Beauty and the Beast (11 page)

 
“Let me see.” Before she could object or even remember her palms and forearms were scarred from trying to fend off her attacker, he grabbed her hurt hand. “It’s just a little prick.” He kissed the ouchie on her index finger.

This small yet potent gesture wrecked havoc on her emotions and libido.

“All better?” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “So what have you been up to today besides sleeping?”

Palm to palm, she would swear she felt a jolt between them. A jolt that told her to take notice of this man; he loves you for who you are—all of who you are.
I’ve read one too many romance novels.
She glanced up at his made-for-nibbling lips. His neatly manicured mustache and goatee framed them perfectly.
I need to focus on something else.
She’d always had a healthy sexual appetite. Being so close to the only man she ever truly wanted to make love with and not be able to follow through was torture.

He stroked her palm with his thumb as they walked. She glanced at the strong fingers interwoven with hers, and her heart warmed. He hadn’t reacted to her scars at all. There was no way he could know how significant this small step was to her.

“What are you up to?”

“Why must I always be up to something, water ninja?” Hands still intertwined, he led her onto the walking path.

“Because you are, fire ninja,” she teased. He was as handsome as ever in his usual dark business suit and a white Egyptian cotton dress shirt, but he’d always be her fire ninja. She leaned her head on his shoulder as they strolled along the brick path.

The soft oranges and magentas of the setting sun begged her to paint their likeness. “I will paint again someday,” she whispered.

“Yes, you will.”

She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

“I can’t believe you’re covering your veiled face.”

She bobbed her fist at him. “I’ll get you, Red Baron!”

The jolt she’d felt before returned with his hearty laugh. He slipped out of his suit coat and set it on the grass. “Have a seat.”

“I’m not sitting on that thing. It probably cost more than the national debt. I need to teach you how to shop.”

“Sit.” He nudged her down.

“Bossy, bossy, bossy,” she teased as she settled on his suit coat.

“While I was out today, I saw something that reminded me of you.” He lowered himself to the ground beside her.

“Oh lawd, whatever could it be?” she said with her best southern drawl.

He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small square velvet covered box. “I’m hoping to get lucky on the size.” He opened the box.

“Oh my God!” She touched the petals of the amber and diamond floral ring. “I can’t accept this.”

“Amber reminds me of your eyes.” He took the ring out of the box and slid it onto her right ring finger. “It fits perfectly. Now you have to keep it.”

 
“This is too much, Bruce. I can’t.” She began to pull off the ring, but he placed his hands over hers.

“Don’t.”

She glanced at the ring again. “Thank you. I love it.”

“And don’t ever wear gloves again when we’re at home.”

“I’m getting tired of you bossing me around.”

“Umm-hmm,” he grumbled as he repositioned himself to rest his head in her lap and stretch his long legs in front of himself.

“So what did you do this afternoon besides raid the jewelry store?” She gently stroked his brow.

Eyes closed, he said, “Attended a few meetings, drafted a report for Janis to type up for me, avoided Alexis. Did she come by?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Good. I hope she stays away.”

Marco slammed his pool stick on the table, and his boys scattered. “What the hell you mean? I don’t know no Butch or Jay!”

Ezel, the bearer of bad news, stepped back and refused to make eye contact with Marco. He wasn’t sure of the details and had to fudge portions, but he knew Marco would pay him for this information. “I… I’m just tellin’ ya what I heard. I was in the cell next to that crazy motha.”

“Sit yo’ crack ass down before you fall down.” Marco motioned his chunky hand toward the bar stools. Ezel scurried over and took a seat. “Now tell it to me again.”

“The word spreadin’ is you wanted them paintin’s from that artist bitch Butch chopped up. Yo’ boy Jay is the one you worked through.”

“What the hell? I don’t have no boy Jay!” He looked to his boys. “Any y’all mothas know a Jay?”

Redman nodded. “I know one, but he wouldn’t be messed up in this stupid shit. He’s into stealing cars.”

