She could only smile back at him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Rashad watched them all along. He said good-bye to Jerry and shook Ajalon's hand.
He looked him in the eye. “Thanks, Ajalon.”
Nicole froze. She quietly boarded her Jeep. She waited. And she wasn't surprised when Rashad opened her passenger door and hopped inside.
“You want to explain to me what the fuck is going on with you? You were supposed to be my ride or die.”
“What are you talking about? I can't help it if those people came to the house looking for your employeeâ”
“I'm not talking about that and you know it. You know good and well what I'm talking about. Cornell Cantu? That's your boy from Birmingham. Your little Afro-Italian lover.”
He shook his head. “I've been the biggest fool. I thought I was the shady one, but you got me beat by a long shot.”
Nicole's eyes were dry. She had no words to argue with him. She heavily sighed. “Sometimes we don't know why we do what we do. We only know what we regret.”
“That's the truth if I've ever heard the fucking truth.”
“So? What now?” she asked, trembling. She was petrified. More afraid than she'd ever been in her life. She still wanted Rashad but she wasn't certain that he could ever muster up enough strength, heart, and willingness to love her in the way she needed to be loved.
And if Rashad couldn't love her, then who could?
“We'll talk about it,” he finally told her. “Meet you back at the house.”
As she pulled out of the parking lot, she watched the continued celebration of a son being joyfully reunited with his parents. She could only hope Rashad gave her the same chance.
* * *
Before she went home, Nicole had the mind to call up Shyla. In all the excitement, she nearly forgot she had Emmy in the backseat of the Jeep. She knew how foolish she'd been to keep her daughter in the car with her keys still in the ignition and the engine running.
Shyla heard the latest drama and agreed to keep Emmy the entire night. “Go home and fix things with your husband.”
Nicole said, “You are a true friend.”
“And don't you ever forget it.”
* * *
Hours later, after Rashad and Nicole talked, really ironed things out and gave each other their thoughts, fears, and expectations, Nicole knew she'd nearly dodged a fatal bullet. Any other man would have tried to kill her.
She gratefully held Rashad's hand.
“I know I don't deserve you, babe. I'll admit it. I don't always do the right thing. But I do want to try and learn from my mistakes. I want another chance. And I promise to be the best wife you've ever had. You have my word.”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” he calmly told her.
“So does that mean you honestly forgive me? Because, Rashad, and I swear I don't say this too often, but I am so fucking sorry that I wish I could start the entire year all over again.”
“You do. That's different! How would you change things, Nicole?”
“I think that it's possible you and Kiara might have broken up anyway. Because maybe somehow she would have found out about Alexis and Hayley. She may have decided no, she didn't want her marriage anymore. And she may have decided to leave you and start over with someone else. And if that happened, I would have been able to meet you the honest, organic, and systematic way. It sounds old-fashioned, but I think I would have waited until you were completely unattached. And then we'd be just cool at first. No sex.”
“Are you saying that you are sorry for relentlessly pursuing me?”
“I beg your pardon. I'd hardly call it that. It's just that when I noticed you were spending more time with me, and less with her, the handwriting was on the wall,” she scoffed. “I didn't invent hooking up with a married man. Your precious Alexis is proof of that.”
“You're right in that assessment, Nicole. To understand people and why they are how they are, you'd have to go way back in history. Biblical times, even. Because I'm not a religious man, but even I remember the story about Samson and Delilah. She saw the man that she wanted and she made sure to do what it takes to get him.”
“I hope you aren't comparing me to Delilah. Because I believe that our modern-day situation is very much different than that story.”
He silently studied her. Then he said, “Yeah, right.”
She allowed herself a cautious laugh. “Because in the Rashad Eason and Nicole Greene story, you were a carpenter, so to speak, that originally wanted to help me to fix some things. And those things required you to come over to my house. But you could have sent one of your other men. But you, Rashad, chose to come and help me. And you came and got my problems fixed up real nice and pretty. And you talked to me and made sure that we became friends. And you took me out for my birthday last summer, to a beach, for God's sake, and you brought me back home and you made love to me. And so that ruined any chance for our own relationship to grow organically just like in a storybook. And I think you have to realize that in spite of its dirty background and origin, you must admit you played a role and now, in spite of everything, you do love me. And if things had been different, I believe you'd have gotten me a two-carat diamond ring instead of this plastic thing you found in a Cracker Jack box.”
He heartily laughed. “Ahh. About the ring . . . I was only testing you to see if you still loved me no matter what the size of the diamond. Some men do that just to see if the chick's heart is right. Some women pass the test.” He shrugged and gazed at her. “Other women miss out.”
“Oh, okay.” She felt foolish and immature. “I feel dumb. Again. And it's the one thing I'm committed to changing.” She let go of his hand and starting toying with her fingers.
“Rashad, I know for a fact you could have walked away from me and never talked to me again. I can't say that I'd blame you. I'd be hurt. But I'd understand. But the fact is that you are kind enough to forgive me. Why, it's an honor that you're giving me another chance. I feel like I've died on the operating table and was suddenly brought back to life.”
“That's a nice way to put it.” He pondered his words. “Well, Nicole. You haven't died. You're very much still alive. And yes, I'm giving you one more chance to prove yourself. Just once more. Don't blow it.”
She sighed in disbelief. “You are an
amazing
man. And I mean that.”
