Power (Romantic Suspense) (28 page)

Another voice sounded more than the others. It came out in a rhythmic tone. Like the guy had wanted to be a rapper or something, but never pursued his dreams. “Yo, Noah. What else can we do? There is a black cloud of smoke hovering over the whole city. Every brothel that I could find is abandoned, crumbling and burning to the ground.”

“Good work, 305, but is there any word on Butterfly?”

“Not yet.”

“Then keep the fires going.”

“But the hoes are pissed.”

“Don’t say hoes around my lady.” Noah squeezed my hand. With the other one, he combed his fingers through my hair.

“Sorry, the lovely ladies of the night are upset,” 305 said. “And no one has gotten properly fucked in a few days.”

“Well,” Noah said. “If anybody has something to say about not having sex, please let them know about my grievance procedure.”

Cool. Noah has a grievance procedure? I knew he was a decent boss. His people have a voice!

“Trust me,” 305 said. “I don’t need to remind anybody of that. The whole street is talking.”

“And what are they saying?” Noah asked.

“That everybody better be on point.”

“Good. And how are my guests?”

“The Bordello twins have offered me everything from money to their sisters, hoping I will free them.”

“They don’t like my basement?”

“No, Boss.”

Uh. . .basement? The twins are in his basement?

“Hmmm.” Noah slipped his finger down the center of my palm. “And how’s Choppa?”

“He’s not finding the cross very comfortable. He’s fallen away from it a few times, so I’ve had to nail his wrists and ankles twice.”

Umm. . .cross? Like. . .like. . .Noah crucified him? No. That wouldn’t. . .no.

Noah continued to play with my hair. “So, he’s being ungrateful?”

“Yes, boss.”

Noah began to stroking my hand. “It’s so hard to please people these days. When he dies, make sure you cut off his head and put it in the freezer. On the right, not the left. Fuji always forgets that, and I end up losing another chef because they’ve dumped a head into a roasting pan to defrost, thinking it was a wrapped roast or something.”

Umm. . .dear god this must be a dream. . .because. . .yes, this is a dream.

“Okay, boss.”

“You’re doing good,” Noah said. “Just fine. However, the focus needs to be on finding Butterfly. I don’t want Mary Jane leaving here until I have a location on that bitch.”

“Okay.”

“How’s the boy doing?”

“Mo?” 305 asked.

“Yeah.”

“He’s a creepy little fucker. When everybody else is looking away from the torture, that motherfucker is staring and grinning. Sometimes he’s fucking giggling. He’s always sneaking around too, popping out of closets and shit. I almost shot his ass yesterday.”

“Ah! A boy after my own heart. Keep a close eye on him. He had the unlucky timing of coming around me while things went out of control. There’s not a lot of people I can trust and I don’t trust him just yet. Anything else, 305?”

“I got a small problem with Dirty Dick.”

Wow. The names in this organization are bugged out.

Noah’s voice lowered. “What’s up with Dirty Dick?”

Besides the fact that his dick is apparently pretty dirty? I mean seriously, what type of guy allows himself to be called that? Ewww.

“Dirty Dick is slicing cakes in the kitchen. Everyone says he’s cutting too much.”

Noah has a bakery too?

“Handle it anyway you want.” Noah continued to stroke my hair. “I don’t have time to deal with the drug game right now.”

Oh. Okay. He doesn’t own a bakery. This is something about drugs. Awesome. This shit scares me. This better be a bad dream.

I slipped back into slumber, wondering how much of that was really what had been said and how much came from my imagination. Clearly, Noah didn’t really keep a guy nailed to a cross. And, there was no way he would keep the twins in the basement for that long. Or did he? How cruel could he be and how much could I stomach? How bad did his life get?

Barely a week with him and I’d already been stabbed. I was still trying to swallow all of that. It hadn’t been his fault. The bitch was crazy, but who knew she’d be insane enough to attack me. Did she love him so much that she couldn’t even deal with another woman around him?

Days continued and I remained in the bed barely able to talk. Too drugged up and in a daze. Noah remained by my side. He’d brought in a huge TV and had it on most of the time, when I could open my eyes. The whole time he filled my room with old stand up flicks from great comics—Robin Williams to Richard Pryor, Whoopi Goldberg to George Carlin. So awesome. It was hard to smile, although I wanted to. I had no idea why I couldn’t talk. Maybe it was the drugs drowning me in this lazy state. Even harder to laugh, although I did several times.

“Don’t laugh,” Noah whispered. “You might mess up your stiches.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

I did it again. “I’m. . .fine.”

“I know.” He muted the screen and looked at me. “We should talk. Do you feel up to it?”

“Drugs. . .”

He twisted his face in confusion. “You want drugs?”

“No. . .drugs got me. . .”

“Out of it?”

I nodded my head. “But. . .I-I can talk.”

“Okay.”

I tried to smile. “D-drugs.”

He chuckled. “Good drugs?”

“G-good.”

“Do you like the comedy?”

“Y-yes.”

“I get points for that?”

I gave him a weak thumb's up and closed my eyes.

“Even though you’re injured and in this hospital, you’re as beautiful as ever.” He stroked my hair, placing his fingers at my scalp and slipping them through my curls. A tingling sensation spread across me and I drowned in pleasure. Sometimes, it was the little things that made me feel so good.

