Poison Candy - Book 2: Behind Closed Doors Series Read online

  But the position came with a crafty attachment. He was to secretly befriend Asia, with the intent to distract her from a boy that Gregory didn’t approve of. Somehow, the boy ended up dead, resulting in Asia hating his guts. From the onset, Izaiah had resisted Gregory’s instructions because it was wrong for all the wrong reasons. He would never want to befriend anyone based on lies and manipulation. But Izaiah had become smitten with Asia and he did not mind being around her, but it was hard, especially during this tragic time in her life. He was being talked to as if he were a piece of garbage.

  “Asia, is that you, girl? Come and give your big sis a hug!”

  Asia was coming up the driveway behind Izaiah. They both stopped and turned. A young, Caucasian-looking woman had climbed out of a taxi, sporting one of the most dangerous miniskirts Izaiah had ever seen on a woman. Not that he was lusting, but it was so revealing that it took Izaiah by surprise. He quickly refocused his gaze on her face and got the uncanny feeling that this woman was somehow related to the Beaufort family. She had similar features to Asia and Dallis, but more mature and refined in her own way.

  Asia proceeded to embrace her sister, Candi Beaufort – who had just gotten in from the Cayman Island. They briefly exchanged pleasantries before they rambled on about Dana’s condition. Candi’s hair was cut short at the front but was kept long toward her back. She generally kept herself in decent shape. Her seductive tongue, however, was the reason why she and Asia had had many arguments in the past about men. Candi was not ashamed to admit that she had a terrible weakness for fine-looking males with nicely-toned bodies.

  “Daddy called and told me what happened,” Candi said to Asia after stepping out of her embrace. “How is she?”

  “You know that Mummy is a fighter,” Asia replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t go straight to the hospital to see her.”

  “I do plan to go and see her today. I just didn’t want to waste money on taxi fare.” Candi paused as she got an eyeful of Izaiah standing at the front door entrance. She deferred her comments for the moment, but she had already begun to salivate. “Is my car still parked in the detached garage?”

  Asia scoffed. “Where else would it be? You and Dallis are the lucky ones. You didn’t get your cars taken from you as did I.”

  Candi pouted her lips bemusedly. “What happened?”

  “Don’t ask,” Asia said. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in after you return from the hospital. You came back at a very crazy time.”

  Candi subtly looked over Asia’s shoulder and scanned Izaiah for the second time. He was staring away, looking as if his mind was on something. She thought that it was one of the sexiest male poses to date. Izaiah wasn’t just an average handsome man. He was a seriously mouthwatering sight – the kind of features that would pull a woman directly out of her element.

  “Did Daddy hire a new gardener or something?”

  Asia looked back at Izaiah. “Not really; he’s the new youth minister at St. Donovan’s Chapel.”

  “My goodness, Asia,” Candi whispered. “He’s hotter than cayenne pepper! Introduce him to me.”

  Asia rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. He is so full of himself.”

  “Well, if you don’t want him, I’ll gladly take him.”

  “By all means.”

  Asia took the lead while Candi followed. Izaiah could tell by the way the women were walking toward him that he was about to be accosted. But as usual in most circumstances, he handled it with finesse. Candi held on to his hand a little longer than necessary, but he figured it was just part of who she was. A touchy-feely-type of person. All in all, she had been the friendliest of the three sisters who’d welcomed him with an easy smile.

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Candi,” Izaiah said, as he helpfully lifted her luggage into the foyer.

  “You too,” Candi called after him. “And, thank you!”

  “No prob.”

  Candi stood still for a moment, suddenly battling conflicting emotions. On one hand, she was dying to visit her mother at the hospital, but now that she had met Izaiah, she had an unexplained urge to stay and get to know him a little better. He was so easy to talk to. And because first impressions were important to Candi, she’d learned to trust her intuition a long time ago. The warm vibe she felt from Izaiah was enough to know that he was a rare catch – unlike many of the other men she’d dated in the past. She didn’t even have to ask him to take her luggage into the house. He just did so with a smile. A real gentlemen, he was.

