Stalked by secrets, p.19
Stalked by Secrets, page 19
Her stride was easy, each of her steps led by the gentle sway of her hips. Her walk was sexy as hell and he felt heat surge below his waist, muscles rumbling as blood pulsed into his appendages. He took a deep breath and then another to stall the rise of energy that threatened to make the moment awkward.
When they’d settled comfortably on the couch, Neema sitting cross-legged and the bowl of popcorn between them, Davis reached for the remote to turn on the stereo and turn down the lights. Lauryn Hill’s “The Sweetest Thing” filled the room, followed by “Ex-Factor,” then Jill Scott’s “He Loves Me.” The two settled into the ambience, relaxing with the music and the subtle exhalations of each other’s breathing.
Davis shifted the popcorn bowl to the table and wrapped his arms around Neema’s shoulders. As she allowed herself to settle against him, he pressed a damp kiss to her forehead.
“You smell good,” he said softly.
She giggled. “Soap and water can be your friend, too!”
Davis laughed with her and hugged her closer. “I think about us a lot, Neema. About where this relationship could go if we let it. Every time we’re together, I don’t want to think about when we have to part. I really care about you and I hate that our getting to know each other has been mingled with so much drama.”
Neema pressed her hand to his chest, her fingers teasing the flesh beneath his T-shirt. “The drama doesn’t bother me, Davis. Because I like you, too, and I like that we’re growing closer. I know that if we focus on supporting each other, we’ll get through the drama.”
Davis nodded as he pressed his lips gently to hers. The kiss was tender, until it wasn’t, every ounce of emotion the two were feeling for each other exploding between them. Leaning back against the cushions, he pulled Neema down with him. As she fell against the expanse of his chest, his hands danced along the length of her arms and across her back. The tips of his fingers rested against the curve of her buttocks, heat burning beneath the tips. Her arms snaked around his shoulders and back, her hands clinging to him hungrily as her mouth twisted and turned with his. The kiss had become frenetic, both anxious for each other’s touch.
When he shifted his body beneath hers, Neema straddling his legs, there was no hiding the rise of nature that pressed against the front of his sweats for attention. His excitement was on full display as he pressed himself against her.
* * *
Neema suddenly sat upright, pulling a closed fist to her mouth. “I’m sorry. There’s something we need to talk about first...” she started to say. “There’s something important I need to tell you.”
Davis straightened, dropping his palm to his crotch to hide the very visible erection. “I’m sorry. I was moving too fast. I didn’t mean—”
“No, that’s not—”
Titus suddenly barked, standing at the front door, the fur around his neck standing on end. He growled, a low, deep, brusque snarl that vibrated loudly through the room. Davis stood abruptly, moving to peer out the front window. Titus barked again and Davis moved to the front door, stopping first to grab his gun.
Neema paused the sound system, the room going quiet save Titus’s barking. She backed her way into the corner, her eyes wide. She stood perfectly still, listening to see if she could hear what Titus heard as she watched Davis move from one window to another, peering out to the street to see what he could see.
“Go sit,” Davis said to the dog, finally breaking through the quiet. “It’s just a raccoon.” He heaved a sigh of relief as he turned back to Neema. “Sorry about that. I’m a little on edge. Since that drive-by, every strange noise makes me nervous.”
“Better safe than sorry,” she muttered.
Davis moved to her side and kissed her, wrapping his arms tightly around her torso. “If I made you uncomfortable before, I apologize. I would never—”
“You didn’t,” Neema said, interrupting him. “It was fine. It was...good...and I was enjoying myself. I just...well...” She was suddenly stammering, trying to find the words to explain herself. Because she needed to come clean about everything before they took things any further. Davis needed to know the truth.
“Let’s sit,” Davis said softly, guiding her back to the sofa. “I want you to feel comfortable and I don’t want to rush you into anything that you’re not ready for.”
“And I appreciate that. I’m here because...well, I want to be here with you. But I want to be honest with you about everything and I need...”
The low jingle of his cell phone interrupted the moment. Davis held up his hand, stalling her words. “I’m sorry. I need to grab that. I’ve been expecting a call from my brother. I’ll make it quick,” he said as he hurried into the kitchen.
Neema grabbed the remote and turned the sound system back on. Alicia Keys was singing “You Don’t Know My Name.” As if sensing her anxiety, Titus jumped up beside her on the furniture, nuzzling the side of her face before dropping his head into her lap. She hugged the dog warmly, leaning her face into his.
Minutes later, when Davis returned, Neema and his dog were both sound asleep.
* * *
When Neema woke, it was dark in the room, a single light shining from the kitchen. Something had startled her out of her sleep and, for a quick minute, she wasn’t sure where she was. She sat upright, a blanket tangled around her bare feet, and then she remembered.
On the floor below her, Titus slept soundly. Davis sat in the leather recliner beneath his own blanket. His head had rolled to the side and he snored softly. She had no memory of falling asleep or of stretching her body out against the sofa cushions. She knew Davis had draped the blanket over her and she imagined he had shooed Titus to the floor. Checking the time, she saw that it was almost five o’clock in the morning.
