Authors: Priscilla Poole Rainwater
Looking at her repaired hairdo in the mirror, Cynne' smiled her approval, then stood.
“Girl, you know good and well your ass ain't swearing off no men!” she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Besides, that hunky Brian Lemont isn't going to let that happen. As soon as he finds out that punk is out of the picture, he's going to be on your ass like a dog in heat.”
Struggling not to smile, but failing, Satin shook her head sadly, knowing that if Officer
Lemont pursued her now, in her wounded state, she would be powerless to resist him. “Well, you have to admit Brian Lemont isn't just ANY man. Come on,
let’s
get this dress fixed.”
Chapter 59
Tossing the long, blue-black extensions over her slim shoulders dramatically, a look of triumph and smug satisfaction spread over Martina's heavily made-up face. She knew that with the wig, the dark makeup, and the dark contact lenses, she looked more Hispanic than Caucasian. Over the past several weeks she had done such a good job concealing her identity that people who had known her for years walked right by her, not recognizing her at all. She knew, because she had put it to the test, time and time again.
Look at these fools running about, they don't even know they have an enemy in their midst, Brett!
She
thought, glancing to her right and seeing Brett standing there with a glass of champagne, toasting her craftiness.
Walking up to two burly guards who had faces like pit bulls, she flashed the identification she'd paid a small fortune for after coming back to the states. Luckily for her, the struggling young photographer she had gotten the ID from, K. L. Hernandez, was not only a desperate drug addict, but hopelessly mired in unpaid gambling debts. She would not be missed, nor her murderer pursued with any degree of vigilance, and if it was, the police would probably assume she had been offed by some vengeful loan shark, or had overdosed. After today, after she rid herself of her thorns, meaning Cassandra and Regan, K. L. Hernandez would be found dead from an Oxycontin overdose, an overdose she herself would administer. And if that didn't work out, well, there was always her .22 caliber handgun.
“Focus, Martina,
FOCUS!” Brett hissed.
“Right.....focus.” she muttered, thinking about how Granger would fall at her feet once she had freed him from the evil clutches of the pregnant, lying bitch. And afterwards, he would announce their nuptials, and the crowd gathered together would cheer. Blinking her eyes to adjust the dark contact lenses, she had one of her sporadic lucid moments as she thought,
Damn, these things are uncomfortable!
Looking around, she noticed Granger's older brother, dressed in a dark suit, and looking quite dashing.
I think his name is Nicola...
she thought, trying to remember the name she had read in the high society pages. Slowing to a stop, she watched as he flirted with an attractive black female who worked on the staff. She remembered seeing the young woman at the mansion when Grace was alive. The woman looked different, like she had had a makeover, but she recognized her just the same. As he winked at the woman and started to leave, he graced her with what any woman would call a panty-wetting smile.
Grabbing her camera, she snapped a quick picture of him while he was unaware, then called out to him and waved. Looking in her direction, the compelling blue eyes, his firm features, and the confident set of his shoulders made a damn sexy picture, so she snapped several more photos in rapid succession, then waved again and called in a fake, but very
convincing New York accent, “Thanks, darling!” Watching him walk away, she couldn't help but be impressed.
Damn, if I didn't love Granger so much, I sure wouldn't mind being the meat in a Granger and Nicola sandwich! Well, maybe after Granger and I are married, we can discuss the possibility of a threesome....
she thought, then shuddered with delight.
Looking around again she smiled a secret smile, seeing the guards were suddenly absent from the wing entrance where she knew Cassandra and her brides maids were.
Chasing after the paparazzi I called, if I'm not mistaken.....
she thought, still unable to believe how easy it had been to dupe such top-notch, highly paid security.
“Time to give the bride my very special wedding gift.” she mumbled as she put the Nikon back in her camera bag that contained a false bottom. And concealed in that compartment was the small 22 caliber handgun she planned on using, since the other gun she had wanted to use at the nightclub had been too large to conceal in this particular bag.
Oh well, the size of the gun doesn't matter. By the time I unload it, Cassandra and her son will be nothing more than a nasty memory for me......
.she thought as she made her way to the bride's maid entrance.
*************************
Zeke watched as people milled about, enjoying the festive atmosphere. In spite of himself, he chuckled as he watched a young couple sneak into the pool house, the way they looked around furtively, hoping not to get caught like thieves in the night.
