The Million Dollar Deception Page 9

  “That’s all.”

  Lewis sat up in his chair, rubbed his chin like he was seriously thinking it over. “And you’d do all that. Buy me a house and everything?”

  “Yeah,” Nate said, feeling like this man might actually be willing to consider his proposition.

  Lewis paused for another moment, then finally said, “The answer is no.”

  Nate stared at Lewis for a few seconds. “I see,” he said, then dug into his back pocket for his wallet. “How much for the—”

  “I got that. It’s already paid for.”

  Nate stood, slipped the wallet back in his pants. “I asked my question, and you gave me an answer. I guess I’ll leave now.”

  Lewis stared up at the man, emotionless. “Naw,” Lewis said.

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe you. I know who you are, been on the receiving end of what you’ll do to get what you want.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Last year, I remember lying in an alley after getting my ass beat almost dead. Three, four men standing over me, wearing masks and all black. I was bleeding out my mouth, ribs felt broke, wondering if I was gonna make it, wondering who would do that to me. Then one of those men bent over, looked down at me, and pulled off his mask. He said not to fuck with his wife no more, or else next time I wouldn’t live through it. That was you, Nate, remember?” Lewis said, looking up at Nate, a little bit of the smile still left on his face.

  “Yeah,” Nate said, his voice soft.

  “A man that does all that to get what he wants doesn’t just walk away after being told no.”

  “Things have happened. I’ve changed.”

  Lewis chuckled a little, took another sip. “Let’s hope so, Nate. Because if you haven’t, this time it’s gonna be you looking up from the ground, bleeding.”

  28

  Freddy sat low in his car behind the steering wheel, watching the man across the street.

  “He tall, like six five, and skinny.” The voice of the man from this morning echoed in Freddy’s head.

  “He like forty years old, always wears a dirty-ass white T-shirt and blue pants. He got marks all over his face, and he walk wit’ a limp. Everybody call him Notty.”

  This had to be him, Freddy thought, watching the man limp up to a boy standing on a corner, no older than fifteen. Notty handed the boy something, the boy handed something back, and Freddy knew it had to be drugs.

  The man from this morning told Freddy that Notty was a junkie, had knocked more than a few old ladies over the head to keep himself high. Freddy grabbed his gun off the passenger seat of his car, slid it behind him in the waist of his jeans, then got out. He waited for two cars to pass, keeping a close eye on Notty, then crossed the street.

  Notty was heading toward an alley, probably to shoot up, Freddy thought. He followed the man, looking both ways before he stepped into the alley.

  Freddy walked slowly, some thirty feet behind. The alley was filled with trash, boxes, Dumpsters. The buildings on either side had all been abandoned; broken windows dotted the facades. No one was in the alley except Notty and Freddy. Fifty yards into the alley, Notty stepped to the left, around a corner and out of sight.

  Freddy continued walking, a little quicker now, till he got to a point only a few feet from where he’d seen Notty disappear.

  He pressed himself against a wall, very near to Notty, and listened. Freddy heard the man breathing hard, heard him rustling about.

  Pulling the gun from his jeans, Freddy exhaled, then jumped out from behind the wall, pointing the gun in front of him. Notty looked up, only slightly surprised. He was sitting on a crate, a rubber tourniquet tightened around his bicep, his teeth clamped down on the butt end of a hypodermic needle.

  “What’s up, motherfucker?” Freddy said. He didn’t know why, but for some reason he was shaking, felt scared. Not of the man, but something else.

  “Who is you?” Notty said after pulling the needle out his mouth. He was calmer than Freddy felt he should have been.

  “You robbed my old lady.”

  “I robbed a lot of old ladies. That’s what the fuck I do. Now I’m tryin’ to get high here, and unless you got some specific bidness wit me,” Notty said, standing, all six foot five of him, and stepping right in front of Freddy’s gun, “I suggest you carry yo’ little ass on.”

