Raq unlocked her apartment door, flipped on the lights, and tossed her keys on top of the collected spare change in the plastic pretzel jar next to the miniscule TV. The three-gallon jar was bigger than the TV set. Hell. It was practically bigger than the entire apartment. She could probably score roomier digs if she filled out the right paperwork with the pencil pushers in DC, but who had time for that? The place was small—room enough for a bed, bathroom, and “kitchen,” an area she had carved out for a hot pot and a small refrigerator—but it had all the space she needed. Until now. Having Bathsheba here made her realize how little she had. And how much she wanted.
“This is me. It’s not much, but it’s mine.”
“Cool.”
Bathsheba looked around, which took all of two seconds since the place was less than four hundred square feet. Raq was glad she had made her bed this morning, something she didn’t normally do unless she was expecting company. Inviting Bathsheba home with her after dinner with Pop and Zeke hadn’t been part of the original plan at the beginning of the night. Now she couldn’t think of a better way to end it.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Raq bent to check the contents of her mini-fridge. “I’ve got soda, juice, water. Check that. Looks like the juice expired last week. You don’t want that.” She pulled the expired carton of OJ out of the fridge so she could toss it in the trash. “I thought I had some beer, but I guess I polished it off already. You don’t strike me as an Olde English kind of girl anyway. Next time you come over, I’ll be sure to have a bottle of wine on hand. The good stuff, not Night Train. You could light fires with that shit. So what would you like?”
“For you to stop trying so hard.” Bathsheba held Raq by her shoulders, grounding her when she felt like she might fly away. “Stop trying to impress me and just be real with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted from you. Nothing more. Nothing less. If you invited me here to help you clean out your refrigerator, grab a trash bag and let’s get to it. But if you had something more serious on the agenda, I’d rather get to that instead.”
Accepting Bathsheba’s challenge, Raq grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator, took Bathsheba by the hand, and led her to a nearby chair. “First of all, I want to tell you I’m sorry. I didn’t know Gum—I mean Delilah—was your mother. Now that I know who she is, I promise I’ll do my best to keep her safe. She’s one of Half Pint’s best customers so he won’t want to hear it when I tell him he has to drop her, but I don’t think it will take much persuading on my part to get him to see things my way.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
Raq didn’t know how Ice would react to her messing with his bottom line—he kept track of every penny that went in and out of his organization—but she’d deal with that situation when the time came.
She placed her unopened bottle of water on the floor, sat back in her chair, and rubbed her hands over the creases in her jeans. She felt as nervous as a whore in church. She had bared her flesh before but never her soul. Tonight, that was going to change.
“Knowing where you come from answers a lot of questions I had about you,” she said.
“What kind of questions?”
Bathsheba sounded tense so Raq put a hand on her knee to get her to relax. “Like why you’ve kept the things in your past such a big secret. Before tonight, I thought you’d told me everything there was to know about you. Now I realize I don’t know as much as I thought I did. If Pop hadn’t said something tonight, would you have told me about your sister and your Mom?”
“Eventually.” Bathsheba took a sip of her water as she tried to buy time. Then she set the bottle down and stared at her feet. “If I thought we were going to get serious, yes, I would have told you everything.”
“If? You don’t think I’m serious about you?” Raq put her fingers under Bathsheba’s chin and tilted her head up until Bathsheba met her eyes. “That’s why I brought you here tonight. Because I wanted to let you know how much you mean to me. Because I wanted to introduce you to the real me.”
Bathsheba leaned forward in her seat, giving Raq her full, undivided attention. “Good. Because I’m ready to meet her.”
Raq cleared her throat, reluctant to tell her tale but eager for Bathsheba to hear it. She had glossed over it the night they went to Club Peaches, but now it was time for her to spill the whole T.
“When I was fifteen, my Mom’s boyfriend, Ray, started looking at me like he hadn’t eaten in a week and I was a bucket of KFC. He didn’t do anything at first. Then he started hinting around and asking me questions to see if I was interested. I came out of the womb liking girls so he knew the answer was no. He tried to beat the gay out of me, but that didn’t work, either. Then he decided to take what I wouldn’t give him. I’d started going to Pop’s Gym the first time Ray looked at me sideways. I wanted to be able to defend myself without reaching for a knife or a gun. I didn’t want to exchange one prison for another.”
“Did you tell your mother what was happening or did she turn a blind eye to what was going on?”
“She convinced herself my bruises came from fights at school. I tried to tell her the truth, but she accused me of trying to seduce Ray when it was the other way around. She was passed out drunk the night he finally made his move. I woke up with him on top of me, pinning me down, and trying to pull my underwear aside so he could shove his way inside.”
Bathsheba sat on the edge of her seat like she was watching an action movie. “What did you do?”
“I slammed my knee into his balls as hard as I could. A cheap shot, maybe, but it slowed him down long enough for me to free my hands. Once we were on even terms, he didn’t have a chance. I knocked him out with a right cross. The purest punch I’ve ever thrown. While he slept off the effects of the punch and the forty of malt liquor he and my mother had split, I packed my shit and got out.”
