Dirty Tricks Read online

  CHAPTER 4

  ON THE MOVE

  “Ms. Houston?”

  I moaned, a low, vibrating moan that rocked my throat, but I didn’t open my eyes. I could feel my head throbbing.

  “Ms. Houston . . . it’s me, Detective Castle,” he whispered, like he was my lover waking me up for a quick nightcap.

  Still I couldn’t open my eyes. Thinking about the effort it would take hurt, let alone actually doing it.

  “Just squeeze my hand and let me know you can hear me and understand me,” Detective Castle said, with slightly more bass in his voice. I moaned again and gave his hand a weak squeeze.

  “We have to move you, okay?” he said. “It’s not safe here. The attack on you, your sister, and boyfriend was planned. That much we know.”

  With that, I ignored the pain stabbing through my skull and opened my eyes into slits. The air stung my eyeballs and tears drained from the sides. Detective Castle’s image was blurry at best, but I needed to look at him for this.

  “Who . . . who wa . . . was it?” I croaked through my dry, cracked lips.

  He hung his head. “Unfortunately, we have figured out that it was a planned attack, but we don’t know who did it. They called me because of my connection to you from the robbery case. I have my people digging down into it now. But my best guess is that whoever it was is very familiar with you all. This attack was deliberate and intentional,” Detective Castle said.

  I closed my eyes and let out a painful breath.

  “So, we know that you’re still in pretty grave danger, Ms. Houston. We’re going to move you to another location. Someplace we can be sure you’ll be safe until we figure this all out,” he said.

  “Where?” I asked, my forehead creasing with worry. I had heard about witness protection from some of my homeboys from the hood. Most of them didn’t last because they were cut off from their families and friends and made to live in places they just didn’t fit in.

  “Well, the department has a program where we can place you. But that’s what I came to talk to you about. Before we drum up a location in the middle of nowhere, I’d like to give you the option of telling me if there is a place you can think of: one, no one would readily associate with you; two, far enough from here that it wouldn’t be obvious; three, a place you might feel comfortable; and most importantly, a place you trust with your life.”

  Again, I closed my eyes. The throbbing in my head quickly intensified. I turned my head to the side. This was a hard one. In my entire life I hadn’t ever had a place I felt totally comfortable and trusted with my life. We were always moving and fighting and sleeping with one eye open. In that moment, I realized my sister and I had never lived comfortably.

  “Any place . . . a distant relative . . . friends,” Detective Castle said, pushing my thoughts along.

  The only place that came to mind and that came close enough to a place I thought no one would associate with me and that I might be half safe was the House. That is what we had always called my grandmother’s farmhouse back in the day. I’m dropping y’all off at the House and I don’t want to hear no damn crying. Y’all better behave too, my mother would say to Miley and me. I shuddered thinking about our childhood experiences out there in the middle of nowhere.

  “Well?” Detective Castle pressed. “If you can’t come up with a place, I’m sure my office can. But I’ll warn you. The last place we got for someone was in Hilldale, Utah.”

  My eyes shot open. Fuck the pain. I shook my head.

  “Hell no. Utah? Ain’t nothing but crazy Mormon white folks out there,” I said.

  “Exactly,” he replied.

  “I have a place,” I said reluctantly. “My grandmother owns a big house and farm out in Suffolk County,” I said barely above a whisper.

  “Great. Then Grandma’s house it is,” Detective Castle said excitedly. “We will be moving you in a few hours. Then we will work together to figure out who is responsible for this.”

  I nodded and closed my eyes again. My mind was racing with thoughts of returning to the House.

  CHAPTER 5

  IT WAS 1999

  “C’mon, Miley. Just let go of me and walk,” I said, annoyed at my sister holding on to me like she would never see me again.

  “Don’t leave me,” Miley whined. “I don’t like it here. I don’t want to go in there.”

