But that one call would put Dele behind bars and for some reason she didn't want to dissect right now, that was something she didn't want.
Maybe it was that she'd made love with him, although that phrase really didn't suit the situation. Love was hardly what was going on here. A snatch of some lyrics came to her just then, a song she'd recently heard on the radio. She couldn't remember the title, just that one line, "
maybe this isn't love, but when he's around he's got me feeling some kind of way," or something like that.
And he was
definitely
making her feel some kind of way.
If she needed proof, here she was walking the aisles looking for bandages, peroxide and painkillers hoping that it would get him through a damn gang fight. She was definitely abetting a criminal act. She who had blanched at her first traffic ticket. She, who had followed the rules laid out by her
grand
mother, had gotten sick on her first drink, had cried after her first time being with her boyfriend because she'd thought she might get pregnant.
She was a "rules" girl and he
r
e
she was breaking
every rule
left and right. Like fucking (and maybe that was the right word) a gang member,
or
not even attempting to tell the police that men were probably going to die
tonight
. As she stood in line to pay for the items, she wondered if even the bills he had given her were tainted drug money.
Nailah
walked out into a cool early
Los Angeles
evening,
the sun descending in
the west in
swirls of blue, white and orange. A beautiful night waxing with a promise of even cooler temperatures. She was
wearing
Dele's
buttoned denim jacket and her jeans,
and for some reason his jacket around her gave her comfort. She
straddled
his bike
,
hit the pedal and
revved the motor. As she
took
off she
wondered who the hell she
had become
.
###
Nailah walked
into the
room
door and
found
Dele
sitting on the bed shirtless but
with
jeans on.
The
seam near the top button
was stained with blood
despite his
apparent efforts
to stem the flow with paper towel
s
.
S
he paused at the door
after
s
hut
ting
it wondering
why the room seemed different
somehow
.
Then she looked down and realized that Roach was missing in action.
"Where did you…?" She left the rest unstated.
He
moved his booted
foot at the bottom of the bed,
pointing a toe at the same time
nodding his head downward and she understood.
"Oh," was all s
he said on the matter. She remembered the bag in her hand and
walked it over to him.
"Bandages, not Band-Aids, peroxide and a bottle of painkillers for now. But you're going to have to see a doctor sooner than later.
"
As she handed him the bag, she made another plea, "You're not in any condition to go anywhere but the hospital," but even as she said it, she knew he would reject it.
"Help me wrap up
this wound
," was all he said.
By the sound of h
is
slightly ragged
breathing she knew he was getting worse.
And she felt helpless to do anything but help him wrap bandage
s
around his torso, open the bottle of painkillers of which he
quickly
downed four or five
pills
.
He asked for a beer from the fridge and she started to tell him that alcohol and medication
shouldn't mix b
ut bit back the
reproach seeing as he was going to do what he needed to do to get through the next hours. She brought him a cold bottle, watched him as he downed the liquor in several swigs.
"
Feeling
any
better?" she asked as he placed the empty bottle on the night table.
He nodded. "A little. By the time the painkillers kick in, I should be fully mobile."
"Yeah, right," she said not bothering to check the cynicism. "I'm just helping you prepare to become a more pliable corpse."
"Gee, thanks for the
overwhelming
faith
in my skills
.
Just answer this for me, w
ho was it who got you
through all of
this sh
it anyway?
Unscathed and basically unfucked well, except for…
"
He smirked at this last.
"You.
Look
I'm not questioning your natural shit-
extricat
ing
skills
, but even a child can see
you're not up to protecting yourself. I may not know much about face offs between gangs, but I do know human nature and
I know that predators hone in quickly on th
e weak or t
ho
se
they perceive as weak. Looking at you, I think I could take you down
without much of an effort
. And
that's with the
severa
l pounds and feet
you've got
over me. D
o you really think Rez
or any of your "crew"
is going to risk
their lives
to save you?"
He stood with a slight groan then
walked over to the bureau,
opened a drawer and
pulled out a clean tee.
"No, I wouldn't expect Rez to cover anybody's ass even under the best
of
circumstances.
Definitely not now. He
wouldn't lift a finger to save me
even if we were blood
,
more like to plunge
his
Bowie
knife in me. But as you're well aware, he'd only get seconds on that score."
He walked to the night table, swiped up the gun that Nailah had laid down nearly an hour ago. It seemed a lifetime since she'd put it there, and several lifetimes since she'd taken a human life.
