Deadly Satisfaction (6 page)

Everyone knew that Geneva was right, and that knowledge caused silence to fall over the room as they each processed the troubling turn of events. They were all exhausted from their long day, and they decided to end the night and retreat to their rooms to sort out their questions and fears.

A half hour later, Geneva lay in her bed watching her husband as he emerged from the shower. His muscular body was glistening from the beads of water still clinging to his smooth brown skin. She loved looking at Samuel, and she smiled as she remembered how different his body had been when they'd first met. Through her encouragement, in combination with healthy eating and regular workouts, Samuel had dropped over thirty pounds and had toned his muscles, reversing the hands of time. Geneva thought he looked good before his weight loss, and now he was even more handsome, but not just because his physical appearance had changed. He looked so good to her because of the goodness inside his heart. Samuel was kind, patient, and humble. Geneva thanked God every day for bringing him into her life.

“I'm glad to see you're smiling,” Samuel said. “After the day you've had, to be able to smile is a blessing.”

“I'm smiling because I know that regardless of what's going on, you have my back, and I have yours, and that's all that matters.”

“It sure is, baby.”

Samuel walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxer briefs. He stepped his right leg into them when Geneva said something that stopped him from making another move.

“Why put those on when I just plan to take them off?” She ran her tongue across her bottom lip and then smiled as she spoke. “Are you okay with that?”

Samuel nodded and closed the drawer. “I'm more than okay with that.” Slowly, he walked over to Geneva's side of the bed, pulled back the jewel-tone damask comforter, and climbed in beside her.

Geneva felt safe and protected in Samuel's arms, and she needed that sense of security right now. She parted her lips as she welcomed Samuel's tongue into her mouth. She loved the way he kissed her because she could feel the passion and desire in each sensual movement of his lips and tongue. He started a slow, hungry dance, darting, retreating, and tasting her breath as he savored every inch of her mouth. All the while he caressed her back gently and rubbed his hands over her soft, chestnut brown-colored skin.

Geneva was glad that Samuel was the kind of man who liked to take his time making love, and she knew that tonight would be no exception. In fact, he would take extra care with her because he knew that's what she needed. He pressed his pelvis, along with his hard erection, against her thigh as he held her close to his body with his right arm. She moaned with pleasure from the feel of his strong hands caressing her skin with his free hand. The combination of his sensuous kisses, gentle touch, and slow pelvic grind all felt so good she nearly let out a small scream. She knew she had to be quiet because they had guests down the hall, and even though their house was expansive in size, sounds carried through the large space.

“I love you, baby.” Samuel whispered into her ear. “I don't want you to worry about anything. I'm going to protect you.”

Geneva felt as though the heavy weight of the day had just been lifted off her shoulders. She'd always felt safe with Samuel, because from the very beginning of their relationship he'd been true to his word. If he told her he was going to do something, he followed his words up with actions that she could believe in. “I love you, too, baby,” she panted, and then moaned. “Ohhhh, baby.”

When she felt him slowly ease his way inside her, kissing her in between each thrust, her body sank into an ecstasy so sweet she had to turn her head to the side and moan into her pillow. Samuel continued to thrust, kiss, rub, and grind until Geneva's body trembled from the intense orgasm that overtook her, leaving her helpless to the aftershocks that made her limbs weak. She was still enjoying her orgasmic high when she felt him explode inside her, causing a second wave of ecstasy to surge through her body.

An hour later Geneva had been fast asleep when she awoke in a cold sweat. She could barely catch her breath as she fought for air. She looked over to her right, saw Samuel fast asleep, and tried to steady her breathing. She inhaled deeply, releasing shallow breaths as she tried to calm herself. She'd drifted off to sleep in pleasure, and now she'd awakened with terrifying thoughts. But this time it wasn't Vivana that had been on her mind and in her bad dream; it was her ex-husband, Johnny.

Geneva's nightmare had felt so real that she had to swallow hard and blink her eyes through the darkness in the room to make sure that what had happened wasn't real.

Her dream took her back to the night that Johnny had been murdered, and she'd seen it so vividly that it jolted her from her a satisfied sleep. She could see his dead body lying on the kitchen floor, where he'd been found by the police in the early hours of the morning. But what had made her gasp and had jolted her awake wasn't his stiff corpse. She'd been frightened because the person standing over him, the woman who'd murdered him in cold blood, wasn't Vivana.

C
HARLENE

C
harlene bit down on her bottom lip and let out a long, hard sigh. She squinted and looked at the near-empty bottle of wine sitting next to her glass on the end table beside her. She was feeling the effects of the alcohol, and she liked it. “I might as well finish this off.” With careful and slow movements, she steadied her hands as she reached for the bottle and poured what was left into her glass. Three long swallows later, she set her empty glass next to the empty bottle and shook her head. “What the hell is Leslie up to, and what does she know?”

