Conspiracy Page 7
“Ghost, my man. What’s up?”
“The sun, man. Just the sun.” Ghost chuckled at his own bad joke. “You got time for a drink tonight?”
Kadir laughed. “You know I don’t drink.”
“Right. I meant that you can come and watch me drink while I lay out a proposition to you.”
“Is it legal?”
“Of course not. Who the hell do you think that you’re talking to?”
Kadir’s laughter deepened. “Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
Kadir shook his head. Ghost was exactly who he needed to stay away from while on probation. “All right. Where do you want to meet?”
12
Shawn and Draya entered Abrianna’s apartment with their mouths open.
“What the hell?” Shawn asked, handing Abrianna her usual coffee order.
Abrianna removed the frozen pack of peas from her swollen jaw. “Trust me, he looks a lot worse.”
Draya marveled at the destruction. There were at least a dozen human-sized holes in the walls. “Did you kill him?”
“No,” Abrianna said. “But I thought about it.”
Shawn, dressed head-to-toe in hipster Gucci, tsked under his breath. “You have to watch your temper. You practically have the strength of ten men.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“No bullshit.” Shawn walked away, frowning. “You know that serial killer fucked you up. Who knows what the hell all that shit he injected y’all with was. It’s probably what’s behind all those fucking headaches.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she said.
Shawn walked away. “Draya, talk to your girl.”
Draya sighed. “He’s right, you know. You should at least go to the doctor and get yourself checked out.”
“No doctors,” Abrianna said.
“What about checking on those other girls that were kidnapped with you? Maybe see how they’re doing?” Draya suggested.
“No.”
“You’re self-medicating with street drugs to stop that buzzing in your head, and all it’s doing is turning you into a junkie.”
Abrianna sprang to her feet. “I’m not a damn junkie. I can quit at any time.”
“Really? How about now?” Draya challenged.
Abrianna set her coffee down. “What is this—some kind of intervention?”
“Does it need to be?”
Abrianna swung her gaze between her friends. “I don’t believe this.”
“We can call the whole gang down here if you’d like,” Shawn said.
“Look. I get it. You guys are concerned.”
“Concerned?” Shawn blinked his long lashes. “You jumped off the roof!”
Abrianna glanced to Draya.
“Yeah. He told me about it when I sobered up this morning.”
Abrianna rolled her eyes. “I didn’t jump. . . . I was startled.”
“So we’re back to blaming me again?” he asked.
“No. God.” She tossed up her hands. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just saying . . .”
“Were you thinking about jumping?” Shawn asked.
Abrianna opened her mouth, but couldn’t force a lie out of it. “It crossed my mind.”
“See, Draya?” Shawn shouted, gesturing to Abrianna. “Did you hear that?”
“Briefly,” Abrianna added, to soften the blow.
“Oh—briefly? Well, I guess that means there’s no reason for us to worry then, is there?”
Abrianna sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. I’m fucked up. There. I admit it. But I’m dealing with it the best way I can.”
“You can deal with it by getting help,” Shawn countered. “I lost you once. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“You won’t have to,” Abrianna assured him. “Not if you come with me.”
He and Draya frowned.
“Today is the big day,” she informed him. “I’m blowing this taco stand. I’m taking the money that I’ve been saving up and I’m out.”
“Wait. What?” they chimed.
“You heard me.” Abrianna stood from the sofa and marched to her bedroom. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“Where in the hell do you think that you’re going? We’re not finished talking to you.” Shawn and Draya followed her to her bedroom to see that she was already in the middle of packing.
“All right,” Draya drawled. “Clearly, we’ve skipped a few steps. What’s going on?”
“Moses. That’s what’s going on,” Abrianna mumbled. “He’s always what’s going on.”
“I thought you kicked him out,” Shawn said.
“I did, but the bastard came back this morning because he stored Zeke’s drugs here. Apparently one of my good friends from the party last night jacked his shit.”
“What? No way,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “None of us would ever do anything like that.” He glanced to Draya. “Right?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, it’s sure as shit gone. And when Zeke showed up, he almost whacked Moses in my fucking living room!”
Draya and Shawn gasped. “What did you do?”
“Something stupid. I pulled a gun on Zeke to stop him.”
“Holy shit,” Shawn said. “And you lived to tell the tale?”
“I need to sit down,” Draya said, finding a spot on the bed.
“Zeke,” Shawn repeated. “Teflon Don?”
Abrianna nodded.
“I better sit down, too.” He joined Draya on the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, well. Now my name is on the missing drugs. Zeke gave us seventy-two hours to come up with it or his eighty thousand. I don’t have his drugs and Zeke isn’t taking my hard-earned money. So I’m out of here.”
“You’re running?”
“You’re damn right I am. It’s now or never.”
“Today?” Shawn asked.
Abrianna set her coffee aside and tried to approach this with a little more sensitivity. “I know it’s sudden and all, but it can’t be helped.”
“Shit. You’re serious.”
“Of course I’m serious. It’s time. I want to get out of this city and just . . . just start over. Maybe I’ll go back to school or something. If I stay here, I’ll just continue to be a victim—always scared that there’s another boogeyman waiting to jump out from behind every corner. Clean break. Fresh start. That’s what I need.”
