Misty (28 page)

“That's a lie! I would never do anything to hurt you, Anya. And I didn't set up Sergio; it wasn't me. I swear to God. I didn't say a word to Majid about Sergio deciding to go legit.”

Anya looked at Natalie with undisguised hatred. “You told on yourself, you dumb bitch.” She zapped Natalie again and again, causing her to flail about and gurgle as if choking to death.

“Stop, Anya. Please! I can't take any more of this torture,” Natalie wailed when Anya stopped tasing her.

“You thought I was a soft bitch, didn't you? You mistook my kindness for weakness, but you had no idea who you were fucking with. You shouldn't have crossed me, Natalie,” Anya said with contempt. “Anyone who fucks with me or my people ends up getting hurt real bad. So, don't waste your breath begging for me to stop because I'm not gonna stop until I send you back to your maker.”

“Are you planning to electrocute me to death with that thing?” Natalie yelled in horror.

“I sure am.” Anya grinned maliciously.

Natalie recoiled as Anya aimed the Taser once again. This time, she pointed it at Natalie's abdominal area. Natalie screamed, but with the rush of traffic overhead, her screams went unheard.

“Damn, do you have super powers or something?” Anya asked with cruel laughter. “I thought you would have passed out by now. Maybe I should jolt you with a higher voltage.” Anya pulled a larger Taser from beneath her seat. One look at the black Taser gun and tears began to stream from Natalie's eyes.

“Please. Please. Please, I don't want to die,” she cried. “I'm sorry.
I didn't know Majid would take Sergio out; I only told him about the situation so he could get a piece of the action, too. I didn't know he'd kill his own friend, I swear.”

“Nice speech, Natalie. But your words went in one ear and out the other. You're shady as hell, so be woman enough to own up to what you did.”

“Okay, all right.” Natalie raised a hand in surrender. “What I did was grimy, I admit it, but my hand to God, I wasn't trying to get Sergio killed.”

“What did you think that evil-ass Majid would do if he thought Sergio was trying to move on to greener pastures without him? Huh? And what's really fucked up is the fact that Sergio was going to bring Majid on board after all the paperwork was signed. You didn't have all the facts when you ran back to Majid. Your worthless, whoring ass caused a good man to get killed over some bogus bullshit that you're too stupid to begin to understand.”

“You're right. I got in over my head, and all I can say is I'm sorry.” Natalie managed to squeeze out some tears. “I'm really sorry, Anya.” Hoping for sympathy, Natalie went overboard and began to weep into her hands.

Anya didn't respond; she only stared at Natalie with loathing. Sensing that her crying act wasn't working, Natalie removed her hands from her face, and said, “Please let me get out of the car; I'll walk home and I won't say a word about this to anyone.” She touched the door handle and quickly discovered that Anya had used the panel on the driver's side to keep her locked inside.

“You're not getting out of this car until I'm finished with you,” Anya said scornfully.

“I can't take any more,” Natalie whined.

“You have to pay for your crime against Sergio and Paloma.”

“I didn't do shit to anybody named Paloma. I don't even know anybody by that name.”

“Paloma was Sergio's housekeeper. Your man popped her for no reason, also. And now, I'm gonna snap, crackle, and pop you until your insides start frying.”

Anya raised the Taser and Natalie began moaning, “Stop! No! Please! Oh, God help me from this psycho bitch.”

Like a crazed person, she began screaming at the top of her lungs. She jiggled the door handle frantically and repeatedly kicked the door, as if she were trying to kick her way out of the car.

With amusement, Anya watched Natalie have a meltdown. When Natalie finally wore herself out and began panting for breath while her chest heaved up and down, Anya retrieved the silver flask from the cup holder. “Have a drink and calm yourself down. But I need you to be honest and tell me exactly what you told Majid. Think about it and maybe a taste of liquor will help refresh your memory.”

Anya reclined her chair as she offered Natalie the flask.

