Collusion Read online

  Also by De’nesha Diamond

  Parker Crime Chronicles

  Conspiracy

  The Diva Series

  Hustlin’ Divas

  Street Divas

  Gangsta Divas

  Boss Divas

  King Divas

  Queen Divas

  Anthologies

  Heartbreaker (with Erick S. Gray and Nichelle Walker)

  Heist and Heist 2 (with Kiki Swinson)

  A Gangster and a Gentleman (with Kiki Swinson)

  Fistful of Benjamins (with Kiki Swinson)

  No Loyalty (with A’zayler)

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Collusion

  DE’NESHA DIAMOND

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  PART ONE - Strange Relationship

  Prologue

  PART TWO - Chaos and Disorder

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  PART THREE - Something Wicked This Way Comes

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  PART FOUR - Daddy Dearest

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  Teaser chapter

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  DAFINA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Adrianne Byrd

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  DAFINA and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0585-3

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0587-7

  eISBN-10: 1-4967-0587-4

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2018

  This novel is dedicated to Mr. Nelson.

  Thank you for a lifetime of memories.

  Author’s Note

  Most of the action in the novel takes place in Washington, D.C., but certain liberties have been taken in portraying the city itself and its institutions. This is wholly intentional. The world presented here is a fictitious one, as are its characters and events.

  PART ONE

  Strange Relationship

  Prologue

  Hay-Adams Hotel, Washington D.C.

  Eight days ago

  In the posh presidential suite of the five–star hotel, minutes from the White House, the new House speaker spent his celebration night in a luxurious den of debauchery. High off a potent designer street drug, Cotton Candy, he fulfilled a lifelong ménage à trois fantasy with an ex-lover and one of Madam Nevaeh’s sexy escort girls.

  When he woke, he was surprised to see his ex-mistress preparing to leave.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  “What?” He struggled to detangle himself from the bed’s soft linen. “No. Wait. Don’t go.”

  “Why not? You still got company.” Kitty referred to the gorgeous cocoa-brown woman lying in a cocaine high among a cloud of white sheets. “By the way, where did you find her? She’s stunning.”

  “Yeah. What can I say?” Kenneth Reynolds boasted, his eyes glassy and his nose swollen with pink dust under it. “I’m Mr. Lucky tonight. I’m going to talk to Madam Nevaeh about keeping Miss Abrianna here on an exclusive arrangement.” He brushed strands of hair from the despondent girl’s face.

  “Madam?” Kitty arched one brow while she tightened the belt on her trench coat. “You’re paying for pussy now? Hell. I thought she was some chick that you picked up from one of those sleazy clubs you like so much.”

  He laughed. “I don’t mind paying for the best.” He met Kitty’s gaze. “Not that you’re not.”

  “Fuck you, Kenny.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home.”

  Reynolds stood from the bed and reached for her, but she dodged his touch. “Aw, now. Don’t be like that. I thought we were putting our little spat behind us?”

  “Behind us? How? Are you pretending not to know what happens to my nomination to the Supreme Court if you impeach the president?”

  He groaned. “Politics, politics, politics. Can’t we have one night that doesn’t involve politics?”

  Kitty stood still while Reynolds slithered his arms around her waist. “Tonight is supposed to be a celebration. You’re looking at the third most powerful man in the country . . . and I’m gunning for the man at the top.”

  “And fuck me, right?” she clarified, brows arched.

  “C’mon, Kitty. Why are you killing the mood? Hmm?” Reynolds snuggled his head in the crook of her neck. “Don’t you feel how much I’ve missed you? What we had together?” Kenny’s dick hardened against her. “Why don’t you take off that coat and come back to bed? Hmm?” He nibbled on her earlobe.

  “So you get what you want and fuck me. Is that it?”

  Reynolds groaned. “Look. You’re a good judge. You’ll eventually get your seat on the court.”

  Kitty laughed. “Are you fucking kidding me? These are once-ina-lifetime appointments. Lightning doesn’t strike twice. If you remove the president, then it’s bye-bye to my nomination.”

  “That’s not true,” Reynolds whined, backpedaling to the bed. “As soon as we remove that asshole from the Oval Office, the vice president will uphold your nomination. We can impeach him and then confirm you with no problem.”

  “Right.” Kitty slid her hand into her coat pocket and wrapped it around a gun.

  “Contrary to popular opinion, Congress can walk and chew gum at the same time.”

  “Bullshit—or it would have been done before.”

  Reynolds exhaled and leaned against the headboard. “I don’t know what you want. The House doesn’t confirm judges. That’s the Senate’s job.”

