Bad Habits Part 85

"It's the new America. The government has the power to rescind rights under these laws. They can hold you for 48 hours without explanation. And they intend to. It gets worst."

"How? How could it f.u.c.king get worst?" Keith asked.

"They're taking you to Riker's Island."

"No! Get Cain Gatlin in here. He'll tell them. Listen to me. It's all a f.u.c.king mistake. The money stolen was by Andrew. We set him up. Together."

"Tell me everything, Keith, and don't leave anything out. Everything!" James said.

Cain sunk low in the seat at the back of the cab. He took a deep breath once it pulled away. The weight of his soul lessened. He felt the first cool wave of freedom cover him. He closed his eyes. Rachel was missing according to the Feds. She'd jumped from some bridge and drowned in a river. Cain chuckled. He knew so little of his mother. But he knew one thing. Rachel could beat the h.e.l.l out of any man, woman, or child when it came to the backstroke.

Once, when he was seven, his little brother fell off of some benefactor's boat as it zipped along the deep blue waters of the ocean. Rachel dove off, having seen Joseph go over first. Cain yelled for the man driving the boat to stop. After several seconds he did, and they circled the sea, backtracking.

She surfaced out of that ocean with her baby held in her arms. It was the only thing that either of her sons could reflect on to know of her love. She swam with them both back to the boat. His mother could swim. She was out there somewhere. Free.

"Good luck, Mom," he said. They were both free now.

"Where to?" The cabbie asked.

"Just keep going. Waiting on a call," he checked his watch. Rachel had laid it all out. How choices would lead to freedom. He would need something more powerful than money or allies. He was short on both if he was to go after the great Andrew Hollingsworth. So Rachel advised him to use the one force that Andrew couldn't beat, the federal government. So he went to the Feds and confessed. He put himself on the line first, fat enough bait to weight the hook. The Feds took a nibble and then demanded proof. Cain dug up his and Andrew's skeletons. Now he had their attention. From there, the rest was easy. His conversations with Andrew on the tapes, the transfer of monies to the accounts that neither men knew about and their signatures on the fake land deals and contracts would compound all the legitimate evidence he had on Andrew Hollingsworth. It was done, all of it. The tipoff to the press was the cherry.

Just as he thought, his cellphone rang. Cain smiled with relief. "Hi, beautiful. How was your day?"

"Where are you? Are you okay? I saw you on TV. Keith was arrested. You were arrested?"

"I'm in a cab, thinking of you."

Simone paused. "Huh? You're out of jail?"

"I'm out."

"But how? So fast?"

"It's over. Justice, for us both," Cain replied.

"My G.o.d, Cain, what have you done?"

"I need to see you," he said.

"Okay, yes. I want to see you. Keith gave me the annulment. I'll have it in a few days," Simone gushed into the phone. "I was never married. That's what the state of New York says. Keith Livingston never happened."

"Good. Let's celebrate," Cain said, wearily.

"You okay?" Simone asked.

"I'll explain when I see you."

"Maryanne? What about her?" Simone asked.

"I'll explain when I see you." Cain repeated.

"Then come to me," Simone challenged.

"I'm on my way."

To Keith Livingston's horror, neither his attorney nor his father could prevent his fate. He was forced like some common criminal on a bus, and then transferred to another station where he was then sent to the dreaded Rikers detention center. In a shirt and tie, he sat amongst men he wouldn't think to spit on if they were on fire. They were then collected and herded to a room where they were forced into rank orange jumpers. But Keith was soon separated. He was led away in chains and shackles down a hall to a grey steel door. He was forced in by an officer, made to sit in a chair, and then chained to the bolts in the floor.

Detective Alverson stood off in a corner. He stepped out of the shadows with a snide smirk, his hands shoved down in his pockets.

"What are you doing here?" Keith demanded.

"I should ask you that question. The respectable Keith Livingston held on a federal warrant at Rikers? Does the Mayor know of the company he keeps?"