She sat watching Davis for a good few minutes, briefly debating waking him from his sleep, but deciding to let him rest. He appeared to be dreaming, the slightest smile on his face. He needed the rest and, since he appeared to be comfortable, she decided to let him be. It was too late for conversation and the moment for their romantic interlude had passed.
Stepping over Titus, she tiptoed through the kitchen to the laundry room and her clothes that sat on the counter. Davis had folded everything neatly, laying her silk panties and lace bra on top.
She slipped into her clothes, tossing his sweat top and shorts into the hamper. Tiptoeing back to the living room, she claimed her shoes and purse. Titus suddenly moved to her side and sat. His head was cocked to the side as he watched her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Neema whispered.
The dog tilted his head to the other side, panting softly.
“You’re really starting to make me feel bad, Titus, but this is for the best. You need to trust me on that.”
The dog snorted, still eyeing her intently.
Across the way, Davis shifted in his seat. Neema froze and waited to see if he opened his eyes. When he didn’t, she sighed in relief, feeling like she’d come too far to want to explain herself. Feeling like it would be best if she were gone when he woke.
As if he’d actually read her mind, Titus snorted at her a second time.
“Okay! I’ll leave a note,” she muttered as she reached into her purse for her notepad and pen.
Three quick lines later, Neema gave Titus one last rub. She snuggled his muzzle against her cheek and then she snuck out the door. The note for Davis rested on the kitchen counter.
Chapter 14
She’d left. Neema had risen early and was gone. Davis had been startled out of a sound sleep when Titus scratched at his knee, whining to be let out. Rising, he’d called her name. When he hadn’t gotten a response, he’d gone in search of her. The note on the kitchen counter had been short and sweet.
You make my heart sing, Davis Black! Thank you for a wonderful time. Call me when you can.
The note made him smile, but a wave of sadness settled around his shoulders. He had wanted to wake up to her by his side. To start his day with her bright smile as he held her in his arms. He missed her. And in that moment, Davis realized that Neema Kamau had dominion over a large part of his heart. He felt a gasp catch in his throat as the reality of that swept over him. He was falling in love. Hard. And despite his excitement, he wasn’t quite sure what it should look like or if he should even try to label it.
Davis shook away the emotion that had risen full and abundant and in want of attention. He slipped his large feet into a pair of Nike sneakers and pulled a toboggan down low over his ears. Titus pawed at him and ran to the front door. Davis slipped a leash onto the Rottweiler, and the two took off for a morning run.
The air outside was crisp but the sun was bright, beginning to rise comfortably in a cloud-filled sky. The weatherman was predicting the first snow of the season and it felt like Mother Nature was prepping for the possibility. Five blocks from his front door, Davis stopped running, slowing to a walk. His breathing was labored, and his head had begun to pound. Maybe a run hadn’t been a good idea, he thought as he pulled Titus to heel. Davis was feeling out of sorts and grossly out of shape. Although he knew some of it had to do with his head injury, it had also been a long minute since he’d last been in a gym or worked out.
Davis and Titus were only a block from his home when he spied the silver Mercedes. It pulled abruptly out of a parking space, the driver accelerating into the intersection. He and Titus had just stepped into the walkway when the vehicle purposely sped toward them, narrowly miss hitting them as it blew through the stop sign. Davis jumped back, landing harshly against the hood of another parked car and rolling to the sidewalk. He pulled Titus abruptly, the dog yelping as Davis snatched him to his side.
Davis cussed as he jumped back to his feet, following the car with his eyes as it disappeared around the next corner.
“Are you okay?” an elderly woman called out from the other side of the road.
“That car looked like it was trying to hit you on purpose!” her companion interjected.
“Some people don’t need no driver’s license,” the old woman added.
“I’m good. Thank you for asking,” Davis said as he leaned to check that Titus was okay, as well. The dog was licking his paw, pandering to his front leg as if it hurt.
“Damn fool could have killed someone,” the old man muttered as the couple waved goodbye and continued their walk.
Davis pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his brother. Mingus answered on the second ring. “Someone just tried to run me down,” he said, not bothering to say hello.
“You okay?”
“I’m good. I got the license plate.”
* * *
Neema’s father found her in the event room. She sat alone, staring out into space. She’d called in sick to her day job, not wanting anything to do with the newspaper. Instead, she’d chosen to open the restaurant to help her parents prepare for the day.
Leaving Davis the way she had felt like a gut punch. It had knocked the wind out of her, and she was finding it difficult to catch her breath.
She hadn’t wanted to leave. Nor had she wanted to sneak out with only a note to remind him that she had been there. Doing so had only reinforced that she needed to step back and figure out what the hell she was doing. Because what she had already done had her feeling a lot foolish. And it was well past noon and Davis hadn’t called. Wondering if he might be upset with her only added to her anxiety.
