Double Dippin': Misty Part 18

Majid suddenly ripped the tape from Sergio's mouth. "I'm running s.h.i.t, now, yo. So, start talking. What's the combination to the safe?"

Sergio flinched at the sight of Paloma's dead body. "Why would you do that, man? You're taking s.h.i.t too far. I was planning on bringing you and a few others on board with the new company after everything was established."

"Tell that s.h.i.t to some other sucker," Majid said sneeringly. "Now, what's the f.u.c.king code?"

"I'll tell you; I'll tell you. But you have to promise you won't hurt Anya."

"Man, I'm not sweating that ho. All I want is the money that I helped you make. You been paying me peanuts and I want my share of the dynasty you wouldn't have been able to build without me. Give me the numbers," he growled. "I'm not going to ask you again." Majid pointed the gun at Sergio.

"Eleven-two-sixteen," Sergio blurted, and then exhaled in relief. Without warning, Majid raised his gun and pulled the trigger, blowing a hole between Sergio's eyes.

Eyes bulging, Anya covered her mouth to smother a gasp. Shock and fear flooded her body and she tried to creep backward, but her legs felt weightless, threatening to give out. Unable to move, she leaned against a wall, trembling from the shock of what she'd seen. No, no, no. Not my sweet Sergio. This can't be happening!

Anya heard Majid running up the stairs, anxious to grab the money from Sergio's safe. She realized he believed she was in Sergio's bedroom and was also eager to torture her before taking her life. When his footsteps no longer echoed on the marble stairs, she fled to the kitchen pantry and pulled on the shelving unit that doubled as a secret, reinforced door.

The safe room was soundproof, an impenetrable fortress. No one could get in unless she opened the door, which could only be unlocked from the inside by using the combination of numbers that Sergio had given her with his last breath. Majid would be in for a rude awakening when he was unable to open the safe and also unable to locate Anya.

Panicked, Anya looked around the room that was equipped with a portable toilet, nonperishable snacks, bottles of water, soft drinks, and Sergio had even stocked the room with top-shelf liquor.

Her darting eyes landed on surveillance equipment and she let out a sigh of relief when she spotted a disposable cell phone that was connected to a charger inside the safe room. She picked up the phone and called 9-1-1. In a surprisingly calm voice, she reported the murders, gave the dispatcher Sergio's address, and clearly spelled out the names of the victims as well as the murderer and his accomplice. She hung up and turned off the phone, killing its signal after the dispatcher began questioning her about her connection to the murders.

The surveillance equipment inside the safe room didn't have audio, but she didn't need sound to interpret what was going on. Majid was inside Sergio's bedroom, his face contorted as he yelled at Ha.s.san. Most likely, he was blaming his sidekick for Anya's escape. She saw Ha.s.san leave the bedroom in search of her, and she watched as Majid went inside the walk-in closet and worked on the combination lock that failed to pop open. Angry, he kicked a wall and exited the closet.

His eyes darted around Sergio's bedroom as if the mystery of the combination was something he could s.n.a.t.c.h out of thin air. He took the bottle of champagne out of the bucket of ice and helped himself, guzzling the bubbly straight from the bottle. After he emptied it, he lowered his head, scratching his chin, deep in thought. His lips moved menacingly as he most likely cursed Sergio for giving him the wrong numbers to the safe and for having the last laugh.

Majid returned to the closet and fiddled with the combination again. Ha.s.san reappeared, holding out his arms in defeat with a look of exasperation on his face. Majid stared at Ha.s.san in disbelief, his eyes glittering with rage. He smacked Ha.s.san on both sides of his face and then sent him out of the room again, probably ordering him to check the grounds.

Eight minutes had elapsed since Anya had called 9-1-1 and she wondered how much longer it would take the police to arrive. A few minutes later, while Majid tinkered with the safe, Ha.s.san ran into the bedroom, his mouth stretched wide, yelling something. Majid quickly pushed the pine wardrobe against the wall, concealing the safe. To Anya's amazement, Majid eased deep in the recesses of the closet, hiding behind Sergio's numerous suits that hung in the closet. Ha.s.san looked around trying to find a hiding place and opted for slithering under the bed.

Moments later, police officers stormed into the bedroom with guns drawn.