  “I’m not leaving you. Mommy said we have to go inside and stay here until she gets back,” I said, trying again to free my waist from Miley’s clutches. Even though I was only twelve, I was already like Miley’s mother. I made sure she ate, bathed, combed her hair, read at least one book a month, and took her asthma medicine when she needed it. Our mother was too busy on a mission to get high every single day to bother. Some days our mother took care of us first—she’d cook or buy us food, make us take a bath, and lock us in whatever new place we lived in at the time. Other days, she left us hungry and dirty like we didn’t exist, and then there were the days like that day . . . when she’d make us stay with our grandmother, who we despised and who equally despised us.

  “But she’s mean. She always blames us for stuff,” Miley had said, nearly in tears. I sighed.

  “But Mommy said—” I started when I was interrupted.

  “Get y’all behinds in this house!”

  Miley and I both almost jumped out of our skin. We stood at the bottom of the steps to the House with our eyes stretched wide with terror. I could literally feel Miley’s heart beating against me.

  “Your mother ain’t have the decency to tell me she was leaving y’all no-good asses out here in my damn yard, and now I’ll have to feed you little greedy dogs. All I get is a little Social Security check and food stamps, yet somehow, I always got two raggedy, nappy-headed little scavengers left at my house begging for food,” Granny Houston shouted from the top of the steps where she stood hunched in her faded paisley housecoat, head full of pink sponge rollers and wearing skin-colored knee-high stockings. I remember thinking how much our mother must’ve hated us for subjecting us to this woman.

  We weren’t at Granny Houston’s house for two hours before she blamed Miley for taking one of what seemed like two hundred dusty, sun-faded porcelain figurines.

  “I’m gonna ask you again, what happened to my shaggy dog that was here?” Granny Houston growled, her long, yellow pointer fingernail stabbing at Miley’s forehead.

  Miley and I stood in front of Granny Houston’s antique glass-front cherrywood corner curio. The six glass shelves inside housed all of Granny Houston’s ugly porcelain and glass animal figurines. Miley was shaking her head no.

  “I . . . I . . . didn’t take it,” Miley cried, moving on her legs like she had to pee. I was biting my bottom lip as my insides began to boil. I knew damn well that Granny Houston wasn’t missing that figurine. It was a setup. I knew that in the hours that we had been there, Granny Houston couldn’t find anything else to get on us about. We had been almost pin-drop quiet, even using hand gestures to communicate so we would stay out of sight, out of mind. We hadn’t asked for food or drink. We hadn’t asked to watch TV. But still, Granny Houston lied. She wanted a reason to discipline us. She always wanted a reason.

  “I didn’t take it,” Miley said, her voice quivering.

  “Gotdamn liar!” Granny Houston roared. “Just like your no-good mama. A nasty liar and thief! Get over here!” Granny Houston pulled her thick, black leather belt from its usual place.

  “She ain’t take it,” I said, my eyes squinted into dashes.

  “Oh, you bold now, huh? You think you grown? One thief and one grown-ass little girl is what I got here, huh?” Granny Houston spat. With that, she wrapped the top of the cow skin belt around her left fist and let the other end hang long so she could get a good swing on it. Miley and I both knew how adept Granny Houston was with swinging that belt.

  “I got something for no-good kids like y’all,” she hissed.

  “Please don’t. I didn’t take it. Search me,” Miley plea
ded through tears, fanning the bottom of her shirt and dog-earing her pants pockets for emphasis. She was only ten, but I was twelve. I could take it. I stepped in front of Miley.

  “She said she ain’t take it,” I gritted again, sticking my chest out defiantly. “And you ain’t gonna hit her with that belt.”

  “Oh yeah? We gon’ see about that,” Granny Houston said through her teeth. Without further warning she swung her belt, and it caught me right across my face.

  “Ah!” I shrieked, stumbling backward.

  “Don’t hit my sister!” Miley screamed. And without warning she rushed into Granny Houston with the force of a tiny wrecking ball. Caught off guard, Granny Houston fell and landed with a thud on her back. Miley and I both heard the crack at the same time. Miley jumped back like her strength had even surprised her. My eyes popped open. I knew the situation had just gone from bad to worse.

  “Help me! They’re attacking me! Help me! These devils are trying to kill me!” Granny Houston hollered.

  “Nuh-uh. You were trying to kill us,” Miley cried. “You did it!”

