All This Time (27 page)

Chapter
Fifty-One

Blues
walks over, resuming his spot on the sofa beside me, and he draws my hand into
his. His dark eyes, revealing pain and fear, and something else I can’t
comprehend, glance up at mine before lowering to our linked fingers. He sighs
heavily, a sound I never thought a man this powerful was capable of, but every
day he continues to destroy all of the typical stereotypes I’ve held in this
gutter world. I know what he’s about to tell me will be bad. It’s always bad.
There is no good in the drug world. Anyone who believes otherwise is sorely
mistaken. When you let your guard down for just a moment the cruelty of it
reaches up like a beast from the pits of hell and rips you apart before
dragging you back down to burn with it.

“Doll,
it’s bad,” Blues starts hesitantly keeping his eyes on our connection while
methodically rubbing his thumb over mine. Consumed with an overwhelming need to
soothe his heartache, I lift my hand to touch his face. I don’t understanding
why I give a damn about his pain. He is part of the problem, no, he
is
the problem and now someone he supposedly cares for is hurt or most likely
dead. I pause before making contact, drop my hand, while removing my other from
his grasp, and clasp them together the best I can.

“Tell
me,” I beg knowing whoever it is and whatever the outcome I will be saddened
tremendously by the loss, but prepared for it just as equally.

He
nods his head just slightly before lifting his eyes up to mine. This unique
shade of blue is an eye color that I’ve never seen before and they are swimming
in unshed tears, making me believe again that this cruel monster could actual
give a damn.

“It’s
Wise,” he whispers softly, his voice thick with emotion. “He’s dead.” He clears
his throat and I gasp loudly in the quiet room. “I’m so sorry.” I shake my head
disbelieving him, but knowing that he’s telling me the truth.

I
shut my eyes briefly feeling the burn of tears and clutch my right hand to my
chest, forcing the hurt to stave. The pain I feel is not for a drug dealer, but
for a person.

“I
need air,” I whisper hoarsely. I stand immediately and rush over to the
balcony. I need away from…
him
.

Oh
god, Natalie
. Tears streak down my cheeks when I remember her going back to
the table just minutes before. She watched her husband die. They were supposed
to go on their stupid, freaking trip next weekend. Even though I know this is
real, and it happens every day, I still can’t believe this is happening. I feel
raw. My heart aches for Wise’s two kids the real victims in all of this
bullshit. A young son will never learn from his father about how to be a real
man, how to be a good man, or how to treat a woman. A little girl was robbed of
dealing with an overprotective ‘boyfriend repellent,’ the joy and excitement of
having her daddy walk her down the aisle, and seeing the pride on his face when
he becomes a grandfather. This is so wrong and so unnecessary.

Pulling
myself together, I am grateful that Blues gave me the space I need to process
some of what I’m feeling. Slowly dragging myself out of my state of
unawareness, I turn my head, glancing back inside the lavish penthouse suite
and realize Wise died for this place. He died for the houses Nelson, Blues and
Decks live in, the cars they drive -
the car I drive
- and he died in a
battle that rages on, currently searching out its next victim.

“I
know there is nothing that I can say that will help,” Blues offers softly,
poking his head out of one of the French doors, “but I want you to know that
I’m here and I will do anything I can for you.”

I
glare at him feeling the bitterness rising in my throat, threatening to expose
my disloyalty to him. This person deserves my hostility and hatred, but I beat
it back into the depths of my soul where I can remember what he really is and
why I’m here in the first place. When it comes to Blues, I lost my focus. I’m
so damn glad that I’m reminded now of the real monster that he is before I did
something fucked up like giving him my heart. He’s not worthy of it.

“No,
I just need air,” I say sharply. The chill of the night blisters my checks and
my finger are stiffening from the below freezing temperatures. I release a
heavy sigh and in the corner of my eye I see him take a step forward. He pauses
when I glance up. At the moment there is no way that I can contain the disgust
I feel looking at the fucking catalyst, and from the way he flinches away my
hatred is written all over my face.

“Angel,”
his tone is stern. “I need to make some phone calls. I should only be a few
minutes,” he says stepping back in and holding open the door. “Please come
inside out of the cold.” The last request is a kinder tone, but still more than
I can bear to hear coming out of his mouth. Hoping to avoid more of the same, I
walk in and take my position back on the couch feeling the warmth of the room
beginning to physically soothe me, but the emotional part will need time.

Walking
out of the room, he speaks into his cell phone, “Hey,
it’s
Blues. Get a crew down to Holiday’s…” his voice trails off, but I know he’s
sending in a cleanup crew. Although this will be deemed a professional hit and
there won’t be any shred of evidence left at the crime scene, Blues plays it
smart by calling in a sweeper team. They will probably stroll through the area
dressed in police uniforms actually working the case and their betrayal will go
undetected.

“I’ve
got to end this now,” I whisper to the empty room. “This cannot happen to
another family, on either side of this war.”

