Shy tried to stay as calm as she could with a gun pointed at her head. She’d just been taken hostage from Black’s Paradise, a reggae club on the beach in Freeport on Grand Bahama Island. She glanced over at her abductor and then to his stomach. He was losing a lot of blood. "This man is gonna die unless you do something to stop the bleeding," Shy yelled at the driver.
"How bad is it, Julio?" the driver asked.
"It’s bad, Sal," Julio said as he continued to hold his gun to Shy’s head.
"Hold on, man. I’ll get you to a doctor."
The sight of Julio’s blood took Shy back a couple of years to the night she got shot. She thought she was going to die sitting alone in the backseat of that car.
Shy could hear the cop yelling, "Freeze!" as she turned and pointed her gun at him. The bullet hit her in the upper right chest, near her shoulder. Shy shot back as she fell, and hit the cop with one shot to the head. When she got up, deciding not to take the time to ponder the ramifications of killing a cop, she picked up the briefcase and proceeded down the fire escape. That night changed my life forever, Shy thought as she felt Julio’s gun in her side.
"What’s your name, sweetie?" Sal asked.
"Cassandra Black," Shy answered defiantly.
"Cassandra Black, as in Mike Black is your husband, Cassandra Black?"
"Yes," Shy said, hoping that his name carried some weight, but unsure whether it was a good or bad thing. Where are you, baby? Shy thought. Mike Black had always been there for her. When someone was trying to kill her, it was Black who provided her with the lead that she needed. And it was Black who intervened when Hector told her, ‘no money, no product’. In the time that she’d known Mike Black, he had saved her life three times, if you count him sending Bobby and Freeze to save her when she had gotten in over her head. I need you to save me now.
"Shit," Sal said quietly. "So, that club was Black’s club? What the fuck am I askin’? Black’s fuckin’ Paradise. Shit!" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number.
It was answered on the first ring. "Quepasa?"
"This is Sal. I need to talk to Papi."
"He is very busy right now. Why don’t you call him back in about an hour?"
"I need to talk to him now! Just give him the fuckin’ phone."
"Okay, Sal, hold on. Papi!" He continued in Spanish, "Sal dice necesitahablar con elahora," letting Papi know that Sal needed to talk to him now.
Papi took a deep breath and reached for the phone. He set it down on his lap, lit a cigar, and took a sip of his tequila before picking up the phone. "Sal, what is so important that you must talk now? You should learn to relax, take things easy. You think with your mind. You move with your body. Mind and body are interrelated, and you must learn to maintain control of your own body. Relaxation techniques can help you to think clearer, focus more, and concentrate."
Now it was Sal who took a deep breath. He could hear what sounded like a woman laughing in the background. "I’m sorry to bother you, Papi, but shit went bad for us in the Bahamas."
"Really? What happened?" Papi said calmly.
"Julio went wild and just started shooting up the place."
"I did not go wild, Papi!" Julio screamed in his defense. "Those men were DEA!" Julio yelled as Shy held her breath. The last thing she wanted was for Julio to get excited and shoot her accidentally.
"Now he’s sayin’ that the money guy was DEA," Sal told Papi.
"So, you didn’t get the money?"
"No, Papi, we didn’t get the money."
"Why not, Sal?"
"The money guy wasn’t alone. After Julio shot the money guy, this other guy opened up on us and we had to shoot our way outta there. Then Mike Black’s wife starts shootin’ at us with a pump. She killed Manuel. Did you know that it was Mike Black’s club we wasmeetin’ in?"
"You ask too many questions, Sal."
"All I’m sayin’ is that we had to take her hostage to get outta there."
Papi laughed out loud, thinking that things were working out better than he planned. "I want you to take her to Miami and call me when you get there."
"I know this guy from New York. He’s a crazy muthafucka."
"I know who he is, and that is exactly why I want you to take her to Miami."
"I don’t think you understand. Mike Black is connected to some very powerful people. I don’t think we want to fuck with him. I think we should drop her off somewhere and be done with her."
"Sal," Papi said, no longer laughing. "I like you, Sal, and we have not worked together for very long, so I’m going to tell you something, and I know that I’m only going to have to tell you this one time. I don’t pay you to think. When you work for me, I demand your respect and your loyalty. I expect you to believe in me, and to do exactly what I say without question. Is that understood, Sal?"
"Yes, Papi," Sal said and rolled his eyes.
"That is good. Now, take her to the boat. The captain will take you to Miami, and you will call me when you get there. Comprende?"
"I understand, Papi," Sal replied reluctantly and drove toward the dock.
Papi hung up the phone and turned to his associate. "I’m sorry, my dear," Papi said.
"What was that about?" she asked.
Papi looked her and thought for a second. "This may be of particular interest to you. Sal had to take a hostage." Papi paused for effect. "Her name is Cassandra Black."
"Give her to me," the woman said and smiled.
"Why, so you can kill her?" Papi laughed.
"Yes."