“I’m so sorry, Mary Jane.” His voice cracked a little.

I was scared to open my eyes. I couldn’t see the sadness in his gaze. He’d told me to not go down into the restaurant and I did it anyway. Instead of helping, I’d gotten in the way.

“It’s dangerous around me, baby,” he whispered. “Although this was a rough week, there’s more times like this, than there is peace. Squeeze my hand if you understand me.”

I did, not sure where he was going with this conversation.

“Now, people know what I will do if they bother you. I’ve burned down most of the city over you and I swear to God that Butterfly will be six feet deep before the end of the month.”

I squeezed his hand again and this time I opened my eyes. Rage decorated his face.

“If I was a better man, I would let you go,” he said. “If I was smart, I would walk away from you right now and only make sure there were guards watching you while I hunt Butterfly. If I was anything else than what I am, I would leave you alone, let you have the house, five kids, dog, and husband. That’s what you deserve.”

“D-drugs,” I mumbled.

“And drugs?”

“Yes. . .I would need drugs, if I’m going to have five kids. . .dog. . .and I don’t know. . .if the h-husband would be potty-trained.”

Noah’s face didn’t crack a smile. “I should leave you alone, but I won’t.”

I blinked.

“Remember what you were saying earlier in the limo about needing a way out, if you ever didn’t want to be with me?”

I nodded, scared to hear the next words come out of his mouth.

He pierced me with his gaze. “You don’t get to leave me, Mary Jane. There’s no escape. No way out. No path or detour. When you were stabbed, lying in my arms, and bleeding all over me, I decided that right there. You don’t get to go away.”

I gulped in my fear and whispered, “D-drugs.”

“Sorry, baby.” He landed a sweet kiss on my lips. “Not even drugs will help you escape.”

What did I get myself into?

Chapter 20

Mary Jane

A moron wants to hang himself, but the rope breaks and he gets a bad bump on the head. He goes to the doctor, gets some salve, rubs it on the wound, and then goes ahead and hangs himself again.

–Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)

Ten days later.

F
reedom
at last! Let’s hope we don’t get into any trouble.

As Fuji drove me through Din City, I turned on the radio in the car. Acoustic guitar played along to a woman’s harmonious lyrics.

“Us, girls!”
The singer strummed her guitar with the chorus.
“Us, girls!”

I clapped. “Hells yes. That’s my song!”

“We’re going to heal the world with our flowers! We’re going to bloom in the sun for hours. Us, girls! Us, girls! We’ve got petals of power. Touch them or devour. There’s peace within our folds. There’s love that never gets old. Our flowers are made of gold. Us, girls—”

Fuji shut the radio off. “What the fuck was that?”

“Only the most beautiful song in the world.” I did my best to sing it, “Us, girls! Us girls!”

“God, no. Please don’t.”

“You didn’t even give the song a chance.”

“Sounds stupid. And how can people heal the world with flowers?”

“The flowers are metaphors for our vaginas, she’s trying to say—”

“Never mind.” He waved his hands at me, grimacing like I’d been waging a bloody tampon in front of his face and begging him to taste it. Guys could be so freaking squeamish about women sometimes. “You’re not allowed to touch my radio anymore. And get down, MJ, or I’m going to turn around and take you back to Noah’s loft.”

“Fine.” I reclined back down in the passenger seat that had been lowered all the way back so no one would see me riding with him. I felt like a damned kid, but hey, that was better than sitting in bed waiting for Noah to come home like I’d been doing for the last ten days. Instead of four enclosed walls, I got to look at the world as it passed by the window.

My phone buzzed, but I didn’t dare check it. Only two people called—Mom and Noah. Neither would let me fly free today. I needed to spread my wings for a few hours, before I choked on the prison bars.

Just one hour of freedom and I’ll call Mom or Noah back.

So giddy, I continued to hum the song and sing the lyrics in my head.

Us, girls! Us, girls! We’ve got petals of power. Touch them or devour.

Fuji scowled. “Please stop humming that, MJ. Now all I can think about is some guitar playing hippy crotch-thrusting her hairy vagina on a hill.”

“Interesting. You must’ve seen the video.” I winked with pure sarcasm. “And just because she’s a hippy doesn’t mean she doesn’t shave.”

He ignored me.

I returned to enjoying my window’s view. It should’ve been warm today with the approaching summer months, but a chill remained in the air. Leaves danced on the wind like it was fall. Grumpy, gray clouds hid the sun. Fuji had swaddled me in two blankets like a baby. I’d already had on a Din City Dodgers hat, black yoga pants and a t-shirt of Charlie Chaplin holding up a middle finger. But still, Fuji believed I would catch a cold. The big guy was worse than an overbearing mother.

Speaking of crazy moms, I better call again today. So far, I’ve been able to keep her at bay, but not for too much longer.

The last conversation hadn’t gone that well, but satisfied her for the moment.

“How are your classes?” Mom had asked the last time we spoke.

“So great. I’m probably going to make the Dean’s List.”

“Interesting, because your roommate said she hasn’t seen you in three weeks.”

“My roommate does drugs. I try to avoid her as much as possible.”

“Really?” Shock filled her voice, but it sounded like she might’ve believed me. “But, when I came by, she was reading her bible.”

“It’s part of her whole twelve step process of getting over the addiction.”

“Mary Jane, is there something that you need to tell me?”