Neema had known that the longer it took to tell Davis the truth, the harder it would be when she finally did. Now it felt almost impossible to have that conversation. But before they could even begin to think about a future together, he needed to know what she did for a living and what her initial intentions had been when they’d first met. She needed to apologize, and she had to let him decide if he truly wanted to move forward with her. She had no doubts that he would see her actions as a betrayal, and she would have to regain his trust if such a thing were at all possible.
Her father stood staring at her and Neema girded herself for an interrogation. Her father’s radar rarely faltered when it came to her mood swings and she could tell he wasn’t going to let her be until he was satisfied with her answers.
“What is wrong with you today, daughter? Something seems to have upset you.”
Neema shook her head. “I’m sorry, Baba. I just needed a moment to myself to think.”
“You did not go to work today. Did you get time off for working so late last night? Is there something wrong with your job? Because responsible people show up to work, every day and on time. Unless, of course, they are sick. Are you sick, Neema?”
Neema shook her head. “No, Baba. I am not sick. I’m just tired.”
“You need to keep more respectable hours. You would not be tired.”
A low gust of air flew past her lips in a soft sigh. “Baba, have you ever kept something important from your wife?”
“Why would I do that? Your mother and I are one. We function as a single unit. I would never keep something important from her. She must be able to trust me, and I must trust her. It’s why we do not keep secrets from each other. It would also be disrespectful, and your mother would never disrespect me, nor I her.”
Neema nodded, her head bobbing up and down slowly. “How did you know Mommy was the one?”
“What one?”
“How did you know she was the woman you wanted to spend your life with?”
“Ahh! That one!” He dropped into the seat beside hers. “I have loved your mother since we were children playing together in our village. I was blessed that she loved me back. There were several men who were vying for your mother’s hand in marriage. She came with a sizeable dowry.”
Neema laughed. “Really? A dowry?”
“Dowries were very important back in the day. Of course, girls from wealthy families fared much better with finding partners because they could afford larger dowries. Your grandfather owned a whole heard of cattle. My family was very impressed.”
“I’m sure they were,” she said wittily.
“I had hoped by now that a good man would want to negotiate your bride price, Neema.”
“And I’m glad we don’t do that anymore.”
“There’s much to be said for the old ways, daughter.”
“Them being old says more than enough,” she responded with another giggle.
“So, who is this man who has you asking these questions? He must be very important to you.” There was a twinkle in his eye, his paternal radar signaling loudly.
Neema dropped her eyes to the floor, her hands twisting together in her lap. “He has become very important to me, but I’ve not been honest with him.”
“Neema!” Her father fanned his hands at her. “Why would you not be honest with this man? What would you want to tell lies about?”
“He doesn’t know I’m a journalist. If he did, he might not want to know me.”
“Who is this man, Neema?”
Neema hesitated, meeting the stern look her father had given her. His tone had changed, an edge of admonishment clinging to his words. She took a deep breath and then spoke. “Alderman Black. He and I have been seeing each other, and he thinks I only work here at the restaurant. I never corrected that assumption.”
“Why would you not do that? Alderman Black is a fine man. An honest, honorable man! He would want a woman who was equally as honest.”
“Because the night he was here...well... I thought there might have been a story there. A story I could use to boost my career and—”
Her father sprung from the chair as he tossed up his hands in frustration. “Where is your respect for me and my business? We are not here to spy on our customers! You do not invite people into your home to use them for your own selfish gain. How could you do this, Neema?”
“I meant no disrespect, Baba. It just happened, and I haven’t been able to walk it back and make it right.”
“You make it right by telling the truth. No more, no less. You must tell the truth.”
“I know, Baba. And I will.” A tear rolled down Neema’s cheek.
Her father reached a large hand out to wipe the line of saline from her face. “If the alderman knows your heart, then you two will be able to work it out. If your heart is pure, Neema. A man must trust that you have his best interests at heart. Because his best interests will also be yours if you are meant to be together.”
At that moment, her mother stuck her head into the room, calling Neema’s name. “You promised to help me with the chapati,” the older woman said as she eyed the two of them curiously.
“Coming, Mama!”
Neema rose from her seat, drawing a deep inhale of air into her lungs to calm her frazzled nerves. She leaned forward to give her father a hug, allowing herself to settle into his warmth for just a moment. “Thank you, Baba.”
Adamu gave his daughter a nod then gently patted her back. “Talk to your mother more, Neema. She will teach you to be a good wife and a good wife does not keep secrets from her husband,” he said as he turned, pausing a moment to kiss his wife’s cheek before making his exit.
The two women exchanged a look. Neema reached for her mother’s hand and gave her fingers a squeeze.
The matriarch smiled, her voice dropping a few octaves to a loud whisper. “Pay no attention to your father, Neema. A good wife keeps the secrets she needs to keep,” her mother said. “She just makes sure her husband never finds out!”
“And if he does?”
“Then she makes sure she can explain it in her favor, of course!” she said as she looped her arm through Neema’s and kissed her daughter’s cheek.