Charlene reclined back into the couch, kicked her feet up on the tufted ottoman in front of her, and replayed her phone conversation with Leslie Sachs. The purpose of Leslie's call was crystal clear, because she'd mentioned the breaking news story right away, and she'd asked Charlene if she'd seen it. But the underlying intent behind Leslie's call was what had Charlene worried enough to drink an entire bottle of wine.

Even though many years had passed, Charlene still knew Leslie well, and there were a few things about the top-notch attorney that had remained consistent over time; she was damn good at her job, every move she made was calculated and well thought out; and she never had a contingency plan because her strategy was to always win. That was the very reason she never took a case unless she was sure she could exonerate her client, and that last part troubled Charlene the most.

“The only reason Leslie took Vivana's case is because she knows that, unstable as Vivana is, and as guilty as she appeared to be, she's really innocent,” Charlene mumbled, still coherent enough to make reason of her thoughts. “I wonder if Vivana contacted Leslie or if Leslie contacted her?” Charlene was hoping that it was Vivana who had reached out to Leslie, because if it was the other way around, Charlene knew she was screwed.

She lifted her hand to her head and ran her fingers through her freshly trimmed bob, then thought about her stylist. Thanks to Geneva, her hair always shined with a healthy gloss and looked as though she could shoot a shampoo commercial. She was the best stylist Charlene had ever had, and she was also one of the kindest people she knew. Geneva had a genuinely warm spirit and was compassionate to a fault, always wanting to help others. Charlene guessed that was one of the reasons she'd never associated Geneva with Johnny; the two couldn't have been more different. That difference was also what had attracted Charlene to him, as well.

Two and a half years ago, Charlene's world had drastically changed. The hurt and humiliation she'd experienced in her marriage had driven her to a breaking point, and she knew she could either sink in her misery or swim her way back to happiness. She'd been living her life inside the lines of order and respectability since she was a young woman, and in her estimation it had landed her in places so lonely she wouldn't have wished it on an enemy. She'd known it was time for something different. She wanted and needed change.

Her ex-husband, Reginald, had cheated on her numerous times over the course of their marriage, and each time Charlene had forgiven him, hoping he'd grow out of his philandering ways. She'd loved him, they'd built a life together, and she'd fooled herself into believing his indiscretions would one day be a thing of the past. She'd grown up seeing how her mother had put up with her father's infidelity, some of which had resulted in blatant disrespect and humiliation. So she'd been thankful that Reginald had, at the very least, been discreet.

But when it was revealed that one of Reginald's affairs had resulted in a son whom their daughter had unknowingly dated, Charlene couldn't take another minute of Reginald's lies. She'd kicked him out of the house, and then promptly divorced him.

At the time, Charlene had been so hurt and devastated that she'd wanted to move out of the large, stately home she and Reginald had shared for nearly thirty years. She couldn't bear to spend another day in the house that held so many lies and empty promises. Plus, both of her children were grown, and the thought of living in a five-thousand-square-foot home all alone seemed ridiculous. She'd wanted something smaller and more practical. Little did she know that her desire to downsize would result in a colossal mess.

Charlene started looking for a Realtor, and a young couple she knew recommended Johnny. They'd hired him to help them find their dream home, and he'd delivered top-notch service. They'd raved so much about his professionalism and knowledge of the area's real estate market that Charlene decided to meet him for coffee to discuss how he could help her find a new home.

Charlene shook her head as she thought about her first encounter with Johnny. “I should've turned around in my tracks and walked away when that bastard said hello,” she said, slurring her words as she began to succumb to the effects of the bottle of wine. “Better yet, I should've taken all the traffic and road detours I ran into that day as a big warning sign to stay away.”

Charlene had been running twenty minutes late for her meeting with Johnny, but she'd been determined not to stand him up because she prided herself on being a woman of her word. When she finally walked into the coffee shop and met Johnny face-to-face, she hadn't expected him to be so handsome, charming, and downright sexy.

Johnny's wide smile, full lips, and handsome face had made quite an impression on Charlene. She'd liked that he was clean-cut, sporting a top-quality tailor-made suit, and that he was well groomed with freshly cut hair and shoes that were polished to a high shine. She thought he looked like a Wall Street investment banker rather than a Realtor. Although he was clearly at least twenty years her junior, Charlene could see that Johnny was attracted to her, and it made her feel desirable and wanted—something her husband hadn't made her feel in a very long time.

She and Johnny talked business for the first fifteen minutes of their meeting, but then it quickly turned into something else. Charlene had recognized the signs, and she was flattered that a man as young and handsome as Johnny had been genuinely interested in her. He'd had a seductive look in his eyes when he told her that he wanted to show her a property.

“I think you'll really like what I'm going to show you,” Johnny had said with a devilish wink. “I guarantee it will meet all of your needs . . . and quite a few of your wants.”

Right then Charlene knew what Johnny had in mind. But instead of using her good judgment, she went along with him, high on the excitement and flirtatious moves that he'd put on her. He hadn't been wearing a wedding band, and her divorce was imminent, so she convinced herself that there was no harm in having a little fun.