Anya watched with bittersweet satisfaction as both men were yanked from their hiding places, roughed up, handcuffed, and then led out of the bedroom. Unfortunately, the surveillance in the safe room didn't focus on other areas of the house, only on Sergio's bedroom where the safe was kept.

Holed up in a room that no one knew existed, Anya had to wait it out while homicide detectives and other criminal investigators gathered evidence and evaluated the crime scene. She remained hidden for the next twenty-four hours and after disconnecting the surveillance equipment, she emerged from the safe room. Instead of rushing upstairs to get her clothes and her purse, she spent a few moments in quiet meditation in the room where Sergio's and Paloma's blood was splattered on furniture, artwork, and the walls. Bitter tears ran down her face.

On my mother's soul, I swear to you, Sergio, if by chance Majid beats this case, he's going to have to answer to me. The same goes for Ha.s.san. And that b.i.t.c.h Natalie pretended to be my friend, but was using me to win points with Majid. She's gonna pay dearly for the senseless destruction she caused. Her last moments are gonna be a slow and torturous agony; she's going to beg for death.

Anya raced upstairs, grateful that the police hadn't located her clothing or her purse that contained her phone and her identification. They had no idea she'd been on the premises. If it weren't for the fact that she needed to move with anonymity in order to get to Natalie and unleash her vengeance, Anya would have revealed herself to the police as an eyewitness to murder.

She dressed hastily, and then struggled to move the heavy wardrobe that concealed Sergio's safe. Sergio wouldn't want his money locked up in the police evidence room or divided up between crooked cops; he'd want Anya to keep the money for herself. It went without saying that she'd look out for Paloma's family as well as keeping money on the books for Sergio's uncle.

Tugging and pulling, she finally moved the wardrobe. For security reasons, Sergio changed the code once a month. He'd mentioned that most recent series of numbers was her date of birth. She swiftly punched in the code and the safe swung open.

The stacks and stacks of bills inside the safe were supposed to be Sergio's admission to a legitimate life in the corporate world. With tears flowing once again, she stuffed the money in a drawstring laundry bag and stealthily exited the house.

CHAPTER 28.

Brick unlocked the double locks on the front door and walked inside his apartment, tossing his keys on the kitchen counter. The clatter of metal against granite echoed in the empty apartment. He had mixed feelings about Misty leaving. A part of him was relieved she was gone and the other part wished she was still here, if only so he could keep an eye on her and make sure she was all right.

It had been difficult at first for him to accept that she possessed uncanny abilities, but after she healed herself, he became a believer. Still, he had a nagging feeling that somehow she was going to wind up in a world of trouble. Her abilities were gifts from above, but knowing Misty, she'd find a way to abuse and misuse her G.o.d- given powers, and sooner or later, she was going to p.i.s.s off the wrong person.

Thinking about Thomasina's reaction when he had told her that Misty was able to prophesize, Brick laughed to himself as he walked to the fridge and took out a cold beer.

"I saw that article about her in the paper about her touching folks and seeing their future. That ain't none of the Lord's doing; that's Satan's work," Thomasina had said, shaking her head. "That daughter of mine has been touched by the devil's wicked hand."

He had yet to tell her that Misty had also acquired healing powers and was no longer paralyzed. He didn't want to be responsible for giving Thomasina a heart attack from the shock of discovering that Misty had performed a miracle and had healed her spinal cord injury. He decided that Misty would have to be the one to drop that bomb on her mother if they ever started speaking again. Knowing Misty, she was probably anxious to make up with her mother, if only to show off the new wardrobe she'd bought with the donation money.

He and Thomasina were trying to get along and be cordial for their son's sake, but Thomasina's face hardened with fury whenever he spoke about Misty. In order to have the visitations with his son go as smoothly as possible, Brick decided it would be best if he didn't bring up Misty's name in the future. The mother and daughter's animosity toward each other centered on his relationship with both of them. Misty had been his girl for years, but after she'd cheated on him, he ended up marrying her mother.

Although he'd attempted to patch things up between them, neither mother nor daughter was having it. There was no doubt in Brick's mind that Thomasina loved Misty and vice versa, but he thought it best to b.u.t.t out and allow them to patch up their relationship in their own good time.

Kicked back on the couch with his feet propped up on an ottoman, Brick drank beer and watched TV and inevitably, his thoughts drifted to Anya. Prolonged thoughts of Anya would either have him in the shower beating his meat or send him to the strip club in search of the dancer named Island Girl, who reminded him of Anya.

