Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Channey nodded, and got off the phone.
“I understand. That’s why I’m my own police. Some cops are okay. Half the time, they’re full of shit. ’Specially towards Black and brown folk, like you and me.”
“Something ain’t right with you either, Channey.”
“What do you mean?” The lady looked at her curiously, as if insulted.
“I know you’re getting paid, but you’re still at risk. On top of it, you just admitted you don’t even like working with the police, so why would you do all of this for a stranger?”
“The police haven’t protected you up until this point, according to what Axel told Legend. Legend and I go way back. I’m not going to go into what happened, but that man saved my life. We used to be colleagues, if you will. He asked me for a favor. I obliged. On top of that, I take your situation personal.”
“Why? You had a stalker, too?”
Channey shook her head. “No. My big sister got hooked on drugs after bein’ in an abusive marriage with her husband. For six years, he beat her ass, told her he was going to kill her. I believed him. Our mother believed him. She didn’t. He’d apologize. Buy her things. Then it would start up all over again. A vicious cycle. He made her family out to be the enemy. My mother was called a bitch, and nosy. I was called a dyke. Our brother was called retarded… he has a learning disability. He said we were all failures, and she was nothin’ without him. I’m Puerto Rican, and in our culture, the man is the head of the household. Divorce is frowned upon. We’re Roman Catholic.
“Even my mother, though she hated him, was tryna tell me and my brother to butt out, and let them work it out. Religious beliefs sometimes override common sense. I hate to say it, but it’s true. I begged her to leave him, English. She wouldn’t. Said it wouldn’t be fair to the kids… said he was a good dad, just needed help with his anger. But one day, he put her in the hospital, and we didn’t think she’d pull through. Knocked out several teeth. Her brain was swelling. Broken bones. The police asked who did it to her, and after years of lyin’ and covering for him, she finally told the truth. Instead of protecting her, the police left her out there like a sitting duck.”
English pressed her purse to her chest. “What happened?”
“He went AWOL. They tried to find him. Couldn’t. Four days later, he broke into her house, tried to get her to drop the charges. She said no. He ran into the kids’ room, grabbed my niece and strangled her… killed their daughter right in front of her.” English’s eyes watered. Channey stood there, stone-faced. Her jaw tightened, and she swallowed, but she remained stiff. Cold. “To hurt her. To hurt us. The people who loved her. My niece was dead. Three days after that, my sister, Juanita, my beautiful big sister, overdosed. On purpose.”
Channey readjusted her belt, then shook her head. “So, now you know why I’m here, and why I do what I do. You understand why Axel deserves a medal for thinking ahead. You see why I commend you for bein’ strapped, and being aware. You got away once, English. He’s not going to let you get away again.” She knew that to be true. Damn, was it true… “You can’t go it alone. In these cases, nobody escapes without help. He can’t take a child away from you, but he’ll find the equivalent. He’ll kill something or someone you love, even if it is your sense of peace. And when he does, he’ll stomp on it with all that is within him—right in front of you. That’s how these deranged cowards operate. They hate their mamas. They hate women, period. They hate themselves. He don’t have shit to lose. You were the one who got away… and baby, he’s not planning to lose twice.”
Chapter Eighteen
Cigarette smoke purled out of the cracked window. A cold rain fell from the sky as ‘Blue Monday,’ by New Order, played on the oldies radio station. He wasn’t much in the mood for his typical headbanger music. He wasn’t much in the mood for anything. Axel sat behind the wheel, shirt off, muscles tense, breathing slow and easy. He didn’t care about anything at that moment, except English. When he arrived at the parking lot of her job, apparently surprising both her and Channey, he was amazed she didn’t launch into a verbal attack now that the cat was out of the bag.
Rather, she appeared shaken up, but grateful. She’d leapt into his arms, wrapped her limbs around him, and squeezed him so damn tight, they had no choice but to share their next breath.