Horny youths....wanting nothing more than a sneaky quicky...
H
e thought as the couple slipped inside, unseen by all save himself.
Going back to the task at hand, he zoomed the Steiner senator binoculars around, his gaze lingering for a moment on a tiny, but voluptuous, lovely African American woman. She was dressed in a flattering brown dress that clung to her luscious curves. Reluctant to tear his gaze away, his interest piqued as she crept to the side of the house, to the area where the staff was coming in and out with drinks and food for the wedding guests.
As she moved closer to the spot
where
he was hiding, he briefly wondered if she was an insider who was helping Martina, but something about the vibes he was picking up from her told him otherwise.
His lips flickered with the slightest hint of a smile when she glanced around furtively, then knelt gracefully in front of a large bush. Putting a small plate of food on the ground, she seemed to be waiting for something.
Several seconds later, a huge orange tabby came waddling from the bush, sticking his fat face in the plate and attacking the food with gusto. He watched as a soft and loving smile touched the young black woman's lips. She seemed to take delight in watching the obese animal enjoy the food.
As the animal ate, she was cooing to it softly as she stroked its back.
Lucky cat! Been a while since a woman fed and stroked me like that. Too bad I'm here on business, I would introduce myself. Hmmmm, maybe after all this is over I'll make the
lovely acquaintance....
he thought wistfully.
Watching her a bit longer, he reluctantly turned his attention back to business at hand. Training the binoculars back on the people milling about the grounds, he knew Martina was slinking around close by.
I know your psycho ass is here somewhere, bitch. Today, we finish this. When I get my hands on you, you'll be begging for the police to lock you up!
He
thought grimly as his gaze settled on an attractive brunette who was snapping pictures of the crowd.
Being a former
Virginia
State Trooper, he knew to look for not only facial features, build and height, but mannerisms and body language as well. Watching the woman, the way she simply carried herself, told him all he needed to know. Zooming in, he watched as the woman tossed her hair over her slight shoulders, exposing the port wine birth mark on her right hand side. He guessed she was so used to the birthmark she didn't realize it was a dead
giveaway
to all those who knew her.
Bingo! I’ve got you now, bitch! Your ass is so wrapped up in getting a man that
doesn’t
even want you, you're clueless. You don't even have enough sense to hide, and you're gonna' pay!
He
thought. Itching to leave his hiding spot, he forced himself to be patient, knowing he would need to time his appearance just right. So for now, he would just watch and wait.
******************
Sitting side by side, Granger and Cassandra held hands and beamed at the guests seated opposite them. “We're so happy you could make it to the wedding. When your aide called and said you were out of the country and she doubted you would return in time, I was disappointed, because you both played such a big role helping us get our lives back on track. And we wanted to share this day with you.” Cassandra said.
Doctor Falon Zachrich beamed back at the handsome young couple, genuinely happy for them, because they had beaten astronomical odds together to get to this point.
Both Cassandra and Granger noted how different the doctor looked. His usual pale skin was tanned, glowing, almost. Not only that, he seemed more vibrant, even younger somehow. His white/blond hair was now cut short and stylish, and he was decked out in a blue Versace suit. In all the time he had treated Cassandra, he had never seemed as relaxed and comfortable as he seemed now, with his arm draped over Doctor Joy Bishop, his hand causally stroking her shoulder.
Doctor Zachrick wasn't the only one who seemed happy, Joy did, as well. She looked simply radiant, dressed in a beautiful, off the shoulder dress with matching wrap. In truth, they both looked like teenagers experiencing their first love.
“We just returned late last night, visiting with his family. When Falon's aide gave him the invitation, we knew we couldn't miss this.
“Joy said as she rested her left hand on the
doctor's knee.
Cassandra noticed the gorgeous antique engagement ring, and one eyebrow arched questioningly. "Are
you two getting hitched?” she asked.
Doctor Zachrick never took his eyes off his lady love, his gaze as soft as a caress. “Yes, we are.” he answered as his chest visibly swelled with pride, then proceeded to tell them about the day Joy had made him admit the depth of his feeling for her.“ You should have seen her the day she came marching into my office and said, no, wait.... DEMANDED, that I either pursue a serious relationship with her, or she would find a man that would love her like the precious jewel she is.” Reaching out, he touched one cheek lovingly. “There was no way I could allow another man to have my treasure.”
