Forget Me Not

Chapter 8

CHAPTER

EIGHT

ARIS

TWO WEEKS LATER

Injunctions have been filed and our investigator has been hard at work. Our little ploy to keep Marcus away from Berlynn and Berkley’s inheritance was a flop. If anything, he’s amped up his efforts. We had to place a bodyguard on Berkley since he was followed to the hospital during his time on the clock by a few of their dad’s partners and then harassed.

Threats were made by these depraved individuals, that have no morals or scruples, they terrorized Berkley and had him scared of his own shadow. He locked himself in his room for days, unwilling to come out. We had to set his meals outside of his door, knock three times, and step back before he’d open the door and drag the tray into his room.

Un-fucking-acceptable.

It set me on fire and made me livid to the point where I dipped into my savings and hired an agency that has advertised themselves as having one sole mission—protection for those who’ve been targeted by underground organizations.

This corporation is a mixture of ex-cons and retired military servicemen who believe in mutiny. They aren’t scared of the wars happening on our streets. What they do in the pretense of keeping those targeted by insipid beings safe goes outside of what’s deemed acceptable by law enforcement, but unfortunately, that’s what we need in order to keep Double B alive and safe.

Once Berk believed that he was untouchable because he had several big, burly men with him, he went back to his normal routine and found his smile again. Lucky for us, he knows one of the guys at his side, a man we went to school with, Kayson. He’s one of the founders of the militia group. Whereas Kayson normally works in the office bringing in new clientele and assigning jobs, he’s made it his personal mission to shadow Berkley and keep him guarded from coming face to face with Marcus and Lucinda.

Marcus McKinny has hurt a lot of people outside of his immediate family, and Kayson happens to be one of those individuals.

To this day, even if we can’t prove it, we believe that some documents were forged which caused Kayson’s father to lose everything—including his life.

We—Kayson, Dad, and I are of the like mind that these counterfeit records were made to cover up for Marcus’s misdeeds. He needed a fall guy for misappropriated funds, and Kayson Sr. was the perfect scapegoat. When a lot of families lose their fortunes, mobs are formed and in a string of unfortunate events, Kayson Sr. was beaten to death on the street in front of his home, son, and wife.

Sadly, Marcus covered his tracks well, too well, and believing something and proving it are two different things. It’s as if he’s playing one ball game on two isolated fields with warring umpires.

One day I’ll come across the evidence needed to bring him down, but until that happens, my only goal is to keep him far away from those significant to me.

Reclining in my office chair, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to clear the throbbing headache I can feel growing behind my blurry sockets. For every stride forward I make, I get yanked back three steps. A knock on the frame of my door has my head springing up to see who is disturbing me at this late hour. Dread courses through me when I see Berlynn standing there, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Since the meeting with Marcus and his companion at the gym, there’s been a series of unfortunate circumstances that have taken place there. We’re talking bomb threats, brawls in the parking lot, child endangerment picketers, punctured tires, shattered windshields, gang affiliated tags spray painted on the building—intimidation tactics. Some are insignificant, trivial acts, but some are more serious in nature.

“What happened this time?” I ask, wary of the answer as I take in her red, raw, and gritty eyes.

“DeMarius was accosted outside of the gym on the way to his car tonight,” she weakly says. “He was warned that if I continued my employment there, nobody would be safe.”

“Excuse me!” I roar. The volume of my voice raised has the shallow ache behind my temples amplifying until I’m nearly blinded by the burst of pain.

“He’s okay. A little banged up, but nothing he won’t recover from,” she quickly explains as if that’s what has me pissed.

It’s not.

She’s misconstrued my outburst. The real reason I’m pissed beyond belief is because this attack has wrenched up onto levels of unwarranted brutality. Before, nobody was bodily injured, the strikes on the gym were geared toward damaging materialistic possessions and paltry objects—not living, breathing, human beings.

“I’m glad he’s going to be okay, Berlynn. This has gone too far,” I express, banging the palm of my hand onto the wooden top of my desk. “Now they’re physically attacking your coworkers and friends.”

“I know, Aris. It’s why the decision was made that I should back out of my contract so that my presence there doesn’t put anyone in danger,” she whispers, wiping the fallen tears away from her swollen cheeks.

“They only have a couple of weeks to prove you’re unfit to be Berkley’s caretaker. They’re taking risks that are unnecessary because as of ten minutes ago, yours and Berk’s inheritance was released by the judge and your conservator,” I inform her. “So if they were of the belief that they could use your lack of employment against you, they’re sorely mistaken.”

“Which means things are about to go from ugly to downright vicious,” she mutters.

“You and Berk will both need twenty-four hour surveillance,” I reiterate, reminding her of a conversation we had a few weeks back where I told her, in no uncertain terms, that if things got drastic this is what the outcome would be.

“I was supposed to be looking at houses tomorrow,” she grunts. “When are they going to stop trying to ruin our lives, Aris?”

“I wish I had the answers you want to hear, Berlynn. Until we have a plan in place, I think you and Berk need to move in with me,” I suggest. “My property is gated and I have more security in place than the White House.”