  Freddy stared at the man from behind the gun, both his hands shaking, causing the barrel of the gun to shake as well. Notty smiled, exposing three gaps where missing front teeth should have been. “Little bitch,” Notty said, dismissing Freddy. “Tell your moms to stay off my streets, and next time she’ll be all right.” He moved back around to what he was doing and Freddy quickly reared back, swung the gun, and struck Notty as hard as he could across the jaw. The tall, wiry man stumbled on his feet, the band still tight around his bicep.

  Freddy swung again, a wide sweeping blow, catching the wavering man on the side of the skull. Notty dropped to the ground. Freddy threw himself on top of him, straddled him. Notty threw up his arms, trying to block the blows Freddy was raining down on him.

  He pounded Notty’s forearms with the butt of the gun till they fell, then he slammed the gun down against the man’s head, his face, his chest, his shoulders.

  Freddy wielded the gun in a blind fury, till blood coated the gun, till he felt it splatter on his bare arms, on his face. The man stopped struggling, lay still under Freddy’s weight. Freddy continued to assault him, yelling, pounding him with his two fists wrapped around the gun, over and over and over again.

  Finally, the gun was over Freddy’s head, about to come down once more, but Freddy stopped himself.

  He was spent. He looked down at Notty’s face. It was covered in blood, swollen, cut, unrecognizable.

  Freddy didn’t know if Notty was dead or alive. He rolled off him, stood, and then nudged the man with the toe of his work boot.

  Notty did not move. Freddy kicked him again, and the man coughed, stirred, then moaned in pain.

  Freddy pointed the gun down at the man’s face.

  The one eye of Notty’s that was not swollen shut focused on the weapon. He slowly raised an arm, as if preparing to defend himself against a bullet.

  Freddy stared down, his finger on the trigger, slowly applying more pressure. Suddenly he released it.

  “You ever fuck with my moms again, you’re dead.”

  29

  Later that night, Nate was on the phone in his home office, talking with Abbey his investigator.

  “So exactly what do you want from your ex-wife?” she asked Nate.

  “I would like my money back. I just don’t know how I’d go about getting it.”

  “We could do the same thing with her as we did with Tori. Instead of using one of your guys, maybe you could persuade her current boyfriend to work for you.”

  “No. That’s what got me into all this to begin with.”

  “We could find someone to hack into her accounts and just take the money that way,” Abbey suggested.

  “That’s just outright robbery. No, I won’t stoop that low.”

  “Then it seems we’ll have to take some time to think more on how to access her funds. But tell me this, is there anything as important to her as the money?”

  Nate leaned back in his chair, rubbed a hand over his hair. “All I can think of is her business. When we were married, she always talked of having her own business. I would think that’s very important to her.”

  “Is there some way that you could acquire it? I could find out if there are any back taxes owed on the property, if she’s behind in any payments, check out the real-estate contracts, see if there are any loopholes. Maybe you can come in and take the buildings from under her.”

  This was all starting to sound pretty low down and underhanded to Nate, but he knew these were things he might have to do; he might have to do even worse.

  “Sure, check all of that. Get back to me, tell me what our o
ptions are,” Nate said, knowing there would be few, if any.

  “Sure, Mr. Kenny. Good night.”

  Nate hung up the phone, closed the computer file he was working on, and opened up his e-mail account to check for new messages.

  Nate hadn’t heard from Monica after their brief meeting yesterday. He wondered what would happen if he called her at that moment. What would he say? What would be his new approach? He wasn’t sure.

  He would have to give that some more thought, he decided, glancing at his list of new e-mails. To his surprise, he saw another e-mail from Lewis. And yes, there was another tiny paper clip symbol beside it.

  There was no subject. Nate scrolled down. There was no message either.

  He moused the pointer arrow down to the attachment, held his finger just above the clicker, trying to decide if he really wanted to see what had been sent to him this time. He decided he needed to face it.

  Nate clicked on the attachment, opening it up. The screen went black, and the video play screen popped up. Nate clicked the play arrow.

