Bittersweet Chocolate (12 page)

But hey, she’d give law enforcement something to look into when, or if, Joel’s disappearance ever came to their attention.

She hugged her dad before he left and reminded him to send Frank to see her.

Her cousin came while the bruises were still visible.

“Damn, baby girl, I should have been here,” Frank growled. With tears brimming in his eyes, he pulled her close and hugged her for a few minutes before holding her at arm’s length. His gaze scoured her face, scrutinizing the damage. With trembling fingers, he caressed the bruising. “It’s been almost a month and the discoloration around your right eye...” He turned away and mumbled several foul expletives.

She knew he was aware of the amount of force it took to leave such a long-term impression. Pissed didn’t do justice to his anger, and that rage would prompt him to start a gang war. She had to convince him otherwise.

“Frank, please. Gray and Boo belong to Joel’s gang.”

With grave deliberation, he said, “Baby girl, it’s your call, but I’m not convinced Graham and Brad did enough to prevent this from happening. I know Brad, but I’m not familiar with Graham. What do you really know about him? I’m not so sure—”

“Frank, Gray and I...it was Gray’s baby.” She embraced him, hands intermittently clutching at his sides. “I can’t let you hurt Gray or Boo.”

A tentative truce existed between the two gangs, and her rape went beyond what it would take to destroy the fragile peace. After a bit of cajoling, Frank agreed to let her handle Joel since her roots were entrenched in the same gang philosophy. Well, except for one minor sticking point.

She didn’t agree with the senseless violence. Not that she couldn’t or wouldn’t use deadly force against anyone who hurt her, but all the members of Camac & Diamond weren’t involved. Without her intervention, all members and associates would suffer because of inflexible gang allegiance.

But there you go.

Her Catholic ass, with its selective religious based morals, drew the line at wholesale violence because of association.

“Just find the bastards,” she pleaded. “Let me and Gray handle the rest.”

Frank agreed, with conditions. “Promise to keep me advised of everything.”

She accepted his stipulations, but remained suspicious, knowing her cousin too well. Oh, he’d let her have her revenge, believing she wouldn’t do much damage, and he would exact his own vengeance.

Joel made a grave mistake, never taking her link to the gang serious, ignoring what she’d told him about her childhood. If she found him first, he should consider himself lucky.

He should have killed her.

Graham ended the lease on his apartment and moved in with her.

They put his furniture into the master bedroom and put her things in the guest room, replacing Joel’s junk, not wanting any reminders of him or what had taken place in there. She would have burned his crap if she could have. Instead she gave the stuff to Goodwill.

First night together, lying in bed, snuggled against the warmth of Graham’s body, and her fingertips teasing his nipples, she demanded he make love to her.

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Gray, pain is irrelevant. I need you, need your touch.” She rose up on her knees, removed her nightshirt, tossing it to the bottom of the bed, and she crawled on top of him. His body’s immediate response had his arousal nestled against her ass. “I need to feel you inside me, know it’s you, erase the memories, and know you still want me.”

“Want you? I didn’t think, after what you’d been through, couldn’t imagine you’d want to, would be ready, this soon. I thought you’d have a disgust or fear of intimacy.” He reached for the light.

“Uh-uh, leave it. Want to watch you, us moving together.”

His heart-stopping smile appeared and he whispered, “Baby, use me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” She shifted her hips, easing down on his rock-hard erection as she leaned forward and took possession of his mouth, reacquainting herself with his taste.

* * * *

Damn.

No foreplay, yet she was wet and ready for him. He gripped her hips, intending to control the breach, ease into her tight heat, make it as painless as possible, but she rejected gentle. Snatching her mouth away from his, she sat up and took charge. Gazes locked, tears blurred his vision as he watched her sexy tawny eyes, expressionless for too long, alight with passion.

He sat up, gaining the ultimate penetration. Cupping her supple breasts, he leaned forward, his mouth covering one nipple then the other, tongue teasing, teeth nipping, before he recaptured her mouth. Arms coiled around his neck, knees cradling his body and feet braced on the bed, she rode him hard, making those little noises in her throat that excited him.

