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Chapter 9
A TEST? Jesus. Is that why I was sent to Baltimore? I hoped to hell not.
I got home late that night, too late. I was glad that no one would be up to see me, especially Nana. I couldn’t handle one of her soul-piercing disapproving looks right now. I needed a beer and then I wanted to go to bed. Sleep if I could.
I slipped quietly inside the house, not wanting to wake anyone. Not a sound except for the tiniest electric hum that came from somewhere. I was planning to call Jamilla as soon as I got upstairs. I was missing her like the plague. Rosie the cat slid by and rubbed against my leg. “Hello, Red,” I whispered. “I did good today.”
Then I heard a cry.
I hurried up the front stairs toward Little Alex’s room. He was up and working himself into a good wail. I didn’t want Nana or one of the other kids to have to get up and tend to him. Besides, I hadn’t seen my boy since early that morning and I wanted to give him a snuggle. I missed his little face.
When I peeked into his room he was sitting up, and he seemed surprised to see it was me. Then he smiled and clapped his hands. Oh, boy! Daddy’s on the case. Daddy’s the biggest sucker in the house.
“What are you doing up, Pup? It’s late,” I said.
Alex’s bed is a low-riser that I made myself. There are protective bars on either side to keep him from falling out.
I slid in beside him. “Move over and give your daddy some room,” I whispered, and kissed the top of his head. I don’t ever remember my father kissing me, so I kiss Alex every chance I get. The same goes for Damon and Jannie, no matter how much they complain as they get older and less wise.
“I’m tired, little man,” I said as I stretched out. “How about you? Tough day, Puppy?”
I retrieved his bottle from a space between the mattress and the guard bars. He started to drink, and then he moved in close to me. He grabbed his stuffed cow, Moo, and he fell back to sleep in minutes.
So nice. Magical. That sweet baby smell I love. His soft breathing—baby’s breath.
The two of us had a nice sleep-over that night.
Chapter 10
THE COUPLE WAS HIDING out for a few days in New York City. Lower Manhattan. It was so easy to get lost there, to disappear off the map. And New York was one city where they could get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it. The Couple wanted rough sex. For starters, anyway.
They had stayed out of reach of their employer for more than thirty-six hours. Their contact man, Sterling, finally got through to them on the cell phone in a room at the Chelsea Hotel on West Twenty-third Street. Outside the window was a sign: HOTEL CHELSEA in an L shape. The vertical HOTEL was in white, the horizontal CHELSEA in red. It was a famous New York City icon.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for a day and a half,” Sterling said. “Don’t ever turn off your cell on me. Consider this a last warning.”
The woman, Zoya, yawned and gave the phone the finger. With her free hand, she popped a CD, East Eats West, into the player. Rock music kicked in hard and loud. “We were busy, darling. We’re still busy. What the hell do you want? You have more money for us? Money talks.”
“Turn down the music, please. Please. Somebody has an itch. He’s very rich. There’s a lot of money involved.”
“Like I said, darling, we’re busy right now. Otherwise occupied. Out to lunch. How big an itch is it?”
“Same as last time. A very big itch. He’s a personal friend of the Wolf.”
Zoya flinched at the mention of the Wolf. “Give me details, specifics. Don’t waste our time.”
“We’ll do it like we always do, darling. A piece of the puzzle at a time. How soon can you be on the road? How about thirty minutes?”
“We have something to wrap up here. Let’s say four hours. This need that somebody has, this itch—what kind of itch is it?”
“One unit, female. And not too far from New York. I’ll give you directions first. Then specifics on the unit. You have four hours.”
Zoya looked at her partner, who was lounging in an armchair. Slava was idly fingering a pecker leash as he listened to her talking. He was gazing out the window at a sweet shop, a tailor shop, a one-hour photo. Typical NYC view.
“We’ll do the job,” said Zoya. “Tell Wolf we’ll get his friend what he needs. No problem whatsoever.” Then she hung up on Sterling. Because she could.
She shrugged at her partner. Then Zoya looked across the hotel room to a queen-size bed with a steel decorative headboard. A young blond man was lying there. He was naked and gagged, handcuffed to vertical rods spaced about a foot apart on the bed.
“You’re in luck,” Zoya said to the blond. “Only four more hours to play, baby. Only four more hours.”