“Awwwwww...honeeeey! That's sooooo sweet. ” Cassandra cried, her hormones suddenly getting the best of her. For the past two weeks she seemed to cry about every little thing, once even while watching a commercial for coffee.
Chuckling, Granger wrapped his arm around his emotional wife and leaned over to kiss her brow. He knew once the waterworks started she wouldn't be able to stop, and he didn't mind one bit he found it adorable. “Yes, that's very sweet.” he replied. Pulling out a handkerchief, he dabbed her eyes gently. “Shhh...
don't cry, you don't want to look like a raccoon for the wedding, do you?”
With another smile and a wink, Joy and Falon both stood, still holding hands. “We've taken up enough of your time, we just wanted to see both of you and wish you well.” Joy said. “Oh, by the way Cassandra, I would love to know the name of your wedding planner.” she gushed.
Laughing at the look on Granger's face, Cassandra was just about to explain when Regan came marching into the room self-importantly with clipboard in hand, and Chris in tow.
Tiny brow pulled into a paternal frown, Regan barked, “Dad, you're supposed to be with the other guys in the wedding party, taking pictures! And mom, you're supposed to be with Nana Gianne, Papa Edoardo, Grandma, and Grandpa Tate for pictures of the bride! Come on, move, you two are holding up my wedding!”
Cassandra looked at a stunned Joy, and tried to suppress a giggle. “Joy, meet our wedding planner.”
Granger, on the other hand, was too busy giving his son a stern look of warning, and Cassandra knew the look. The little boy was really testing his father's patience. “Son, I'm seconds away from taking that clipboard away from you and paddling your behind with it. You don't talk to
grownups
like that, and I mean especially not me and your mother. You're worked up way too much about this wedding.”
Undeterred by his father's threat or hard look, Regan stood a little taller, and replied in a voice and manner that mimicked him in every way. “But dad, you're always saying lead with an iron fist. I have a reputation to protect, you know!”
This comment made Chris snicker in spite of himself, and he looked away quickly and pretended to study the ceiling as Granger's irritated glance shot in his direction.
Always the voice of reason between the three of them, Cassandra implored, “Regan, run along now, we'll be ready in a few minutes.”
“Little Gestapo agent! He's too grown for his age. Acting like a little dictator!” Granger fussed as he watched the boy nod curtly, then motion for Chris to follow. “And another thing, stop letting him watch that damn decorating channel!”
The last comment caused both Cassandra and Joy to crack up, and they laughed even harder at the look of frustration on Granger's face.
Doctor
Zachrich
looked at Granger with mock graveness and said, “I would hate to be one of his business rivals when he gets older. You poor man!”
Chapter 60
“You ready, sweetie?” Tate smiled down proudly at the young woman he had considered his own daughter for years. He was so proud of her. Even when he had had to arrest her for her tree-hugging stunts in her youth, he had sensed there was something special about her.
Wrapping her arm around his and looking up at him, Cassandra smiled warmly. Although she missed her own father more than ever, she was happy. Tate was there to give her away, in her father's stead. The man had always been there for her, good or bad, and had always been patient even when she had been getting into trouble. “Yes! I want to get the ceremony going because if Granger's not distracted, and soon, he's going to kill my baby.” she laughed, thinking about the clash between the two just moments earlier.
“Smile! Oh, my baby, you're so beautiful!” Jocelyn beamed as she watched the photographer snap pictures of Cassandra, then several of herself and her new husband, Tate.
“Sorry we're running late.” Satin puffed as she and Cynne' suddenly entered the room like a whirlwind. Both fussed with their hair for several seconds, then rushed to the area indicated by the impatient photographer, posing as instructed.
“The guys were right behind us. We'll be doing pictures of the whole wedding party.” Cynne' informed them. She was so excited, and it didn't help matters that every chance Raidon got, he had cornered her for a little making-out session.
******************
Martina stepped into the room just as the real photographer was telling the group he had to grab another camera down the hall, and that he would only be a few minutes. Hearing Granger and the groomsmen talking loudly and laughing as they entered the room, she quickly held the camera in front of her face to obstruct their view. Trying to remain calm, she snapped several photos as if she was supposed to be there.
