When Saint Goes Marching In (27 page)

Saint could feel his diabolic energy. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear Stanley was having a low-grade orgasm right in front of him. He looked at the front of Stanley’s pants as he quickly went past him and noticed his erection.

You are really turned on. You sick fuck.

Saint purchased a few staged items that he didn’t want – mulch, charcoal briquettes and a box of light bulbs – and went back to his car to load them inside.

His loot loaded, Stanley drove back to the motel.

Saint watched the man’s movements for the next few days, waiting, biding his time.

This is the one time insomnia comes in handy. Stanley, I know you’re about to rock and roll. You’ve been waiting for the perfect time. Let’s do this, killa.

* * *

“I need to find him,” Ted said as he rubbed his bare chest. The attack from five years ago still sent chills up and down his spine.

“I would suggest you not. Saint has already shown you what he is capable of. If I’d never seen him with my own eyes, I’d sworn you were attacked by a tiger by the looks of that. You should’ve never gotten involved with those fools, Lance and his gang,” the African elder said as he sat down in his chair.

“No, not for revenge. I wouldn’t be that foolish. I’m scared actually, but I want to talk to him. I just want to thank him for saving my life. He’s done so much for me.” Ted slumped down beside his grandfather.

“What do you mean? Yes, he could’ve killed you. I don’t agree with what Saint Aknaten is doing, his mission in life, but he didn’t deserve to be killed and neither did his wife. You know that isn’t self-defense and it’s not acceptable! Look at you now, scarred for life and it’s over five years later.” His grandfather pointed to the etched words on Ted’s chest that Saint had engraved on that fateful night – SECOND CHANCE.

Usually, the raised, reddened skin around the keloid scar was mostly concealed by clothing. Ted’s long, dark locks now swung partially over it, hiding most of the letters on his muscular chest.

He stood up and paced back and forth. “Granddad, he saved me more than once. After that happened, I tried to distance myself from the group. I could see in Saint’s eyes he wanted to kill me. He wanted it so badly but he resisted. I was there to take the one thing that mattered to him most, his wife, and he still fought that urge to tear me in two. He is a good man. I’ve had time to think about this. He warned me a month after what had happened that some in the group were planning to kill me. He was right. I had moved out just in the nick of time from my apartment and later my landlord called me saying that someone had broken into it and tore what was left to pieces. She said three guys came there and one looked like he may have been hiding a gun. I know it was some of Lance’s guys and some of ours, too. They were afraid I’d rat them out. Saint then called me a week later, I don’t even know how he got my number, and made sure I was OK.”

Emotion bubbled up inside Ted as he put his hand on his forehead and briefly shut his eyes. “He knew I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a kid, a dumb kid.” Ted shook his head. “Now I’ve got a little girl on the way and my own Queen, and I just want to reach out to him and thank him. His telephone number isn’t the same and I haven’t gotten any response to my emails. I received a gift from him recently, an important gift. That is why I’m so desperate to talk to him now. Too much has happened. I’m not going to his house again but I’ve got to get a hold of him.”

The old man nodded and smiled. “I’ll see if I can get someone to help you track him down then. I do think you need to pay it forward. You know our beliefs. When someone saves your life, you have to save theirs back. You owe him; now go find a way to pay up.”

* * *

Saint noticed several missed calls from Xenia. He sat on the side of his hotel room bed and covered his groin with his plush white towel. The shower was relaxing, but his nerves were revved back up upon discovery of her trying to contact him.

“Hello Xenia. I saw you had called. I was in the shower. What’s going on? Are the boys OK?” he asked after dialing her number.

I have to hurry up and get out of here before I miss Stanley coming out of his motel room.

“Everything is fine. Our sons are doing well.” Xenia said dryly. “Saint, I’ve spoken to an attorney and the divorce papers will arrive shortly by certified mail. Will you be back in town in a few days to receive them?”

“I don’t know, I’m trying to get this wrapped up as soon as possible,” he answered, feeling as though he had just been punched in the gut. There was silence on the other end of the line. “Well, is that all?” Saint asked.

He stood up, let the towel drop to the floor and grabbed his boxers and jeans.

“Yes. Dakarai says he misses you.”

“Tell him I miss him, too,” he said sadly.

“You can tell him yourself. Dakarai! Daddy is on the phone.”

“Da Da!” Dakarai screamed. “Dad-deeee!”

Saint smiled, while his heart hurt. “Hi, baby boy! Are you being good for mommy?” he asked as he cradled the phone in his shoulder and slid his underwear and pants on.

“Yay yay ahhh!” Dakarai yelled into the phone.

“Is that a yes?” Saint asked, still laughing.