“And you went to Pop’s?”
Raq nodded. “I stayed with him and Zeke for almost three years. Pop probably would have let me stay indefinitely if I asked, but he was on a fixed income and I knew how much of a strain it put on him to have another mouth to feed. I needed to find a job so I could pull my weight. I tried the minimum wage thing for a while, but the take-home pay was so bad it was like I was working for free. I got tired of giving most of my money to the government each week. Then Ice came along. He offered me two things: more money and the chance to do what I do best, box. I would have jumped ship for either one, but he offered me both.”
“What did he ask you to do for him?”
“He wanted me to sell for him because I knew how to handle myself and he didn’t think any of the rival crews would try to jack me for my cash or my stash. But I said no. I don’t care how other people make their living. That’s on them. But there are two things I will never do, no matter how much someone offered to pay me: sling drugs or carry a gun.”
“Yet you look out for people that do. What’s the difference?”
“Everyone needs someone to watch his back from time to time. What I do isn’t illegal. To me, it’s just a job like any other. But not everyone sees it that way.”
“You mean Pop.”
“He’s not the only one who doesn’t like what I do. He’s just the most vocal about it. He doesn’t approve of the drug thing, but I think the unlicensed boxing upsets him even more.”
“Why? He’s the one who introduced you to the sport in the first place.”
“That’s why he’s so hurt. He wanted me to fight in the Golden Gloves or the Olympics, not warehouses and back alleys.”
“Wouldn’t you have preferred to take that route?”
Raq ran her hand over her cornrows, wondering if the disappointment she sometimes felt after a particularly lopsided win was hers or someone else’s. If she fought in a different venue, the reward might have been greater, but the cheers would have sounded the same and the stakes wouldn’t have been nearly as high. “Those were Pop’s dreams, not mine.”
“What do you dream about?”
“Leaving here.” Raq let her hands fall into her lap, thankful for the change in subject. “Going someplace far, far away. Somewhere I could have room to breathe. Someplace I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder all the time because no one’s out to get me. Someplace quiet with no gunshots or police sirens ripping through the night.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
Raq raised her bottle of water in a toast. “Here’s hoping I don’t have to die to get there.”
“I hope you don’t either. I like having you here.” Bathsheba covered Raq’s hand with hers. “When you find the slice of heaven you’ve been dreaming about, maybe I could visit you sometime.”
Raq laced her fingers through Bathsheba’s, forming a connection like she had never felt. “Or maybe you could come with me.”
“Do you want me with you?”
Raq slid out of her chair and knelt before Bathsheba. “With everything I am, yes, I want you.”
Bathsheba cradled Raq’s head in her arms, taking her from the Middle East to a place that had previously existed only in her imagination. She didn’t have to die to go to heaven because she was already there. She closed her eyes, feeling safe. Feeling secure. Feeling loved. Feeling some things she hadn’t felt in years and something she had never felt before. She wanted to explore those feelings. To see how deep they were. To see how much further they could go.
She lifted her head, hoping she had done enough to earn the kiss she was silently requesting. Bathsheba lowered her head until their mouths met in a kiss so tender it nearly brought tears to Raq’s eyes.
Raq slid her hands under Bathsheba’s blouse as the kiss deepened, needing to feel her skin. Needing to feel her heart. Bathsheba pulled at Raq’s hoodie and Raq lifted her arms to comply. She needed Bathsheba’s hands on her, too.
But her phone rang before she could get what she had craved for weeks.
“Hold that thought,” she said as she dug her burner out of her pocket.
“It’s me.” Ice’s controlled, measured voice cooled Raq’s raging libido. And the fact that he sounded like himself instead of a Denzel wannabe garnered her immediate attention.
“What’s up? Is something wrong?”
Something had to be screwed up somewhere. Otherwise, Dez would be calling. If Ice was reaching out, the shit must have really hit the fan.
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Meet me at the storage unit. And bring Bathsheba with you.”
“Why?” she asked, but Ice didn’t answer because he had already hung up.
The knot of apprehension in Raq’s stomach grew even tighter after she told Bathsheba they had to leave.
“Why does he want me to come?”
Raq doubted Bathsheba knew anything about the self-storage company Ice owned, what most of the units contained, or the kinds of things that went on in the large, empty unit on the far end of the lot. But she may be about to find out.
“I don’t know, but it sounds like we have work to do.”
*
Island Blue Self-Storage was located on the outskirts of Baltimore, a short drive from the heart of town in one direction and the docks in another. Members of the drug enforcement squad had sat on the units for hours on end but had never witnessed any criminal activity taking place on the premises of the vast site. Just the usual comings and goings of regular paying customers moving their belongings into or out of the storage spaces as needed. The drug squad had deemed Island Blue one of Ice’s legitimate businesses and it had quickly fallen off the radar as attention turned to Miss Marie’s instead.