A human named Roach.
Dele checked the safety before tucking the gun in his belt at his back.
"Can you shoot with the pain?"
she asked standing close to him.
"Going to find out tonight."
"You only have so many bullets," she tried to reason.
"Rez'll be packing some extra hardware for the boys. Trust me, I'm going to have plenty of fire power."
No matter what she said, he already had an argument to counter hers. So she decided just to give up.
He handed her his wallet.
"I probably have a few hundred left
in there
. I'm going to put you up in another hotel, not as cheap as this one
and I want you to
stay
there
.
D
on't even think about doing any
thing stupid. Just relax on a comfy be
d
,
sit back, watch TV and wait for me to come back. And I will come back to you.
I promise.
"
His last words
made her heart jump a little. Come back to her. As though he were hers
to come back to
.
She expected him to ignore the implication of his
words, not to understand that his phrase made her feel confused
.
That in her mind it was opening up possibilities she hadn't previously considered. She
would have
dropped the thought with an immediacy that brook
ed no further
consideration.
But t
hen he placed an arm gingerly around her waist, grimacing as he did so. Even that small action caused him pain. How the hell was he even going to drive the Harley?
"Do I get a good luck kiss
at least
?"
The words were more seductive than the tone given that he was a man in pain.
She might have tried to play off the question, give hi
m
a
playful comeback that
they wer
e not and would never be a true
couple.
Instead she let him close the space
between them
without protest.
He leaned in for a kiss.
The feel of his lips
were still hot, causing
an erotic shock
that immediately took her back to
their earlier
lovemaking.
God, she di
d want him to come back to her.
She took the chance of hurting him more as she put her arms around his neck, pushed in for the full kiss.
When he finally pulled away, his eyes were dark and not with pain.
"I think I'm healed," he said with a half smile.
She returned the smile, both of them reaching for a little levity to take the edge of
f
.
To push back thoughts
about the possibility
of never seeing each other again.
"C'mon, let's go," he said and without a look back, they both walked out the door, leaving Roach to his temporary morgue.
Dele walked into the warehouse not certain of the reception
he was about to receive
. For all he knew, someone else had cased the hotel and had already relayed word
to Rez
that Roach had been killed. And that either he or Nailah was the shooter.
He entered a room where the body count was easily a hundred fifty
if not more
.
He'd estimated that same number of bikes parked outside.
Extra bodies called in from around the county. All of them Demons from various houses.
All of them ready to do battle against the Jamaicans.
He'd be
en right about the hardware.
Every man to the body toted some menacing
machines.
Still standing near the door, h
e
saw a few
Uzis,
at least a couple of Berettas,
several Colts and Rugers.
Looking at the fierceness of the guns, he knew tonight was not an occasion for knives. He had actually left his own Blackhawk knife back in the hotel's nightstand. Rez was holding a
Glock
, and not his
Bowie
.
He spotted Rez sitting on the couch
, a Ruger in his belt,
just as Rez spotted him, interrupting his conversation with a member Dele had only seen twice before. One of the heads of the other "houses" held by the Demons.
"Dele, get your ass over here!" Rez's commanded. His
raised voice
stopped several conversations
as eyes turned toward Dele.
All in all they were a scraggly bunch. Hardly a one without some facial hair, donned in denim or leather jackets, not a one rising above the stereotype of "white trash."
Only a few of the women
were present including
Clare
and
Carolyn.
The younger woman sported a black eye
probably courtesy of Skeet, who stood a few feet away from the girl.
Dele took a second of thought to wonder about her future with the gang. She wasn't as strong as Clare and would sooner or later be handed around like a leftover rag.
He wished he could get her away from there, from them all.
Dele walked over to Rez, who remained sitting.
"What the fuck took you all damn day to get back here?"
At that moment, Dele did a mental kick. He'd forgotten the bloodied shirt
he'd planned to present to Rez as proof of Nailah's "murder
.
"
Without that prop, h
e
definitely
was going to have to play this by ear.
Dele let a slow smile emerge. "Told you I wanted some time to say goodbye."
"Man, in all that time you could have said goodbye, sayonara, a-fucking-rrivederci.
Look
,
I don't
fucking
give a shit right now. We have more important things to tend to. All I want to know is that you got
rid of that
black bitch.
"