Page 3 of Twisted Revelations

2

Beverly

Lying still and calming my breaths had allowed my body to cool. March had rolled in and the cool temperature that usually hung out in February lingered. The tremble in my lips spread to other parts of my body as I fumbled with objects in the dark trunk, searching for the hatch that would let me out.

After pulling the cord, the trunk popped open, and I eased out. Tears streamed down my face at the notion that Laura had allowed those men to take her to save me. They would kill her if I didn’t figure out a way to find her first.

My initial instinct was to call the men we’d grown up in the streets with. They weren’t afraid of anyone or anything. Laura was also close friends with a drug kingpin named Kadeem St. James who took immense pride in bodying people.

Driving Laura’s old, faded blue Toyota she refused to get rid of, I headed to Kadeem’s place instead of calling him. He’d take seeing me in person more seriously than a call. Kadeem was Laura’s self-proclaimed brother, so I was certain he’d be willing to help me find her.

I hated the police, and although my friend needed help as soon as possible, I believed in the streets more than I believed in the law. The cops in our neck of the woods didn’t waste their energy to help people that looked like me. If I needed too, I’d kiss their asses later—if kissing cop ass was what it would take to find Laura.

* * *

Upon arrivalin the Ashwood Projects, I went through the hood inspection process before I was allowed to drive up and park in front of Kadeem’s building. The guys knew my face because of Laura. She’d taken me to Kadeem’s spot several times when we needed assistance getting a few of the kids at the centers out of sticky situations with gangs.

I exited the car and winced as one of Kadeem’s soldiers frisked me and felt me up in the process. A low growl in his throat sounded as his hand glided across my ass. Stressed about Laura, I ignored his intrusion, and fought back tears, praying she was okay.

The man went about his business, checking the inside of the car while making kissing sounds and licking his weed-darkened lips at me. When he was convinced I wasn’t a threat to any of the armed men standing about who could kill me with the flick of their finger, he released me to enter the front door.

I ambled up the two flights of stairs that led to Kadeem’s apartment, knocked, and waited. The metal door I stood in front of appeared to be the most expensive upgrade in the building. The small metal lookout revealed a set of pearly whites smiling at me.

The door creaked open before male eyes scanned my body with slow and intentional ease.

“Reggie called up and said you needed to see Kadeem about something urgent. If you wasn’t so damn fine, I’d give you a hard time, but since you made my night, come in,” he expressed, winking at me.

In dark jeans, a long-sleeved checkered top, and fake brown leather flats, I wasn’t dressed to impress anyone. The man acted like he’d done me a favor. He hadn’t done a damn thing special because as soon as I let Kadeem know what had happened to Laura, he would crack the gates of hell open to find her.

I stepped into Kadeem’s nicely decorated apartment and was met with the fresh scent of jasmine and the low, relaxing melody of smooth jazz. The space was something from a magazine while the outside was drenched in a fresh coat of hell on earth.

Kadeem sat at his dining table eating gourmet food from Randell’s, a high-end restaurant nowhere near this hood. He and Laura had claimed they were sister and brother since she was fourteen and he was sixteen. In the streets we’d grown up in, you made your own family.

His hand gestured to the chair in front of him. I eased into it and fought to keep tears from dropping from my puffy, red eyes. An incessant ache squeezed my heart as nervous tension kept my legs jumping and my mind overwhelmed with negative thoughts.

“What’s going on with Laura?” Concern sparked in his gaze and tension drove his impacting voice.

“My car is in the shop, so Laura swung by the center to pick me up. When we walked outside, two men dressed in dark suits were waiting for us. When they went for their guns, we ran. Laura stuck me in the trunk of her car and let the men take her to save me. I don’t know where they took her. I don’t know what they’re going to do to her,” I pushed the words out through my constricting throat. My shoulders slumped as I fought to keep myself together long enough to tell him everything I knew.

Kadeem grilled me for details, ignoring my sobs and tears. In addition to the dark figures chasing us, I recalled seeing a dark-colored, possibly gray Audi in the dimly-lit lot.

Kadeem left me at the table for a while as he paced and yelled at people on the other end of his phone. Once he ended his call, he approached the table like a stalking wild animal, his phone gripped knuckle-tight in his hands. He was as worried about Laura as I was.

“What can you tell me about the tattooed white boy who questioned you and Laura about six months back?” The menacing darkness that fell over his face had me afraid to answer.

How in the world had he found out someone had come to see us? He was talking about the man who’d attempted to pass himself off as a detective searching for Megan. When I took too long to answer, he snapped his fingers, three loud flicks in front of my face. I jumped, blinking as I gathered my thoughts, but his words started again before I could start.

“Word on the streets is there was a group of Mexicans snooping around after the white boy showed up. Last time I talked to Laura, she informed she’d been getting strange vibes that she was being watched. I told her to come to me if she thought some shit was about to pop off.”

Laura hadn’t revealed a thing to me, probably unwilling to worry me with her concerns.

“You remember the girl me and Laura used to hang out with when we were younger? Megan?”

He nodded, remembering Megan.

“The man who came was searching for her, but I don’t know if he had anything to do with Laura being taken tonight. The guys that took Laura had Spanish accents,” I updated.

Our brief interaction with the would-be detective hadn’t been hostile. Did he know where Megan was? Had he found her?

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