  Quietly, she moved her steps toward the detached garage. At least, it was not all sadness that she was returning to. With Asia’s blessings, she was free to explore her opportunities with the new youth minister. And Candi would like to believe that the feelings were mutual with Izaiah.

  Chapter Six

  Bliss Haven Swimming Complex

  Anwar Daxon…Dallis cringed at the name in her mind. He had stood her up in a restaurant a couple days ago. But she’d always had some lingering suspicion about Anwar’s character. She shouldn’t have been surprised. It simply showed that he was a boy she shouldn’t be messing with. But the way he studied her with those powerful brown eyes kept her sighing in regret. She allowed her feet to sink into the warmth of the pool.

  The first time Anwar showed up at the swim club in hopes of joining the team, Dallis had taken an immediate liking to him. It baffled her, because she’d always been careful not to let her heart fall for guys donning the ‘bad boy’ persona. It may be appealing to other women but for Dallis, the Anwar types were very dangerous in her book. That was why when Anwar stood her up at the restaurant, she had to be firm and let him know that she wasn’t going to stand for that. She did not enjoy taking risks with her emotions.

  “I’m sorry, Dallis. I don’t know what else to say…I got caught up somewhere –”

  “Doing what?”

  “Come on, Dallis.”

  “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation? If you’d had the decency to call and tell me, I wouldn’t have minded so much. But clearly, whatever it was you were doing was more important than keeping your word to me…but you know what, Anwar, I am so over it and I have learned my lesson.”

  “Wait, Dallis, don’t hang up.”

  “I’ll see you around, Anwar – whenever that is.”

  The sound of footsteps pulled Dallis out of her reverie. She looked up and noticed Erin Taylor, her thirty-seven-year-old swim coach. Erin could easily pass for a woman five years older. Maybe it was because of the way that Erin styled her hair, which always looked as if she were wearing a mop.

  “Why are you here?” Erin inquired. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital with your mother?”

  “I was there all morning,” Dallis replied. “There’s nothing else I can do for her now except pray for a full recovery. My mother can’t remember the last two months of her life.”

  “Wow, I’m sorry to hear that. But she will recover her memory, right?”

  “Yes, the doctor is optimistic.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know,” Dallis hedged. “She seems so out of it – almost as if she doesn’t want to live anymore. I was there when she first opened her eyes after being in a coma for almost two days. She appeared upset somehow. Then this morning, she barely maintained eye contact with us.”

  Erin waved Dallis off. “Don’t read too much into it. I’m sure it’s the effects of the injury. As her body heals physically; her spirit will be renewed.”

  “I wish I had your confidence,” Dallis said. “I’m not used to seeing my mother like that.”

  A beat of silence passed between the women. Erin kicked of her tennis shoes and dipped her feet into the pool next to Dallis. She wanted to change the subject for a bit. “Have you heard from Anwar lately?” she asked. “You know, he’s been slipping back these last few weeks, which makes it hard for me to decide whether or not to include him in the upcoming meet.”

  “I spoke to him a few days ago,” Dallis answered
guardedly.

  Erin was strict when it came to training her athletes. Her ultimate goal was to prepare them for the Olympics. So she didn’t take too well to swimmers wasting her time. It maddened Dallis that Anwar could be so unconcerned about such an exciting opportunity to represent the island. She had been the one to introduce Anwar to Erin, begging Erin to consider Anwar’s request to join the Bliss Haven swim team. He was already two weeks late for registration. But Anwar had assured her that he was an excellent swimmer and that he would work hard to be a part of the team. It was her name on the line, Dallis thought angrily. How could Anwar do this to her?

  “You know, Dallis, I don’t want to add any stress to what you are already going through,” Erin said, “but Anwar has got to pull his socks up. I am disappointed in his commitment level.”

