Bittersweet Chocolate (13 page)

“What’s up?” Brad asked as soon as they walked through the door.

Marissa couldn’t disguise the bitterness in her voice. “We just came from Joel’s hangout in West Philly. The bastard strolled in with this young woman—”

“Boo, she looked like Marissa,” Graham interrupted, apparently upset by the girl’s likeness.

Voice edged with tension, Marissa said, “We have to move on this.” She started pacing. “I think they’re going to hurt that woman.”

“Aren’t you going to call the police?” Darien asked.

Marissa stopped in front of Darien, hands on hips. “And tell them what?” she retorted. “No, I have to be the one to stop him.” By the look on her so-called friend’s face, Darien disagreed but didn’t argue, probably recognizing Marissa’s
girl-don’t-mess-with-me
stance.

“I think I’ll leave,” Darien said with an air of offended dignity.

“Yeah, maybe you should.” Marissa’s gaze never wavered.

Darien flounced out of the room without a backward glance. Once the door closed behind her, Brad said, “Marissa, you’re not going it alone.”

“Boo, listen. I’m the only one who can get close enough to Joel. He’s not afraid of me. He’ll bolt if he sees any of the gang,” she declared. “Think about it. His gang
and
the most powerful gang in North Philly want a piece of his ass. What would you do? The fact that he’s in West Philly proves he knows you and Frank are involved.”

“Okay, but we’ll be close by, or no go,” Graham said.

“Definitely, you’ll be with me,” Marissa reassured him, noticing the uncertain look in his eyes. Hell. Knowing her cousin, she’d have more than enough protection this time. “Seeing that young woman with Joel gave me an idea.”

Marissa explained her plan.

They met the following night.

Marissa had managed to pull together a sizable group of twenty-five, including herself. At present, neither North Philly gang was at war with any West Philly gangs. She hoped they could travel in and out of that territory unmolested.

“We’ll use different modes of transportation in case there’s trouble. I don’t think we’ll have any, but this way we’ll be able to scatter, get out of Dodge, back on home turf as unobtrusive and expedient as possible. And no conspicuous weapons, nothing you can’t ditch in a heartbeat,” she said, looking up from her notes. “I don’t want any problems if we’re stopped by the police.”

Graham and Brad were frowning, shaking their heads. She turned and looked at Frank, who sat there smiling. No, actually, he was beaming with a
shitty-ass-cat-who
look on his face.

“What?” She looked from Graham to Brad.

“It’s you,” Graham responded. “You’re...I don’t know. You made plans like the warlord.”

Her look of surprise turned into a smirk, mouth opened to speak, but her cousin forestalled her. Frank burst out laughing.

Graham turned to him and regarded him with seething anger. “Just what the hell do you think is so funny?”

All traces of humor faded from Frank’s expression. He turned, regarding Graham with cold speculation before answering. “You know, Gray, Marissa wouldn’t be displaying her skills if you and Brad had done a better job of protecting her.” His hazel eyes smoldering as his gaze moved from Graham to Brad.

Everybody in the room stopped talking, the tension tangible.

Brad looked away because she knew he believed there was some truth in what Frank had said. He’d been blaming himself for what had happened anyway, saying he never should have let her and Darien browbeat him into taking them to that party.

Graham wasn’t so accommodating. His voice low and threatening, he ground out each word between clenched teeth. “Maybe she shouldn’t have been exposed to those skills at all.”

Marissa cringed. Fearing for the safety of both men, she started to say something. Frank held up his hand to stop her, but she cut him off. “Hey, you two, what’s done is done.” She turned to Graham. “Besides, neither Frank nor anyone else controls me.”

Frank smiled. Graham frowned and nodded.

“Okay, are we all agreed on the plan?” she asked. Everyone concurred and headed downstairs to the front door.

Marissa stood next to Graham in the small vestibule as the group filed out of the apartment. When they were alone, she turned, put an arm around his waist, and rested her head against his chest. For a few minutes he remained aloof, but she held on, her hand stroking his side until he relaxed. His arms snaked around her, tightening convulsively.

