for this shit.
Malachi doesn’t have time for it.
Miriam unzips her leather jacket and reaches inside. The sound of guns cocking punctuates the air, and she holds up a hand and slowly removes the other, holding a thumb drive. “Anyone have a laptop?”
“Right here.” Jamari moves to the small table under the window and removes his laptop. He sets it on the table, and Miriam hands him the drive. Moments later, his fingers fly across the keyboard, and then he turns the computer around. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes. Here.” Miriam pushes the laptop toward me, and screenshots of several emails fill the monitor. “Read those.”
I meet her gaze for several long moments before lowering mine to the screen.
At first, I’m not sure what the hell I’m looking at.
But then, as if a light switch is flipped and a dark room is suddenly bathed in blinding light, it hits me.
Correspondence from nine years ago between Abena and someone named MackeyGhost11.
And it’s about my kidnapping. The more I read, the more nauseated with fury I become. I’m damn near incoherent.
Abena.
Abena was behind my kidnapping the entire time.
Abena suggested the ransom amount and cutting off my finger to send to my mother.
Abena is the faceless tormentor in my nightmares, and all along she’s been smirking in my face. Reigning over my family. Stealing the life my mother should’ve had. Living free with no repercussions.
“I’m going to be sick.”
I dart down the hall for the bathroom, slamming the door open against the wall just in time to vomit in the toilet. I keep purging my stomach until only bile empties out of me and pain streaks through my body.
“Come on, Eshe.” A cold washcloth is pressed to the back of my neck as I sink to the floor. Kenya flushes the toilet and hunkers down in front of me, studying me. “You good? We read the shit and it’s fucked up. I’m so sorry. You ready to go back out there?”
I swallow. Nod.
“Good. Let’s go.” Standing, she extends an arm toward me, and I grab her hand. She tugs me to my feet, clasping my elbow to steady me. “Clean up and then come back out there.”
I nod again.
She cups my shoulder and squeezes. After she leaves, I remove the washcloth, wash my mouth out, and splash water on my face.
Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize the woman gazing back at me.
I look … broken. Beaten down. If Abena were in front of me at this very moment, I might surrender just because I’m so fucking tired.
Tired of secrets.
Tired of failing.
Tired of not being enough.
Tired of … being.
Heaving a low, heavy sigh, I grab a hand towel and pat my face dry, then return to the living room. Everyone looks up, not saying anything as I reclaim my seat in front of the computer.
“She’s a dead bitch walking, Eshe,” Tera says. Promises.
And a sweeping scan of the people gathered around the table shows me they all agree with her vow.
Briefly closing my eyes, I dip my chin in acknowledgment, then refocus on the laptop screen.
“How did you get this? Where?” I ask Miriam.
“Your mother’s second-in-command, Zuri.”
I blink. “Zuri?” I rasp. “Where did you see her? When…?”
“Your aunt had her hunted down and murdered months after your mother. But before then, she passed along this”—she nods toward the computer—“to a friend in Creed for safekeeping. That person happened to be my mentor. Before she died, she passed it along to me just in case I ever needed … leverage.”
A wave of grief for Zuri sweeps through me. After all this time, I at least know what happened to her.
“Is this why Abena had my mother killed?” I ask Miriam.
“From what was told to me, yes. Aisha suspected something was off as soon as she realized Abena had failed to arrange the proper security for you. So she started digging. She also kept people on Abena’s ass.
I think that’s why they aborted the kidnapping after a couple of weeks without getting the ransom.
Well, that and your mother had the Boston streets looking like an Egyptian plague.
” She smiles, and damn if it doesn’t hold a hint of admiration.
“Not long after your return, Aisha received confirmation about Abena. From what I understand, the day she was gunned down, she was supposed to be meeting with an informant.”
“You mean Abena had her shot down before she could make that meeting,” I say.
“Yeah.” Miriam shrugs.
“Do you have the proof?” Nef quietly asks.
“No. I only have what you see there…” Miriam looks at me. “But you have the proof.”
“The hell are you talking about? If I had proof that Abena was behind my kidnapping, do you think I would’ve sat on it for all these years?” I huff out an abrupt chuckle. “Fuck you playing at?”