“Will I ever see you again?” Shawn asked, his frown deepening.
“Of course you will. One day—I’ll mail you a ticket to wherever I land.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Deal.” She walked over to him and kissed his forehead. “No matter where I go or what happens, you’ll always be my best friend.”
“Damn right.”
Shawn and Draya stayed a couple of hours to help clean up the mess from the birthday party and the dust-up between Abrianna and Moses. No doubt the landlord was probably going to throw a fit when he saw the damage to the walls.
Before leaving, Shawn elicited a promise from Abrianna that she would see him before she actually left town. Zeke had given her seventy-two hours, but she’d planned to be gone within the first twenty-four.
Abrianna stopped packing long enough to make it to the National Capital Bank before it closed. In her actual checking account, she rarely kept a balance of more than two hundred dollars. She’d only got the account so it wouldn’t look suspicious for her to own the safe deposit box that came with it. Entering the bank, Abrianna presented a key and the proper identification.
However, after she was led to the box, it was what was missing inside of it that set her blood on fire.
“Where the hell is my money?” She jammed her hand inside the box and felt around as if she didn’t trust her eyes.
Where in the fuck? Abrianna pulled it together long enough to demand answers from the bank clerk and then again with the bank manager. After she endured their stupefied expression
s, they produced logbooks showing that she’d last visited the box two weeks ago. When Abrianna had done no such thing. Mentally, she snapped the pieces of the puzzle together and knew that Moses’s thieving ass was behind this shit.
Storming out of the bank, Abrianna set out to do one thing: kill Moses.
13
“Yo, yo. Kadir! Wait up, man!”
Wrenching his thoughts from his growing money problems, Kadir jerked around in a one-eighty and caught Mook rushing up to him. Automatically, he took a step back and braced for anything.
A nervous Mook smiled. “I got that package you wanted.” He opened his black jacket far enough for Kadir to see the brown paper bag folded and clutched next to his stomach. “Non-traceable.”
The gun. Kadir’s eyes widened while he looked around, paranoid. “What the fuck, man?” Grabbing Mook by his elbow, Kadir pulled him to the corner of his apartment building. “What the hell, man? Don’t you know how to keep things on the down low?”
Kadir noted Mook’s pink, dilated eyes and his inability to stand still. Rules of the streets were to avoid tweakers—but after four near carjackings, his part-time Uber driving was turning into a dangerous occupation. He needed something for protection, despite being an ex-con. Judge Sanders may as well have just branded EASY TARGET on his forehead.
“C’mon, man. You still want this shit or not? It’s two hundred dollars.” Mook’s large, red, swollen nose dripped despite the constant sniffing.
“What you got?”
“High Standard forty-five with a military hardwood grip,” he boasted.
Kadir frowned at the droplets of blood oozing from Mook’s right nostril. “You’re bleeding.”
“Huh?” Mook brushed the back of his hand across his nose, but didn’t flinch when he saw the swath of blood arched across his knuckles. “Quit wasting time. Are we doing this shit or not?”
The shaking. The sniffing. The red eyes.
Kadir flipped up his hands and backed away. “Nah. We good.”
“What?” Mook rushed behind him. “Yo, man. You came to me.”
Kadir instantly went to a boxer’s stance. “Whoa. Whoa. Back up off me.”
Mook took two steps back while his awkward laughter bounced off the brick building. “My bad. My bad. But you put out the request, man. I’ve been out here doing you a favor.”
“Wait,” Kadir barked, stopping Mook before he took off. Who knew when he would get another chance? “How about one-fifty?”
Mook eyed Kadir. “One seventy-five.”
Kadir stepped back.
“One-seventy?” Mook countered.
“Uh—” Kadir stroked his chin.
“Okay. Okay.” Mook laughed. “You sure do know how to drive a hard bargain. “One sixty-five!”
Kadir scrunched his nose.
“Shit, man. Cut me a fucking break. You got my ass out here wide open. You tryna punk me or some shit? Muthafuckas pay five hundred for this shit. I’m giving you a major-ass discount as it is.”
“All right. Calm the fuck down.” Kadir looked around. “Let me see it.”
Mook’s dark mood swung back into the light, but he took another paranoid look around before he opened his jacket and pulled out a paper bag and then withdrew the gun.
Kadir assessed the weapon and calculated how much time he’d get if he were busted with it.
“Well? Are you going to keep me out here all day or what?”
“One-sixty.”
Mook rolled his eyes. “Fine. Fine. Show me the money.”
Kadir scooped out his money and peeled off eight twenties.
A jubilant Mook shoved the paper-bag-wrapped package into Kadir’s jacket. “What about bullets?”
“In the bag.” Mook grinned. “One complimentary box of bullets. I’m better than Wal-Mart out here. I’ve been telling you.”
“Cool. Whatever. Thanks.” Kadir zipped up his jacket.
Mook jogged backwards. “If you need anything else, holler at your boy. I’m always around.”