I
slip my shoes off my feet and pull them under me as I sit back against the
sofa. Closing my eyes, I center my mind away from the events of tonight. I
focus on my family, my best friend, my career and I wait for joy to fill my
heart again. In the time that it took me to infiltrate this group hoping to
gain their trust, I began to feel too much for them. Going into the job I knew
that I would be putting most of them in jail. Why is this case different from
all the others? The players are different, but it’s the same game with the odds
always stacked against me, and just like every time before, I refuse to fold.
I’ll get through this one way or another, force their hand and then I will
bring down the house.

Sometime
later I find that I’ve stretched out and had fallen asleep. Apparently Blues
returned, discovered me sleeping and covered me with a warm blanket. Pale light
from the early morning sun streaks through the blinds on the window above me.
After a long stretch, I pull myself up and walk down the hallway in search of a
bathroom.

“This
is going to lead right back to him…,” I hear Blues speaking to someone so I
pause at the closed door that I assume is the guest bathroom and continue
listening.
“Absolutely not.
I can’t wait…” his voice
trails off. I tiptoe down the hallway a little further toward the direction his
voice is coming from. I don’t hear anyone responding to him so he must be on
the phone. “I expect you to do your goddamn job!” His loud response startles me
making me jump and I freeze in place hoping that he didn’t hear me. “We may
have lost our only chance….I’ll get him and you get
the
 damn
Ryske detail straight… no, I’ll call you.”

Hearing
the end of Blues’ conversation, I back away from his office slowly while hoping
to make it to the bathroom door before I’m discovered. The creak of his chair
signals that he’s coming. Keeping my eyes locked straight ahead, I stretch my
hand out behind me, aimlessly searching for the doorknob. I find it and twist
just as he steps into the hall with me. His hair is tussled and he’s still
wearing the same clothes from last night. When he lifts his eyes up to meet
mine they are dull with dark circles underneath them. He halts his steps,
slides his hands into his front pockets and his body visibly slumps. He holds
me in a hypnotic state for what feels like hours just standing there his eyes
pleading for me to come to him. My heart slams hard against my chest seeing his
pure unadulterated pain.

Don’t
do this. He isn’t just some guy. Keep your head straight.
I continue
fighting the desire to comfort him until he rips his gaze away and steps into
the room across from his office. Releasing a heavy, but silent breath, I wrench
my hand away from the doorknob and turn around, rushing back to the living
room. I grab up my shoes, not bothering to slip them on and hurry out the front
door, never looking back.

Chapter
Fifty-Two

After
running away from Blues, I catch a cab about two blocks from his penthouse.
Seeing the pain or guilt etched in his face my feelings are confusing the hell
out of me and I can’t deal with it. Expecting someone is watching me I ask the
taxi driver to take me out of the city and then circle back taking the scenic
route just to make sure we aren’t being followed. Finally feeling confident
that I’m not on anyone’s radar, I give him my home address in Canton. Since I
left my things and Jeep at the club I need money so going home is the only
option. Plus, I really need Kris. She can help me deal with my irrational
emotions.

Unfortunately
as we approach the house I notice immediately that she isn’t home again. Once
inside the house, I grab a backpack filling it with a few days worth of
clothes. Then I walk down the hallway to my home office in search of another
disposable phone. I leave a note on Kris’ bed with the new number before
calling another taxi service to pick me up. Spotting a vacancy sign at a sleazy
motel about twenty minutes south of the city, I get him to drop me off. After
getting settled I decide that it might be a good idea to check in and my first
call is to the Captain.

“Thank
the lord,” Captain Reebals shouts frantically. “You can’t just vanish after a
shooting, Sam. I was actually considering risking the entire case by notifying
the press about your disappearance. Fortunately, I reasoned your rebellious
attitude and need to disconnect after the horrible events at Holidays before I
screwed our two year investigation. ”

“It
was stupid on my part not to call sooner,” I sigh, “but I’m safe and far away
from the scene.”

He
sighs, “When you’re ready we need to talk about what went down at Holidays.” I
swallow hard and offer a whispered yes.

“I’m
taking a few days off.” Luckily he doesn’t press for information, ending our
call after that and I make my second call.

Reconnecting
with someone who really loves me always helps me sort through all the bullshit
and can see things objectively. My Gran knows I can’t discuss details of my
case so she happily fills the conversation with talk of all things Willow. I
find peace listening to her melodic voice recounting her weekly town council
meeting, relishing in the success of her newest cheesecake creation and crowing
about the upcoming
Spring
gala that she hosts at the
Renaissance Castle every year. For a brief moment her jubilant excitement
allows me to forget the hellish world I live in. After ending my therapeutic
call with Gran I put my phone away. Knowing that I would be speaking with Russ
next I feel like a break is necessary to deal with his dramatics. I fall into a
restless sleep for the next three hours.

“I’m
freaking out here, Sam,” Russ growls low. His voice filled with anger and fear.
He sighs, annoyed with waiting for my response.

“Motel
7 off of Jefferson,” I tell him my location and hear another heavy sigh, this
one is definitely relief.

“Okay,
okay. That’s good. Do I need to send someone to you?”

“No,
I have everything taken care of for now.”