“Thank you. Oh, God, thank you so much,” Natalie said, uncapping the flask and turning the lip of the bottle up to her mouth. Suddenly, the flask dropped from her hand and she let out a piercing scream that died down rapidly as the flesh on her lips and tongue ballooned to a grotesque size, and then popped, the deep red flesh appearing to melt.

Anya leapt to the passenger's side, scooped the flask from the floor, and then straddled Natalie. “Drink this shit,” she spat as she struggled to force-feed Natalie the remainder of the Liquid Fire drain cleaner that was inside the flask.

Natalie's melted lips secured the flask in place and Anya didn't remove it until it was empty. Anya didn't feel a bit of sympathy for
Natalie; all she felt was a cold rage as she watched her writhing and moaning, her terrified eyes bulging as her insides burned from the drain cleaner she'd been forced to ingest.

“Don't let me die. Take me to a hospital,” Natalie said, her pleading words barely coherent.

“Bitch, you're gonna die and I'm gonna sit here and enjoy watching it happen.”

“Pleeeeeease,” Natalie said in a long, terrible groan.

Anya shook her head. “Fuck you, you dirty ho! Now, you know how betrayed Sergio felt when a gun was held to his head by a man he considered a friend. You know how betrayed I felt when I watched his brains splatter against the walls because a dirty slut I treated with compassion and generosity repaid my kindness by setting up both me and my man. You knew I'd be at Sergio's on the night of his birthday, but you didn't care. You wanted me to die along with him, but I survived and now I'm your worst nightmare,” Anya hissed.

Natalie moaned louder, and Anya turned on the radio to drown out the horrible, screechy, animal-like whimpers that rose from Natalie's chemically burned throat. Fighting for her life, Natalie continued to jiggle the door handle, trying to no avail to escape from the car and save herself from the slow and agonizing death that was absolutely inescapable.

After forty-two minutes of moaning and twitching, Natalie became silent and then slumped into death, leaning heavily against the passenger's door. At that point, Anya unlocked the door, opened it, and shoved Natalie's lifeless body out the car, discarding it with repugnance as if getting rid of putrid, week-old trash.

•  •  •

The only attendees at Sergio's private funeral service were the staff of the funeral home, the pastor who was paid to say a few words for Sergio's soul, Anya, Uncle Fabian, and the prison guards who had accompanied him to his nephew's funeral.

At the burial site, Anya cried quietly, but Uncle Fabian wept openly and unashamedly. Trying to give him a modicum of comfort, Anya told him that she'd taken care of the woman who set up Sergio. “I made sure she suffered. Her death was slow and painful,” she said venomously.

He let out a long, weary sigh and wiped his tearful eyes. “I knew that behind that pretty face and innocent demeanor, you had a heart of ice when it came to seeking justice for your loved ones.” Uncle Fabian narrowed his eyes and said, “I could put hands on that nigga, Majid, while he's locked up in county, but I'd rather wait until after the trial when that scumbag and the coward that helped him snuff out my nephew's life get sent upstate to my house.” He smiled maliciously and rubbed his cuffed hands together. “I have special plans for those two traitors. By the time I finish with them, they're gonna beg for a bullet between their eyes.”

J
effrey Backus had changed visibly since Misty had last seen him. The former smug look on his face had been replaced with a humble expression. In his eyes was the glint of new-found respect for Misty, and rightly so. She'd had the gall to invite the billionaire to Philadelphia, booked in the same hotel where she resided, but she'd kept him in his suite for the past five days, making it clear that his vast wealth didn't faze her in the least. She didn't pay him a visit until it was convenient for her.

A powerful man like Backus didn't wait for anyone, yet he waited for Misty, desperate for the service that only she could provide.