The drug squad, Bathsheba decided as she watched bricks of cocaine being secured behind a unit’s locked door, obviously hadn’t looked hard enough. Ice’s supply wasn’t sitting in some warehouse the police hadn’t been able to locate but in dozens of storage units they had chosen to ignore. Millions of dollars hiding practically in plain sight.
Bathsheba needed to get word to Carswell so he could set up round-the-clock surveillance. She still didn’t have enough evidence to take Ice down—she needed to prove the coke belonged to him instead of a rent-paying customer—but she had just taken a large step toward cracking the case. She was so close now she could almost see the finish line. But instead of jubilation, she felt only trepidation.
There was a reason she had been brought here. A reason she was being allowed to see what she was seeing. Either Ice trusted her enough to show her the inner workings of his organization or she wouldn’t be allowed to live long enough to tell anyone what she had seen.
Bigfoot and Winky stood outside a large unit on the end of the lot. When he saw Bathsheba and Raq approach, Bigfoot bent and lifted the unit’s retractable door. Light spilled out from the unit’s interior, mingling with the harsh glow emanating from the security lights overhead.
“Go on in,” Bigfoot said. “They’re waiting for you.”
Bathsheba and Raq ducked under the half-open door. Bathsheba tried not to flinch when the door slammed shut behind them.
Ice, flanked by Dez and One-Eyed Mike, stood at the front of the unit. Before him sat a small figure bound to a chair. The figure’s face bore little resemblance to the mug shots and surveillance photos Bathsheba had seen. Half Pint’s once-handsome face was grotesquely swollen, the results of what must have been a savage beating.
“You’re here,” Ice said, puffing on a cigar. “Now we can get this party started.”
“Get it started?” Raq said. “It looks like it’s almost over. What have I missed?”
“It seems Rashad has forgotten who calls the shots around here. He’s forgotten that I have eyes everywhere. I run the streets of Charm City, not some little boy pretending to be a man.”
Half Pint whimpered and fiercely shook his head from side to side, the bloody gag in his mouth preventing him from verbally proclaiming his innocence. Tears ran down his ravaged cheeks, even though one eye was bloodshot and the other was swollen shut.
“Did you know he was planning to go into business on his own?” Ice asked. “That he was siphoning off kilos of my product to build a stash of his own?”
“No,” Raq said. “You pay me to watch him when he’s on the streets, but I’m not with him twenty-four seven.”
“So you do think he’s capable of betraying me?”
“All I’ve ever heard him say is how much he wanted—wants to be like you. He said the two of you were tight.”
“He said a lot of things. But tonight’s the last night he’ll ever use my name in vain.” Using a handkerchief to mask his fingerprints, Ice pulled a nine-millimeter handgun out of his pocket and held it out with the butt end facing Raq. “Since you don’t have a piece of your own, I asked Rashad if you could borrow his. End him.”
Half Pint screamed behind his gag, his wide eyes pleading for mercy.
“Why me?” Raq asked, backing away from the gun.
“Because I need you to prove your loyalty to me. Show me you weren’t planning to betray me too.”
“Ice, I’ve had your back for eight years now,” Raq said. “You should know by now I’d never turn on you.”
“From now on, I’m Missouri. I’m not taking anyone’s word for anything. You’ve got to show me. If I still have your loyalty, do what I ask you to do.”
“You’ve got to pop your cherry sometime, right?” Dez asked. “Who better to practice on than a traitor?”
Raq’s hands remained at her sides. “Before today, he wasn’t a traitor. He was my friend.”
“Ain’t no room in this game for friendship.”
Ice pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of Half Pint’s head and pulled the trigger. Half Pint jerked and slumped sideways until both he and the chair he was duct taped to fell to the floor. Blood and brains spilled from what was left of his head. The acrid smell of piss and shit filled the room as Ice handed the smoking gun to Dez for disposal.
Ice stepped over the growing bloodstain on the floor and tapped his finger against Raq’s heaving chest. “The next time I ask you to do something, your answer better be yes, not why, you hear me?”
Raq nodded mutely.
Bathsheba swallowed the rising bile in her throat when Ice turned his cold, unfeeling eyes on her.
“I wanted you to be here tonight so you could see how I deal with traitors.” He buttoned his suit jacket as if he was wrapping up a business meeting instead of asking her and Raq to become accessories to murder. “Are you in or are you out?”
“I’m in,” Bathsheba said quickly before he could question her loyalty as he had Raq’s.
“Good. Now clean up this mess.”
“Anything you say, boss,” Raq said.
Bathsheba thought she heard a hint of challenge in Raq’s voice. Perhaps her loyalty was up for grabs after all. If so, Bathsheba planned to be the one to claim it. If she didn’t, she might soon find herself where Half Pint now was: bound to a chair, staring sightlessly at the ceiling while someone scraped her brains off the floor.