Black Dahlia Read Online Free Page B

her. “.. If you hurt her, you’ll have me to answer to. Got it?”
    Raul smirked. “You gonna sic that overgrown, half-Greek on me?” he joked, referring to Nikola.
    “I’ll do worse; I’ll revoke your Godfather privileges.”
    Raul frowned. She knew how much he loved his Godsons.
    “That’s low, Killer.”
    “There you are. I was looking for you.” They both turned to see Nikola entering the living room.
    “Nik, tell your wife to stop threatening me,” Raul playfully intoned, to his friend.
    “What’s she doing? Warning you to not hurt Mercedes?” he asked slyly.
    “How’d you know?” Devyn asked, surprised.
    Nikola shrugged. “She did the same when we first started dating,” he said, nonchalantly.
    Devyn looked surprised to hear this. “No, she didn’t.”
    Nikola nodded. “She did. Not in so many words, but I got the message loud and clear,” he laughed. Raul noted how much his friend now laughed. It wasn’t something he did often before dating Devyn. He saw the look of adoration in Nikola’s eyes, whenever he looked at his wife. If Raul had to admit it to himself, he wanted to experience the sort of love he saw between Devyn and Nikola. An image of Mercedes popped into his mind.
    “I’m going to go say my goodbyes while you two make out or whatever,” he said to the couple who’d quickly lost interest in him and were now engaged in their own little world.
    “I’ll see you in a few weeks, when I return from Rio,” he told them as he exited.
    He was going to Rio for a few weeks to work with his father, and then visit his relatives who lived in Bahia, the northeastern part of Brazil. After today, Raul was looking forward to seeing his family. He knew a little time at home with this family would help to de-stress before he returned to Atlanta with intentions of winning Mercedes over. He had a feeling there was something special between them and he was not willing to let her slip by just yet.

Chapter 3
    Mercedes felt the burning in her chest as she ran along the neighborhood streets she grew up on.
    It was her second full day visiting her parents, and she couldn’t sleep past six o’clock, so instead of remaining in bed she decided to go for a run. Mercedes’ parents lived in the Houston suburb of Pearland. As she ran, Mercedes reminisced on growing up in Pearland. She felt a tightening in her chest, as she ran past the church where her father had been a preacher for over forty years. She’d spent many days in that church feeling trapped.
    A woman’s place is in the home tending to her family.
    Mercedes remembered the lines her father often repeated from the pulpit and to her throughout her childhood. 
    She shook her head to rid herself of the memory and slowed her gait from a run to a light jog and then a walk to cool down before stretching. As she bent to hold onto the metal fence that surrounded her parents’ home, she thought about the many nights her father would leave right after dinner and not return until late at night, or even sometimes the following morning. She’d asked her mother why he left so often, and her mother responded that he was helping members of the church who were going through difficult times. Even as a child, Mercedes knew this was a lie. She saw the look of sadness and embarrassment that passed over her mother’s face. More than a few times, while doing laundry, Mercedes saw lipstick stains in the collar of her father’s shirts. Mercedes’ mother never wore lipstick.
    “How was your run?” Mercedes turned to see her mother peering out of the front door. At fifty-three Mercedes’ mother’s mahogany skin remained smooth, and though she’d gained weight since Mercedes was a child, she still looked good. Linda had her relaxed hair pulled back in a bun, which is how she most often wore it. She was wearing a pair of black slacks and a grey t-shirt that was covered by an apron, to prevent stains from the big brunch she’d gotten up early to prepare.