This time, Misty visited Backus alone; she felt comfortable and self-assured enough to conduct their business without the benefit of a bodyguard and without Gavin's brooding presence. She'd repaid Gavin all the money he'd spent on her surgeries, yet he still sulked and complained as if he expected Misty to feel indebted to him for the rest of her life. She was sick and tired of hearing about his missing gay lover, and if he pestered her one more time about finding the man, she was liable to slit his throat. She was so over Gavin. Being around Gavin was a chore, and she was relieved that she didn't need him to tag along with her tonight.

In fact, now that she'd gotten her foot in the door, she was pretty sure she could handle her operation from now on without needing Gavin to introduce her to elite clients.

Brick was still upset with her, but she was sure he'd get over it by the time she called him for the next job. Brick wasn't foolish enough to turn down the kind of money Misty was paying.

After Backus eagerly paid her the two-million-dollar fee she'd requested to heal his left hand, and after Misty carefully stacked the cash in two, extra-large duffle bags, she motioned for him to hold out his hand.

Filled with the anticipation of soon becoming whole and healed, Backus stuck out a gnarled hand that trembled with excitement. Misty placed her own had upon it and felt bones straightening and skin smoothing out beneath her palm.

When the sensations subsided, she removed her hand and smiled in satisfaction at her achievement. “It looks good as new,” she quipped.

Backus gazed steadily at his repaired hand. Overcome with emotion, he embraced her. Shedding tears, he thanked her profusely, informing her that he considered her a treasured friend for life. “If ever you need a favor, please don't hesitate to ask,” he said.

“I'll remember that,” Misty said as she squirmed out of his bear hug and grabbed the handles of the heavy money bags. “I do have a small request, if you don't mind.”

“Anything.”

“Call the front desk and ask them to send someone up to carry these heavy bags for me,” Misty requested.

Backus eagerly picked up the phone and in a commanding voice, he demanded that a bellhop be sent to his suite.

Squeezing anti-bacterial sanitizer into her palm, Misty grimaced as she rubbed her hands together.
Ew! I can't believe I had to touch that nasty muthafucka, again.
Her grimace turned into a smile when she saw the hot dude who came to collect her bags.

Outside the hotel, her driver promptly jumped out the vehicle and relieved the bellhop of the bags that he put inside the trunk. Misty penned her phone number on a fifty-dollar bill and tipped the boyishly handsome bellhop.

“Thanks a lot,” the young man said with a big smile.

Misty looked him over; he was medium height and strongly built. Seemed like the type who was eager to please in bed. “There's more where that came from,” Misty told the bellhop, imagining their naked bodies entwined.

•  •  •

Being chauffeured around was a great inconvenience, but with all her outward bravado, Misty couldn't bring herself to get behind the wheel of a car. The night she was nearly killed was still fresh in her mind, and though she knew it was irrational, she, nevertheless, had an overwhelming fear of being attacked again while driving.

With her cash flow piling up like crazy, she needed to get the money out of her hotel room and into a safe place. She came up with the idea to rent a storage unit to stockpile her cash. Trouble was, she couldn't drive herself and didn't trust a hired driver to help her unload her fortune. The only person in the world whom she truly trusted was Brick. And he wasn't speaking to her, but it was time for him to put aside their differences and stop being so damn petty.

The easiest way to get to Brick was through his son, and with that in mind, Misty called him and began the conversation by saying, “I realize you've been putting away money for Little Baron's college fund, but did you know that a good private school is often more expensive than college?”

“What do you want, Misty?” Brick said in a weary tone.

“Hear me out, okay?”

Brick grunted a response.

“With the pitiful state of the public school system, I know you don't want your son attending a neighborhood school and receiving an inferior education.”

“Stop with the sales pitch; what's on your mind?” Brick said impatiently.

“Well, I was thinking about how my little brother is only being stimulated by my boring mother. She probably has him sitting next to her, eating a bunch of snacks while watching hours of idiotic daytime TV shows. If you leave it up to my mother to plan his future, he's going to end up being dumb as a box of rocks.”