“I think I'm amazing, too. I really do.” He knew in his mind Nicole Greene really didn't have one more chance like he told her.
And Rashad thought about all the treacherous things he could line up in his mind to make this woman regret ever messing with him, his family, and his business.
Amazing indeed.
Prologue
O
nly five foot two, the little man suddenly appeared at the warehouse and pointed a semi-automatic pistol at Rashad. With only a second to spare, Rashad took off running. But the short man was faster. He whizzed past him, threw up his legs and kicked Rashad in his back, which sent him falling to the ground and crashing into a mountain of boxes filled with heavy materials. Rashad injured his knee; he yelled as he lay on the dusty floor.
The man stood over Rashad and aimed the pistol again. It weighed only 1.6 pounds, but to Rashad it could have weighed a ton. He stared at the weapon and quickly lifted his hands. “What did I do? What do you want?”
He felt so vulnerable on that floor. His heart beat rapidly inside his chest.
The man said nothing. He stared at Rashad with no visible emotion.
“Hey man, I'm talking to you. What you want with me? You want money? You can have my debit cards, my credit cards.”
“Don't want money. But you are who I want.”
An electronic voice changer made the attacker sound peculiar. A low evil-pitched tone that uttered frightening words. Rashad swallowed deeply then asked. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”
“Just call me Death.”
“W-what?”
Rashad realized this wasn't a stupid robbery. It was something more sinister. The man was so short and slight that Rashad thought he could take him. The man noticed a folding chair nearby on the ground. He pointed the pistol at Rashad and ordered him to unfold the chair. Rashad did exactly as he was told. But then in a sudden move, he grabbed the leg of the chair and swung with all his might.
“You motherfucking asshole,” he said and bashed the guy in his temple. His attacker was temporarily stunned, but fired a wild shot at Rashad and got him in the leg.
Blood poured from his left thigh; the pain was excruciating.
The attacker set the chair upright and pointed at it. He motioned for Rashad to sit down. This time Rashad had no other choice. Wincing in agony, he lowered himself onto the seat. It felt uncomfortable as hell. He yelled and moaned and wished he had something other than his hands to contain the blood.
The man stood by Rashad and pressed the steel tip of the barrel against his head.
“You are Rashad Quintell Eason. And one of the women in your life asked me to send a message to you.”
“A woman?” he asked, his voice trembling. He could barely think. “W-hat are you talking about?”
The man had a crazed look in his eyesâpiercing black eyes that blinked rapidly.
“She said to ask, âWhy did you let Satan use you like you did?'”
“I-I don't know what you'reâ”
“She said you should know everything that she's talking about.”
“But who is
she
?”
“Shut the fuck up. Right now.”
The man was strong and powerful. He duct-taped Rashad's hands securely behind his back, and taped him tightly to the chair. Rashad was losing blood. This was his worst nightmare.
He struggled to loosen his hands from the tape, but couldn't.
“Please,” he begged.
The man ignored him. He reached in the back pocket of Rashad's jeans and removed his wallet.
Then he wound a wide dark piece of cloth around Rashad's eyes. It was so tight that he could no longer see. His shirt was soaked with perspiration. Was this some type of joke? Was someone trying to scare him just to make a point?
Rashad inhaled the breath of the little man. It smelled like sour milk. He felt his mouth being pried open with tiny, rigid fingers. A thick sock was stuffed inside his mouth. It took away his saliva; his ability to breathe normally. He wanted to gag. The fibers from the sock sucked all the liquid from his mouth and the dryness made him want to throw up.
He felt so uncomfortable and he couldn't believe what was happening.
Who is this guy? Is he actually going to kill me?
Rashad felt nervous and wished his arms weren't trembling so much. His brain felt cloudy. He didn't understand. Then he recalled the man referring to a woman in his life. And he felt sorry, but it didn't seem to matter.
The pistol was shoved against Rashad's temple again.
In a flashing moment, he heard the voice of his son Myles inside his head. He recalled his laughter. He saw his smile. He missed Myles already. He wished he could see his daughters Hayley, Emmy, and Jazz. He imagined what would happen if he could never touch his children against. He knew that his cell phone was somewhere around, maybe only inches away. He remembered it fell out of his pocket when he was startled by the man who suddenly burst into the warehouse.
Rashad wished he could get to his phone. Make a call. Get in touch with the people he loved.
But he was secured to the chair. His leg was injured. And he knew he'd never talk to his family again. He thought of his mother, Beeva Reese. She'd be brokenhearted. And so would his wife, Nicole. A weird animal sound escaped from his mouth as he began to sob before he man he could no longer see.
The man only laughed.
Rashad wanted to scream but he was growing weaker and weaker.
He wished he could pray.
Seconds later a loud blast sounded in the hollowness of the room. The pain in Rashad's head was excruciating. It seemed as if he was going blind it hurt so terribly. Instantly, a fountain of blood flowed from his head and formed a dark red pool on the floor beneath him. He fell over in a heap, still tied to the chair.
As Rashad lay on the floor he wondered about his killer's words. What woman had he referred to? Who caused this?
Was it Kiara, Alexis, or could it even be his wife Nicole?
Within seconds everything grew eerily dark and quiet.
He took his last breath.
And he nursed one thought before he transitioned into eternity: What caused this?