Chapter 5
Neil Worthington eyed his younger brother with a mixture of sympathy and concern. “Sorry I wasn’t here to protect you,” he said.
Alex laughed, and was rewarded with a shooting pain that caused him to cringe. “I appreciate that, but we’re not on the school playground anymore, big brother. I can handle myself.” He smiled at the best father figure a man could have, not to mention an ace detective, and added, “I learned from the best.”
After walking over to close the door, Neil pulled up a chair next to the bed and sat. “Tell me what you know.”
“It was an attempted hit on a drug dealer.”
“You’re sure?”
“Ronnie Williams, known by the street name Stacks, is one of Detroit’s most notorious drug dealers. Because of his intelligence, he’s also one of the most elusive when it comes to arrests. I’m almost a hundred percent sure he was the target. As soon as I saw him walk through the door I braced for trouble.”
“One of his men turned traitor?”
Alex shook his head. “I’m not sure who the guy was.”
“But you could ID him?” Alex nodded. “Can he ID you?”
“I don’t think so, but honestly, I’m not sure. Everything happened so fast.”
“You talk to the police?”
“I couldn’t think straight last night. But one of the detectives gave me his card.”
Neil nodded, thoughtfully rubbing his goatee as he pondered the situation. “We’ve got to be careful. We can almost bet that Stacks has a dirty cop or two on the inside. Let me do some checking around; make sure we get a detective who’s clean. If the information you have gets heard by the wrong person, this could become a very dangerous town.” Alex looked pointedly at his bandage, then back at his brother. “Right. I guess for you it already is.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Neil’s chuckle started low and deep.
“Come on now, bro. Don’t make me laugh.” Neil tried and failed to quell his laughter. Soon his shoulders were shaking and tears threatened. “Ha!” Alex too tried to staunch his mirth, but soon the brothers were laughing out loud, partly at the absurdity of Alex’s situation and partly because they were still mercifully able to enjoy a joke between them.
“Oh, man!” Alex wiped his eyes. “You’re a real fool, you know that?”
“Takes one to know one,” Neil replied, an oft-quoted childhood quip that quickly had the brothers laughing again.
Carol’s footsteps slowed as she neared the closed door to Alex’s hospital room. Laughter? From the room of a man who’s just been shot? Hesitating, she placed her ear against the door. “Takes one to know one,” she heard an unfamiliar voice say. The sound of Alex’s laughter, however, was unmistakable.
She tapped lightly on the door. The laughter stopped. Muffled voices and then the door opened. “Yes?”
“Hi, I’m Carol, here to see Alex.”
“Let her in, bro.”
Neil stepped away and Carol walked into the room. Alex was sitting up and smiling, looking totally unlike someone who just hours ago had danced with a bullet. “Hey, you.”
“Hey, sexy.”
Carol couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face like water across shoreside sand.
“Something smells good.”
“Something sure does.” Having left the door open, Neil now joined Carol near Alex’s bed.
“Oh, yeah. Neil, this is Carol. Carol, this is my brother, Neil.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Neil looked at his watch. “Looks like you’re in good hands, so I’m going to take a minute and phone home. Wouldn’t want the wife to get worried.”
“Tell sis I said hi.”
“Will do.”
Carol watched as Alex and his brother shared a hug and a handshake, and Neil walked out the door. “You guys look alike,” she said once he’d left them. “He’s the oldest?”
“How’d you know?”
Carol smirked. “You can tell.”
“What’d you bring me?”
“Food fit for a king.”
“An injured king helped by a beautiful queen. I’m a lucky man.”
There it was again. That voice, that feeling—squiggles and butterflies—the knowingness that what Alex meant was much more than he said.
Alex watched Carol move items from his side table and place Styrofoam containers on the newly cleaned top. “Is that turkey?”
“Yes, and dressing,” Carol replied, as she removed containers, napkins, plastic plates, and utensils. “Greens, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, Hawaiian rolls, and pecan pie.”
“That’s love right there,” Alex said with a groan. “Come here.”
“What?” she said shyly, softly.
“Come. Here.” She complied. “Lean down.” She did. He lifted his lips, she lowered hers. They kissed or rather rubbed their lips against each other’s. At first. But it was not enough. Alex reached a hand behind Carol’s head and pressed her closer, deepening their exchange. Her lips parted. In that moment it was all that he wanted. He slipped his tongue inside her full, lipstick-kissed mouth and began an oral exploration. Their tongues collided and swirled as they tasted each other. Carol relished his touch, his scent, the power of his hold on her neck. He kissed her like he needed the exchange to live, like he’d waited a long time for this moment, like he meant it. She returned his sultry teasing stroke for stroke, as if she felt the exact same way.
“Nice,” he whispered, when they finally separated. “Just like I thought it would be.”
“So you’ve been thinking about it, huh?”
“Yes.”
Carol looked at him with a mixture of appreciation and surprise. One of the things she’d always admired about Alex was his forthrightness. When you met him you felt that what you saw was what you got.
“Have you thought about me? Be honest.”
Carol began fixing his plate. “I did at first, when you initially left the tour. But knowing you’d left Gab to work for Marlon . . .”
“Go on.”
“It’s like you’d joined forces with the enemy.”
“You really felt that way?”
“If you’ll remember, at the time, there was no love lost between Gabriella and The Prez. That nasty rumor had been leaked to the tabloids and she believed that Marlon was the culprit behind it. I wondered about a man who could work for someone like that.”
“Marlon swore to me that he didn’t do it.”
“Yes, I know that now.”
“Did she ever find out who did?”
“No, and now it doesn’t matter. These days, scandals are a dime a dozen. They quickly moved from that and were on to the next.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we do the same? Move on to what’s next for us?”
“What do you think that is?”
“I don’t know. But I think we could have a real good time finding out.” Alex bit into a succulent piece of turkey. “Um, your mama sure can cook. If your skills are anything like this . . . I just might have to marry you.”
“Then I guess there’ll be no wedding bells.”
“You can’t cook?”
Carol shook her head. “I can whip up a mean meal from a can, box, or frozen food package. But cooking from scratch like my mom does? No can do.”
“Guess I’ll have to put you in some cooking classes.”
“You talk like we’re going to be together. We’re barely even friends.”
“I’m trying to change that.”
“How? By dogging me out because I can’t cook?”
“No, by allowing me to return this favor you’ve done for me and taking you out to dinner.”
“You probably should focus on getting out of here first, and getting well.”
“I’m being released tomorrow and will recuperate at the home of a friend. They said the wound should be healed in two to three weeks. So why don’t you let me focus on what I want to focus on, which is dinner tomorrow night with you.”