She'd followed Johnny to a small brick-and-stone apartment building that looked nothing like the type of stately, gated community–type of property she'd told him she was looking for. But then again, she'd known from the moment they left the coffee shop that the only thing Johnny wanted to show her was a good time. Before Charlene knew it she was in bed with him, having wild, hot sex in an empty rental unit. But just as quickly as she'd jumped into bed with Johnny and enjoyed their spontaneous tryst, it abruptly came to an end when Vivana showed up.

Vivana had been having an affair with Johnny, and she'd become suspicious that he was cheating on her. Unbeknownst to him, she'd started following his every move. She'd tracked him to the apartment building, and that was when all hell broke loose. Vivana had walked up to them, knocked Charlene down to the ground, and then proceeded to punch Johnny square in the jaw.

At first Charlene had thought that Vivana must've been Johnny's wife, and in the split second that it all happened, Charlene realized that she'd become the other woman. She imagined that her low-down, cheating husband didn't wear his wedding band when he set out to seduce women, just as Johnny hadn't, and that her husband's mistresses were just as much a victim of broken self-esteem and lust as she was. But Charlene's thoughts quickly vanished, and she became outraged when Johnny and Vivana started yelling at each other, and the truth came out that Vivana
wasn't
his wife.

Charlene had been pissed to learn that not only was Johnny cheating on his wife, he was also cheating on his mistress, and in Charlene's eyes that sank him to a new low. She ran out of the building and never looked back.

She'd chucked the entire incident up to one colossal mistake, until several months later, when Johnny contacted her, asking for money. She'd thought he must have been out of his mind to think that she would give him a dime, but when he told her that he'd had a camera set up in the closet of the rental unit he'd taken her to, and that the video clip of the two of them would be e-mailed to practically everyone she knew, she changed her tune and started paying him hush money, in cash, every month like clockwork.

But Charlene eventually became fed up, and she decided it was time that Johnny paid the price for the damage he'd inflicted upon others. She'd hoped for months that he'd befall a bad accident, succumb to an illness, or that someone would outright kill him. But since none of those things happened, she knew she had to take matters into her own hands.

Charlene had been questioned during the murder investigation, and she'd remained cool under pressure. Being an attorney by trade, she knew how things worked, and she was certain that her meeting with Johnny at the coffee shop would eventually be revealed. She knew when the detectives went through his recent business dealings to find motive, they'd discover the real estate contract she'd signed a few months prior to his death. Added to that, her hair stylist was Johnny's estranged widow. With that level of involvement, Charlene knew that once the murder investigations heated up, the detectives would eventually come knocking at her door. So she made a power move.

As soon as Johnny's death became public knowledge, Charlene immediately contacted the chief of police and the lead homicide detective on the case. She'd told them that she was shocked to see that the man she'd hired as her Realtor, but whose services she'd never used, had been murdered. She'd also told them that as a public official, sworn to serve and protect her constituents, that she wanted Johnny's killer caught as soon as possible so the citizens of Amber could feel safe. She'd polished it off by telling them that her office would provide any resources they needed for their investigation.

But despite Charlene's clever strategy, she knew that everything hinged upon Vivana being able to positively identify her as the woman she'd had an altercation with on that fateful day in the apartment building. Charlene had nearly worried a patch of gray into the front of her head at the thought. But as it turned out, Vivana had been so distraught and angry that day that she couldn't remember the face of the woman whom she'd accosted. There had been no eyewitnesses, so it was as if it had never happened, and for that, Charlene had been grateful.

The prosecution had a field day picking apart Vivana's claim of the incident, and basically implied that she'd made the whole thing up. “How is it that you confronted and actually became engaged in a physical altercation with a woman who was seeing your boyfriend, yet you can't even remember what she looked like?” the prosecutor had asked. When Vivana responded by telling them that she'd been so angry she couldn't focus, it really made her seem like the kind of person who could easily go into a rage and commit murder.

Vivana's damaging testimony had sealed her fate, and from that point forward it was clear that she would be convicted. After she was locked away, life had begun to slowly return to normal for Charlene, that is, until a few months later when she received a cryptic text message. It had been very short and simple, but it had frightened her. Although she'd erased it right after she'd read it, she still remembered it word for word.

Charlene raised her arms, yawned, and then stretched out on the couch in her drunken haze. She was still dressed in her beige-colored silk blouse and her brown houndstooth skirt. She made no effort to remove her stylish gold necklace, matching earrings, or bracelet because at this point she couldn't maneuver the clasps or hooks, even if she tried. She was tired from the mental strain of the very real possibility that the crime she'd committed might soon be uncovered.

“What kind of evidence could they have?” Charlene said, slurring her words worse than before. She propped a pillow behind her head. “I was careful. I didn't make a single mistake. Maybe Leslie's bluffing.” But deep down Charlene knew that wasn't true. A chill went through her when she thought about the fact that Leslie wanted to meet her for coffee at the Whole Bean Café, of all places.

As Charlene fell into an alcohol-induced sleep, she tossed and turned with the thought that she might not have gotten away with murder after all.