She’s definitely running. But why? And where to?
He glances at her at the exact moment she looks over her shoulder.Those damn eyes again.
“What are you running from?” he asks, convinced again that she’s Tanjaya.The eyes aren’t lying; she is.
“You, if you didn’t have those guns,” she snaps. “I’m not her,” she says slowly, almost pleading. “Maybe she’s running. I don’t know, but I can’t even think about her right now. My life is the one on the line and that’s all I can think about, that and finding my shit and getting away from you.” She sighs heavily then shakes her head before stepping around the small table in the kitchen. “And look at God!” she exclaims. “My wallet.”
He aborts his mission in the cabinets. When she tries to bend gingerly to grab the small designer wallet in the corner, he steps in front of her, grabs it, and places it into his pocket.
“Find your phone,” he tells her.
After shaking her head, she walks toward the living room. He returns to the kitchen, finds a takeout bag in the bottom of the pantry, and fills it with the papers and envelopes. He notices a sticky note attached to the side of the fridge.
CFCU 4788
BOA 2536
WF 9988
NF 4855
At first glance the letters and numbers don’t mean anything but Akeem knows simple clues often reveal major information. So he snatches the note and adds it to the bag. When he walks into the living room, she’s struggling to remove the cushionsfrom the small loveseat so he takes over. He finds a small phone embedded in the side crease.
When he hands it to her, she takes it then shakes her head. “This must be hers,” she says. He holds his hand out for her to give it back but she shakes her head. “It’ll have our texts,” she insists.
“I know,” he says. She relents and drops the phone. He places it into the bag.
Annoyed and pissed about this whole damn situation, Sunjiya takes in a sharp inhale of breath and blows it out loudly, then storms out of the living room. Either the sedative has finally completely worn off or her anger fuels her because her stride has returned. Any time away from him is welcomed, so she walks as fast as she can to the bedroom. There, she plops onto the bed and closes her eyes.
How the hell do I get out of this shit?
Her seconds of solitude from her captor are interrupted when he enters the room. As she sits on the bed, he searches the small dresser but only finds clothes. Then he steps into the closet. Only a few items hang on the rack, seven shoe boxes and a jacket rest on the floor. He picks the jacket up and finds a lighter in the left pocket with a logo on the side,Lazy Nights Club.He places the lighter into the bag and searches the boxes. Shoes are in six of the boxes but one has a passport and key. The passport says Tanjaya Willis and it’s devoid of any stamps. After adding both items to the bag, he steps out of the closet. Sunjiya has moved off the bed so he checks the bathroom for her and she’s inside holding a cell.
“It was on the sink,” she utters. “Let me guess, you want it too?” she scoffs. Without responding, he holds the bag in front of her and she begrudgingly drops the cell. “Where to now?” she asks bitterly.This asshole.
“Back so I can look this shit over.”
“You can’t check my shit now so you can see and leave me here?” she snaps.
“We’re going back. Together,” he proclaims.
Her ID and phone are just a start, not the final answer.Shit like that can be made for the right price by the right kind of people. To convince him that the woman in front of him is not Tanjaya, he needs enough to be sure. He needs to comb through every item in the bag and the intel from Axton. Until then, Sunjiya, or whoever she is, will stay with him at that ranch and no call to Marcelin will be made.
“Can I pee first?” she asks while shaking her head slowly, infuriated. He offers a quick nod then steps out of the bathroom. Before he can pull the door closed, she kicks it shut. “Fuck you,” she yells.
While she’s in the bathroom, he does another sweep of the apartment. He doesn’t find much more but a random postcard behind the garbage can next to the fridge with palm trees on the front. It reads:Wishing you a happy birthday from Florida.Love and miss you, Aunt Pri. The address has been blacked out but the postmark is clear. It was sent last October from a 32456 zip code.
“I’m ready,” Sunjiya announces when she steps into the living room.
A slight smirk rests on her face. He doesn’t notice because he’s deep in thought, trying to piece together the items he’s found. His distraction is to her advantage because when she was in the bathroom, she found an eyebrow razor and a small pair of sharp scissors. Small items to most but weapons to her if he doesn’t let her go. Both are hidden in her bra, on her injured side, safely tucked under her arm, and ready for war.
A few seconds after her entrance, he looks her way then nods. “Let’s ride,” he says, as if she has a damn choice.
She doesn’t and she hates him for that. None of this shit was on her bingo card for today. Leaving the apartment to get food turned into a nightmare. Now she’s stuck with this sling on her arm and a killer by her side.
“Don’t try any—” he begins before they walk out of the front door but she interrupts.
“I know,” she huffs. “Can I please grab my purse and bag?” she asks, pointing to the small tote on the floor in the corner.
