The Prada Plan 2: Leah's Story (22 page)

The D.A. cleared his throat and gritted his teeth as he said, “You slipped through the cracks this time, Mr. Perkins, due to some amateurish police work.” He looked at Norris sternly before continuing. “It won’t happen next time.”

“I won’t let it,” Norris added as he stared Indie in the eye.

Indie held Norris’ stare and then nodded his head toward the exit. “Gentlemen, you can see yourselves out.”

“Fuck out of here!” Chase mumbled as he held open the door.

Indie began to pull the IV out of his arm.

“No, Mr. Perkins, you must rest. Please. You are not ready to leave.”

Indie grabbed his Armani suit off of the chair that sat beside the bed and headed toward the bathroom. “I can rest when I die, doc. I’ve got a young lady waiting for me,” he said.

He emerged from the hospital shining like a new penny as Chase walked by his side. He couldn’t wait to get to YaYa. She had been holding things down on her own, but now that he was out, he could relieve the burden.

Leah was in his crosshairs. Now that he was free, the bitch definitely had to get it. He could easily forgive the lies she told to him, but the hurt she had dished out to YaYa would be what caused her death.

“Have you heard from YaYa?” he asked.

“Nah, kid. She said that she had something to take care of and that she needed to do it alone,” Chase said.

Indie knew that she had gone after Leah. He only hoped that she could handle herself and get in and out without any repercussions. He had a nagging gut feeling that the attack he had experienced in the courtroom was directly linked to YaYa. Something just didn’t sit right with him. The energy in his heart was all wrong.

“Find her. I need to get to her ASAP.”

Trina rushed him as soon as he stepped foot outside. He was like a second brother to her, and she was so relieved to see that he was okay.

“Indie!” she called out excitedly as he picked her up. She handed him his phone and he powered it on. Within seconds, it rang loudly in his hand. His mother’s name flashed across his screen, and he answered it immediately.

“Ma, I’m out. The case was dismi—”

“Indie,” she said, interrupting him. He could hear the heavy sadness in her voice. “It’s YaYa.”

Indie’s labored breathing could be heard through the phone. “Don’t tell me this, Ma. Don’t tell me this. My heart can’t take it. Where is she?”

“She’s in the hospital, Indie. Things went bad…real bad. You need to get here quickly. She’s hurt and she needs you.”

As Zya sat in the back of the ambulance, she pulled off her disguise and unzipped the black bag where YaYa’s body lay inside. She was barely breathing and was holding on for dear life.

As Zya’s team of private doctors surrounded YaYa, the ambulance raced through the streets. They weren’t headed for the hospital, however; they were headed to a secluded residence that was owned by a friend of Zya’s, a business associate named Anari.

After giving YaYa the information on Leah, Zya had a feeling that things would go badly. She liked YaYa, and felt as if she could be an asset to her. It wasn’t long ago that Zya had been mentored herself, and now she was passing on the knowledge she had learned—that is, if YaYa survived.

Zya had tried to grab Skylar as well, but the fire chief had gotten to the baby before her.

As she looked at YaYa, she could barely recognize her. Half of her face had been completely seared off.

“We’re losing her,” one of the doctors called out.

“Do everything you can for her,” Zya said. “I pay you enough money to pull off the impossible.”

When Zya had given YaYa the challenge of paying back the debt, she never thought that it could be pulled off, especially under the strict constraints of a thirty-day time limit. Her efficient hustle had impressed a lot of people, a round table full of very important people, which is why Zya was asked to retrieve her. There wasn’t a lot of people who could make birds fly the way that YaYa had. Someone like her would prove valuable to an organization like the one to which Zya belonged. YaYa had to live. She had to survive.

As they pulled into the immaculate estate, YaYa’s life hung in the balance. Zya didn’t know if YaYa would live or die. In fact, her chances were slim. But the young girl was a hustler, and if she did survive, Zya had a job for her.

THE END…OR IS IT?

You tell me. If you want to read more of this saga, please be sure to let me know. www.ashleyjaquavis.com or www.readordieonline.com