"You had something to do with this?" Keith narrowed his eyes. "Oh wait, you're just some local flunky cop. You came here to gloat. What? Are you following me around now, trying to be man enough to fill my shoes with my wife!"

Alverson laughed. "Not quite. Your attorney, James Madison, let us know where to find you and how to find you. I'm just facilitating a meeting. One that's long overdue."

"What the f.u.c.k are you talking about? You did this to get at me for Simone? For my wife!"

Alverson's brow rose. "You don't know your wife at all."

Keith shook his head. "No, you don't know her. She'll fall back in line. She always does. And I'll have your f.u.c.king badge for hara.s.sment. Once this is all cleared up, it's you and me, detective."

"I was never f.u.c.king your wife, Mr. Livingston."

"Whatever."

"It's true. In fact, there was someone there before I could get the chance."

Keith's eyes narrowed again. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"That white boy, the one on the news that got arrested with you today. His name is what? Cain Hollingsworth or Gatlin? Yeah, he's the one giving it to her."

"That's a lie."

Alverson shrugged. "You're the liar, bro, not me. Now my time is up. You got a visitor."

"THAT'S A f.u.c.kING LIE!" Keith pulled on his chains. The force caused them to jerk hard against the bolts in the floor. Alverson walked out, but another walked in. Through his rage, he didn't see him clearly at first. But he knew him.

"Been waiting for us to meet for a long time."

Keith's nostrils flared. "Charles Wilson?"

"That's right. You know me, but I've never had the pleasure to meet you." Charles walked around the table to sit across from Keith. He was a tall man, even more imposing in person. Keith had never met him. Simone would flip if he even hinted at a meeting. Charles Wilson was known and respected by many. He'd convinced his family that Simone was worthy of marriage just because she was his daughter.

"Why are you here?" Keith frowned.

"You know why."

"No I don't." Keith yanked on his shackles. "I'm here under a misunderstanding. If you came to help it would be appreciated. Did Simone send you?"

"I saw your troubles on the news," Charles answered. "I had this plan for our meeting. Had it all worked out and then bam, there you are in handcuffs," Charles chuckled. "I mean, f.u.c.king poetic justice or what?"

"That's a mistake. I didn't commit any crime."

Charles's smile vanished in a flash. "You stole from Kim?"

"Huh? No."

"No? Did you say no?" Charles asked.

"It wasn't theft. I... Simone and I are we-we-we are working it out," Keith stammered.

Charles studied Keith. He didn't like the look the older man gave him. It was almost threatening. "Your daughter and I hit a rough patch."

"You raped my baby girl?" Charles asked next.

"What? Rape? No! Never!"

Charles pressed his lips together until they disappeared. His jaws locked down tightly. "You know I've been clean for some years, Keith. Plan to stay that way. But every now and then you have to step over the line to make sure justice is fair."

"I gave Kim her house back today. Simone has the deed to the f.u.c.king house, okay? I don't owe you no f.u.c.king explanation. If you don't believe me, call her. We never met before, Mr. Wilson, but you know who I am. I come from a very prominent family. All of this s.h.i.t you and your crooked cop friend are doing here is illegal! You want to stay clean, then walk out of here now."

Charles rose. "I left you a present in your cell. And, Keith, if I ever hear of you going anywhere near my family again, I won't be as generous."

Keith was forced to make the long walk to his cell in handcuffs. Others caged behind bars and doors snarled and taunted him. He heard little of it. Through it all he kept replaying everything. Cain had set him up. Cain had stolen his wife. Cain had stolen his life.

"Inside, Livingston!" The corrections officer barked after unlocking his chains.

Keith looked up to see a man sitting on a bunk. The bunk above was stripped of sheets.

"Don't I get a phone call?" Keith asked. The guard shoved him in and locked the door. The man stood. He was almost as tall as Charles Wilson. Almost. The similarities ended there. The man, criminal, possible murderer, was no perpetuator of some white-collar crime. He was a predator. This had to be wrong. He shouldn't be thrown in a cell with someone like this. Keith eyed him suspiciously. He had sleeves of tattoos that reached his neck and arms, even had one to the back of his shaved head. He was Italian or Irish or something. He smirked as Keith was forced in.

