Chapter 18: Tamiya

Chapter Eighteen

Tamiya

I let my phone go to voicemail twice before Gideon presses it against my ear.

“Answer it,” he grunts. “He won’t stop calling.”

Trust Ruger to interrupt our post-pregnancy sex cuddle with his crazy ass…

“Don’t you even care why your weird ass cousin is calling me? ”

“Answer,” Gideon grunts. Then my shady ass husband opens one blue eye and says. “Put it on speaker.”

One of the worst things about white men is how they pretend not to like gossiping and spilling tea. I answer and put it on speaker.

“Ruger. What do you want?”

“Hey, Tamiya. Having a good night?”

Gideon sits up, because his ass is way too possessive to hear a man ask me a question without both his eyes snapping open.

“Ruger, baby. We are not friends.”

Gideon rests his hand on my thigh. Men. I stay quiet, hoping that Ruger quickly reveals his intentions so that I can head back to bed. He just laughs.

“I thought we were friends.”

“Boy, why are you calling me?”

Gideon nods approvingly at my tone.

“I need you to investigate someone…”

I need to investigate Ruger’s shady ass. I know what he did to Darlene out there in that trailer. Disturbing. I mean… The woman had racist tattoos all over her body, so I’m not losing much sleep over it. But Ruger’s presence and his general existence disturbs my spirit.

“A woman,” Ruger finishes after a long pause, pregnant with meaning. Almost more pregnant than my third-trimester ass…

I swing my legs out of bed. Because I am a private investigator at heart and I want to know what woman Ruger could possibly have any interest in. I honestly wouldn’t have pegged him as being able to identify women as people. I assumed Ruger thought we were objects – and I know he has even worse thoughts of black women specifically.

“What woman? You know a woman?”

Ruger coughs a little. “Yes.”

“What woman?”

I sound impatient, which won’t work out in my favor if I have to withhold and pretend like I’m not going to do this job.

“Her name is Zayna.”

“Is she a Muslim?” Gideon barks out. I slam my hand over his mouth.

“What?” Ruger grunts.

“Your cousin is sleep talking,” I lie through my teeth while glaring at my dumb ass husband. “Keep telling me about Zayna. Last name?”

Skin color? Mental health issues that might cause her to be in your vicinity?

“She’s a teacher. Very proper. She used to live in… Fuck… Massive Huge Tits.”

“WHERE?” I ask. I have to tighten the clamp around Gideon’s mouth because his cousin said the word tits to me.

“Massachusetts,” Ruger yells back into the phone.

“Okay. No last name?”

“She’s asleep.”

Not an answer to the question, but Ruger is not right in the head. I’m shocked he answers at all. Gideon, my dumb ass husband, has a good point though. Zayna doesn’t exactly sound like the typical white girl name from around here.

“Okay. Is she from… the Irish part of Boston?”

I release my grip on Gideon’s mouth because my goofy husband is licking my palm and trying to turn my glare into a smile. I wipe his nasty spit off on his boxer briefs while I wait for Ruger to reply.

“I don’t know,” Ruger says, missing my fucking point and revealing nothing about how he ended up with a woman named ‘Zayna’ as his prisoner. My first and only explanation for her presence in Ruger’s life could be that she’s a prisoner.

“Why do you need this information?”

“What’s it to you?” Ruger asks, spitting somewhere, wherever the hell he is. If I wasn’t on the phone with him, I would assume he was curled up beneath Satan’s throne like a tom cat. Gideon perks up at what he considers to be too much attitude from Ruger.

“If you want me researching some woman, I need to know why.”

“I’m in love.”

Gideon snickers. I glare at him again and press my index finger to my lips. Does he want Ruger to hang up when the tea just started to boil?

“With who?”

“Zayna,” Ruger says, his voice tense with frustration. “She wants me to help her with something and… I’m gonna do it but… I want to know more about her.”

“I suppose asking her is out of the question?”

“I need your help,” Ruger says, sounding desperate. “Please, Tamiya. I love her. And she’s black.”

Gideon covers his own mouth as he sits up. I know he is mouthing “what the fuck” under there because I share the same sentiment. What the hell is going on with this crazy ass man?

