Page 127 of Chemistry: The Chemist

Instead of tossing questions out and hoping something stuck, I quieted down and settled in. The volume of the music increased, drowning my thoughts. Lauryn Hill’s voice boomed throughout the truck.

Ready or not.

Here I come.

You can’t hide.

I’m gonna find you.

The words were fitting. In the back of my head, I knew whether Chem was ready or not, my team was coming to find him. And now that he was in our line of sight, there wouldn’t be any hiding. He was too precious to our investigation. We knew exactly what he did and how he did it. What we didn’t have was evidence connecting him to his crimes.

He was not a drug dealer. He was not a smuggler. Neither was he a handler. Those occupations made our jobs easy. They laid the trap for themselves and were quickly captured with the evidence in bulk. Chem’s role was a bit more intricate. Advanced. Revolutionary. Innovative.

We wouldn’t capture him with shipping containers full of kilos or stash houses full of baggies. He forced us to do our fucking job and doing it well would be the only way we’d break the case. However, he made it impossible because I couldn’t separate my feelings from my fate. Truthfully, in no world could we exist. In the end, we’d end. There was no way around it. Hanging onto him was only prolonging the case.

The moment I disassociated and focused solely on the task at hand I’d crack it wide open. But, I wasn’t ready to burst the bubble we were in. I wasn’t ready to destroy all the progress we’d made. I wasn’t ready to undo all the things he’d done to me, for me. I wasn’t ready to break his heart or mine.

The wheels stopped spinning shortly before the wind whipped around the open door and into the truck. Chem’s warmth evaporated. He’d left me alone, but only momentarily. His hand was around mine, guiding me out of the backseat within seconds.

Careful not to tip over and fall head first, I took one step at a time. The echoing of my shoes urged the belief that we were in a large, open space. The chill narrowed the location down to three or more possibilities. However, I was almost certain of one place in particular. When my eyes were uncovered, my assumption became my reality.

A warehouse.

“Mmmmm. Mmm!”

Muffled sounds beckoned for my attention. Straight ahead, only a few feet away, I laid eyes on a bound and gagged figure. I stepped forward, trying to comprehend what was happening and why the person seated looked so familiar. Squinted eyes and a closer look confirmed my suspicions.

“Ch–”

“Aht. Aht,” Chemistry warned with a finger in the air.

“Wh– why is he– You promised you wouldn’t lay a hand on him.”

My body flushed with heat. Hyperventilating, I began to run through the scenarios, the conversations, and all the information Chemistry had possibly gotten from the man in the chair.

“And I haven’t. If I’d laid a hand on him, Choc, he’d have a hole in his fucking head. Does this man have a hole in his fucking head?” He asked, pointing at Adonis.

“Mm! Mmmmm!”

Chem tilted his chin, closing his eyes in an effort to maintain his composure.

“He’s a noisy nigga, so yes, I’d love to put my hands on this bitch, but I’m a man of my word. I haven’t spoken to him and neither have I touched him.”

“Why is he here? I thought we were having din–”

It was then the aroma touched my nose.

“We are.”

“With him?”

“Of course not with him. I have other plans for him.”

Flustered, I began to feel my skin crawl. Whatever was happening had my stomach in knots. Adonis was a huge risk. I wanted to kick my own ass for ever mentioning him. I was so caught up in the moment, interlocking my world with Eden’s world that I gave a name that wasn’t supposed to be given. There was a complete work-up for Eden. Ex-boyfriends included.

Fuck.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I disclosed.

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