"Lock down!" the correctional officer guard yelled.

Keith stood with his back to the door unsure of what to do.

"So you're Keith Livingston," the other smirked. "They call me Bruno," he said giving his c.o.c.k a squeeze.

"Charles Wilson left me for you. Heard you like to rape women."

Keith turned to the door, pounding hard on it. "GUARD! GUARD!" he yelled.

The man grabbed him by the neck in a chokehold, silencing him. He kissed his cheek as he dragged him away. "Shhh now. This is going to hurt. A lot!" he chuckled.

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Sweet Surrender Kim/Mathew If she stuck her tongue out and tilted her head back just a bit, she could lick the salt from the wind. Kimberly Jensen smiled. Her palms rested flat at her sides, supporting her recline. Her fingernails dug grooves through the warm grains of sand. She'd plopped down just off to the right of the beach blanket. Sand was everywhere, sticking to the bottoms of her feet and the underside of her calves and thighs. Her body glistened with the drying beads of seawater. The boys and Mathew continued to play along the sh.o.r.e.

This was a place she could call home.

"You look relaxed," Anne said.

"I am. Very," Kim answered.

"You look happy too," Anne continued.

Kim opened one eye. She squinted against the grueling sun to peek over at her babysitter. Anne sat on the yellow and white-striped beach blanket with her legs crossed. She wore a pink bikini top and cut-off white shorts. Using her large floppy beach hat, she fanned away the heat. In the past week and a half in South Carolina, both of them had gotten tans. But Anne's skin had darkened nearly three shades. Kim loved it! Anne on the other hand, struggled with the small town adventure. She, Matt and the boys spent their days in the blistering summer heat. The nights were filled with long strolls through sleeping neighborhoods after rich southern cuisine filled their bellies. Anne joked at how foreign the south felt to her. In particular, the early hour in which everyone retired. In Charleston, on most streets after nine o'clock, the traffic lights flashed yellow-stopped working. Kim had to agree it was a stark contrast to the hustle of New York.

"If you want to go back to the car and cool off, you can."

"I'm fine. It's just hot as Hades here. Jeesh, I know it's summer and all, but good grief," Anne said.

Kim chuckled. "It feels great to me."

"Mmhm. I bet," Anne smiled.

In came a fresh cooling wind with the roll of the tide. Kim pulled her sungla.s.ses from the top of her head and slipped them on. She closed her eyes and let the soft breeze sprinkled with tiny molecules of the sea wash over her. Over the rush of the breaking waves, the sound of laughter brought her eyes open again. Her boys squealed. Denny and Danny clung to Mathew's neck as he held them in both arms. The wave hit Mathew at the waist with a splash, sending spray up over her children. They screamed and laughed, kicking their chubby legs.

"Maybe he should come back in with them?" Anne frowned. Her hand to her brow, she attempted to block out the sun. "He's out too far in the water with them, don't you think?"

"They're fine. Mathew has them," Kim smiled.

Anne's brow shot up. Kim understood her disbelief. To say Kim was a cautious parent when it came to others caring for her sons would be like saying the Pope was just a religious man. Ironic since her drug addiction made her more of a threat than any stranger they'd met in their young lives. But everything felt different with Mathew. Her trust in him was complete. Not since Dennis had she known that kind of peace.

Mathew carefully stepped back toward the sh.o.r.e when the boys began to buck wildly in his arms to be free. He had them. He had them every moment of the day since their reunion. He'd shown them South Carolina in ways she couldn't imagine. They went from the cutest little places for traditional family dining, to old south tours through the historic district and museums introductions to more family than she thought possible. He doted on them. He loved them, and her. Yes, life was good.

Anne sighed. "Um, Kim?"

"You ready to head home?" Kim asked.

"Aren't you? There is so much left to tend to back there, I think. Plus, Diane said you should be going to AA."

Kim chuckled. "Strange that you and Mama can't see eye to eye on nothing but my sobriety."

"She's worried about you," Anne said.