Jail's Bait: Parole's Victim (Book 4)

DEDICATED TO CHRIS B.

…my kimosabe, who kept me focused when I felt like slacking.

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Chapter 1

Joop took Lamar into his arms. “I’ll love u faeva, nigga,” Joop breathed softly, brushing his lips slightly on the nape of Lamar’s neck as they stood in the dark alleyway.

Lamar tightened his embrace. “I love you too, Joop,” Lamar said. Joop lifted his head then and smiled quietly.

Nothing more was spoken as they kissed, one of the most passionate they ever shared. Joop’s tongue was insistently probing Lamar’s mouth, a low moan rising from his throat. Lamar, eyes closed, was caught up in the spell of his nigga’s feelings for him- and he intensified his own kiss, surrendering to the fire…

Just then there was a loud report; all of a sudden Joop let out a muffled scream, jumped and bit down on Lamar’s tongue HARD, which would have torn off if Lamar hadn’t reacted so quickly and moved back. His half-bitten tongue started to swell- and he tasted coppery blood, absently spitting a wad of it out that splattered crimson against the concrete- yet that wasn’t what shocked Lamar. What had his attention was seeing a sudden stain on the front of Joop’s tee-shirt, which was growing larger, blossoming a dark scarlet.

Joop looked hunched over, staring down at the bloody shirt with amazement; then, slowly looking up at Lamar, he slumped to the ground without a sound.

Lamar heard a cry of horror rise from his throat and blast the entire street, yet in his ever-growing shock it didn’t seem like it was coming from himself. Dropping to the ground beside the bloody, crumpled Joop, he looked up- and the scream died in his throat.

Standing before them both, smoking 9-millimeter in his grip, was Rah-Rah, smiling insanely, drool collecting on one side of his stubbled face, dressed in a hospital shift and barefoot. He looked naked underneath the shift, which dimly registered in Lamar’s horrified mind as Rah-Rah raised the gun barrel to his face.

“I toldya I wasn’t NEVA gonna let dat nigga have you,” Rah-Rah growled, pointing the still-smoking barrel at Lamar, pulling the trigger…

“NNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Rough hands grabbed at him, shaking his shoulders- “HEYYYYY!!! Wake up!”

Lamar shook himself out of sleep, struggling with the grappling hands. Catching his bearings, he opened his eyes- and saw with some relief that it was Malik who held him, tank-top and white boxers all tousled from the sudden wrestling; his sexy, mustached face betraying his concern.

Neither Malik nor Lamar had outgrown their inherently masculine sex appeal since they had first fallen in love; Malik was as tall, slim-cut, medium complexioned, deep ebony-eyed, sexy, masculine and as heart-stopping as always, yet there was more behind his dark eyes than when those two first surrendered to love. What was once a dude named Joop’s thugg appeal had been replaced by a deeper intelligence; a calmer, more comfortable swagger, suggesting he was very comfortable in his own skin. Women would once see him on the street and be half-afraid, half compelled by him; nowadays when they saw him in the street they found him irresistible… his vibe gave off some kind of sexy power.

Lamar threw himself into Malik’s arms, slightly gasping, still shaking from the memories, drenched in sweat, bedcovers twisted all around his legs. Not to be outdone in the looks department, Lamar also was as physically appealing and complemented Malik the same as ever- darker brown-skinned, his eyes were light colored, his physique also slim-toned, his sexy face still as breathtakingly attractive to the point where he made both men and women feel inadequate. He too had grown inside- the fierce battle his compassion once waged against his quick temper has done: he was now all sensitivity and heart-felt for his fellow man. Writing gave him a steadier, calmer spirit that came through when he dealt with others, especially Malik. On those rare occasions that Malik’s fiery temper would rise, something about Lamar’s nature was the balm that doused Malik’s anger, simultaneously heating it up in an entirely different manner. Lamar, at times, needed Malik's strength- just like now.

