Life for Jean-Mary Bezel had been going along swimmingly since she had been returned to the Bezel Brothers after being kidnapped. Although Agent McKenzey did not torture her, the fact that he took her from her home and ransacked it was enough. The agent had lured her into his vehicle after he had convinced her that he was an agent—well he was—and had to take her in for her protection. Agent McKenzey had explained that a corrupt agent was out to kill her grandchildren, when all the while, he was the agent.
He had lovingly walked her to a non-descript Crown Vic and then drove her away. He drove an hour from her home and then handcuffed her to a chair deep inside a barn in the middle of Newark, Delaware. She hated him for that, and was glad that that was one of the reasons that the agent was warehoused in the federal detention center like the rest of the criminal cretins. Jean-Mary was a fiesty woman, born in the North, and to experience that was not a thing that hurt her; it made her mad. And she wanted revenge.
She snatched up her glasses and looked at the TV screen. It was horrific as she painfully watched the entire tri-state area media converging on the jail that housed her grandson and the monster that had kidnapped her. She was confused that Andre had decided to act out with his trial date just two days away. She surmised that he was stressed, scared and perhaps he was looking for a way to get away from the obvious: long-term imprisonment. The way she viewed things was that he deserved some time in a federal penitentiary. She was his grandmother, but she was a realist. She believed that you reaped what you sow and Andre had some owning-up to do. Promoting a prison riot was a stretch and if she knew her boys, that was not an Andre Bezel exclusive plan. Kareem Bezel was written all over it. When he brought his narrow tail into her home, she planned to get to the bottom of the current episode of “All My Inmates.”
Earlier that night, Jean-Mary had made her favorite home-made biscuits and with the family coming, she put on a fresh pot of coffee. She was a jovial, light hued woman in her mid-sixties, and she had pumped the boys full of caffeine since elementary school. Preparing a shot of coffee was imperative for the night to flow smoothly. Jean-Mary had raised those boys, and she knew what her babies liked. Her house was the family head quarters, and she had prepared for a business meeting. The elder woman of the family knew that when they all arrived, it would be all business and no play.