Cheaper to Keep Her part 2 (The Saga Continues) (22 page)

The first thing I had to say to myself was I trust this man, he wouldn’t fuck me like Duke had done. That meant a lot. More importantly, I really had to believe that. I had a good feeling about Bishop, but my past didn’t allow me to trust far.

Then I read the note again and I had to stop. Read the newspaper. The police was thinking I was Duke’s accomplice. Hold on. Shit! Were they real or fucking with me? I knew immediately it was the two damn detectives trying to flush me out. I had their cards and I was going to call, but first I wanted to read the newspaper that Bishop had left me.

Duke had made front-page news and what a story it was. It talked about the young girls he had killed and the motive was he wanted their babies to sell to the highest bidder, and the highest bidder was suspected to be some rich people in the area. Then it talked about his connection to Neeko and the club, and how he was suspected in the killings of both Neeko and Katrina, and blowing up the club. The motive for that was the insurance money he would receive from his wife dying in the club. Yes, they even knew about his wife being in the club. Amazingly, he had taken out the insurance on her long before they married—like six months ago.

Man, Duke was off the motherfucking hook. He was crazy as hell.

The article went on to talk about the police had the name of one of his known female accomplices, and they were on the lookout for her. She was the last one seen at the house of Katrina Bishop, and had lived in one of four condos or townhouses that Duke Carrington owned. The police had searched his condos, townhouses and evidently, three other residences he owned. They named the locations of the residences and none of them was the one in Chesapeake.

When I put the newspaper down, I was stunned. I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I wanted to call the detectives and tell them I didn’t have anything to do with any of this. But that would have been a mistake . . . and a lie. I had a hellava lot to do with this. I had beaten Diamond down, plus I was there when she was killed, and I had intimate knowledge of Katrina’s death and the death of two innocent women because they knew Duke’s flunky, Chris.

No, my name wasn’t associated with Duke Carrington in any of this. But it was associated with death—in a major way.

For now I said fuck it.

I took another shower and got myself together. I tried on all of the clothes Bishop had bought me the day before. I felt like the Queen Bee. I thought about our moment in bed and the lovemaking, and damn, my pussy got wet all over again. Shit, I was hoping we had a chance to do that shit again before he left. But truthfully speaking, my mind was on leaving with him.

Around six o’clock that evening I started getting worried, plus I was hungry as hell. I had had a couple bags of chips and a drink the whole day, and I was extremely hungry now. I hadn’t heard from Bishop. Once again, I was thinking he had bailed on me. It was the story of my life, people I gave a damn about bailing on me. I was anxious and the anxiety was kicking the shit out of me. I searched for the detectives business cards but for some reason I couldn’t find it.

What the hell? What did I do with it?

I knew I had the card after I got out of the lake and I had it at Devin’s place. Bishop! Shit, he had it and now I knew my ass was in trouble. And don’t ask me why I did what I did next, but I started packing the luggage he had bought me that morning. I was getting out of here but I wasn’t leaving my clothes. I didn’t stop to think about how shallow that was.

But as I was packing, the door opened and it was Bishop, along with his boys, Torch and Monty. Bishop had food in his hand. I felt so relieved, even though I wasn’t sure I would live to see another day.

“Going somewhere?” Bishop asked.

“I wasn’t sure,” I began. “I hadn’t heard from you and I didn’t know if you were alright. You know it was a wild night and my adrenaline is kicking my ass. Plus, I’m hungry as a starving bear in the woods.”

“All is cool,” he said.

He turned on the TV and let me eat. I felt bad not believing in Bishop, after all he had done for me in such a short time. Plus, I was sure there was no place on God’s green earth that could save me from the man if he came looking for me. I was a wreck and I knew it. Trust issues would be the death of me. I just hope that death was not in the short-term future.

After I ate, Bishop dropped Detective Whitfield’s card down on the table where I was eating. I didn’t know what to say or think.

“This is what we are going to do,” he said. “I want you to call Detective Rosenberg, and read what I wrote down here. I want you to read this first and get familiar with it. I also want you to do some improvising but improvise with the information I provide you. I will also be whispering in your ear what to say. Understand?”

I shook my head. I didn’t completely get it, but I understood. So I read what I was to say. Bishop had even written down possible questions the detectives may ask and my answers to those questions. When I was completely confident with the game plan and script, he made the call on a phone that was hooked up to three other phones that was hooked up to some kind of device.

Detective Rosenberg answered on the first ring and stated his name. On my end I was on the speakerphone.

“Yes, this is Lynise, tell your partner, Detective Whitfield, to pick up on the other phone, and both of you listen to what I have to say.”

The phone went silent for a minute and I realized Rosenberg was talking to his partner. Then they both were on the line.

“No sense in trying to trace the number,” I stated. “First, the phone is a burner, secondly, it will be routed through at least three sites before you can a decent hone on my general location. Also, what I have to say, I don’t think you want anyone else hearing. And lastly, I have at least fifteen minutes before that will occur, so listen and do what I say.”

Even though I was reading off a script, I felt confident, like I was in charge.

“Lynise, you need to turn yourself in,” Detective Whitfield said. “You are in a lot of trouble and we are the only people who can help you. Your friend, Diamond, is dead, Katrina is dead, Neeko is dead, do you want to be next.”

“Shut the fuck up, Detective,” I said. That was me, not the script. “This is the play, the only play,” the script read. “This is the address Duke Carrington is held up. This is the house you guys don’t know about.” I gave him the address in Chesapeake. “This is what’s going to happen. “First, you are going to get your guys and coordinate with the Chesapeake Department, and you guys will raid his home. That’s a given. But I also expect you to call the radio and television stations I give you, and they will broadcast that you guys have found Duke Carrington and are breaching his house a minute before you guys knock down the doors. Understand?”