The way he yearned for Anya, it was a good thing he didn't go to the strip club with the fellas after work tonight. A mere lap dance from Island Girl would not be enough to satisfy his urges. Not tonight.

It was odd how thoughts of Anya had prevented him from giving himself fully to Misty. His d.i.c.k wouldn't act right; it didn't want Misty at all, and Misty was furious over that. The way she glared at him after his p.i.s.s-poor performance in bed made him feel like c.r.a.p. Brick shook his head, thinking, Man, if looks could kill, I'd be a dead m.u.t.h.af.u.c.ka!

"But knowing Misty, she'll get over her anger the minute she finds herself a sucker who's willing to bow down and cater to her desires," Brick said aloud.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at the screen. To his surprise, Misty was calling.

"Speak of the devil," he said into the phone.

"I hope you weren't talking about me to my mother," Misty said with an att.i.tude.

"No, I was talking about you to myself," he said with laughter. "So, what's going on? Are you all right? You need anything?"

"I'm fine. Look, I'm gonna get straight to the point."

"Go ahead."

"I'm p.i.s.sed off at the way you did me the other night, but I'm willing to move on."

"That's good news. You know you'll always have my heart, but we're not-"

"Yeah, yeah...whatever. I'm not trying to hear that s.h.i.t. You know me, Brick, and you know I don't appreciate being rejected. But I'm trying to be more mature, so don't be trying my patience by bringing up unpleasant bulls.h.i.t."

"All right. So, what do you want to talk about?"

"I called to make you an offer."

"Aw, man. Here we go, again," Brick groaned. "What kind of scheme are you tryna involve me in?"

"It's not a scheme. It's business. Big business. Beyond anything we've ever done before. And it's perfectly legal."

"I'm listening."

"I know you could use some extra money with your child support payments being high as f.u.c.k, so before I call anyone else, I want to offer you an opportunity to make some under-the-table, tax-free moolah. Money in your pocket that my greedy mother can't get to."

"Doing what?" Brick asked suspiciously.

"Being my bodyguard. I was going to call a personal protection agency, but I don't think there's anyone who will protect me better than you."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm willing to pay top dollar, and I need you to be strapped, so get yourself a gun so you can start taking lessons at the shooting range."

"I don't need any lessons; I know how to shoot a gun."

"I'm not talking about a ghetto shootout with bullets flying everywhere. I need a straight shooter."

"Why? Has anybody been threatening you?"

"No. But I'm going to be dealing with extremely large sums of money. I'll have more money on me than you'll find inside a Brinks truck."

"f.u.c.k outta here."

"If I'm lying, I'm flying," Misty said, laughing as she recited a line she and Brick used to say when they were kids.

Brick laughed with her. And for the first time in a long while, Misty felt like an old friend, again. Like the girl he used to know back in the day. The delicately pretty, but surprisingly tough, little girl whom he could kick it with as if she were one of the boys.

"You're getting paid a bunch of stacks to tell someone's future?"

"Stacks? You're thinking too small, my dude. I'm getting paid a cool million to heal a rich m.u.t.h.af.u.c.ka."

"A million? Did I hear you right?"

"You sure did," Misty said with a proud grin. "But the next billionaire who wants me to lay my healing hands on him is gonna have to double that price. The miracles I can perform are worth it," she bragged.

"How'd you hook up with this wealthy dude?"

"Through Gavin; his family has connections, you know. The man's name is Jeffrey Backus. He has several homes, and in two weeks we'll be taking a private jet to his vacation spot in Hawaii."

"I want to be there for you; you know I always have your back, but I think you should call a legitimate protection agency. Get someone who's trained in that profession because I don't think I'm qualified."

"I have faith in you; don't downplay your skills, Brick."

Brick rubbed his head worriedly. "I don't know, Misty. That's some high-level s.h.i.t you're talking. You need agents with James Bond, high-tech equipment-a whole team with Secret Service qualifications."

"I don't need all that. You can handle this job. You got inside one of Smash Hitz's houses, took out two of his people, and got away with it. This isn't even a dangerous mission, but I want to be sure I have protection if somebody tries to come between me and my money. By the way, I'll pay you twenty thousand for a job that shouldn't take more than twenty-four hours at the most. It's a long flight-ten hours, so most of our time will be spent in the air. But once we get there, we'll be in and out. It shouldn't take long to collect the money and to heal dude. Tack on another ten hours for the flight back home, and that's it. It's easy money, Brick."