That’s what bothers me. “Catch you later.” Kadir watched and waved until Mook was out of sight before turning and heading to his apartment. Hyper aware of the paper bag crinkling in his jacket, he took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. However, he stopped cold when he spotted his front door cracked open.
The fuck? Fearing the worst, Kadir bolted into the apartment, expecting to find the place empty. Instead, he found two federal agents.
FBI Special Agent Quincy Bell threw up his hands. “Oh, Roland. Look who’s finally home. It’s our favorite freedom fighter: Kadir Kahlifa.” Bell’s slick grin appeared ten miles wide, and he looked entirely too comfortable in Kadir’s crib.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, remaining in the doorway.
“Oh.” Bell looked around the studio apartment. “I guess you could say that I was just in the neighborhood and decided to pay a visit to an old friend.” Bell’s gaze zoomed in on him. “We are still friends, aren’t we?”
“Friends?” Kadir leaned against the doorjamb, careful not to rustle the bag inside his jacket. “Is that what people who set people up for federal crimes call themselves nowadays? Friends? Boy. A lot really has changed since I’ve been locked up.”
“Don’t tell me that you’re sore about that,” Bell said. “I figured that we would let bygones be bygones.”
“Hardly.”
“Tsk. Too bad. I really hate hearing that. It breaks my heart. Truly.” He poked out his bottom lip.
Kadir was not amused.
“Whelp. Let’s move on, shall we?” Bell tossed a throw pillow back onto the sofa and took a seat.
This wasn’t going to be a short visit.
“C’mon in. Stop being a stranger. This is your place, after all.”
“I’m glad you remembered that.” Kadir moved away from the door and entered the apartment. Once inside, he caught sight of a huge black agent perusing his IKEA bookshelf.
“You must be Roland?” Kadir said.
“That’s Federal Special Agent Hendrickson to you.”
“Got it.”
“Interesting collection you got here,” Roland complimented him. “You sure do like a bunch of code and technology books.”
Bell sucked his teeth. “I hope that doesn’t mean that you have a computer up in here somewhere. That’s a big no-no.”
“I’m well aware of that. I’m sure if there were a computer in here you and your new buddy here would’ve found it.”
Bell’s gaze intensified. “I don’t know. You strike me as someone who thinks that he’s clever. Maybe you have some very creative hiding places in this matchbox setup?”
“No.”
“No computer?” Hendrickson double-checked.
“No,” Kadir insisted. The gun shifted, and for a moment his heart stopped. What the hell was he going to do if he dropped a gun in front of two trespassing federal agents itching for a reason to throw his ass back in jail? Suddenly, Mook’s twitchy ass got him thinking that his dumb ass got set up again.
“What about your friend Douglas Jenkins? I think his buddies call him Ghost?”
The question threw Kadir. “What about him?”
“Seen him lately? Talked to him?”
“No. Why?”
“Oh.” Bell rolled his hand. “There are just some rumors going around about him leading some sort of hacking group. Heard about that?”
Kadir shook his head. “No. Actually I haven’t spoken to him since I got out.”
“Huh. I thought you two were tight?”
“A lot can change in six years.”
“If you say so.” Bell cocked his head and studied Kadir. “Are you all right?” Bell asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Why?”
“Well. You look a bit off,” Hendrickson observed.
“And you look like crude oil,” Kadir countered, annoyed.
Bell released an unexpected belly laugh that had his partner shifting his side-eye to him.
“What?” Bell shrugged. “You do kind of look like crude oil.”
“Fuck both of you muthafuckas.”
Impatient, Kadir hung by the door. “Now as much as I’m enjoying this . . .”
“Reunion,” Bell filled in.
“Yeah. Reunion. But I only have a few minutes to shower and get ready for my shift.”
“Ah. That’s right. You’re one of those Uber drivers that zip around town.”
“Keeping tabs on me?”
“Damn right,” Bell said, finally dropping the friendly charade. “You see—I don’t think that fucking hacktards like you ever lose the itch, you know? There is always the call or challenge to hack some new system or play hide-and-seek with confidential information. Guys like you don’t retire. You just bide your time and wait for the heat to die down.” He stood from the sofa and erased the space between them in two long strides. “Isn’t that right?”
Kadir maintained eye contact while mentally willing the paper bag not to rustle.
“Let me put your mind at ease,” Bell said, leaning into his personal space. “The heat is never going to die down on you, my friend. I’m personally going to see to it.”
“How did you pass a background check?” Roland asked.
“I didn’t—I got a buddy to vouch for me,” Kadir said.
“A buddy?” Bell placed his hands on his hips. “Now which buddy was this?”
“Look. I already have a parole officer I answer to. There’s nothing in the paperwork about the feds breaking into my place anytime they want to harass me.”
“Then maybe you should take another look at the fine print because I’m sure it’s in there.”
“Look, Agent Bell. I’m clean. I don’t have anything to hide.” The bag shifted.
Bell and his buddy laughed.
“That’s funny, Kahlifa. And if I had a dollar for every time I heard that bullshit, I’d be the one retired.”
Their gazes dueled until Bell tired of the game. “I’ll be watching you.” He slid on his shades. “C’mon, Roland. I think we’ve made ourselves clear.”