  “I’m sorry, Erin, I will talk to Anwar.” Dallis looked away, sharing in Erin’s disappointment. “I never thought he would turn out like this. He seemed so promising.”

  “How could you have known?” Erin said. “We take chances on people all of the time.”

  Dallis was thinking she probably went out on a limb that day for Anwar because she had been enamored by his good looks. He was incredibly charming. She was ashamed of how shallow her judgment appeared now. She told Erin that she would talk to Anwar, but the truth was: Dallis wanted to stay as far away from Anwar as she could.

  ****

  Ms. V was one not easily perturbed, but that changed a little when she noticed that Anwar was still unconscious from yesterday’s incident. She had dragged him into one of the spare bedrooms of her executive suite and left him on the carpet. There was a huge bump on the right side of his forehead, which had turned an ugly shade of blue-green. It spoiled his complexion, but Ms. V could still see beneath the bruises an extremely handsome boy. She could understand why Mustafa was determined to keep his appointment with Anwar. He was certainly eye candy.

  Ms. V lived in the world of beautiful men and women. As a matter of fact, it was one of the organization’s requirements – to recruit the cream of the crop. The pressure to keep their clients happy was increasing, forcing the organization to maintain an eclectic group of services. From multiple fetishes to prestigious positions in all sectors of society, the organization had hooked its claws into it all. Money flowed like water and the pomp and the power of the affluent controlled the big decisions of the world.

  Ms. V intended to remain loyal at all cost. She lacked nothing and she had the organization to thank for that. She remembered her initiation to the highest dimension as if it were yesterday.

  “Why do you wear that insignia?” she had been asked.

  “Because I am now a true believer. I have armed myself and suffered the agony of the cross. I have faithfully been elevated through eleven dimensions.”

  “Who bore the cross and has imputed righteousness into mankind’s account?”

  “Out of Egypt, where the holy one was made to flee, came the unblemished lamb.”

  “Your journey has led you to the final dimension – the Scarlet Ribbon, which is the insignia of the faithful. You will now enter into the secrets of secrets. Do you have the password?”

  “I have.”

  “Repeat it to me.”

  “And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal proceeding from the throne of God and the Lamb.”

  “Well done, good and faithful servant. Welcome into the joy of the House of gods. From here on in, you shall prosper and enjoy all manner of fruit. Your influence and your wealth will be firmly established. You are now trusted with the deepest of secrets and are mandated to meet once a year at an assigned place – to discuss the next wave of change in the economy. Take this cup and drink, for it represents the blood of the brethren.”

  Coming to her senses, Ms. V leaned over Anwar to check for a pulse. He was still alive. She couldn’t believe how crazy the boy was to have run into a brick wall. He was determined to have his way. That concerned Ms. V, because Anwar’s behavior hinged on rebellion – the same characteristic that had eventually gotten Chazz exterminated. She would be forced to use her power if Anwar did not pull himself in and submit to the rules. She pushed herself to her feet and then made a beeline to the kitchen to fix a stiff drink.

  Drink in hand, Ms. V settled on a leather chaise and then clicked on the TV with the remote. She hardly watched anything these days, because her schedule was always full. But tonight, she just needed thirty minutes to unwind. The TV was already preset to a local channel, which Ms. V didn’t bother to change. A prominent broadcaster was interviewing a man who was introduced as Rev. Frank Dubbin. Ms. V sneered. She had heard of him, an extremist who was simply making noise with no one listening. Still, men like Dubbin gave Ms. V a good laugh. She sipped slowly on her drink and stared at the TV with a cold expression.

  “I don’t care if I lose my life for the gospel of Jesus Christ,” Frank told the broadcaster. “I will continue to bring an awareness to the sins that are rampant on this little island. I am of the firm belief that no professing Christian, who is living a double standard, will enter the kingdom of God. And I am speaking directly to those church leaders who have contaminated the sacred things of God by forming an alliance with the prince of darkness. They practice witchcraft, necromancy, and similar works of wickedness just so that they can be above their contemporaries. This is what is known as the doctrines of devils.”