  I don’t know how long the shock lasted, but it seemed to me that Granny Houston’s neighbor, Mr. Samuel, came crashing into the house almost immediately after she fell.

  “Sam! Help me! These devils are trying to kill me. Oh Lord! Help me! My own flesh and blood trying to kill me!” Granny Houston cried out, her body splayed on the floor.

  Miley and I looked at one another, shaking our heads. Miley was crying, but I didn’t shed a tear. Even with the thick purple welt that had cropped up on my cheek from the belt, no one seemed to believe that Miley and I had been the ones under attack when Granny Houston took that fall. We couldn’t believe how our grandmother was playing the victim role. Mr. Samuel called the ambulance and the police at the same time.

  “I’d like to report an attack,” Mr. Samuel said into the phone.

  I shook my head, trying to get rid of the memories. I swiped at the angry tears falling from my eyes. “That bitch,” I grumbled, licking the salty tears from my lips. Needless to say, after the run-in with Granny Houston, Miley and I weren’t welcome back to the House for a long time. Even after my mother died, our grandmother refused to have us stay with her. That was how we ended up with our crooked-ass uncle, our mean-ass aunt, and our slave-driving-ass great-aunt before we ended up just settling on the foster care system.

  “Damn,” I hissed, slamming my fists on the bed. If I wasn’t in this desperate position, there was no way I’d be going back to that woman’s house. I didn’t even know how she would receive me after all these years. I would just have to pray and take my chances. I had no choice. It was definitely a matter of life or death. And it was my life that was hanging in the balance.

  CHAPTER 6

  WITNESS PROTECTION

  I let out a soft moan and a puff of hot breath. Sidney had taken in a mouthful of my right nipple and ran his tongue over it with gentle passion. My stomach fluttered and my pussy pulsed. I was waiting for him to enter me. Longing to feel him deep inside me. My thighs and entire body trembled with anticipation.

  “You ready for me, baby?” Sidney whispered in my ear. I sucked in my breath and let out a breathy “yes, baby.”

  Sidney leaned up and slid my black lace panties down over my thighs, past my knees, and off. He put them up to his face and sniffed deeply.

  “Mmm, that pussy smells so good,” he said.

  My body was on fire. The heat of lust coursing through me made me want to scream. I put my hands up and urged Sidney closer.

  “I want you,” I gasped. “Please. I need you. I need you now.”

  “You want me? You sure? Tell me exactly what you want,” he teased, flashing his gorgeous smile.

  My facial expression became serious. I didn’t want to be teased in that moment. The longing was too strong. The desire filling my loins had me feeling like I would bust. I could feel my clitoris throbbing . . . waiting for some relief.

  “Don’t do this to me. Don’t tease me. I want to feel you so bad,” I groaned.

  “Okay, baby. I won’t make you wait any longer. Here I am,” Sidney said, falling down between my legs.

  He used his knee to part my legs so he could get in. Then he eased himself into my warm, gushy center. Feeling his long, thick dick filling up my insides made me scream out. As soon as the meaty girth of his love muscle filled me up, I let out a satisfied squeal. I lifted my waist from the bed and returned Sidney’s thrusts, one for one. It was awkward at first, but soon we were matching each other thrust for thrust.

  “Oh, you fucking me back? I like that,” Sidney grunted. I twisted my hips in circular motions and picked up speed until I was the one in command of our lovemaking session.

  “Oh shit,” he gasped, bucking his waist. “I don’t know if I can take that shit right there.”

  I giggled. I love making him lose control.

  “Shit!” he said gruffly. He buried his face in my neck as he pumped and I swirled until the sensations were too much to take. The feeling was right there. It was so intense my thighs trembled hard and every muscle in my body tensed.

  “I’m there. I’m right there. Oh God,” I yelled out. That gave Sidney more motivation. He slammed into me hard. But that shit hurt so good.

  “Aggh,” I belted out. “I’m co-ming!” I screamed.

  “Me too! Argh!” Sidney growled, crushing his mouth over mine just as he bust his nut. Suddenly his body eased and so did mine. He lay between my legs, both of us out of breath.

