Miriam unzips her leather jacket and reaches inside. The sound of guns cocking punctuates the air, and she holds up a hand and slowly removes the other, holding a thumb drive. “Anyone have a laptop?”
“Right here.” Jamari moves to the small table under the window and removes his laptop. He sets it on the table, and Miriam hands him the drive. Moments later, his fingers fly across the keyboard, and then he turns the computer around. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes. Here.” Miriam pushes the laptop toward me, and screenshots of several emails fill the monitor. “Read those.”
I meet her gaze for several long moments before lowering mine to the screen. At first, I’m not sure what the hell I’m looking at. But then, as if a light switch is flipped and a dark room is suddenly bathed in blinding light, it hits me. Correspondence from nine years ago between Abena and someone named MackeyGhost11. And it’s about my kidnapping. The more I read, the more nauseated with fury I become. I’m damn near incoherent.
Abena.
Abena was behind my kidnapping the entire time.
Abena suggested the ransom amount and cutting off my finger to send to my mother.
Abena is the faceless tormentor in my nightmares, and all along she’s been smirking in my face. Reigning over my family. Stealing the life my mother should’ve had. Living free with no repercussions.
“I’m going to be sick.”
I dart down the hall for the bathroom, slamming the door open against the wall just in time to vomit in the toilet. I keep purging my stomach until only bile empties out of me and pain streaks through my body.
“Come on, Eshe.” A cold washcloth is pressed to the back ofmy neck as I sink to the floor. Kenya flushes the toilet and hunkers down in front of me, studying me. “You good? We read the shit and it’s fucked up. I’m so sorry. You ready to go back out there?”
I swallow. Nod.
“Good. Let’s go.” Standing, she extends an arm toward me, and I grab her hand. She tugs me to my feet, clasping my elbow to steady me. “Clean up and then come back out there.”
I nod again.
She cups my shoulder and squeezes. After she leaves, I remove the washcloth, wash my mouth out, and splash water on my face. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize the woman gazing back at me. I look… broken. Beaten down. If Abena were in front of me at this very moment, I might surrender just because I’m so fucking tired.
Tired of secrets.
Tired of failing.
Tired of not being enough.
Tired of… being.
Heaving a low, heavy sigh, I grab a hand towel and pat my face dry, then return to the living room. Everyone looks up, not saying anything as I reclaim my seat in front of the computer.
“She’s a dead bitch walking, Eshe,” Tera says. Promises.
And a sweeping scan of the people gathered around the table shows me they all agree with her vow.
Briefly closing my eyes, I dip my chin in acknowledgment, then refocus on the laptop screen.
“How did you get this? Where?” I ask Miriam.
“Your mother’s second-in-command, Zuri.”
I blink. “Zuri?” I rasp. “Where did you see her? When…?”
“Your aunt had her hunted down and murdered months after your mother. But before then, she passed along this”—she nods toward the computer—“to a friend in Creed for safekeeping. That person happened to be my mentor. Before she died, she passed it along to me just in case I ever needed… leverage.”
A wave of grief for Zuri sweeps through me. After all this time, I at least know what happened to her.
“Is this why Abena had my mother killed?” I ask Miriam.
“From what was told to me, yes. Aisha suspected something was off as soon as she realized Abena had failed to arrange the proper security for you. So she started digging. She also kept people on Abena’s ass. I think that’s why they aborted the kidnapping after a couple of weeks without getting the ransom. Well, that and your mother had the Boston streets looking like an Egyptian plague.” She smiles, and damn if it doesn’t hold a hint of admiration. “Not long after your return, Aisha received confirmation about Abena. From what I understand, the day she was gunned down, she was supposed to be meeting with an informant.”