“Gray, come on. You knew my background when you met me. I know you wish it wasn’t that way, and to be honest, I wish it wasn’t so, but it can’t be changed now.”

“Honey, I understand your need to get satisfaction, but couldn’t you let me, Boo, and Frank do this?” he asked. “I love you more than I ever imagined I could love someone, and I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt again. I could lose you this time.”

She struggled to hold back the tears blurring her vision. After finalizing her plans, she’d been plagued by a sense of dread. Damn her psyche, had it become prophetic? If so, she had ignored it, refusing to pull back. Her skills, knowledge of, and involvement with the gang had preordained her life. She followed their rules, lived by their code of honor, and she wanted their form of justice.

“Gray, no matter what happens, know this. I love you.” She tipped her face up for his kiss. It was long and searing, neither attempting to withdraw.

Graham retreated first. His gaze never wavered. Seeing the wounded look in his eyes, she wanted to cry because he had become a part of her. For him, she’d change, but not until she had settled her issues with Joel. Hardening herself against Graham’s appeal, she turned away. “Let’s do it.”

Marissa opened the door, stepped outside, and waited while Graham locked up. The others were long gone. Everyone had agreed to travel in groups of three or four, using different modes of transportation. Some took their cars and others went by bus, subway, and trolley.

They would meet at Joel’s apartment complex.

She and most of her friends had arrived in West Philly when gang members from 52nd and Lancaster confronted them. Brad, Graham, and Frank went off to talk with them, leaving Marissa surrounded and protected from view by the rest of their group. The moment Graham returned, he came over and held her hand.

“Everything’s cool,” Frank said.

Via the grapevine, the gangs on that side of town had heard what had happened to Marissa. The word on the street was reprisals were imminent.

“These guys made it clear they don’t care for Joel and his friends,” Frank said. “They’ve left them alone because they didn’t want to get involved, especially after they learned which gang out of North Philly had the score to settle. They gave me their blessings.” He nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Graham squeezed Marissa’s hand before releasing it. She looked up, smiled, and turned toward Joel’s apartment.

Easing up to the door, she leaned close and heard the rhythmic bass of music, but no other sounds. She knocked, and heard muffled scuffling. Her palms became clammy while she waited several heart-pounding seconds, was about to knock again, but the door swung open.

Joel.

Face-to-face with her own personal demon, a jolt of unadulterated rage pulsated through her veins. She was quick to master the instinct to lash out, and even managed to speak without revealing her emotions. Smile forced, she said, “Hi, Joel, miss me?”

“What do you want?”

“Is that any way to greet the love of your life? Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No.”

“Ah, Joel, your manners...” She shook her head. “What happened to all the charm I’d come to know and love?” Her gaze raked him, head to toe. Dungarees unsnapped, shirt unbuttoned, no shoes, she could guess what she’d interrupted. Stomach knotting, nails digging into her palms, her demeanor changed. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”

He regarded her with cool speculation for a few seconds before he stepped back, opened the door wider, and motioned her inside. He took a quick look outside before closing the door and turning the lock. “How’d you find me?”

Ignoring his question, she looked around what seemed to be a living room, noticed he had decorated with his usual flair for thrift store décor, and little of that. Her gaze moved to the doorway leading to the hall, and loathing rose up in her throat like bile. Rick stood across the room, and so much for Darien’s blind faith in him.

A piercing scream rent the air. She backed up to the door, but Joel seized her arm and tugged her across the floor.

“Uh-uh, since you’re here, you should join us. I’m sure you remember how it works.”

She didn’t resist, because she’d managed to unlock the door before he dragged her away. He led her toward a bedroom door. On the threshold, she jerked to a stop. Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the nude woman on the bed, face bruised and swollen. A strip of cloth lay draped around her neck, her eyes wide with fear.

Marissa didn’t recognize the three naked men standing around the bed. Joel had recruited new felons since his attack on her. Jerking her arm from his grasp, she started forward, but he grabbed her from behind before she reached the bed. Ignoring her precarious position, she spun around and went on the attack.

A jab to his stomach, her other fist connected with his face when he bent forward, and he fell back. Rick seized her by her shoulders, she kneed him in his groin. His howl of pain galvanized the others. They had started toward her when the front door burst open.