“Another nightmare, eh?” Malik was saying softly, holding Lamar close, traces of his favorite cologne still on his chest. Being held in bed by Malik, smelling the scent of JOOP- this, more than anything else, calmed Lamar down.

“Yeah,” he said, his breathing slowing down to a calm pace. “Sorry about that,” Lamar managed after a couple minutes of them being still.

“It’s okay, as long as you’re fine,” Malik said, shifting slightly underneath Lamar so that they both were lying full on the mattress. “Your nightmare- was it about Robert again…?”

“Yeah,” Lamar answered, still trying to get his breath under control.

“Me getting shot?”

“Yes.”

“Him doing his usual mouthing off?”

“Pretty much.”

“Drooling all over the place?”

“Yes.”

“And the dream ends with him pulling the gun on you as well?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Well, they say if you die in your own dream, then you die for real,” Malik said, Lamar hearing the ironic grin in his voice. “Good thing I woke you up quick…”

“Man, this isn’t funny,” Lamar said, sitting up and trying to arrange the bedclothes properly. “I’m tired of dreaming about this guy, it’s not like he’s waking up anytime soon.” Lamar finished straightening out the sheets and then turned back to regard Malik, who lay back on the bed. “Why NOW, anyway? Why all the nightmares about him now..?”

Malik looked at him. “The ten-year anniversary’s coming up Friday after next,” he said blandly.

Lamar started, realizing that this must be the reason.

Malik’s cousin Robert Hill, once known as Rah-Rah Howard, had been locked up in OakGrove Sanitarium for the Criminally Insane after brutally killing a cop and collapsing into a catatonic state- once realizing the cop he shot in cold blood was his own father, while his entire family, including his own 8 year-old son Marquis, looked on in horror… From that day on, Rah-Rah had not moved one inch, yet sat strapped in a chair, staring straight ahead, seeing nothing, locked away inside his own mind. That was how he escaped real jail time these ten long years.

Lamar remembered the weekend everything happened- it came back to him often in nightmares, like the one he’d just had. Even though it had been a long time since it had happened, he still recalled being given that drug by Rah-Rah, who raped him non-stop for about three hours. Sometimes he wished that Rah-Rah had slipped him enough pills so that he couldn’t remember anything, like some who claimed they woke up after it was all over. But Rah-Rah hadn’t given him enough, maybe on purpose… so that he WOULD remember every violated moment. Well, it worked- that feeling of utter helplessness stayed with Lamar, and sometimes in the middle of the night it came barreling forth, causing his chest to tighten and his breathing to get rapid. Even years later, it was still not a feeling a man like Lamar wished to relive. Ever.

And as always, Malik was right on time. “Look, baby,” he said, reading Lamar’s mind. “Even if he woke up now, the statute of limitations has not run out on any of the crimes he’s committed. Robert will finally go to trial for the murder charge- as well as the …well, any other charges pending,” he tried to console.

Lamar smiled to himself, knowing that his life-partner once again made all his fears go away- at least for the moment. He was reminded once again from his words, that over the years Malik had been gradually been influenced by both their fathers. And it was no wonder- both of them were lawyers…

It was now late spring of 2015; Malik (the thugg formerly known as Joop) and Lamar were now both 30 years old, still as in love with each other as ever they were, and they lived happily ever after- every day. The two men held onto one another through growing up poor, coming to grips about being gay, infidelities, a prison bid, a rape, some kidnappings, a few betrayals, an attempted murder and endless father issues. They had weathered the storms and had come through the other end strong, together, happy- and the reward for true love’s strength came in the form of an endless fortune for them both to enjoy for the rest of their lives. They even had a child to raise; Rah-Rah’s son, Lil’ Marquis, who was now 18 years old and a senior in high school, technically lived at home with his mother, yet still had the benefit and experience of four strong, positive Black men in his life to take up the slack of not having his own father around; his great-uncle Joe (Malik’s dad and his grandfather’s brother), his legal godfather Danny (Lamar’s dad), and also Lamar himself, who treated Marquis as if Lamar was his overprotective older brother. Malik, of course, was the one Marquis looked at as a father the most. Since the day his real father was carted off to Oak Grove Institution, Marquis stuck to his cousin like glue- so much so that for a several of his ‘wonder’ years, he’d almost forgotten that Malik wasn’t his real father- the boy actually lived more at Malik’s house than his own, which his mother Marquette didn’t mind at all. To this day Marquis still called Malik ‘Pop’, even though he knew better. Lamar, however, could swear that sometimes Malik forgot that Marquis wasn’t his real SON. That, of course, was a testament to the closeness of those two.