“Sam,
I got a call about an hour ago,” his voice lowers to a sad tone causing me to
become jittery.

“Tell
me,” I whisper. My eyes transfix on the Bible lying on the nightstand beside my
bed.

“Jude
Kingsley was an undercover homicide investigator.” I gasp feeling a deep
wrenching pain in my chest. My instincts were right about Wise. Russ continues,
“He was working with the feds in an ongoing investigation involving the deaths of
three former X’kapz members and their wives. Information that was withheld from
our department until today indicates that
someone
orchestrated the
murders of the top officers who had recently resigned their post. The members
included William and Yvonne Kennedy, Nelson’s brother and sister-in-law and
Decks’ parents; Oscar and Amelia Sloane, Nelson’s best friend of forty years
and Blues’ parents; and the last was Owen Watson, Nelson’s current wife,
Camille’s first husband. All five perished in a plane crash ten years ago on a
vacation trip. Apparently new information surfaced that led them to assign an
undercover to the case.”

“Jesus,”
I whisper pressing the heel of my palm against my forehead. I can feel the
beginning of a migraine after that discovery. “I remember hearing about that
incident.”

“Yeah,
when some of the wealthiest families in the state die it makes national news.
It’s just strange that it took so long for them to push the investigation.”

Several
silent moments linger between us until I finally ask, “How’s Kris?”

“She’s
good, actually better than good,” I hear his smile through the phone, “She got
the job.”

“In the emergency room?”
I’m so proud for my girl.

“Yeah,
she started last week. She told me that she tried to call you. I didn’t want to
worry her unnecessarily so I didn’t tell her about your accident. She said for
you to call her when you returned back from your mini vacation in the Bahamas.”

Damn,
I should have returned all of her calls. I sigh hating all of the lies and
feeling so disconnected from my real life. “I’m staying here for a few days,
maybe a week. I need to clear my head and being around…
them
won’t help
me do that. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“Sam,
I,” Russ starts, but hesitates and releases a heavy breath before simply saying,
“Be careful.”

Sitting
on the edge of the bed, I toss my phone behind me onto the other side. I run my
fingers under the top of the covers and pull them back before slipping under
the cool sheets, searching for some semblance of comfort in the silent motel
room. I command my mind to slow while I stare up at the dotted ceiling.

It
isn’t the integrity of my sanity that has me escaping
reality,
it’s the vulnerability of my damn betraying heart that urges me to deal with
these reckless emotions. I’m in a wild vortex swirling between hurt and hatred
bordering on revenge with my target being the heads of the opposing cartels.
It’s an illogical plan and that’s why I didn’t bring one of my guns with me
today.

Part
of me feels bad about not going to Natalie immediately after hearing about her
husband’s death while another part begs to rush straight back into Blues’ arms.
Right now I can’t do either. I must process some of this before I can attempt
making contact with anyone in their group. Whatever happens from this point on
I need to disassociate myself personally from every one of them. My job comes
first and I’ll be damned if I will get caught up in their heartache again just
to get sucker punched when someone else I care about dies.
Damn
, I do
care and that’s my damn problem.

I’ve
never connected with the people during an assignment like the way I have them.
And I’ve never had sex with anyone involved in the case. What makes this job so
different? How could I let myself become so deeply involved?
How can I fall
for Blues
? Reflecting back on the past year I can see where it all started
unraveling my hard shell. I shouldn’t have interfered with Momma’s living
arrangements. If I would have just kept my damn nose out of it I wouldn’t be in
this predicament.

Needing
something to distract my wayward thoughts, I switch on the television and flip
through the short list of cable channels repetitively until a local news story
catches my attention. It’s actually the face in the picture plastered on the
screen that has me sitting up and gripping the hell out of the remote control.
Wise
happy face smiles back at me.
The details of the news report are vague and
the only thing that sticks out as important to me is the funeral arrangements
scheduled in Baltimore, two days from now. My chest feels heavy and my mind
screams at me to skip it.

I
glance out the window watching the highway traffic rushing passed while
silently cursing the occupant’s naivety to the bleakness of my reality. Living
an assumed life for the past few years has never affected me like the life I
live as Angel Johnson. I have to find a way out of this detail soon. With the
new information about the reopened homicide investigation I think I have an
angle to possibly reach Decks. After recalling the conversation I overheard
between him and Nelson before our trip to the Bahamas I’m beginning to believe
that he has knowledge of his uncle’s involvement. I need to get to Decks now
while he’s vulnerable. With that decision made it looks like I will be
attending or at the very least observing the ceremony from afar.

Facing
Natalie will not be easy. She lost her soul mate, a good father to her children
and, as it turns out, an upstanding citizen in the community. Wise will be
honored with a traditional law enforcement burial that will include twenty-four
hour honor guard remaining at his casket until he is returned to the earth.
Watching her little children say goodbye to their daddy will surely be the most
heartbreaking scene I’ve ever witnessed.

I
switch off the television and using my cell I call the cab company and the
airport, booking my flight out of town. First, I’ll make a quick stop by my
house. I need something appropriate to wear for saying goodbye to a fellow
officer.