  “I love you, girl,” Sidney panted.

  “I love you too, baby,” I gasped. “Don’t ever leave me. Don’t ever leave me. Don’t ever leave.”

  “Don’t ever leave me, Sidney. Don’t ever leave me.”

  “Karlie. Karlie,” Detective Castle called me as he shook my shoulders hard. I jumped like I had been hit with a jolt of lightning.

  “Wha . . . what happened?” I stammered, looking around, bewildered. I touched my face, my chest, and then slid my hand between my legs.

  Detective Castle chuckled. “You must’ve been dreaming. Seriously dreaming,” he said, nodding toward my hand between my legs. My face immediately turned red. I quickly lifted my hand and put both in my lap. I exhaled and cleared my throat.

  “I was ... um . . . dreaming, I guess.” I lowered my head and could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. I missed Sidney so much already. I realized I had been dreaming, but it was so real that my panties were soaking wet. I swallowed hard and quickly dabbed at my tears. Just knowing I’d never feel Sidney touch me or fill me up with his love again was almost too much to take. I touched myself one more time to make sure it had all been a dream. Yup, I felt the sting of my own pinch and knew Sidney wasn’t there. Which reminded me that my sister wasn’t there either. My stomach sank.

  “I didn’t mean to alarm you out of your sleep like that. But we’re here,” Detective Castle said, interrupting my moment of sadness. “At the address you gave us.”

  I craned my neck to see out of the window of the SUV that had transported me. I sighed. Yup. We were there.

  The familiar surroundings caused a lump to form in my throat. I didn’t have any good memories of this place, but I also knew it was the only place I had left to go. Suddenly, bat-sized butterflies slammed around in my stomach. I felt like I did the first time Miley and I were dropped off at a strange foster home—empty. It was an unexplainable hollow feeling of abandonment, fear, and anger all rolled up into a hard ball that lodged itself in the center of my soul. I didn’t think I could ever shake that feeling, and I was right because here it was again, causing me to want to bend over and throw up.

  “Yeah, this is it,” I said, barely above a mumble. The House wasn’t just the 1,700-square-foot crooked shingled-roof clapboard living quarters in front of us. The House was also the surrounding large expanse of empty, unattended, weed-choked, sandy-dust-colored land surrounding it, the old, chipped red paint shed and tall, leaning, rust-stained silo b
ehind it. The House consisted of where Granny Houston used to torture us as kids and everything around it. And it was just as I remembered it, only now it appeared much older and much more decrepit than it did when I was twelve years old.

  I inhaled the smell of wet wood and moldy soil and exhaled with a cough. It even smelled the same—like what I imagined sadness mixed with evilness and misery to smell like.

  I wouldn’t say I was religious, but I said a quick, silent prayer. I would need more than a higher power and all of my mental strength to deal with my grandmother.

  I walked a few steps closer, careful not to aggravate my old and new injuries. Detective Castle and his partner immediately moved to either side of me like they knew I’d need some fortifying before I could face Granny Houston.

  “I’m good,” I said, holding up my hand to halt their efforts. I was a grown woman now who’d been through enough to feel like this . . . this facing my past . . . was going to be a cakewalk by comparison.

  I stepped to the left and stared around the side of the House. The long, wooden porch seemed to slope on the left side more than I remembered. The old-fashioned rocking chair Granny Houston had out there was now so covered with a thick tangle of overgrown ivy and weeds that I couldn’t tell if the wooden slats were still white. The windows on the front of the House had a thick gray coat of dirt that served as nature’s window tint. I couldn’t see a thing through those windows. The front steps, although visible enough to climb, had tall stalks of green snaking through them. It actually looked like some abandoned, haunted house that no one had inhabited in a hundred years. A pang of panic flashed through my chest.

  What if Granny Houston is gone?

  Detective Castle looked at me through wide eyes. “Um . . . you . . . um, sure . . .”

  He was at a loss for words.

  “Yeah. I’m sure. This is it. Now you see what I meant when I said not one damn soul will be coming all the way out here to look for me,” I told him. “Not one damn soul.”