“Where did you just go,” Malik teased Lamar, poking him in the side.

Lamar jumped. “I-I’m just thinking about Marquis,” he said, rubbing the spot where Malik had poked- it was his ticklish area, and he knew that Malik was just waiting for him to break a grin- which would indicate an all-out assault tickle-fest. “I want to plan something really big for his graduation gift from us.”

Malik looked incredulous. “What in the hell ELSE can you buy Marquis,” he scoffed. “Tell me, writer,” he said then, grabbing Lamar around the waist and pulling him down on the bed while getting on top of Malik, straddling him.

Lamar was still tense, he knew his lover was trying to distract him from the pending tickling- it was a-comin, he just KNEW it. Pulling away right NOW would just start it all off, so he nonchalantly relaxed. “Tell you... what?” he said, trying to look innocuous.

“Just WHAT do you get the teenage boy that’s got-- EVERYTHING.?!” Malik said, spreading his arms wide, looming over Lamar.

Grinning ruefully, Lamar had to agree. The adults in his life had tried their damndest not to spoil Marquis, but being raised in a very rich family had its frugal disadvantages. With the best of intentions, the boy's mother, his godparents, his uncles, his aunt and his surrogate ‘pop’ tried to give Marquis him a life away from the ghetto-lifestyle that they all (except Joe) had to deal with before the Hill fortune fell into their laps. The absence of his father in Marquis's life had all those concerned trying to over-compensate, which led to some very interesting results that none of the grown-ups had noticed until too late. Marquis, at age 14, had seriously questioned at dinner with the guys one evening whether the house Malik and Lamar lived in was too small, and might they not need a larger place. Malik and Lamar stopped eating and looked at one another in silence, realizing instantly that they had failed in their task, and created a monster. This was the first clue that the boy’s blood had turned the deepest blue. Not that the boy was unkind, of course- but for Marquis to think they needed to get a larger place..! Exotic animals, acres of land, a mountain-fringed backyard and seven full floors- not to mention the rooftop penthouse rooms- how Marquis could have ever thought they needed a larger home...!

Lamar remembered the circumstances surrounding how they moved here. When Malik first learned the true value of his inheritance the very FIRST thing he bought outright was Windy Mountain Ski Lodge- Seattle’s most luxurious chateau, a seven-floor monstrosity sprawled 2/3 of the way up the western slopes of Mt. Rainier. The furniture, styled Early American, was included in the original purchase as well; the building’s architectural layout was a redwood/white marble Grecian blend with a stone-face, moss-grown fronting, 4 floors with about 30 bedrooms, each one with its own unique style, yet plush-carpeted with its own jacuzzi, walk-in fireplace and sweeping redwood terrace, the suites large enough that some small apartments could fit comfortably inside. All this came included with the 90 acres of real estate it and the rest of the buildings on the grounds rested on. To one side stood the stables where 2 dozen prize pure-white Arabian horses were well kept, to the other side lay a seventy-foot man-made waterfall in between the endless evergreens and an inland lake which, against the backdrop of the distant Rockies Mountains, made one of the most spectacular northwest coastal views at sunset- especially that moment that the final rays of the setting sun lit up the lands behind the farthest northern mountain, and the beginnings of the vast Artic Circle could almost be made out. Behind the hotel-turned-private mansion was a grounded swimming pool twice-Olympic sized, and farther up towards the winding nature trail, upwind of the stables, was a mini-corral where the family’s exotic animals were kept. Giant snake pits, a batcave deep in the side of the mountain, and a giant yew tree near the back gate where a wild albino baboon lived, which terrorized all who came near its tree-top home. Everyone, men and beasts alike, veered a wide berth around the ancient yew or risked a coconut to the head. Now whenever Malik lost his temper (which did not occur that often nowadays) the old ‘Joop’ in him would come out with a vengeance. So, it took humane-conscious Lamar several weeks to talk ‘Joop’ out of shooting the baboon out of the yew tree- a few times Lamar had to physically jump in the way when he saw ‘Joop’ heading out the back door, cocking a shotgun. Malik finally relented when he realized that since the baboon was an albino, it was not only on the endangered species list, but it blended in with the Arabians as well- so he left the baboon alone to fend for itself. No one had seen the white baboon in months, but they all assumed it was still doing just fine, since they would hear it screeching every so often from the direction of the moss-covered yew tree.