He tensed as the electrifying sensation of climax built. Their mouths fused together, their combined efforts synchronized, a done deal.

“Damn.
Baby, I couldn’t wait.” He pressed his forehead against hers while calming his erratic breathing. “Does that answer your question about still wanting you?”

“More than words could ever express.”

“Never doubt it.” Arms circling her body, he rolled, reversing their positions, and turned her facedown. “Baby, you know where I’m going with this.”

Nodding, she adjusted her position. “I need it.”

Upper body pressed against the bedding, arms extended above her head, she elevated her lower body, delectable ass in the air. He couldn’t resist kissing and nipping the succulent globes. He retrieved the K-Y from beneath his pillow, coated his erection, and squeezed a small amount of gel onto his fingers, rubbing them together.

Kneeling behind her, he ran a finger along the crease of her ass and watched her squirm. He inserted one finger into the tiny orifice. It was a snug fit, but his finger slipped inside with little effort. A second finger stretched her, filling her as she pushed back into his touch. His fingers established a rhythm and she countered his momentum, her sweet-as-hell moans jacking his libido to new heights.

Cock speckling a pearlescent trail over her ass as he crouched over her back, his lips nuzzled her ear, and he whispered, “Can’t hang much longer.”

“Do it, Gray.”

Withdrawing his fingers, she trembled when his cock snuggled up against the chink of her ass. She spread her knees farther apart and his hands settled on her hips. Her fingers curled into tight fists clutching already crumpled sheets, and she went limp, every muscle in her body relaxed. He made a gradual breach, and once fully embedded, he paused to let her adjust, giving himself time to gain control over intense savage desires motivating him.

“Oh damn, you feel good. I’ve missed this...you.”

He tried to keep his momentum slow and easy, but she clenched and pulsated around his shaft and he kicked gentle to the curb, thrusting into her without inhibitions. She countered his driving force, rocking back into his intense energy. Bending over her, he slipped a hand beneath her body, fingers softly stroking the core of her sexuality. He withdrew almost his entire length, before sinking deep.

“Gray...”

Her frenzied response forced him to relinquish control, recognizing her need to excise bleak memories of degradation and reclaim her self-worth. Mouths merged, breathing as one, their combined efforts brought about a simultaneous climax, his seed surging into her in pulsating streams.

He inhaled deep shuddering breaths until he regained his composure and shifted his weight, dropping down beside her. Spooning her supple body to his, the thundering rhythm of her heart throbbed beneath his palm.

He’d started to doze when her hand covered his. Fingers intertwined, she whispered, “Thank you, Gray.”

* * * *

They returned to their respective jobs and resumed their daily lives. Darien spent quite a bit of time with them when they weren’t working, but Marissa didn’t tell her plans to Darien, for a good reason. Darien refused to believe Rick had been involved with something so brutal, because she liked him. Yet Darien couldn’t explain why she hadn’t seen Rick since Marissa’s rape.

Marissa never trusted females as friends.

“When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you, without flinching―they are your family.”

― Jim Butcher

She and Graham grew close. Their relationship was slow, and easy, unlike the frantic sexual connection they’d had before the rape. She didn’t know when it happened, but she realized she’d fallen in love with him. But he wanted marriage, and she refused to commit herself, recalling his response to her pregnancy. “Gray, what about children? I can’t...you were happy...”

“Marissa, I love you. I want
you.
”

She believed him, but marriage...uh-uh, couldn’t do that to him. He deserved kids, a family.

One year, almost to the day, after her rape, Brad found Joel and his friends. It had taken so long to find them because they’d moved into West Philadelphia gang territory. Marissa and Graham were from North Philly gangs. Without leverage, such as support in a gang war, or the promise of protection if needed, territories not remotely connected weren’t inclined to be helpful.

Nonetheless, having located Joel and his posse, Marissa, Graham, and Brad moved forward with mapping out a strategy. They met with Frank every chance they had. At the conclusion of each session, when they couldn’t come up with a foolproof plan, Marissa became more impatient.