Graham, Brad, Frank and several of her friends crowded into the apartment. The terrified look on Joel’s face gave her momentary satisfaction. With a look of such primal rage etched into his features, her cousin went straight for Joel. Marissa thought he’d go directly for the kill.

Instead Frank stepped behind Joel and yanked his arms behind his back. Frank had promised it would be her party, and he let Graham and Brad take over. Wrapping handkerchiefs around their knuckles, they took turns beating Joel.

“Is this what you did to Marissa, you sick son of a bitch?” Frank mocked. “You think you’ll survive?”

“Fuck all of you!” Joel remained defiant.

Neither Graham nor Brad appreciated Joel’s response. They inflicted a brutal and relentless beating to express their dissatisfaction.

Marissa didn’t flinch, nor did she consider turning away. Hell, she’d been able to stomach kangaroo court, and it didn’t get much more bloody or violent than that. She relished the sound of every blow to Joel’s body. Unlike her beating, Joel cried out, giving her further satisfaction. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. Oh, hell no, she couldn’t turn away, and she wouldn’t stop smiling.

Graham let Joel’s battered body dangle in Frank’s grasp, and turned to Marissa. “Enough?”

Knowing what Joel had planned for the woman on the bed, the street person in her wanted to kill him. Right on cue, her selective morality intervened, tempering her inclination. She stepped in front of Joel, eyes narrowing, she stared at him while contemplating her options. He made the decision for her.

“Bitch,” he lisped and spat blood in her direction.

Oh yeah, motivation.

Without warning, she kicked out, foot landing with deadly accuracy and enough malevolent force to rearrange Joel’s reproductive organs. His face contorted with shock and pain, his breath whooshed out, and his body went limp. Even Frank and Graham winced and groaned.

“Ouch! Baby girl, never get mad at me.” Frank released Joel and his body slumped across the bed before sliding to the floor. Frank stepped over him like discarded trash, smiled, and draped an arm across Marissa’s shoulders.

During the beatdown, members of her group had led Joel’s friends into the other room to question. One of her guys came back and whispered to Frank, who looked at Marissa and said, “Why don’t you help the young lady dress and take her home. She only lives a few doors down the way. We’ll wait here for you.”

Marissa gave him a long, searching look that he didn’t try to avoid, and she decided against questioning him in front of the others. She suspected he didn’t want her involved in whatever he had planned for the rest of Joel’s posse.

Shaking her head, she untied the young lady, wrapped a blanket around her, helped collect her clothes, and guided her out of the apartment.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. “Why—how did you...who are you?”

Marissa ignored the questions and didn’t bother to ask her name. She didn’t want it to become personal. “Do you want to call the police?”

“No. I think you and your friends will see more justice done than the police.” Smile tentative, she said, “I can’t thank you enough.” Her voice cracked, she collapsed against Marissa, and sobbed. Marissa let her cry. This woman was the lucky one. She didn’t live with Joel, was only his neighbor. They hadn’t raped her yet. She wouldn’t go through the hell Marissa had suffered. This woman had a life to look forward to, a future.

Marissa wanted to cry.

She waited while the girl showered, changed, and scrambled into bed. The woman fell asleep and Marissa headed back to Joel’s apartment.

Except for Frank, Graham, and Brad, her friends were milling around outside. She went inside and discovered her cousin had let Joel’s posse leave, but Joel and Rick were there.

“The others were just wannabe’s,” Frank explained. “I suggested they get a new class of friends. Hanging with these two could be hazardous. Mentioned I intend to drop a dime on them, let the 52nd and Lancaster boys know what these assholes do for fun.

“I recommended they stay off Valley turf, because pissed would be too mild a word to express how I’d feel if I learned they disregarded my advice.”

Marissa glanced down at Joel’s unconscious form before she and Frank moved away to join Brad and Graham, who were questioning Rick. What they learned left her dumbfounded.

Joel and Rick had been raping girls since they were fourteen, fifteen years old, and getting away with it. Fear of reprisal kept the young ladies from reporting the incidents. In exchange for his information, Graham and Brad jacked Rick up.