Astonished over the amount of money Misty was willing to pay him, Brick was speechless.

"Think of all the nice things you can do for Little Baron with that kind of money," she continued.

"You don't have to convince me, Misty. I'm in!" Brick said enthusiastically.

"By the way, Brick, I realize that what we had ran its course. I was hurt and angry at first, but I made some adjustments and I don't have any hard feelings. We're better off as friends, anyway."

"Misty, I...I'm really sorry things didn't-"

"It's cool," she interrupted. "I'm over it, so drop the subject. Let's concentrate on getting this money," she said brightly.

"I'm all in," Brick agreed.

After Brick and Misty hung up, he thought about her offer. Misty had a tendency to inflate the truth, and he figured she was exaggerating about the private jet, the amount she was getting paid, and also his cut. Twenty thousand dollars for a day's work was as outrageous as Misty claiming someone was going to pay her a million dollars. Still, even if she paid him only a fraction of what she had promised, the extra money would help with his cash flow situation that had taken a big hit after child support had been deducted from his paycheck.

CHAPTER 29.

The private jet wasn't exactly the flying palace Misty had expected from Jeffrey Backus, but it was better than a commercial flight. She'd done her research and was aware that Backus owned a custom-designed jet that seated forty people. The decor was cream and white with an elegant staircase that led to a lounge with a 57-inch multiplex screen and white leather seats, a conference room, a master and guest bedrooms, gold-plated fixtures in the bathrooms and kitchen, and other luxurious amenities. She supposed he didn't think she was worthy of traveling in his personal aircraft, and the idea of being snubbed didn't sit well with her.

Though the ten-seater jet Backus had chartered for Misty was comfortable, it couldn't be described as luxurious. After four hours in the air, Misty retired to the bedroom, which wasn't anything special, only a small room with a bed. It would have been nice if Brick joined her and tightened her up like he used to back in the day, but he was more engrossed in the latest Fast and Furious movie than in Misty. One hand dug into a bag of microwave popcorn while the other held a container of iced tea. The snacks and movie had his undivided attention.

When they'd first boarded, he tried to snap open a can of beer, but Misty firmly let him know that he could not touch any alcohol during the flight. She needed him focused and of sound mind when they reached their destination. When they were younger, Brick used to drink too much and was known to get the rams whenever liquor was in abundance. The last thing she needed was a drunk-a.s.s bodyguard while trying to handle business in Hawaii. To his credit, Brick didn't protest laying off the alcohol and he seemed content sipping on soft drinks.

Gavin, on the other hand, was acting sullen and b.i.t.c.hing about the size of the plane. His grandfather's plane, he said in a braggadocio manner, was equipped with a fitness room, showers, and several bedrooms. He also kept pestering Misty about using her abilities to help locate his missing lover. She wanted to laugh and could barely keep a straight face. His missing boyfriend was the last thing on her mind. Besides, she had no way of finding him, even if she wanted to. She had the gift of prophecy and healing power in her hands, and had no idea why Gavin thought she was like one of those kooky psychics who claimed to be able to locate the bodies of murder victims and find missing people.

An hour from their destination, Misty woke, freshened up, and changed into a navy Dior dress and Jimmy Choo heels. After admiring herself for several minutes, she called Brick's phone and told him to come to the bedroom and change from his jeans into the European-cut suit she'd brought along for him.

"Can I get some privacy?" Brick asked before stepping out of his jeans.

"Boy, please. I was sleeping next to your naked-a.s.s only a few weeks ago, so don't be acting like I've never seen you out of your clothes before."

With a resigned shrug, Brick unbuckled his belt and pulled off his pants. Misty's mouth watered as her eyes glossed over his arms, legs, and thighs. Brick was pure muscle. Taking a risk, she stole a glance at the bulge in his briefs. All of that coiled-up d.i.c.k was going to waste stuffed inside his underwear. A sigh of regret escaped her lips, and Brick looked at her curiously.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"No, I was thinking that it's a shame we have to turn around and get back on this plane for another ten hours after we handle our business. It would be nice to relax in Hawaii for a day or two," Misty said, coming up with a quick excuse.

"You want to sightsee while you're hauling around a million bucks?"

"It would be nice to see a little bit of Hawaii before we go back home."