Chapter Twenty-Seven
Breaking away from the other inmates, Julian approached the exercise station. He walked by Josue Chartres, as the man regaled the gang members with a comedic tale of one of his killings that almost didn’t happen. Laughter permeated the air as the leader acted out the actions of his victim. Julian shifted a hand inside his shirt, maneuvering the envelope with the photos to a more comfortable position.
Staring at the pictures of Mena and the unidentified man for hours, Julian had become convinced that she was in danger. Mena’s facial expressions looked forced. Her smile never quite reached her eyes. She was pretending. But why? Was the asshole trying to hurt her?
Julian had seen the man before but couldn’t place from where. He wasn’t going to waste time trying to figure that out. Zak Webber could give him the answers he needed. The only person who would pay Zak two million dollars to kill him was Dumay. That meant Zak knew a lot more about that bitch’s plans than Julian realized. Zak had to know something about the man in the photos with Mena and what Dumay was up to next.
The prison yard was crowded on the perfect Caribbean afternoon. Fluffy white clouds provided respite from the sun as cool breezes wafted from the ocean. Near the center of the yard, Julian saw a group of inmates discarding their shirts and rolling up their pants as they prepared to sunbathe on towels. Other inmates gave them disgusted stares as they crossed the plush grass toward the basketball courts. Near the corner, Julian spotted Zak and the other members of Quattro lounging at a picnic table under the shade of a grapeseed tree. The group of three huddled close together as a guard stood about fifty feet away watching the area. Julian made a beeline in their direction, stopping at the edge of the table.
The three men halted their conversation, staring up at Julian with loathing in their eyes. Julian wrestled with the deep-rooted hatred he had for Zak Webber. Julian wanted to choke the life out of him. But he couldn’t kill the bastard. He had to find out if Zak knew anything about Dumay’s plans for Mena or the identity of the mystery man in the pictures with her.
His back to the guard, Julian slipped the envelope from under his shirt and pushed it across the table.
Zak reached for the brown envelope. “What the fuck is this?”
“Open it,” Julian said through gritted teeth.
Annoyed anger flashed in Zak’s eyes, but Julian knew he’d be too curious not to comply. Slipping the photos from the envelope, a sly grin spread across Zak’s face. Zak tossed the photos back toward Julian.
“Looks to me like she’s done with you, white boy.” Zak chuckled, eliciting laughter from the other Quattro gang members. “Don’t know why you’re showing me that shit.”
“Who’s the guy in the photo?” Julian asked.
Julian watched as Zak glanced down at the photos once again. A flicker of recognition flashed in his black eyes. “What makes you think I’d tell you?”
“Does he work for Dumay? Did she send him after Mena? Tell me!” Julian said, his voice rising. He didn’t have time to play games with this asshole when Mena could be the target of some attack. Julian forced himself to calm down. He had to find a better way to get what he needed from Zak. “Look, Dumay is the reason you’re in this hell hole—”
“And she’s the reason you’re in here too. So, the fuck what? She and I have an understanding. You and I ain’t never been friends. I could give a rat’s ass what happens to Mena Nix. If Dumay has Mena in her sights, then there’s nothing your ass can do about that while you’re locked up in here.”
Zak’s dark eyes were cold with malice as he smiled at Julian. The bastard knew exactly who the guy was. He was taunting Julian by not telling him. Rage coursed through Julian’s body as he glared down at the man who’d kidnapped and tried to violate the woman he loved.
Julian slammed his fist in the middle of Zak’s face. Blood splattered on his skin as throbbing pain detonated through his hand, snaking its way up his entire arm. Zak stumbled backward, falling off the bench.
“Truth hurts, doesn’t it bitch?” Zak said. Blood poured from his bruised nose, dripping over his lips as he revealed a bloodstained, toothy grin.
Julian charged forward, landing a second punch to Zak’s temple and following it with a combination punch to his kidneys. Zak cowered in the fetal position, coughing and sputtering. He spit blood onto the pale green grass, then glared up at Julian.
The other members of Quattro stood. Zak raised a hand, stopping them. “Don’t bother with that punk bitch. He ain’t worth it.”
In his periphery, Julian saw two prison guards, with assault rifles raised racing toward them. He should have known better than to attack Zak, but the truth in the man’s words had stung, shining a light on all of Julian’s fears. There was nothing he could do to protect Mena from inside the prison. With the so-called evidence the police had, the likelihood of beating the charges and outwitting Dumay wasn’t likely. He was out of options and the thought was about to drive him insane.
Julian stuffed the photos back in the envelope. He shouldn’t have wasted time with Zak Webber. He needed to call Octavia and tell her about his suspicions. She could send someone to check on Mena and make sure she was alright—
A sharp pain sliced through his abdomen. Julian took a step back, his eyes focused on the shiv in Zak’s hand. The blade had ripped through his shirt and disappeared into his flesh. Hot, sticky moistness poured from the wound. His shirt stained dark red. His body spasmed as he doubled over. Sharp, stinging pain radiated from the wound. Sweat beaded on his face. He dropped the envelope, clutching at the torn flesh of his abs. Frantic shouts of the prison guards grew louder, clouding his thoughts. Dazed, Julian crumpled to the ground.
Breathing heavily through his mouth, Zak stood over him with the canvas of bright blue sky and stark white clouds behind him. “Cha-ching!”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mena struggled to keep up with Octavia. The powerful attorney stomped down the hallway toward one of the interrogation rooms within the bowels of the police station. After getting off the phone with Detective Francois, Octavia had been Mena’s next call. Luckily, Octavia had still been in St. Basil and agreed to represent Mena during the interrogation.
Octavia stopped in front of the door and spun around to face her. “If the detective asks you anything that could be detrimental, I’ll instruct you not to answer. Otherwise, be concise, honest, and direct. It’s a common tactic of cops to lure you into saying more. Don’t fall for it.”
Mena sucked in a sharp breath as Octavia opened the door. She wasn’t sure how the interrogation would play out, but she had a feeling Michael was in the station somewhere. Her only priority was to make sure she didn’t say anything to incriminate herself or Athena before she had a chance to tell Octavia what happened and why.
Even with the prospect of criminal charges facing her, Mena thought of Julian. If she was arrested, he would find out about her marriage to Michael in the news. She hoped that somehow, someway, Julian could forgive her for not telling him the truth.
Crossing the threshold, Mena stepped toward the metal table in the center of the room and sat in the chair near the end. The room was large and virtually bare. Three chairs. One table. Nothing on the surface and no decorations. Not even one of those see through police mirrors Mena had seen on police T.V. shows countless times. Searing fluorescent bright lights illuminated the stark white walls, giving it an intense, claustrophobic feel.
