Image for the poem When Love Calls (Chapter Sixteen)

When Love Calls (Chapter Sixteen)


Domenico balanced his weight on his walking cane. He knocked on the door to Mr. Delaro’s study.  

An office, which is now considered his he thought once he sits down together with the other families to promote his position to sit at the head of the Delaro’s table.  
“He’s not in there sir.” Domenico turned around. “What! He’s not dead?”  
Miss. Jikonos arched her eyebrows.  
“Pardon me sir.”  
“Padron my choice of words, Miss. Jikonos. What I meant by my statement was. Mr. Delaro, is always dead on point for our briefings to discuss relevant information.”  
Domenico palmed down his razor stubbles.  
“You said the old man is not in right.”  
“Yes sir. Word is, Mr. Delaro, will return in two days, and he has left specific instructions for you to call a meeting and see what the progress is of the land development in the Bronx area. The contractors will be groundbreaking tomorrow.”  
“Yeah yeah. Did Mr. Delaro say where he could be reached in case of an emergency?”  
“No forwarding telephone number was given.”  
“Did Zaniyah travel with him?”  
“You will have to contact Zaniyah to ask yourself. If there isn’t any more inquires. I really must get back to my work, sir.”  
Miss. Jikonos walked away from Domenico.  
Domenico turned around and braced his back against the wall. He steadied his cane against his upper thigh. He lifted his cell phone from out the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He slid it up and looked down at the screen for any missed calls. He pressed in a contact number and placed his cell phone up to his ear.  
Brooklyn, New York  
Little Russia
“This is Domenico, let me speak to Dmeshii, now dammit!”  
“You were advised you do not contact Mr. Dmeshii. Mr. Dmeshii contacts you.”  
“Who the fuck is this!”  
“That is not an option to advise you.”  
Domenico looked both ways. He turned his body sideways.  
“What the fuck happened with the hit! You assured me this problem would be taken care of. As it appears Mr. Delaro is still breathing.”  
“That is beside the point. We took it upon ourselves to clean up you and that bumbling idiot you have at your side, fuck up. Now you, and your boys have some explaining to do. And Mr. Dmeshii, wants to know where the fuck is his dope. He states, and I quote, ‘if that crate does not appear at the drop off destination by midnight, or, he does not have three million dollars in his hands. He will have bigger problems, other than a nigger shooting his ass,’ unquote.”  
The reception went silent in Domenico’s ear.  
Domenico angrily jammed his cell phone into the hip clip worn at his side. He uprooted his cane, wrapped his palm around the handle, and strolled in the direction of the kitchen.  
“Miss. Jikonos.”  
Miss. Jikonos rushed out the kitchen.  
“Yes sir.”  
“Call Carlito and have him to bring around the car and tell Tango to meet me out front.  
“Yes sir.”  
Miss. Jikonos turned and hurried in the direction of the grand double staircase.  
Domenico walked through the foyer. He opened the door, slowly walked out, and pulled the door close.  
Carlito snatched up the newspaper he was reading from off the hood of the limousine. He folded it and tucked it under his arm.  
“I assumed you will be needing me sir.”  
Domenico looked around the landscaped grounds. He saw Little Lenny and Moretti conversing with one another. He looked back at Carlito.  
“Where is everyone? I never heard this place so quiet.”  
“The house was empty once I arrived, sir.”  
The door opened.  
Tango walked out Mr. Delaro’s residence.  
“Miss. Jikonos told me I’m needed.”  
Domenico pivoted to look back at Tango.  
“Yes, everyone’s presence is needed. We have a job to follow through on behalf of Mr. Delaro.”  
“Mr. Delaro? He’s…”  
Domenico slightly shook his head at Tango to remain composed.  
“Sure, let me and grab my steel.”  
Tango limped back inside. He closed the door behind himself.  
Carlito opened the door for Domenico.  
“Do you need any assistance sir?”  
“Did I ask you for your fucking assistance for a mundane matter?”  
“Very well sir.”  
Carlito pushed the door close, and then tipped his hat at Domenico. He walked around the limousine to the driver’s side. He opened the door, got in, and threw the newspaper down on the passenger seat. He looked down at the headlines, and then looked back at Domenico still standing by the back passenger door.  
“Arrogant fucker.”  
Carlito pulled the door close.  
Tango opened the door and limped out. He pulled the door close and joined Domenico at the rear of the limousine.  
“We have problems,” Domenico stated. He saw Little Lenny and Moretti walking over.  
Both men joined Domenica and Tango.  
Tango looked over and Domenico.  
“I thought, I will be wearing black and in mourning. What the fuck happened, and why wasn’t the hit carried out?”  
“How in the fuck should I know, I was laid up recuperating like your ass.”  
Tango palmed his chin down.  
“You think Mr. Delaro, suspects it’s someone within his own camp.”  
Domenico lowered his voice. He bent his head and looked through the side tinted window of the limousine. He saw the silhouette of Carlito’s head facing forward.  