With some fine tuning, Malik turned this massive area into his and Lamar’s private residence. The place was re-named Hilltopp Terrace, or HT for short. Even though he and Marquette had their own place on the shores of Puget Sound, which was magnificent in and of itself, Marquis had his own suite at HT- which far outstripped that condo he lived in with his mother. Every chance he got, Marquis stayed at HT as the years rolled on by, and who could blame him, of course; there was no live-in staff on sight at the condo like there was at HT. Marquis knew the condo could have afforded staff as well, but mother Marquette put her foot down. Malik, on the other hand, could NEVER say no to his ‘kid’, going so far as to give him (against EVERYONE’S protests) his own pet lion cub as a present for the boy’s 18thbirthday last year- which was worse than Lamar had actually expected.

“My kid’s sign is Leo, and now everyone will know it,” Malik had said proudly as Marquis whooped and hollered with joy once he saw the baby lion with a giant red bow around its bare neck, for the mane had not had a chance to poke peach fuzz before the lion cub was gift-wrapped. Everyone (except Malik) was horrified by the extravagant gift and thought that Marquis was by this time too spoiled to pay any true attention to the care and feeding of such a beast, but to his credit the boy rose to the occasion and made sure on a daily basis that Leo (which is what he named the poor lonely cub) had the best of everything, which he personally supervised, effectively changing everyone’s perception of Marquis's suspected arrogance. As an additional moral bonus Marquis also invited Michael Donatello, his best friend since grade school, over so often to play with the cub that soon Leo began to respond to both boys on instinct.

Lamar lay on the bed, musing to himself that there might not be anything left on earth to give as a gift to Marquis when suddenly slippery fingers poked at his most ticklish spots. “ Hey-yay-yiiiiii!!!!!” he cried out, laughing. “Cu-u-u-ttt it o-o-out!!”

“That’ll teach you to ignore me, WRITER,” Malik snickered as the tickle wars began.

“AHHHH AHHHHH YIIIIIIIHAHH HHAAAHA HAHAHAHAHAAAHHH!!!!”

Of course, as they wrestled around the bed Lamar began to be turned on, like he always did when in close proximity to Malik’s sexy, half-naked body, just like the very first time they made love. Lamar began to lose his breath from more than laughing, and he laid his head on Malik’s musky shoulder, catching his wind and inhaling his lover’s essence, his 9.5 inch dick rising to its full strength, throbbing with vicious intent. Malik noticed instantly the change in response and stopped tickling Lamar, his hands instead running all over Lamar’s heaving, sexy chest and defined pecs, sliding downwards behind his back to trace the globes of flesh he found back there- hard rocks of man-ass with smooth skin as soft like a baby’s.

Lamar moaned softly, feeling Malik’s hard masculine fingers stroke his baby-soft asscheeks, and in one motion slid he his boxers and Malik’s boxers off, flinging them to the floor as the two men melded in a hot blend of black-man sex. Their combined male scent and the salty-sweet smells of dick filled the room as they grinded on each other. Malik’s cologne, JOOP, seemed to grow in intensity and made Lamar dizzy as Malik bowed his head and traced his tongue around Lamar’s earlobe, down the side of his neck.

