One Blood (24 page)

Jhonnette took a deep breath and gave two short knocks on the door before entering.

* * * * *

Chapter Thirty-Five

11 years earlier

1991

Lake City, LA

This school shit is for the birds.

Lincoln groaned. He had just finished his second official basketball practice and was sitting on the curb in front of the St. Louis Preparatory Academy boy’s gymnasium. Lincoln had been back in high school for two weeks and didn’t see himself surviving another two. He just didn’t have the patience to deal with the upper-crust 90210 wannabes that attended classes with him. Going back to juvenile detention was not an option, however.

Moses was the only reason he hadn’t completely shown his ass yet.

Where the fuck is Moses?

Moses knew practice ended at 6 p.m., but for some reason was not on time. Lincoln decided to call Murda or Stacy from his gang to come scoop him up. He moved his six-foot-five-inch frame in the direction of the entrance.

It was locked.

Maybe Danny the janitor was still working. Lincoln walked around to the other side of the gym toward the sports faculty parking lot.

No cars. No lights. No dice.

Lincoln gave the door handles a few healthy shakes.

Gonna have to break in if I wanna use the payphone.

The school’s lay out was in alphabetical clustered pods labeled A to G. Each pod had a different academic focus. Although only 6:30 p.m., the school’s many entrances were already barricaded.

Somebody has to be around, right?

Lincoln circled the perimeter of the school, checking each entrance for vulnerability. He saw a black vintage 1963 Corvette parked in the honors lot. Could have belonged to a teacher, but Lincoln knew better. This was some spoiled rich kid’s car.

An almost uncontrollable urge to jimmy the car door and take the ride off said rich kid’s hands overtook him. Instead, he ran his palms over the Vette’s metal curves in appreciation and awe.

Then he saw it.

A teacher had left their classroom window open. Lincoln was inside in an instant and quickly made his way toward the gymnasium.

The payphone was just outside the boy’s gym, where the St. Louis Crusaders did their business on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Lincoln jogged down the hall and picked up the receiver. The payphone was dead.

Fuck!

He was about to make his way back through the silent school when he heard a strange noise coming from inside the gymnasium. Lincoln pushed through the double doors into the gym. Empty.

Something clattered to the floor inside the men’s locker room. Lincoln followed the sound. Nothing could have prepared him for what he found behind the second set of double doors. A chair lay on its side in the middle of the room and a white boy dangled from a rope tied to the rafter, his face swollen, and bluish red.

Lincoln froze.

Oh shit. Is he alive?

The kid’s body spun lazily.

Lincoln reached the teenage boy in three long strides. He righted the chair, removed his switchblade, and grabbed at the rope, hoping to cut through it. The kid kicked him in the solar plexus.

Still alive.

Lincoln rose with renewed purpose and sawed at the rope. The noose was notched tight— the kid must have been a boy scout. Lincoln looked into the boy’s face. He recognized him.

Kris Lafitte?

They played on the team together.

Lincoln cut through the last strand of rope and Kris fell to the floor. Lincoln quickly maneuvered the noose from around the boy’s neck. Kris let out a sputtering breath before pouncing on Lincoln—slobbering and sobbing like a wild man. It took Lincoln a moment to regain control of the situation.

He soon had Kris pinned with his face against the floor, arms behind his head. Lincoln struggled to hold Kris down. “Fuck is wrong with you, bruh?”

“
Fuck! You!” Kris spat.

“
Look! Calm the fuck down, man. I just saved your fuckin’ life.”

“
Didn’t…ask…for…no…fuckin’…help.”

“
You’re welcome.”

“
I’m supposed to die,” Kris gasped. He stopped struggling and went limp.

“
We all gonna die, bruh. But ain’t nobody dyin’ today.”

Lincoln released Kris’s hands and pulled him to his feet. One thought was on his mind.

Why the hell is this silver spoon rich white boy trying to kill himself?

* * * * *

Chapter Thirty-Six

Monday

New Roads, LA

Jhonnette entered the dark room. Her eyes took a moment to adjust. Slowly, she advanced on her target.

Lincoln lay in the hospital bed like a corpse in an open casket. Except for the simple fact, his eyes were open. He was hooked up to multiple I.V.’s. The incessant beeping of the heart monitor informed the world that life still pulsed through the veins of America’s Worst Nightmare.

“
Who the fuck are you?” he croaked.

Jhonnette smiled and approached the bed.

“
Hi,” she said, pointing to the chair at his bedside. “May I sit?”

“
No.”

“
Okay. Can I ask you some questions then?”

“
Do I look like I feel like answerin’ any fuckin’ questions?”

Jhonnette took a deep breath. “My name is Jhonnette Deveaux. I’m a friend.”

“
You ain’t no friend of mine. What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“
I’m here to save you.”

“
From what?”

“
I was there at the prison. You can’t trust that long-haired man you were with.”

“
But I can trust you?” Lincoln turned his eyes on her for the first time.

The pain she saw in his eyes made Jhonnette flinch. His eyes reminded her of marbles she’d played with as a young girl. She saw something else as well. Lincoln’s eyes were identical to Randy Lafitte.

“
Lincoln, your life is in danger and I’m the only person who can help you.”

“
Next you’re gonna tell me how you can never tell a lie, right?”