“Ruger. You are calling me in the middle of the night telling stories. I’m hanging up.”

“NO!” Ruger yells, losing his shit immediately. “Tamiya, I need you to do this. She must have been in some type of trouble because she came off Deacon Hollingsworth’s truck of girls…”

He trails off and then he spits on the ground again. That man grosses me the hell out and his incoherent sentences combined with the suspense are making me impatient as hell.

“Why should I help you?”

“She’s black !” Ruger says. But he doesn’t give me a second to respond. “Damn it, Tamiya. I’m not some bad person. I’m not some goddamn racist and I swear, I’ll do whatever you want if you just help.”

I sigh. Baby steps.

“You love her?” I ask cautiously. “I’ll help. I’m just asking.”

“You will?” Gideon mutters. I glare at him again. If he keeps yapping, I swear I’ll take Ruger off speakerphone and keep the tea to myself.

Ruger sighs in frustration. “I’m in love. I swear. It’s nothing like it was with Darlene.”

Darlene. Unfortunately, his mention of his ex-wife means our conversation might have to go off-topic.

“How is the baby?”

“Eden is fine. Zayna will be good with her.”

Eden. I’m surprised he didn’t name her “Bullet” or “Knife”. It’s a cute name, and almost makes me think Ruger has a capacity for emotion buried beneath his fucked up exterior.

Back to this Zayna girl. He really does seem to be focused on her, but I wouldn’t describe that as love. Ruger will have to prove himself before I consider him capable of love.

“Right. Zayna. The love of your life.”

“She tastes like… berries.”

“Okay. I think that’s enough about her taste. Does she… want to be with you?”

“None of your business, Tamiya. She has a past and I need to know about it. If you won’t help me for free… I’ll pay.”

“I’ll help you for free,” I say to him, but only because Gideon hasn’t allowed me to work for the past few weeks and this isn’t technically work. It’s just helping our family – and helping me get my ass out of bed.

“Good,” Ruger says. “When can I have answers?”

“After my ass gets some sleep.”

Five days later, I have a file about Zayna Fontaine.

I don’t know if I should give this information to anyone, least of all Ruger Blackwood. Gideon returns from work – he’s been running a construction business with a couple of the Hollingsworth boys. Since the third trimester since he wants to be closer to home. He clocked off early in response to my text which was very specific about this situation not being urgent at all.

Nothing feels better than watching my husband walk through the door. His beard is a couple days grown out with streaks of red through the blond fur that make his whole face glow like a sexy lion. I want to run my fingers through his beard…

But we have to talk about his cousin instead. I rush to the door to greet Gideon, postponing the serious conversation with a long makeout session. My lips are numb when Gideon finally pulls away from me.

“What the fuck did Ruger do to you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You kissed me like you want to fuck instead of talk.”

Ugh. My husband knows me so well. I press my baby bump into him a little, because it’s so fucking sexy to think about the fact that we made this little life and we can make another one.

“Did I?” I whisper. “Because I definitely didn’t mean to do that.”

“Make a choice, baby,” Gideon whispers. “Because your baby bump is turning my ass on…”

I sigh. “This is fucked up, Gideon. What that woman went through is fucked up but…”

I look up at my husband because I can’t believe I’m going to admit this.

“I don’t know if I trust her with Ruger.”

“You’re worried about Ruger?”

I shrug. Again, this isn’t easy to admit. I can tell from Gideon’s disbelieving tone that he doubts me. I get it. He knows Ruger better than I do. But then again, who really knows someone better than a private investigator, once we get our hands all up in some shit. My husband grabs my cheeks, making me look at him, scanning my face for any signs that I might be pranking him.

“Yes,” I answer. “I’m worried about both of them now.”

Gideon laughs. “Okay, I’m taking your ass upstairs. Because there ain’t a single person on planet earth who my cousin Ruger ought to worry about.”

“You don’t know what’s in that file.”

Gideon groans. “You are impossible.”

“I know. That’s why you married me.”

He needs a reminder once in a while…? *

* ? Gideon & Tamiya’s book is Biker’s Ritual (Book #3) in the series