What prompted her to act on instinct was Brad’s discovery that Joel had a new girlfriend, just eighteen years old. Marissa asked Brad to find out as much as he could about that situation. Two weeks passed with no word from Brad.

“Gray, let’s go and check out Joel. I have a bad feeling about the new girlfriend.”

“I agree.” He pulled her close. “Joel and Rick wouldn’t have had the sense to go their separate ways. If Joel and his posse are in West Philly, I’m with you, it’s not right.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Besides, I’d like this to be a done deal so we can get on with our lives.”

Without telling Frank or Brad, she and Graham used his ‘67 Camaro to drive to Joel’s alleged hangout, JK’s Tavern, a bar in West Philadelphia. They located the place on the corner of 52nd and Warren at Bible Way. They circled the block twice before deciding to park around the corner from the bar’s entrance. Inside the establishment, they moved to a booth at the back of the room, which concealed them in the shadows. She settled back and surveyed her surroundings.

The interior was the typical, dimly lit, corner bar setup found on every other corner, in every neighborhood. With a long, squared off c-shaped bar configuration centered on one side of the room, there were wooden tables and chairs intermittently placed around the scarred linoleum floor. Brown vinyl booths lined the wall opposite the bar, but the main attraction was a jukebox centered against the back wall.

Typical of the weekend environment, the place quickly filled with people.

Graham ordered a rum and Coke for himself and a ginger ale for Marissa. Drinks in hand, they relaxed, prepared to remain until closing, if necessary. Graham sat at an angle, facing the entrance, his back to the wall, with Marissa pulled up against him. His arms snaked around her waist and she smiled, recognizing the action as his version of passive restraint, just in case. She didn’t blame him. He wasn’t sure how she’d react to seeing Joel for the first time since the rape.
She
didn’t know how she’d respond.

Snuggling up to him, she tuned into the music. The sudden convulsive tightening of his arms made her tilt her head and look up at his face, then turn to follow his gaze to the entrance. Joel stood just inside the doors, and he wasn’t alone. He had a young woman with him, and Marissa wasn’t prepared for what she saw when the woman moved into the light. A sickening wave of dread welled up inside her. She and the woman could have been twins.

She’d had a bad feeling after hearing the rumor about Joel living with someone, because she couldn’t understand why he’d take the time to move in with another woman. He had to know his homeboys and her cousin were after him. With the word on the street, it would have made more sense for him to go underground until things cooled down. But this woman’s nearly identical likeness made Marissa suspect Joel and his friends intended to pull another rape and disappear.

Graham must have realized the same thing because he leaned down, lips brushing her ear as he whispered, “Son of a bitch, she looks like you. They’re going to do it again, aren’t they?”

She nodded, unable to speak, overcome by emotion. Eyes narrowed, she stared at Joel, her apprehension for the young woman replaced by seething rage, overwhelmed by a strong urge to kill him right then. Graham had been right to think he had to restrain her.

“Let’s get out of here before he sees us,” Graham coaxed. “We’re on his turf without backup and his pals are probably nearby.”

Marissa didn’t argue. Although she had her switchblade with her, and her only target would be Joel, she didn’t want to risk Graham getting hurt if Joel’s friends were with him. She slid out of the booth with Graham close behind. He held her hand firmly as they wended their way through the crowd. They reached the door and she glanced back. Joel stared directly at her.

She snatched her hand from Graham’s hold and turned, undaunted, waiting for Joel’s reaction. Shock, then anger registered on his face before she stepped outside. They made it to the car just moments before Joel and four others appeared on the street.

Slouched down in their seats, she and Graham watched the group split up and scan the area. Several minutes passed before Joel gave up and disappeared around the corner. Graham started the car and they headed back across town.

“I hated that,” she snapped. “Running from that little pissant. We should have come prepared. God, I wanted to hurt him.”

“But the girl, what...” He didn’t seem able to put into words what he thought of Joel or his motivations.

“We can’t let them hurt that woman.” She called Brad as soon as they reached home. Darien picked up. “We’re coming over,” she said and replaced the handset.