Domenico looked at Little Lenny and then at Moretti.  
“I have not heard word, as to who they are blaming the hit on. Therefore, we have to get a fall guy to take the blame. Pay someone on the streets if you must, and then offer them our protection from retribution.” Domenico looked over a Little Lenny. “I need you up in Harlem to see if anyone has been poking their nose as to who may have ordered the hit on Mr. Delaro.”  
“You got it.”  
Little Lenny walked away from the three men over to his vehicle.  
“Moretti, you can tag along with Tango and me. As you can see, my walking isn’t up to par, if some shit was to jump off.”  
Domenico opened the back door to the limousine.  
Tango slowly got inside, followed by Little Lenny.  
Domenico was the last person to get inside the limousine. He pulled the door close.  
Carlito started the vehicle and pulled it around the circular driveway.  
Domenico moved aside his suit jacket and lifted his cell phone from off his hip clip. He slid it open, pressed in a number, and then placed his cell phone up to his ear.  
Brooklyn, New York  
Little Russia
“I need a meeting with Dmeshii set up this afternoon. I may have something for him in the form of cold cash.”  
“Is it the three million dollars?”  
“Most of it until I can come up with the elaborate plan, my men and me is working on.”  
The other person on the opposite end remained silent.  
“We can discuss further arrangement for the rest of the money. You can meet me at the art gallery.”  
Domenico thought about the business hours of the Zaniyah’s art gallery. Most likely Mr. Delaro advised his brat of a daughter to lay low if she’s not traveling with him.  
“We will be there.”  
The reception dropped.  
Domenico slid his cell phone close and dropped it inside the side pocket of his suit jacket.  
Manhattan, New York  
Upper West Side  
Later That Day
Marcus pulled Zaniyah into his arms.  
“All right my beautiful woman, I’ve met your parent.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips and inched back. Marcus glanced around Zaniyah’s condominium and then looked back down into her eyes. “And now I’m standing in your condominium, baby, I say we’re on our way.”  
Zaniyah joined her arms around Marcus’ neck.  
“I have to really think about this relationship thing. I have been on my own and taking care of my own for some time now.”  
“Woo.” Marcus inched Zaniyah back. “So, what are we doing?”  
“Playing house, with benefits.”  
Marcus lifted one of his arms from around Zaniyah’s waist. He palmed his goatee down.  
“So, I can date other females.”  
“As I recall we are not officially dating.”  
Zaniyah geared to step back.  
Marcus pulled Zaniyah back into his arms.  
“No, don’t run away from the conversation. I’m asking you, are we both free to date someone ease, and just meet under the covers.”  
“Are you calling me a whore?”  
Marcus released one of his arms from around Zaniyah’s waist and lifted her chin.  
“No, I want to hear from your mouth, what I am to you, other than a dick inside your pussy and mouth.”  
“Why do you always put me on the spot? We fuck, isn’t that enough for you?”  
Marcus inched Zaniyah out his arms.  
“Okay beautiful woman, if you want to play those types of childish games beautiful, woman we can. Remember your rules, your terms. I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour or so.”  
“Wait, where are you going?”  
“To take care of some business.”  
“Are you coming back?”  
“If I don’t, I’ll call you. Such a shame we’re only fucking, and yet I do not have your cell phone, home phone number, and this is the first time I’ve even stepped foot into, your world.”  
Marcus’ cell phone vibrated. He moved his suit jacket aside and reached downward and lifted his cell phone from off his hip clip. He slid it open and looked down at the screen; he silently read the message.  
Zaniyah read Marcus’ facial expression.  
Marcus slid his cell phone close. He replaced it back on his hip clip.  
“I have to go.”  
Zaniyah folded her arms across her chest.  
“Are you going to meet that woman who you were seen with at the Jazz Club and then at the ristorante.”  
“Dammit Zaniyah, you just stated, you want me one way, nothing more. And hell, I can’t complain, at least I get a nutt out of it. Once I get up and put on my pants, fishing for information from me no longer exists.”  
Zaniyah uncrossed her arms.  
“Wait a minute. That’s not fair.”  
“Let’s not do this now. This extra mental shit from you, is starting to weigh on a brotha’s shoulder.”  
Marcus turned to walk away. He walked over to the door, pulled it open, and walked out Zaniyah’s condominium. He pulled the door close. The vibration rattled the doorframe.  
“Thank you, and I advise you to go home, alone.”  
“Is this my beautiful woman staking her claim?”  
“All right, you got me my beautiful woman after my boys and I wrap up this investigation here tonight.”  
“Let’s not do this now. This extra mental shit from you, is starting to weigh on a brotha’s shoulder.”
Her plan was not working out as she envisioned. Why get pregnant, for her freedom, when she already has it. And why continue to play with a man’s emotions if he putting forth the effort to be with her, shit.  
Zaniyah angrily marched into her bedroom.  