“No, we don’t understand,” Rosenberg weighed in. “What makes you think we are going to get radio and TV stations involved in taking down a murder suspect. Not going to happen, missy. Now, turn yourself in or you are going down with your boyfriend.”

I laughed to myself. I couldn’t tell Rosenberg from Whitfield. And I loved it. It’s always nice to see the true colors of a cop come out.

“Detective, both you and your partner have other two thousand shares in Carter Business Holding Incorporated. Shares neither one of you could afford. Yes, I think you guys will leak this story to the local news stations if you don’t want Internal Affairs investigating you.”

The phone went silent and I knew both men had their hands over the receiver and trying to decide what was the best way to go. Then Detective Whitfield came back on, “Lynise, if you fuck us on this, that’s your ass and that’s a promise.”

“You have one hour, Detective. If I don’t hear what I want to hear, I promise you, the e-mail I have drawn up will be sent to the Chief of Detectives, the police chief and every newspapers and radio and television station in this area, as well as an anonymous e-mail sent to the FBI. So Detective Whitfield, no, don’t fuck with me. One hour, the clock is running.”

Who said a bitch can’t run the show?

Cheaper to Keep Her part 2 Unique

Tick, Tick, Tick-Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the company of dangerous men—it was my lifelong dream, but it was my destiny.

We packed the Escalade and got on the move after that. Evidently Bishop had already given Torch and Monty the address to where we were going because the GPS started talking to us as soon as we pulled out of the hotel parking lot.

We were headed west as we jumped on I-64 headed towards Hampton, Norfolk or Newport News, or something west of our current location. We had checked out of the hotel and packed everything up. I also noticed we had a black duffel bag that was full of weapons. We were headed out and Bishop was really turning over Duke to the cops. I wasn’t sure because we were dressed similarly to our outfits the night before.

When we went through the tunnel and then got off I-64 by the Hampton University exit, I definitely didn’t know what was up. I looked around the area and tried to guess where we were going and I couldn’t.

Then we finally rolled into the outskirts of downtown Hampton, in a warehouse district, I was completely lost. I had never been in this area before in all the years I had lived in the Tidewater/Virginia Beach area.

We pulled over before we reached our destination. The GPS said we were a quarter mile form our destination. But we were parked.

“What’s up,” I said.

“Duke wasn’t at the Chesapeake home,” Bishop began. “He has been hanging out here in this warehouse district. He has about three or four guys at the house in Chesapeake. His game plan was to call in anonymously tomorrow to the cops and while they were getting their shit together, he would escape via a private jet at the Norfolk airport.”

“How you know all of this?” I asked.

“I have my ways,” he said and smiled.

He gave me a 9mm Beretta for protection. He had at least three guns that I could see and a knife, while Torch and Monty were trapped to the hilt with guns and assault rifles. This shit was heavy. And yes, I was scared.

The area was darker than any normal area. I noticed the lights that surrounded the place were all out. When we reached the warehouse, I noticed there was an old, dark color Chevy Impala between the warehouse we were about to breach and the one next to it. Bishop had a mini-radio attached to his belt and I knew he was listening to one of the radio stations we had gave the detectives to inform me a minute before the breach was supposed to happen.

When he heard what he was looking for, we all went in the same door and immediately we spread out. I stayed with Bishop. And yes, I was scared as shit.

The warehouse was big. There was machinery all around the place. Also, it wasn’t an open area warehouse. There were different rooms and office spaces, plus a big supply tool area that was inside a caged area. It was then I also noticed I was the only one without ear buds. The other three guys were communicating amongst themselves, and I couldn’t hear what was going on.

I also realized I was the only one without night vision goggles. But I had Bishop and I felt safe.

Then we heard the gunshots and instead of running where the shots were coming from, Bishop had taken another route.

We still heard gunshots as we deliberately made our way to the area where the shots were coming from. I didn’t know why we didn’t take the more direct route. Then it dawned on me. We were coming in from the back, behind Duke.

Then I saw him. He was by an office area, the light was on. He had three handguns, two Uzis and a rifle that I would later learn was a Russian-made AK-47, and a ton of ammunition.

Bishop took off his goggles and some of his gear. He kept his weapons. He told me to stay put. He told me when the lights came on, to call out Duke’s name. He smiled and told me everything would be okay. I smiled back. A reassuring smile. I had belief in this dude and I knew he had the same thing in me.

I had to admit. I was afraid. Bishop moved slowly, deliberately, with a purpose. Then the lights came on and I can only surmise he had told one of his guys to hit the switch.

As soon as the lights came on, I did as told. I showed myself and called, “Duke!” as loud as I could.

When he saw me, he turned in my direction, and this was followed by five quick shots. Except it wasn’t Duke shooting at me or anyone else.

It was Bishop.

This muthafucka had shot Duke in the front bone of both legs, directly below the knees, plus he had two shots in his thighs, one in each thigh, very close to his groin, and the last shot was right below his neck and right above his Kevlar vest. Fuck! I had never seen shooting like this before. Bishop was Billy the Kid reborn.

When Duke was hit, he dropped the rifle he had in his hand. Bishop and his boys moved in fast. I was right on his heels. I had to see this. I wanted to get as close as I could.

The man wasn’t dead.

No one said anything, until I did. “You know what, Mr. Carrington, you have never looked as attractive to me as you do now.”

He tried to get the words out, but he couldn’t. That last shot below his neck had fucked him up. I was sure he was trying to tell me to fuck off or go to hell.