Instead of answering, Miriam strides down the hall, before stopping in front of Ma’s bedroom door. We follow her, and when she pushes the door open and walks inside, everyone else files in, but I … don’t.
I hover in the doorway as a flash flood of memories rushes to greet me.
It’s been nine years since I’ve stepped foot into this room.
And though it’s impossible, I swear, under the dust and stale air, I can still catch Ma’s scent of jasmine and vanilla.
That, too, is a ghost. This room is full of them.
Inhaling, I force myself to walk forward, remembering why we’re here.
Who we’re here for. Miriam moves across the dirty floor to the cobweb- and grime-covered—yet gorgeous—oval-shaped mirror that was Ma’s favorite.
It sits above the black marble vanity, its ornate gilded frame a thing of beauty from a long-ago time.
When I was a little girl, she’d sit me in her lap while she applied her makeup or fixed her hair and tell me how pretty and strong I was, how I would be a powerful and fair queen one day.
Lifting the furnishing from the wall with a grunt, Miriam lays the mirror on the bed. A dirty cloud puffs up, but I barely pay it any notice. No, all my attention is grabbed by the flash drive taped to the back of it.
“What’s on that drive is enough to hand the Mwuaji throne over to you,” Miriam says.
“Who put this…?” I can’t complete the sentence.
“Zuri did.” Miriam removes the flash drive and hands it to me.
“From what I was told, your mother wasn’t able to get the information from the informant the night she died, but what’s on there”—she nods at the drive in my hand—“is more of what she gathered herself. And it’s damning.
Aisha gave Zuri that as insurance in case she didn’t make it back from the meeting.
And Zuri came back here and hid it before disappearing. ”
“All this time, the answers were right here,” I murmur, cradling my future in my hand. “Thank you.” I glance at Miriam. “But we still got beef forever over how you abandoned your brother.”
“Like I said before, you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.
Disrespectfully. My story—our story—is just that: ours.
You’ve only been here for the last part and have no idea about the earlier chapters or what went on in between,” Miriam snaps, and this time I don’t have to question what emotion sizzles in her bright eyes.
Anger.
Pain.
I get what she’s saying—I don’t know her. I don’t know what the last almost two decades have been for her. But I also can’t help but hear the pain in Malachi’s voice, see it etched in his face when he talked about her.
“I don’t know, sis. The loose goat don’t know what the tied goat do.”
Silence falls over the room, and with a frown, I turn and look at Kenya.
“Okay, I’ll volunteer as tribute.” Sienna raises her uninjured arm. “Uh, boo. What the fuck you talking ’bout?”
Kenya shrugs. “All I’m saying is you don’t know what you’d do unless you were in another person’s shoes.”
“Why didn’t she just say that?” Jamari whispers to Doc.
“I hit kids, li’l boy,” Kenya whispers back in that sweet, syrupy voice of hers.
“I don’t really care if you understand or not. What I do understand is my brother’s life is at stake. And I’m going after Abena with or without you. Might as well be with you since you’re down a person.” She glances at Sienna. “And a half.”
“Okay.” I nod. Because, shit, the heffa has a point. We need as much help as we can get, and having a Terminator super-assassin on our side would definitely help even the odds. “Sienna, I’m going to get on your ass later about why you’re not still in the safe house. But right now, we need a plan.”
“I contacted Richter and Moorehead as soon as you called me earlier,” Doc says, leaning against the desk, seemingly uncaring of the years’ worth of grime covering it.
It seems appropriate and even fitting that we’re planning a coup in Ma’s bedroom.
“Abena already summoned us to the obodo for the … show. It seems she’s calling everyone to the compound to witness your execution.
It’ll take them a few hours to gather their people and about seven more to get here, but that should be more than enough time to make the deadline Abena’s given you to turn yourself in.
They said they’ll be ready for whatever you need. ”
“Same with Bisa and Taraji. They’ve been waiting years for this day. We all have,” Tera adds, a sneer curling her lips. “They’re sending in people ahead of time to stash weapons. But they’ll be there with the numbers you need.”
“Okay, exactly what’s on this?” I hold up the flash drive. “And how is it going to help me bring Abena down?”
Miriam smiles, and I fear no one, but she got me reaching for imaginary rosary beads. “I have ideas.”