“Miss, where do you want us to stand?” Regan asked her, then turned to Chris, asking if Sister Love was in place and ready to start the ceremony in 45 minutes.
Internal alarms suddenly ringing, Granger glanced around the room, then moved to Cassandra and pulled her close even as she was laughing and joking with family and friends. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but somehow he sensed she needed to be close to him. The feeling of unease intensified as he looked at the tall brunette photographer, sensing something was definitely off about her. He noticed Regan was trying to talk to her, and she seemed to be deliberately ignoring the boy. When she shifted to try to turn away, he finally got a glimpse of the woman's face without the camera in front of her. Even with the dark makeup and wig she was close enough for him to know who it was. Feeling his heart drum as icy fear twisted within him, his mind screamed,
Fuck, Martina! Stay calm, just get Regan away from her!
Slowly easing himself in front of Cassandra, just in case, he called, “Regan, son, can you come over here? I need to talk to you.”
Much to his frustration, Regan replied, “Give me a second, dad!” then turned his attention back to Martina.
Glancing at Martina, Granger saw by the look on her face that she knew he knew.
I have to act, NOW!
His
mind gibbered in fear.
“Who are YOU? And why are you taking pictures? I have an exclusive on the photos! I'm the official wedding photographer, and if you release anything, I'll sue you! Leave, you rank amateur!” the snooty photographer, the real photographer, snapped at Martina indignantly as he reentered the room.
As a result of the loud outburst, everyone one in the room stopped what they were doing and stared at her.
Knowing the gig was up, Martina dropped the expensive camera to the floor and whipped a 22 caliber handgun out of her inside jacket pocket. Wrapping her free arm around Regan's neck, she pressed the barrel to his temple.
Cynne' was the first to react as she let out an ear piercing scream.
“
OH LORD JESUS, SHE'S GONNA' GO FATAL ATTACTION ON US!” Staggering two steps backwards, she put one hand on her chest, twirled around, then crumpled to the ground in a dead faint.
Ignoring Cynne', Granger shouted as he took a step towards the deranged woman. “Martina,
NO!
”
Shaking her head wildly, Martina pressed the gun harder to the child's temple and growled, “Just stay right where you are, or I'll have to shoot the little brat. Granger, my love, can't you see I'm doing this for
US?!” Pointing the gun away from Regan's head and at the terrified photographer, she barked, “Over there, with the others!”
When the initial shock finally wore off, Cassandra began screaming hysterically for someone to save her child, prompting the men in attendance to action. Almost as one, Nicola, Malcolm, Tate, and Raidon drew their concealed weapons and spaced themselves apart, each training their weapon carefully above the madwoman's head, just in case.
“Martina, let him go, please!” Cassandra sobbed. “If you shoot, then they will shoot and kill you! And if they don't, I will!” Sobs suddenly turning to pure, unadulterated fury, she struggled to break herself free from the firm grasp of Satin and Jocelyn.
Fearing her outburst would prompt Martina to shoot, Jocelyn gave her daughter a good shake and hissed, “Hush, now.” Pushing Cassandra behind her protectively, she locked stares with the deranged woman unflinchingly.
“You can't protect that bitch! I'll kill whoever I have to to get to her! And I'll start with the spawn of hell here!” she raged as she pointed the pistol to Regan's temple once again. Shifting mental gears with frightening speed and instability, she gave Granger a pleading look and whined, “Granger, my love, come with me!”
Frightened out of his wits for his threatened child, Granger sprang into desperate action. “You crazy whore, let my boy go!” he screamed as he lunged at them.
Grabbing Cassandra by the shoulders, Tate hurled her to the floor roughly, then threw his own body down on top of hers protectively, just in case Martina decided to fire at her.
“Granger,
MOVE!
” Malcolm shouted as he crouched and took aim, hoping for a clear shot.
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!”
Raidon yelled at Satin and Jocelyn.
Both women jumped down, then grabbed the still out-cold Cynne's arms and pulled her to relative safety behind a couch.
Seeing Granger charging like an angry bull, Martina simply reacted like a frightened, cornered animal. Side-stepping from his grasp, she aimed the pistol at his chest at an angle, then pulled the trigger.
The sound of gunfire rang out, and all activity seemed to freeze in time.
