Page 50 of Drunk In Love
A sinister laugh erupts from the cold older woman. Her face looks disturbing despite the humor she’s conveying. As if laughing was a foreign concept to her in her miserable, rotten existence.
“I can get away with this and I will. You just had to get him involved,” she says, nudging Franco with her heeled shoe. She kicks at his lifeless body like he means nothing. I can’t imagine what his family will go through when he’s found by the police.
“Franco wasn’t supposed to be part of this. Not you either in fact. Now you’ll both be collateral damage.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
She was talking in riddles now. I just hoped Maxwell or the authorities were on their way. I could have kicked myself for not bringing my taser. I foolishly thought Franco and I could have met up here before the diabolical twosome showed up.
“You see, Harrison had to go. I wasn’t going to let his little…movement tarnish the Van Zandt name. I bet he didn’t tell you he’d been blackmailing me.”
“Blackmail? No—he never mentioned he was even still in contact with you.”
“Oh, of course not. At the rate he was going, he would have syphoned my publication for every cent we’re worth. People don’t have much interest in paying for news anymore, and he wanted to come and take what was left. I had to get rid of him. Now he’s in jail where he belongs.”
Cecily was behind this the whole time. Using us as a means to cover her tracks to get rid of her own child. What kind of people were these Van Zandts? A son blackmailing his mother for money and a mother plotting his demise to save her reputation.
They were both sick.
“Why did you hire us in the first place?” I ask, hoping to stall whatever they have planned.
“Well, you two were smart enough to figure out Harry’s involvement in all this, but what you probably didn’t know was our dearly deceased Franco’s involvement in my blackmail. They both had to go. You and your team were taking too long, but now my plan is complete.”
“Just have to tie up loose ends,” Zach adds.
I feel the cold metal of the knife at my throat, and Zach is using all his strength to bind my hands with one arm and hold the knife at my throat with the other. I desperately try twisting out of his embrace, but his grip is like a vice.
“I’m bored of all this and have a party to get back to. Zachary, finish her.”
I shut my eyes tight as I feel the shifting of the knife. The metal feels like ice along my neck, and I swear I can feel all my blood pooling south. I’m lightheaded. Is this what everyone experienced in their final moments?
The sound of sirens is sweet music as police run into our corner of the park, Max trailing alongside them. He’s a welcome sight for more reasons than one. I just wish we’d gotten here to save Franco, even though he had us fooled along with Harry and everyone else involved with this horrible publication.
“Police! Drop your weapon!” I hear the booming voice on a bullhorn, and there’s a light shined in my eyes by one of the officers taking in the three of us, plus Franco on the ground. Zach releases the knife, nicking my neck in the process. An officer kicks the large knife away as she handcuffs Zach and begins pulling him away. Another officer grabs Cecily’s arms, placing them behind her back.
She’s yelling expletives and screaming about her lawyer. “You can’t do this to me. I’m a Van Zandt. You won’t get away with this!”
“Are you okay, ma’am? Do you need medical attention?” asks a burly officer. His loud voice as he comes up behind me makes me jump. My nerves are already so frazzled.
“No, I think I’m alright,” I say, feeling for the cut, but there’s no blood. The sharp knife didn’t get a chance to penetrate deeply.
“Well, we’ll have to bring you in for questioning.”
I nod my answer, prepared to respond to anything they ask of me. I’ll gladly help put Zach and Cecily away.
“Kamaya!” I see Maxwell waving his arm up over the growing crowd of law enforcement surrounding Franco’s slain body. I run towards Max, slipping under the caution tape.
“Thank God, you’re okay,” Max says, embracing me in his strong arms and wrapping them around me. In his arms feels like the safest place, and I start crying because moments ago I could have been killed by a madman. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I could have died without Maxwell knowing how I felt. I pull back to tell him, realizing now more than ever how precious each moment we have together is.
“Max, I?—”
“I love you, Kamaya,” he says, cutting me off. Not that I mind at all because it’s the best reason to be interrupted. “I love you so much, and I can’t believe that tonight could have ended without me being able to tell you how much I love you, Kamaya Blake.”
I peer up into his dark-brown eyes that convey more love than I’ve ever felt in my life. As my friend, I knew Max battled doubt about his capacity to love. Not having any decent examples deeply affected him well into adulthood, to the point where he felt he couldn’t ever love.
I’m so happy to be alive to witness his transformation. So happy to be loved, in love, and hopefully be around for many more years to experience moments like this.