  “Majority Leader McCullough is following your lead on this.”

  Reynolds chuckled. “You’re giving me way too much credit.” He reached over and groped the unconscious woman lying beside him. “I’m still horny.” He cast his gaze back toward Kitty, surprised to see a gun leveled at him. After a few seconds, laughter rumbled low in his chest. “Now what are you going to do with that?”

  “I’m about to make sure th
at I end up on that court . . . by getting you out of the way.” Kitty clicked off the safety.

  Too high to realize how much danger he was in, Reynolds laughed more deeply. “C’mon, Kitty. It’s only politics. It’s not personal.”

  “Politics is always personal,” she said and pulled the trigger.

  PART TWO

  Chaos and Disorder

  1

  In the rich suburbs of Alexandria, Virginia, drug lord and political insider Zeke “Teflon Don” Jeffreys had gathered his friends and valuable political D.C. clients at his lavish home to celebrate his thirtieth birthday.

  While he mixed and mingled, a motley crew of party-crashers was kidnapping his business partner-slash-lover, Madam Nevaeh, right from under his nose.

  “Hurry! Load her up.” Draya, dressed as a server for La Plume’s catering service, opened the back doors of the van.

  “We are going as fast as we can.” Abrianna Parker, disguised as a male server, complete with a mustache and padded chest, banged the madam’s head on one of the doors.

  “Easy,” Kadir Kahlifa, in disguise as a man twice his age, whispered back.

  Annoyed, Abrianna banged the madam’s head again.

  He frowned.

  Abrianna shrugged. “I’m petty.”

  “Are you two for real?” Draya hissed.

  Abrianna climbed up, still holding the front of Madam’s body.

  “Hey!”

  Everyone froze.

  “What are you guys doing over there?”

  Abrianna, out of view, mouthed to Kadir, “Who is it?”

  “Hey, I asked you guys a question!”

  “Security,” Kadir mouthed back.

  Horrified, Abrianna glanced around for a weapon.

  Draya spun. “Nothing. We’re . . . grabbing supplies for the kitchen.”

  A large, lineman-shaped security guy waddled closer to the open van door.

  Draya attempted to close one of the back doors to block his line of vision.

  “But what the hell is that?” He gestured to the bag and leaned forward.

  Panicked, Draya rammed the door into the nosy security guard’s face, shocking him. However, she hadn’t seen the drawn gun until it went off.

  BANG!

  Abrianna dropped Madam Nevaeh and screamed, “No!”

  Instantly, the four-hundred-plus-pound man flew backward and slammed against the back of the house and then dropped like a stone.

  Abrianna raced forward. “Draya, are you all right?” She gathered her friend into her arms. “Speak to me. Say something.”

  Draya lifted her shocked gaze. “How the fuck did you do that?”

  Julian croaked, “Somebody tell me that I didn’t see that.”

  Everyone stared at Abrianna, especially Kadir. “I, uh, uh—”

  “It came from over there,” a man shouted from the distance.

  “Fuck. We gotta go,” Kadir said, picking up Draya. “Get in the van,” he ordered.

  Everyone hauled ass.

  Julian climbed behind Kadir and placed Draya in the back of the van along with Abrianna and Madam Nevaeh.

  For a brief moment, Kadir’s questioning gaze met Abrianna’s, but then he slammed the doors shut—and raced to climb into the passenger seat. “Let’s go!”

  Julian jumped behind the wheel.

  The van peeled off as an army of security goons rushed around the corner and found their unconscious colleague.

  Rat-at-tat-tat-tat.

  Bullets punctured the back of the van; a few ricocheted, forcing them to duck or dive for cover.

  “What the hell?” Julian shouted, bringing everyone’s attention to the police cars streaming onto the estate.

  “Holy shit,” Kadir said, incredulous.

  Julian’s foot lifted off the accelerator.

  “Don’t stop,” Kadir shouted.

  Julian hesitated on seeing the swarm of blue lights, but then slammed his foot back down on the gas.

  The last two patrol cars swerved and blocked the van’s exit.

  “Don’t you fucking stop,” Kadir threatened again.

  Julian tightened his grip on the steering wheel. When they blazed closer and made it clear that the van wasn’t stopping, the cops scrambled to get out of the way.

  It was too late.

  “Hold on!” Julian cried, closing his eyes.

  BAM!

  Everyone and everything slammed forward.

  The two police cars spun like pinwheels in the van’s wake. Draya groaned.

  “You guys okay back there?” Kadir asked.

  Abrianna, sprawled beneath pans and supplies, pushed herself up and crawled to Draya.