  “Those are some very strong statements,” the broadcaster noted. “It would surprise me to know that these things are going on behind the scenes in our churches.”

  “You should be surprised,” Frank said emphatically “and appalled that there are those who are trying to combine the power of light and darkness. The Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 6:17, ‘Come out from among them and be separate, says the Lord. Do not touch what is unclean.’ The Apostle Paul is speaking to those who are purported to be Christians. Listen to what the psalmist had to say, ‘Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who shall stand in his holy place? He that has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol –”

  Ms. V clicked the TV off with the remote. She drained the contents of her glass and then tossed her head back and laughed. An evil noise that made her sound like a witch. Dubbin had it all wrong. Her power came from her own essence. She was a god controlling her own destiny, not some supernatural power hovering over the universe. It was because of her tenacity and willingness to succeed that she had climbed to the highest dimension within the organization and had obtained complete absolution to live her life as she pleased. She alone decided what form of power she wielded. Good or bad – it all depended on the mood she was in. Dubbin just didn’t get it.

  “I should arrange to have that fool shot,” Ms. V said in jest, but the more she thought about it, the more enticing the idea became. “You did say, Dubbin that you did not mind dying for the gospel. I wonder if I should put your words to the test.”

  Ms. V rose to her feet, continuing on to her room. Her eerie laughter followed closely behind. She hoped Gregory wasn’t listening to that garbage. He was already experiencing a resurgence of conscience. However the chips fell, Ms. V thought, Gregory was in too deep to go anywhere. He belonged to them and the only way out was death.

  The love of family and the admiration of friends is much more important than wealth and privilege.

  - Charles Kuralt

  Chapter Seven

  The detectives were sluggishly greeted by the Daxon couple – Anwar’s parents, who seemed to be out of sorts about something. According to Karissa’s geographical list of names, the Daxons were born in St. Elmo’s Valley in the mid-sixties and had lived there ever since. Their son, who was nineteen years of age, was their only child. Mr. Daxon was a fisherman by trade and Mrs. Daxon was a janitor at Bliss Haven Christian Academy. Apart from St. George’s Close, St. Elmo’s Valley was considered to be the most destitute of the five parishes of Bliss Haven – the same parish where Jorge
Bentley had been born. Richard was almost certain he’d stopped at the right house.

  There were only two persons with the name ‘Anwar’ residing in St. Elmo’s Valley. The first house the detectives had visited turned out to be a dead end. The old woman living there told the detectives that her husband’s name was Anwar, but they had been divorced for over twenty years. Since then, he had moved to the mainland with his mistress – never to return to St. Elmo’s Valley. The old woman had never even heard of a Jorge Bentley. The detectives decided that maybe this wasn’t the Anwar that they were looking for.

  Richard and Karissa followed the Daxons into a sparsely furnished room. The carpet was old but it appeared clean. Mrs. Daxon sat facing the detectives, while Mr. Daxon stood next to her, gently massaging her shoulders.

  “Anwar didn’t come home last night,” Mrs. Daxon said. Her eyes were red and a bit swollen. It was clear that she’d been crying a long time. “I hope you’ve not come to tell me that something bad has happened to him.”

  Curious, Karissa pouted her lips and asked, “Why would you think that? Is it unusual for your son to spend the night somewhere else?”

  Mrs. Daxon looked to her husband for help to which he quickly responded.

  “You see, detective,” Mr. Daxon said. “The only time our son has ever slept out of the house was when his friend, Jorge Bentley was alive.”

  Bingo! Richard thought. The connection had been made between Jorge and Anwar. They were friends. The big question Richard wanted to ask now was why Jorge would scribble Anwar’s name in the dirt before he died?

  “We were headed to the police station to report him missing,” Mr. Daxon was saying, holding up a cheap, battered cell phone, which someone had given him. “But we got a text from him saying that he was okay. We didn’t even know that Anwar had purchased a cell phone. We don’t make enough money to afford such luxury items.”