Manhattan, New York
Marcus pulled his Land Rover across the street from Zaniyah’s art gallery. He parked and withdrew the key from out the ignition. He unstrapped his seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out. He pushed the door close and dropped his set of keys inside the side pocket of his suit jacket. He walked up to the vehicle parked in front of his.  
Marcus tapped on the tinted window of a black Tahoe SUV. He walked around the passenger side of the vehicle. He reached down and pulled on the door handle; he opened the door, seated himself on the passenger seat, and then pulled the door close.  
Pelican automatically looked both doors.  
 Marcus turned to face Pelican.  
“What do we have?”  
“Agent Modarius, the side loading door of that particular art gallery has been very busy.”  
“Busy? How so?”  
“Here, take a look for yourself.”  
Pelican pivoted and lifted his Nikon camera from off the second row seat and pivoted back around. He removed the zoom lens and balanced the attachment on his lap. He turned the camera around and powered it up.  
“Check out what the camera captured.”  
Pelican handed the camera over to Marcus.  
Marcus pressed in a button.  
“Okay, tell me what I, who I am looking at. Wait, I know these two fucks. One is Domenica, and his fat ass side kick, Tango.”  
Pelican cleared his throat.  
Marcus continued to look though the collage of captured photos. He lifted his head and looked over at Pelican.  
“How long were the two inside?”  
“Maybe twenty minutes tops. It gets strange from there, keep looking.”  
Marcus looked back down at the camera screen. He pulled the camera closer. He looked at the man stepping out the limousine.  
“Tell me that’s not Dmeshii?”  
“Yes the infamous ghost the FBI and the DEA has been trying to track down.”  
“What the fuck is he doing at an art gallery, and in broad daylight? You would think for all the crimes this man has committed, he would be seen undercover.”  
Marcus looked at the exchange of Domenico handing Dmeshii a small manila envelope.  
“I can bet my pension, what’s in that envelope is a partial payment of the money those goons owe Dmeshii.”  
“My thoughts exactly. However, before, you render that verdict. I think you better pay close attention to the last two pictures. The DEA is waiting on your orders.”  
Marcus looked down at the screen.  
The camera netted two men carrying two wooden crates into the side door of the gallery. Only to return empty handed.  
“I need more men power to stake out that art gallery from morning to night. Something is brewing involving drug trafficking utilizing that pickup and dropout spot. Hold off on the DEA for now. I need to know where those drugs have been shipment from and getting moved too.”  
“Is Mr. Delaro’s daughter into drug trafficking?”  
“No, but I have a guess as to who’s behind the say so.”  
“I’m listening.”  
“The same two men invoked in the hit on Mr. Delaro, is the same two men behind this shit.” Marcus looked down at his watch. “I will be at my office, unit later this afternoon, from there, if anything jumps out of the unordinary call me.”  
“You got it.”  
Marcus handed the camera back to Pelican. He reached down for the door handle and opened the door. He stepped out the SUV and pushed the door close.  
Marcus walked back to his vehicle. He opened the door, got inside his Land Rover, and lifted his set of keys from out the side pocket of his suit jacket. He plugged the key inside the ignition and started his vehicle.  
Manhattan, New York  
Upper West Side  
Later That Evening
Zaniyah looked down at the intimate place setting for two. Her black stilettoes added three inches to her long toned legs. Hopefully she could wrap them around Marcus’ back after he peels off her black lacy bustier with the matching edible thong. Zaniyah pulled over her shoulders the drooping see through silk short robe. She looked over at the pewter clock on her fireplace mantel board.  
“Where the hell is he.”  
Zaniyah looked over at the flames dancing and crackling in the fireplace emitting a warmness to the spacious living room. She never realized the enormity of her living space until someone else’s presence graced it, and then left her alone.  
“God, I hope he did not run back into the arms of that other woman.”  
Marcus pulled his vehicle across from Zaniyah’s condominium building. He unsnapped his seatbelt. He lifted the bottle of Gin from off the passenger seat and opened the door. He stepped out and pushed the door open. He saw two FBI agents at his request parked in an unmarked car in front of Zaniyah’s building. He walked across the street over to the security door of Zaniyah’s condominium building. He pressed in the door intercom button.  
Zaniyah heard her door intercom buzz.  
Thank you she thought.  
Zaniyah walked across the living room into the entrance foyer. She pressed in the intercom button.  
“Zaniyah, I’m not coming up. I’m on my way home. There are two FBI agents parked out front keeping a watchful eye on your residence.”  
“How dare you speak to me through a door intercom?”  
Zaniyah pressed in the door intercom release button.  
“Dammit,” Marcus gritted down on his teeth. He looked down at his semi-flaccid manhood. “Down boy. Shit.” He pulled on the door and entered her condominium building. “Just stand at the door, keep the conversation light, and then leave.”  
Written by SweetKittyCat5
Author's Note
This is a chapter from one of my many published novels. I will be adding a chapter as fitting to celebrate life in general
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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