  He saw a grainy close-up of Monica’s eyes, her hair hanging in her face. Then she moved back away from the lens, coming into focus, as if she had just clicked the camera on.

  She smiled and moaned, bit her bottom lip as she retreated farther from the lens. Her sensual cry came through the speakers on Nate’s desk. It sent a pain through his body he had not expected.

  As the shot opened, Nate saw that his wife was naked, dripping with sweat, saw that somebody was behind her. It was Lewis. The man’s deep voice spilled from the speakers now. He knelt behind Monica, grabbing her by her hips, ramming himself into her. Nate could hear the sweaty, slapping sounds of skin each time they collided.

  “Shit baby, shit baby, shit!” the man yelled.

  “Oh, god, oh god!” And that was Monica.

  Nate turned away from the screen, shut his eyes tight, but he still heard their cries and moans.

  He had to see this, deal with this, he told himself. It will strengthen his resolve to do whatever he had to do to get back at Monica for what she had put him through, what she was putting him through now. Nate turned back to the screen, slowly opened his eyes, clenched his teeth, and tried to watch as his ex-wife endured what looked to be the punishment Lewis was doling out to her. Then suddenly, Nate lunged across his desk, grabbed one of the speakers, yanked it from its input, and slung it across the room toward his office door. He did the same with the left speaker. Now there was no sound. He looked down at the screen again.

  Lewis pulled out of Nate’s wife, hard and dripping.

  Monica turned to face him, crawled near him, and grabbed him between the legs.

  “No,” Nate said softly to himself.

  Monica eagerly brought her face close, opened her mouth, was about to take the man in, but Nate quickly clicked the pause button.

  The two bodies froze, Lewis, bushy headed, sweaty, naked on his knees, his erection jutting out before him. And Monica, on hands and knees, holding the man in her fist, her eyes looking up at him, her mouth open, seemingly wanting nothing more than to please this fool. What had this man done to his wife? Nate thought. What would she think of him if she knew that at this moment, Nate was viewing this recording?

  Would she change her mind about marrying him?

  Nate clicked off his computer and grabbed the car keys that were beside him on his desk, thinking maybe he should go find out.

  30

  Lewis,” Monica said, nudging him.

  They were sitting on the living room sofa, watching a movie, Lewis’s arm thrown around Monica’s neck, his head resting on her shoulder.

  “Wake up!”

  “What?” Lewis said, quickly lifting his head, blinking weary eyes, and wiping the back of his hand across his lips.

  “You keep falling asleep. Why don’t you just go up to bed?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Five minutes till ten,” Monica said, after glancing at the clock.

  “But the movie, it’s almost over.”

  “It’s only halfway through. Go to bed, Lewis. I’ll be up when it’s over.”

  “You sure?”

  But before Monica could answer, her cell phone started ringing.

  “Who’s calling me this late?” she asked aloud, pulling herself from the sofa and walking over to grab the phone off the entertainment center shelf. Monica looked at the caller ID. She didn’t recognize the number but flipped the phone open and said, “Hello.”

  There was no response.

  “Hello,” Monica said again.

  “Monica,” a voice said. It was Nate.

  Monica’s heart suddenly started to race.

  “I know that Lewis is probably with you, so just act like you’re talking to Tabatha.”

  “Tabatha,” Monica said, her voice shaky. “What’s going on, girl?”

  “I need to talk to you,” Nate said.

  “Can’t it wait till tomorrow? Lewis and I are watching a movie.”

  “I don’t care about that. I need to talk to you now. I need to see you.”

  “That’s crazy,” Monica said, feeling uneasy, looking over and seeing that Lewis was staring right at her.

  “I know I shouldn’t be calling you, but I need to talk. Can you get away?”

  “No. I told you that—”

  “Tell him Tabatha’s car broke down. She got it towed and you’re going to pick her up and give her a ride home.”