“Mommy, I’m good!” Dakarai blurted. “I want Mommy Daddy at home. I want Mommy Daddy back! Mommy Daddy kiss kiss!”

“Give me the phone, honey,” Xenia uttered in the background.

Then Saint heard some mumbling and a shuffling sound.

“Hello, it’s me again. Well, I guess we can…” Xenia started, but was quickly interrupted again.

“Is that Daddy?” Hassani asked. Saint could hear him running closer and closer towards the phone.

Xenia
sighed. “Yes.”

Saint heard his first born laugh in the background and softened.

“Daddy, are you coming home because I need you to play with my new car and I need you to show me how to catch a ball right because I keep dropping it every time Robbie throws it to me and he said I didn’t know how to catch and I said I did, and he said no I didn’t and I said I did so I need you to show me how so when he tells me I don’t I can show him that he’s wrong!” Hassani huffed angrily, while catching his breath.

Saint burst out laughing. “OK, baby, I will.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“Oh, my bad,” Saint smiled. “OK, big boy, I will. Is that better?”

“Yes, much better Daddy. I want you and Mommy to come home in the big house. I miss my house. I miss you and Mommy. Why can’t you two just say sorry and be back together? Just say sorry, Daddy, and, Mommy, you say sorry too, OK?” Hassani pleaded.

“Saint, we have to go,” she sniffed, and abruptly disconnected the call.

Saint sat on the bed for a moment to gain his composure.

He hung his head, his palms flat on his thighs. “Mama, I can’t keep on like this. I’ve preserved myself. I can’t afford to feel anything right now,” Saint prayed out loud to his mom. “I sometimes feel like I just don’t want to go on anymore. I’m only still here for Dakarai and Hassani. I haven’t felt pain like this since you died. I was hoping to never feel it again. I want my wife back. I thought I could let go of her, but I can’t. There is a lot going on and I need to stay focused.”

Saint pulled his shirt over his head, shoved his gun in the holster around his waist and made his way out the door, into the rental car and toward the motel.

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

“I mean it, George!” James yelled. He grabbed a cup of ice water with his age-spotted right hand and sipped from the long white straw. His hand shook. “If you tell Saint I’m back in the hospital, he’ll drop everything and come running back here. I won’t be able to get rid of him, either. It will mess up his entire investigation. Saint has this uncontrollable urge to play savior with me so please, for the love of God, don’t say anything! Remember last year in Reno when I fell? He wouldn’t get the hell out of my room. There have been other instances like that over the years. And I’ve got a feeling he is closing in on this guy. I don’t want that jeopardized. You remember what happened to us in 1976, no doubt? We can’t allow another one to get away and Saint is closing in. Nothing can endanger this operation, not even my health.” James coughed into cradle of his arm.

“James, you’ve put me in a bad position. Saint was quite sore with me the first time this happened. I had taken your strict instructions at that point as well and he ended up not speaking to me for over a week.”

“So what? You should’ve been thankful for the break,” James teased.

“Normally I would have welcomed the silence since he horses around a bit too much for my liking with his flamboyant, loud ways and at times obnoxious behavior but when he’s angry, it isn’t pretty – not that Saint is exactly the cuddly type, but the whole incident upset me. I much prefer him silly and rambunctious than holding an axe to grind,” George complained. “He holds a grudge.”

“Oh, that’s not true. He’ll get over it. We can’t allow this guy to get away though.” James coughed again. “Speaking of Saint, I was going to take care of something last night before I was forced to come in here again. George, I need you to do me a favor. Look up a Mrs. Payton Smith. She lives in Queens, New York. She’s an attorney. I need her phone tapped immediately. I want her cell phone and house phone calls recorded and I want her followed. Anything, and I mean anything that she says about Saint, bring it to my attention at once.” James held his chest as his heart beat frantically.

Nurses rushed in, taking over as James was quickly leaned back and George pushed aside.

* * *

“I think he’s out of town,” Ted said to his grandfather as he gripped his cell phone and stood by the bustling Starbucks coffee shop. His long locks were bound together with a dark blue scrunchie. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but I drove past his house and all I saw was the cleaning lady come and leave. I guess I’ll just try to do it later.”

“Everything happens for a reason. You have a baby coming into the world and you need to put your life into perspective. So now, despite him leaving that horrible mess on your chest, you want to thank him because it essentially saved your life. You’re right though. Saint
is
a good man…confused, but a good man. He shouldn’t be promoting race mixing but that is beside the point right now. I made some calls and he keeps a pretty low-profile as far as his whereabouts so no one knows where he is.” The old man sighed.

“You know what? His wife works for the radio station over there near Crenshaw. I heard her on the radio just the other day. I’m going to swing by there and see if she can help me.”