“Ahhh, Malik, baby…” Lamar groaned, “do it, ahhhh yeah….”

Malik suddenly slid between Lamar's thighs and on one motion got his arms underneath, yanking up and spreading them wide- and even though he’d done this before on many occasions, Lamar was still taken by surprise as, before his legs were fully up in the air, with a loud grunt Malik had slid his 10.5 inch thick horny black dick ball deep into his winking asshole, his golf-sized balls suddenly bunched up against Lamar's inner cheeks.

“AAHHHHHH!!!” They both moaned as Malik began to slide his throbbing veiny thick strong dick up and down- like pushups into Lamar's hungry asshole, which sucked in Malik's thrusting dick deeper and deeper with each stroke. Lamar’s ass was by know curved to the shape of his lover’s dick, but even so Lamar would never get tired of this, even if he became a thousand years old- as long as Malik dug him out this way…

As if he read Lamar’s mind Malik picked up the pace, smashing that phat dick into him so fast, over and over, that his balls banged up and down like a ping-pong tournament was going on against Lamar’s sweaty, tight ass. Lamar’s legs stretched wide up in the air, spread-eagled, his toes curling with lust as Malik ground his dick like a starving man deep into that hot dark clenching hole, Lamar’s rock hard thick 9.5 inch dick bouncing smack! against his stomach with each deep thrust, the swollen tip dribbling a sticky trail of pre-cum. Malik bent over and put his head on Lamar's neck, furiously grinding his hips into Lamar's ass, the dick stroking that spot, stroking that spot, stroking that spot-

“Yooooo- you hitttttin my sppppoottt,” Lamar yelped as he bucked hard, driving Malik's monster dick deeper yet as Lamar shot off. “AAHHHHHRRRGGHHHH,” he cried as ropes of heavy nutt flew out of his dick over them both, raining a white warmth on Malik’s chest and neck as Lamar jerked again and again-

“Yyyeeeeaaaahhhhh mmmmyyyyyyyy niigggggaaaaaahhhhhh,” Malik breathed, the smacking sounds turning wet and squishy as he splashed off in Lamar's back. Lamar, jerking from his nutt which still fell on Malik's back, felt like a river of man-slick was spilling out of his asshole, squeezing out through Malik's massive thrusts and squirts-

With a final grunt they both collapsed on the bed wrapped in each other’s arms, the nutt on Malik's chest dripping on them both- turning cool instantly, of course.

“Ewwww,” Lamar said ironically, feeling the cool slimy dripping his arms which were wrapped around Malik's neck. “You have to shower now.”

“That’s YOUR nutt,” Malik reminded him, chest heaving, his head still buried in Lamar's shoulder. 

“Did you know that you talk like Joop when you bust a nutt?” Lamar asked then with a grin.

“That’s because Joop was the one who scooped you up,” Malik said muffled-like from underneath Lamar's neck. “Sometimes I let him ‘hit-that’, as he would have said.”

“Nice,” Lamar said then, shoving Malik off of him, who was laughing as he got up and hobbled over to the door leading to their marble-lined bathroom. “Real nice- you passing me off to some high-school thugg.”

“That ‘high-school THUGG’, as you say, was the one who brought us together- and KEPT us solid,” Malik said from the bathroom as he began to run the water in their jacuzzi. “I owe him to bring him out once in a while to get some ass from his ‘shorty’.”

“I guess we all owe Joop,” Lamar agreed, as he got up and followed Malik into the bathroom. “Well, I can’t be mad then- at least he fucks better than you do.”

*******

The uniformed, pretty-faced day nurse had rolled the wheelchair-bound, pajama-clad patient onto the brightly-lit patio, as per his daily prescribed custom-therapy, and she left him to sit there under the sun-umbrella, to stare unseeing at the magnificent garden scene before him as a nearby radio played soft music. The nurse had just finished eating her steak lunch, and the custodian hadn’t yet been by to remove the tray which held that plate, glasses and silverware- which was fine, since it wouldn’t bother the inert man, anyway- he was catatonic. The nurse went back inside to her station, leaving him in plain view as she continued working at her desk.