  Monica couldn’t speak, just held the phone to her ear, thinking it was going to slip, considering how much sweat was now coating her palm.

  “If you don’t,” Nate said, “I swear, I’m coming over there to say what I have to say, and we can just deal with it all at your place.”

  “Where did it break down?” Monica suddenly said.

  “Good. I’ll be at the park over on Clark Street. You remember the one we always used to go to?”

  “Yeah. I know where that is,” Monica said, glancing nervously at Lewis. “Okay, bye.”

  “So who was it?” Lewis said.

  “Tabatha.”

  “I thought you said you ain’t recognize the number.”

  “She called from a pay phone,” Monica said, thinking quickly. “Because her cell was dead.”

  “Is she okay?” Lewis stood, walking toward Monica, concerned.

  “Yeah. She just needs me to pick her up.” Monica mechanically walked toward the closet to grab her coat and bag.

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  “No!” Monica said, spinning, overreacting. “I mean…you have to stay here and watch Layla. She’s asleep. Wouldn’t make sense to wake her when I’m just going to go pick up Tabatha, drive her home, and come right back. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah,” Lewis said, not seeming to believe her. “I know what you mean.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Nate’s cell phone rang.

  “Hello,” Nate said.

  “Where are you? It’s dark and I don’t see you. I’m not getting out of this car if you aren’t out there,” Monica said.

  “Hold on.” Nate stepped out of the swing he was sitting on, then walked toward the middle of the park and waved an arm toward Monica’s car. “Do you see me now?” he said into the phone as he headed toward her car.

  “Yeah.”

  Nate examined Monica’s Jaguar as she climbed out of it.

  “See you bought yourself a new car.”

  “No. It was your money, so I guess you did,” Monica said. “Why the hell are you calling me?”

  “I need to talk.”

  “We did all the talking we needed to do at your place.”

  “No. There’s more.” Nate started walking back toward the swings.

  “Where are you going?” Monica said, looking around as if worried she’d be kidnapped if she remained there alone. She quickly followed behind Nate.

  “Remember this park? We’d come here all the time, just sit, watch the kids play, and dream about the fa
mily that we’d have.”

  “I remember. But that was then.”

  “The family we could have had if you would have just let me get you pregnant right after we got married, like you promised.”

  Monica halted behind him. “I didn’t come here for you to badger me about a mistake I made years ago.”

  “I know,” Nate said, turning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t come here for that, either. I want you back, Monica. It’s that simple.”

  Monica looked at him strangely. She did not speak for a moment, and then finally said, “Then Lewis was right. He said that’s why you wanted to meet.”

  “Okay, so what? It doesn’t negate the fact that I’ve been doing a lot of thinking and like I said, I want you—”

  “You can’t have me back. I’m fucking engaged!”

  Nate looked away, chuckled a little. “Are you in love with him?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Nate walked right up on her, asked the question again. “Are you in love with him?”

  Monica stared directly into Nate’s eyes but did not answer.

  “I see,” Nate said. “So, do you still have feelings for me?”

  “Not the kind of feelings that would make me want to come back to you.”

  “What changed?”

  “You. The shit you did.”

  “You know why I did it.”

  “Because you’re a selfish bastard.”

  “No. Because I wanted children and you stole that from me.”

  “If you see me being unable to have children as stealing something from you, then so be it. But fact is, nothing’s changed, so why in the hell would you want me back?”

  “Something has changed.”

  “What?”

  Nate wanted to tell her about Nathaniel, that he had adopted the child, but this wasn’t the time. Seeing the boy with her own eyes would be much more powerful than just hearing about him.

  “I have. I’m a different man. You come back to me, you’ll find that out. I promise,” Nate said, taking one step closer to her.

  “I can’t.”

  “Lewis,” Nate sighed. “He’s nothing, probably was a thief, a drug dealer, a purse snatcher before I found him. But the most important thing I want to ask you is, what does he add to your life? What does he bring that you don’t already have? Can you grow with him?”