“I already have too much heat on my ass. Get out there and find out who this Jay is and what the hell is going on. We got ta squash this shit.” He lifted his Bulls jersey, pulled his nine out of his waistband and pointed the gun at Ezel’s head. “Is yo’ crack ass makin’ shit up?”

Eyes wide, Ezel stammered, “N-no. I know better. Butch made a deal with the guy in the cell with him. This dude is gonna find Jay and find out where them paintin’s is.”

“Fine.” Marco stuffed his piece back in his waistband, then pulled a roll of money out of his pocket and counted out a grand. “Don’t spend it all in one place.” He nodded at Redman. “You find this Jay and bring his ass to me.”

“I’m on it, dawg.”

Hands on his knees, Dennis puked until the dry heaves took over.

Beer in hand, Jay stepped into the bathroom. “Drink some of this.”

Dennis snatched the bottle from his cousin and threw it onto the filthy vinyl flooring. “I can’t believe I shot him. You made me kill that old man!”

“Stop actin’ like a bitch.” He picked the beer off the floor and began to chug what was left. “It was yo’ ass or his. Harden the hell up!” He belched.

“What if someone heard the shot?” Dennis turned on the tap.

“That’s why we wore ski masks.”

“I can’t believe I shot him. I shot him!” He splashed the cold water on his face, but he didn’t wake up from the nightmare. “How did this get so far?” He turned off the tap and leaned on the sink.

“Look, it won’t be long before your next payment is due to Marco. You need to get back in good with your girl, and I have a contact down in St. Louis I want to try for a bit. That should bring in enough money to buy you another few months.” Jay stole cars to bring in extra cash, but never stole them in his own city. “With that old coot gone, we don’t have to worry about Butch no mo’. He’ll get off. But his ass will be out, and we need to get them paintin’s before he does or he opens his big mouth and tells someone about them.”

Dennis stumbled into the living area and fell onto the couch. “I don’t know if I can do this. I can’t go back to Nefertiti.”

“Damn. You just killed a man. There ain’t shit harder than that. We need them paintin’s”

Naked from the waist up, Nefertiti stood before the vanity mirror in the bathroom of her new quarters and traced each scar on her chest with the tip of her finger. Thanks to plastic surgery, the scars weren’t nearly as bad as she’d envisioned, yet she still feared Bruce’s reaction if he ever saw the scars. The anguish in her parents’ and Victoria’s eyes when they saw her in the hospital… Tears streamed down her face as she ran her fingers over the scars above her eyebrows that stretched to just below her lower lashes. She’d spoken on the phone with her mother at least once a week since leaving the hospital. The conversations were always short and awkward, but at least they were speaking. Then there was her father. She turned away from the mirror. Her father was always unavailable.

She held her slender hands out before her. The amber and diamond floral ring sparkled. She flipped her hands over. Bruce hadn’t reacted poorly to her scarred palms and forearms, but what if he saw the whole picture? She ran her hands along her cheeks. Her attacker had carved a design of sorts on her face. The thin ridges of the attacker’s “artwork” looked as if someone had clawed Nefertiti from her high cheekbones to her chin—three claws on each side. At least the bastard understood symmetry.

She finished dressing in the pajamas Bruce had bought for her.
This man is crazy
. She laughed at her reflection in the mirror. The sheer yellow material that covered her arms, legs, and waist reminded her of
I Dream of Genie
. The matching veil latched to her ears and covered her face below her eyes. After talking late into the night, Bruce had escorted her to her room and had given her another surprise. He hated her “bootleg ninja” outfits, so he’d bought her a new wardrobe and harangued her until she agreed to keep it. Well, actually she didn’t have much of a choice but to accept the gift. While he’d kept her outside, her ninja wardrobe had mysteriously disappeared.

Finished dressing, she felt something she hadn’t felt in months—sexy and desirable. She could practically feel Bruce’s strong hands roam over her body, touching her in all the right places. “Whew.” She fanned herself. “I’m in serious trouble.”

She took the veil off the marble countertop and entered the bedroom. In another hour or so, the sun would be rising and another long day lay ahead. Two therapy appointments, one for her physical and one for her emotional well-being, promised another draining day.