The phone extension from the doctor’s office rang and the nurse answered, then hesitantly nodding and bending over to look through papers on the desk. “Yes, Doctor, it should be right here,” she was saying.

Out on the patio deck the easy-listening paused for a station break, which included an update on current news and weather.

‘And in local celebrity gossip, the controversial yet rich and powerful Hill family is once again making news as Marquis Hill prepares for graduation Friday after next from Rainier Crest High School. Marquis grew up in the spotlight as the youngest heir of the vast Hill fortune. Following in the footsteps of such financial child heavyweights like Glory Manderhilt and the Tilton sisters, the ‘poor-little-rich-boy’ has set his sights on Berkeley to continue his education in the fall. Mr. Hill has been romantically linked throughout his teenage years with other famous teens- such as Danya Hudson, the daughter of actress Katrina Hudson; also Robbi-Whistina Crowne, daughter of the R&B super-couple Houstana Whitney and Robbie Crowne, and his latest breakup with young Oscar-Winner South-Dakota Manning made a tabloid field-day.

‘Marquis first exploded onto celebrity news when his father, estranged Hill heir Robert Howard-Hill, was hospitalized in an institute for the criminally insane after committing patricide right before the boy’s horrified eyes, ten years ago. This tragedy cast a reluctant spotlight on the previously low-key Hill family, who until now had managed to keep under wraps their enormous wealth for over two centuries. Now with stunning new revelations and research on the family history, it appears that the Hill family has been officially declared the richest African-American single family in American history to date, which may be the reason why their past is so shrouded in anonymity- in an effort to divert clearly unwanted attention. It seems though, that their discretion has become a case of ‘that-was-then, this-is-now’, however. The new generation of these powerful descendants has risen to task after being thrust into the limelight.

‘Current Hill patriarch, Justice Joe Hill, the former warden of WA State Penitentiary and recent nominee to the WA State Supreme Court, has been approached by several right-wing and left-wing political groups to run for a seat on Capitol Hill in the upcoming 2014 Congressional elections. He and his wife Joan Hill have been taking the matter into consideration.

‘Their son, another Hill making a celebrity splash, is 30-year-old Dr. Malik Hill, some-time Professor of Herbology at Berkeley, whose current career move made headlines when he officially announced the launching of his hip-hop record label, HillTopp Productions. Hip-hop’s newest mogul made his own debut in the news when right after the Hill murder tragedy he walked into the offices of Seattle’s most premier resort, Windy Mountain Ski Lodge on the north-east slope of Mt. Rainier, and bought the land the Lodge rested on outright, lock-stock-and-barrel. 24 hours later he had closed the Lodge and cleared everyone- including guests and most of the staff- off the premises, and in a week had started the renovations to transform the immense hotel and grounds into his personal residence. The scandal this created turned Seattle’s social register on its ear for several weeks- this was all before he had even started attending Berkeley, the college where he now lectures a select class in Herbal Science on occasion.

‘Dr. Hill has been recently seen at several clubs, celebrity parties and this year’s pre-Oscar events with one of this year’s younger Oscar hopefuls, 30-year old best-selling writer Karl Khronic, whose books ‘Doin-Da-Time’ and ‘Chains-n-Cuffs’ have topped the New York Times’ Best-seller lists. ‘Doin-Da-Time’ got an Oscar nomination for ‘Best Screenplay’.

‘Meanwhile, young Marquis Hill, who was partially raised in privacy by his mother Marquette Stevens, was also taken under the wing of the remaining members of the Hill family. The foremost influence in Marquis's life, however, appears to be his cousin Malik…’

Just then the patient’s glazed eyes snapped into focus.

“My son,” Rah-Rah said in a raspy voice, without moving, his eyes straying over to the table and the stained steak knife lying on a nearby lunch tray.

“MINE.”