“Oh, yeah, got your own squad of secret service men on staff?” she giggles before sniffling, her head lowering and her shoulders going rigid as if the weight of the world just landed on them. “I’m fucking tired, Aris. I’m sick of looking over my shoulder, needing someone to clear the restroom before I can go relieve myself. It’s getting tiresome and tedious. I just want to live my life and work at my dream job.”

“Your dream was to be an Olympic gymnast,” I remind her. “That was ruined when your brother landed in the hospital and you had to stop working with your coaches, quit your team, and take responsibility for him and his future. Let me take care of you two so you can get some rest and let somebody else take on the responsibility for once.”

“I don’t want to be your obligation or become your burden, Aris,” she argues, appearing as if she’s all but given up on fighting for herself. I don’t like it, not at all. Berlynn has always been so full of life, even during our high school days when she was bullied.

“Taking care of you and Berk will never be a hardship, and you know it. We’re family, woman! The weight you’re afraid will drag me down won’t put a strain on me, that I can promise. If anything, it’ll make me ecstatic. I’ve missed a lot of years with you guys. I’ll never get that time back but maybe we can make that up by getting to know one another all over again. I want to know everything you’ve done since the last time we hung out. I want to know about Berk’s recovery, what the doctors are hopeful for, what his new dreams are. Let me be there,” I beg.

Nodding her head she says, “Let’s talk to Berkley and see what he thinks about it. I won’t make any decisions without his input. But I have to say, it’d be nice not to be watching every move I make.”

“Yes! Let’s do it,” Berkley thunders. “If we’re with Aris, we’ll be safe. Won’t we, Aris?”

“Always, Berk. I’ll never let anything happen to either one of you,” I vow.

“Okay,” Berlynn submits. “I guess we need to pack our bags for an extended stay. We’ll have to call Mrs. Crockett and let her know too.”

“Y’all pack and give me a list of calls that need to be made and I’ll handle that so it’s one less thing you have to worry about,” I propose. “Once I’ve completed those I’ll come help y’all box up your things.”

“It’ll only be a few suitcases, Aris. I think we can handle it,” she challenges.

“It’ll be easier if we aren’t having to commute from the city every time you need a change of clothes or important documents. I think we should pack things up as if you’re moving. At least that way, once you find the house you want to buy, you’ll be ready to just move in,” I claim.

“You’re impossible,” she declares.

“I’m realistic,” I rebut. “I have a few days off, I’m between cases and my next meeting isn’t scheduled for a week from now. I have a team working on finding information on your folks that’ll bring them down and we have men watching our backs. Why not take advantage of me while you can and let’s get this apartment packed up so it’s one less thing to worry about.”

“Still doing whatever it takes to get your way I see,” she remarks, clucking her tongue.

“Still working smarter instead of harder,” I refute. “Why make things harder than they have to be, Berlynn?”

“I’m not trying to make things harder, Aris. I’m not. It’s just a big step.”

“One you were ready to make come tomorrow,” I point out.

“We’re moving!” Berkley hollers, raising his fist into the air and doing a dance all the way down the hallway and entering his bedroom. “No stalling, sis! I want out of this haunted place.”

“Haunted?” I mouth the question at her.

“Weird things have been happening around here lately,” she replies.

“How? What’s been going on?” I question, placing my hands on my hips as I begin to scan the area. Looking for what, I couldn’t tell you. Hidden cameras, microphones, anything out of the ordinary that’d have them saying things like Berk just did.

She sighs before announcing, “One night, we both woke up because we thought we heard voices and things being rearranged in the kitchen. But when we made it to the mouth of the hallway, the rooms were empty. Nobody was there. Another time, I could’ve sworn someone was whispering my name, but when I turned my lamp on, nothing was there.”

“Have you told Kayson and his team about those things?” I ask.

“What? You want me to tell them that I think we’re being haunted by ghosts?” she queries. “They’d think we need to be committed.”

“No, they’d determine it’s likely someone broke into your place and set up transmitters or something like that to freak you out,” I grit out. “Have you ever thought that maybe some equipment may have been installed to keep an eye on you?”

“No! That’s preposterous and stretching things,” she rebukes.

“Are you trying to say your parents wouldn’t go to those lengths in an attempt to get an upper hand over you and Berk?” I probe. As things begin to sink in I watch as her entire body slumps.

“Shit,” she whistles.

Her indifference to things drives me insane. Plucking my phone from my pocket I place it to my ear and call Kayson. Once I’m done explaining what they’ve heard happening in their space he guarantees me that once we’ve vacated the space he’ll have his team do a deep dive into the entirety of their unit. We also conclude that the quicker I get them out of here the better things will be. He’s going to get some of his men to volunteer in packing up their things and putting them into a storage facility closer to my downtown house.

I know that Berlynn won’t be happy about strangers boxing up her personal items, but now that she’s told me about some of the things they’ve overheard and felt, I don’t give a damn.

It’s time to get them the hell outta here and somewhere I know they’ll be safe from their parents and untouchable by their accomplices.