Granger felt a sharp stabbing pain in his chest that seemed to sap every inch of breath and strength from his body, then collapsed to the floor, wheezing. The last thing he heard was his wife and son screaming for him, then everything went black.
************************
“Oh my God, GRANGER!” Cassandra screamed as she struggled to free herself from Tate's tight grasp. “Let me go, he's been shot! I need to get to my husband!”
Knowing it was now a no win situation, Martina slowly backed out of the room, using Regan as a human shield. “Follow me, and the rug rat is dead!” she cried in a shrill voice devoid of all sanity.
Once Martina was out the door, Tate eased his grip on Cassandra enough for her to untangle herself.
Not bothering to get up, she crawled to Granger as fast as she could, while the rest of the men rushed from the room in an attempt to save Regan. “Oh God, please don't take him from me.” she sobbed as she looked at the hole in the right side of his shirt. Tearing the garment open with trembling hands, buttons flew in every direction, and she was stunned and confused when she saw no blood, although there was a nasty black and blue bruise already swelling on the right side of his chest.
“Uhhhhhhhhh...” he moaned as his eyelids fluttered open reluctantly. “Oh God...it hurts....”
Heart beating like a trip hammer from both hope and terror, she babbled, “This is impossible, she shot you, I saw it! How......” her voice trailed off as a sudden thought struck her. Reaching in the right hand pocket of his shirt where the bullet had passed through, she pulled out a small lump of twisted, singed metal. It was the gold token she had given him earlier, and it had apparently deflected the bullet. Thunderstruck, she suddenly remembered watching a forensics show once where an expert had explained that a bullet could ricochet off a metallic or even glass surface, if the projectile came into contact with it at precisely the right angle. But never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would witness such a miracle herself.
“Granger,
GET UP
, we have to get our son!” she cried with both relief and a sense of urgency. Giving his face a hard slap to rouse him, she shook him,
and then
grabbed him by both arms to try to help him to his feet.
****************
Outside, Malcolm, Tate, Nicola, and Raidon gave chase as Martina half-ran, half-dragged Regan through the throng of suddenly shocked and surprised wedding guests, and they guessed she was hoping to make it to the heavily wooded area a scant one hundred yards away.
Panting desperately, Martina stopped momentarily and turned, hoping to get off a shot, but with Regan wiggling and screaming at the top of his lungs, it was no use, and she had to resist the urge to pistol-whip the little snot when she saw her pursuers flip two tables over, then dive for cover behind them, patiently waiting for a chance to take aim and fire.
Screaming like a bobcat being flayed alive, she raised the pistol high above her head, glared down at Regan with a look of maniacal hatred, then hesitated. If she killed the brat, or rendered him unconscious, he would no longer be of any use to her as a human shield, or a bargaining chip.
“
COME ON, YOU!” she snarled. Giving the child's arm a yank so vicious it nearly dislocated his shoulder, she whirled around and was slammed directly in the face by a large, extremely heavy antique sterling silver serving platter.
Little motes of light dancing before her eyes, Martina's vision suddenly dimmed. Dropping both the pistol and releasing her grip on the child's wrist, her knees buckled, then the ground rushed up to meet her.
Dropping the serving platter, Latisha Weeks quickly scooped up the gun. Pointing it at the dazed madwoman, she used her free hand to motion for Regan to come to her. “Bitch, don't you move a muscle! Just for trying to hurt this baby I should blow your head off.” she hissed, then pulled Regan close to her, trying to comfort him.
Wrapping his trembling little arms around her, Regan pressed his little red face into her side.
“
DO IT, MS. LATISHA! SHOOT HER!!” he sobbed.
“It's alright hon, I got her covered, you can lower the gun.” a deep masculine voice purred with deadly assurance.
Latisha spun around, preparing to shoot the unknown man standing behind her, who was dressed in woodland camouflage fatigues, and brandishing a 9mm.
“Hold up, darling, I'm not the enemy. I'm a friend.” he said, holding his free hand up in a placating manner.
Suddenly Raidon and the other men were rushing to the scene, with him barking orders.
“Chris, cuff her. Hurry, the cops will be crawling all over the place soon!”
Having quickly regained her senses, Martina screamed like a banshee and thrashed about wildly as the young man flipped her over face-first on the ground, grasped both her wrists and forced them behind her, then cuffed her in a trice. “Don't you touch me, you gutter trash!” she spat.