While Sal drove, trying to heal his broken ego and Julio grimaced in pain, Shy thought about her situation. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t scared, not really anyway. She was raised around all types of the criminal element: gangsters, hustlers, and dealers. These guys were no different. She could and would kill them if she got the chance. Shy had to laugh at herself as she thought back to the days when all she was good at was pulling her gun and talking big shit. Shy had shot at people, not knowing if she hit anyone. But things were different now. She had stood in front of a man, looked him in the eyes, pulled the trigger and watched him die.
Shy was relieved that whoever this Papi character was, he wanted her alive; at least for the time being. And the only reason for that was because she was married to Mike Black. He controlled a profitable gambling, prostitution and number running business, and although they lived in the Bahamas now, his name was still influential in the States. Once again, he had saved her life.
Mike loved Shy deeply and wanted to ensure that nothing would ever happen that would put her life in jeopardy. That was why he had moved Shy out of New York to the Bahamas. Black thought that she would be safe in their quiet island paradise.
She felt a chill as the idea that she might never see her husband again washed over her. She loved him so much and hated the fact that they had fought the night before. If Michael had been there, none of this would be happening. Shy didn’t want their fight to be the last thing they shared.
"Black’s not here because we had a fight last night," Shy remembered telling Nick. He came to the island to see Black, who he hadn’t seen in years, and to meet Shy. "He left the house and I haven’t seen him since. He may be in New York or he may be right here on this island. I don’t know."
"What was the fight about?" Nick asked.
"You hit it dead center when you said I was bored. I miss New York and I want to go home. I really haven’t made any real friends down here." Shy leaned forward and whispered, "Probably because I can’t understand what they’re sayin’ half the time." She laughed. "And these women. . Oh God, why they all gotta fall all over my man? And it’s not just these island bitches. The tourists are worse. Why do they have to have their half-naked asses all up in his face, gigglin’ over every word he says, while I’m standin’ right there? I mean, Nick, I try to rise above that `cause I know he really ain’t like that anymore, but it’s hard. Bitches ain’t got no respect."
"Sometimes gettin’ bitches’ respect is overrated. As long as Black shows you respect, fuck them bitches. You’re his wife."
"I know that, Nick. And Michael shows me nothing but love and respect. And I love him so much for that. I know that’s just something I got to get past. I guess I’m just a jealous woman, and I’m tired of it, you know what I’m sayin’?"
Maybe Nick was right. As long her man showed her love and respect, she couldn’t be stressed over it. It was all about trusting him, and since she believed in her heart that he would never do anything to put their relationship in jeopardy, what was the point? Shy would take it all back now if she could, because that wasn’t her real issue. The real issue was her legal status. Shy was wanted for murder, but her lawyer, Wanda Moore, was able to get the murder and conspiracy to commit murder warrants dropped. Without the murder weapon or any witnesses to place Shy at the scene, they had no murder case.
Wanda Moore always wanted to be a lawyer and she was good at it. Wanda had gotten Mike and his associates out of more cases than she could remember. She was smart, careful, and just a bit ruthless. In addition to being their lawyer, Wanda managed the money, making a small fortune for her partners, while developing a reputation as an excellent entertainment lawyer. However, despite Wanda’s efforts, there was still a warrant out for Shy for conspiracy to distribute that to this point she hadn’t made any headway with.
"The fight was really about me wantin’ to go back to New York," Shy told Nick.
"But you can’t, because of the conspiracy charge," Nick said.
"Michael lost it when I told him that I would rather go home and do my time than stay down here. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life, Nick. I want to be free."
Sal pulled up at the dock and he looked back at Shy. "Now listen, we’re gonna get out of this car and go to the boat. You’re gonna go quietly. Some people seem to think that you’ve got some value, so you get to stay alive for a little while. But if you try to get away or call for help, I’ll put a bullet in your brain. You understand?"
"I understand," Shy said.
Sal got out of the car and pulled Shy out. He moved down the walkway quickly, practically dragging Shy along as he headed for the boat. Julio held his stomach and followed behind them as best he could.
As they made their way to the boat, Shy looked around the crowded dock and hoped that she saw someone she knew. You know, somebody who would question why this man was dragging her along, and do something to help or at least get word to Mike.
That’s when she saw him. Shy didn’t know what his name was, but she recognized him from the club. He’s practically a regular. Shy had seen him many times laughing and talking with Mike and Jamaica. But the only problem was he wasn’t looking in her direction.
Knowing that she would have to do something to get his attention, Shy pretended to stumble and fall. "Ouch!" Shy screamed, acting as if she was in pain and grabbing her ankle. That got his attention, as well as a few other people.
"All right, sweet cheeks, get up," Sal said as Julio caught up.
"I can’t! I hurt my leg."
"I said get up," Sal demanded, grabbing Shy by the arm and pulling her to her feet.
"Where are you taking me?" Shy asked as she struggled just enough to put on a good show, but not enough to get herself killed.
"We’re taking a little trip to Miami. Now, stop fuckin’ around and get on that boat," he commanded and pointed at the boat. As they continued walking, Shy looked straight at the man and mouthed the words, Help me.