  Draya rolled onto her back. “What the hell, Jules? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “She’s fine,” Julian said. “If Draya is bitching, then she’s okay.”

  “Are they following us?” Abrianna asked.

  The guys checked their mirrors. “Not that I can tell,” Julian said, relieved.

  “Yeah. Well. We better get off this road just in case.”

  “How is our other passenger?” Kadir asked.

  Abrianna turned and moved over to the insulated nylon bag and stopped short. “Uh, guys . . .”

  “What?” everyone asked.

  “There’s blood,” Abrianna announced.

  “She was hit?” Kadir asked, coming out of his seat to climb into the back.

  Abrianna pulled the zipper down and opened the bag. “Damn.”

  Blood bloomed across the center of Madam’s white dress, but Abrianna was certain that it was the bullet lodged in the center of Madam’s forehead that had killed her.

  Draya shook her head. “Well, I guess she won’t be telling us shit.”

  * * *

  Zeke Jeffreys hid his humiliation behind a stony mask while former police lieutenant Gizella Castillo gloated as they shoved his large frame into the back of a squad car. Once he was tucked inside and the door slammed shut, his black gaze zoomed to hers and transmitted the message that this game wasn’t over by a long shot.

  She knew that he was probably right.

  His guests were equally humiliated but more outraged at having to be loaded up in the back of police vans. Many of them had no idea of Jeffreys’s double life. They had no idea that while they were mixing and mingling, he was trafficking the designer street drug Cotton Candy. However, this time he had done so with undercover cop Steven O’Day.

  Castillo had wanted to bring the drug lord down for years but had never been able to scratch the surface. Police Chief Dennis Holder, an ex-lover and colleague, had clued her in about the planned raid and permitted her to be here to watch the whole thing go down. Other than a strange shoot-out involving someone jacking a caterer’s van, the raid had gone down smoothly.

  Now she wanted to see about putting the screws to Madam Nevaeh, Zeke’s business partner and rumored lover, about Abrianna Parker. Castillo had learned from Abrianna’s best friend, Shawn White, that Parker had been working for the infamous madam the night of Speaker Reynolds’s death. The first time Castillo confronted Nevaeh about this, she stonewalled her.

  But Castillo had a bad habit of never giving up. Holder had often joked that she was like a bloodhound. She never deviated from a trail. Never. Plus, Castillo had a history with Abrianna Parker. Six years ago she’d led a team that had rescued Abrianna, Tomi Lehane, and Shalisa Young from the basement of madman and serial killer Craig Avery. Back then, Parker was a tough but scarred teenage runaway, who didn’t stick around long enough to answer questions about her abduction.

  It surprised Castillo when Parker blipped on her radar while investigating the new House speaker for Tomi Lehane, who was now a Washington Post reporter. It shocked Castillo when she realized that Parker was actually running from a murder scene.

  After a near forty minutes of threading through the handcuffed crowd, Castillo couldn’t find any trace of the madam when she was certain that Nevaeh had been in attendance earlier. For a fl
eeting moment, Castillo wondered whether the madam had been the one who’d hijacked La Plume’s catering van, but then dismissed it when she overheard someone say they saw that it was group of servers.

  Suddenly a group of officers scrambled to their cars.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, rushing alongside Officer Donovan.

  “They found the van,” she told her.

  “From the shoot-out?”

  “Yeah. Apparently it crashed down an embankment. The driver is deceased.”

  “What about the others?”

  Donovan frowned. “Others?”

  “Wasn’t it a group of servers?”

  She shook her head. “Dispatch only mentioned the driver.”

  Castillo’s hackles rose. “Male or female?”

  “Female.”

  2

  The Bunker

  In an unknown place in an unknown location in the bowels of Washington D.C., Douglas “Ghost” Jenkins, lifelong political hack-tivist, pulled open the metal door of his underground bunker to see his old friend.

  “Well, if it ain’t Bonnie and Clyde,” Ghost said, blocking the entrance to his hideout. “Or should I say Clyde and Clyde?” He cocked his head at Abrianna and took in her outfit. “Nice disguise.”

  “Thanks.”

  Ghost’s gaze darted to Julian and Draya. “Damn, if every time I see you, man, your ass don’t multiply. What kind of place do you think I’m running here?”

  “Really? You’re going to do this now? I have an injured woman. She’s been shot.”

  Ghost straightened and glanced at Abrianna. “What? Again?”

  “Not me this time.”

  Draya raised her good arm. “It’s me.”

  Interest lit Ghost’s eyes. “Well, hello.”

  Draya frowned.

  “You’re hitting on an injured woman?” Kadir asked.