“
Okay, you want the truth?” she replied, sitting down against his wishes. “We’re wasting valuable time here. Every moment you bullshit me is one more that Moses Mouton loses—”

“
What the fuck happened to Moses?”

Now she had his attention. “We can help each other, Lincoln.”

“
I asked you a question, lady.”

Jhonnette looked at her subject. He sure talked tough for someone with tubes coming out of his nose. “How about we take turns answering each other’s questions. I’ll even let you go first. Deal?”

Lincoln appraised her like an experienced diamond jeweler—another Lafitte trait.

“
Okay,” Lincoln said finally. “Tell me everything you know about what happened to me this morning, starting with where the hell I am.”

Jhonnette nodded. “You’re in a hospital near the prison.”

“
How did I end up here?”

“
Apparently you dove off the bow of the Angola ferry. You almost drowned. What were you thinking?”

Lincoln offered a confused expression and Jhonnette could tell he had no memory of diving off the ferry. She waited patiently for his next question.

“
Tell me where Moses is,” Lincoln said.

“
Moses was there this morning, too. He’s been shot. He’s inside the Angola infirmary and he’s going to die there if we don’t do something quick.”

“
There’s nuthin’ I can do to save him,” Lincoln replied.

“
Lincoln, you can’t know that.”

“
Who the hell are you anyway?” he snapped. “And why do you care so much about what happens to me and my father?”

“
Amir never said anything about me?” Jhonnette asked.

Lincoln’s gaze sharpened at the mention of Amir. “You know Amir? How?”

“
Think of me as his silent partner,” she replied. “I want the same thing as you and your brother, Lincoln. I want to see Randy Lafitte dead. But we have to get you out of here to do that.”

Lincoln groaned with sudden pain.

“
Are you okay?”

“
Be aight,” he mumbled. “Can you do me a favor?”

Jhonnette nodded.

“
Get somebody to bring me some pain drugs. My goddamn side hurts like a bitch.”

“
Alright.” Jhonnette stood up to fetch the nurse. She opened the door into the hallway and saw her time was almost up.

* * * * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Monday

Lake City, LA

“
I’m going to ask you some questions,” Red Wolf said, staring at Amir in the rearview mirror. “If you choose not to answer, my colleague here is going to hurt you.”

Anvil Head brandished a nasty-looking taser.

“
We’ll do this dance until we get the information we need or until you’re incapacitated,” Red Wolf said. “Understand?”

“
Fuck you,” Amir replied with resolve.

Red Wolf nodded slightly. Anvil Head jabbed the taser at Amir’s right shoulder.

Amir lost control of his muscles and writhed in the backseat like an epileptic.

“
That’s enough,” Red Wolf commanded. Anvil Head withdrew the taser.

Amir’s heart galloped in his chest. He swallowed the glob of saliva in his mouth. He’d nearly pissed his pants and his thoughts were scrambled like eggs.

“
I don’t know why people always insist on doing this the hard way,” Red Wolf said. “Hopefully we have your attention now. Let’s get to my first question. Which bank did you put the money in?”

Only Amir and Lincoln knew the location of the ransom money, but Amir knew it was only a matter of time before they broke him. He needed the kind of help he could only get from one place. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Then he started chanting the prayer his father taught him.

Red Wolf ordered Anvil Head to shock him again, but their words came from far away. Amir could barely hear them over the drums…

* * * * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

18 years earlier

1984

Houston, TX

Amir couldn’t sleep. There was too much noise coming from his parent’s party in the backyard. He crept out of his bedroom and down the hallway, following the loud frenetic drumming.

The backyard was right off the kitchen. Amir crossed the chilly linoleum floor and peeked out the screen door. Someone had built a bonfire and ten or eleven people were dancing around the fire pit. He located his mother. Juanita wore a loose-fitting, white summer dress with white flowers in her long, curly brown hair. Beautiful and free, she swayed to the drum’s rhythms, dancing so close to the fire her flowing locks appeared to be ablaze.

Amir searched for his father. They needed to warn his mother about the flames. Amir stepped onto the porch, not taking his eyes off Juanita for an instant.

She turned to face him and her eyes opened knowingly. Then, a shadow crossed over her features as she gyrated with greater urgency.

Amir screamed and ran toward her. His fingers touched the soft cotton of her dress and then he was flung back to the porch. It took him a few seconds to realize he was being held in his father’s arms.

“
Let me go, Dad! Something’s wrong with Mama!”

“
Shh, Son. Everything is okay. Your mama is okay.”

How can Dad say these things?

Juanita jumped up and down like a human pogo stick. She was dangerously close to the fire again.

“
What’s wrong with her, Dad?” Amir looked into his father’s dark, lined face and saw not a trace of worry.

“
Nothing is wrong, Son. Your mother is just being ridden.”

“
Like a horse?”

“
Exactly. Except she’s being ridden by a spirit. A
loa
.”

Amir was confused.

“
This is a special moment for your mother,” his father explained. “She’s finally accepting the teachings of Vodun and now she’s joining with her special
loa
, Loko.”

“
Loco?” Amir asked, reminded of the Mexican kids at school. “Mom’s going crazy?”

She looked crazy bouncing around the blaze like a human moth.