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

On the same floor, down the hall from Lamar’s room, a female figure with heavy bandages on her hands and face lay in the burn unit- the only wing in the hospital that had the proper apparatus to care for the skin graft patient which lay within. The patient had been heavily sedated to protect from the intense pain, and as she slipped in and out of semi-consciousness, a shadow filled the open doorway.

“Jesus, girl, what happened to you,” Lionel Jenkins whispered as he approached Claire’s bed, reaching her side. She stirred in response to his presence.

He looked down on her for the longest time, then bent close. “Its me, your ‘Great Leader, Inamae Shazzad’- but I prefer the name Lionel right now,” he whispered in her ear with a wry smile.

The heart monitor machine set next to Claire’s bed began blipping slightly faster; Lionel didn’t notice this.

“I bet you’re wondering how all this went down, eh...?” he continued on. “Well, you aint know who I was, but once I found my long-lost little brother I studied him- what he did in his life, who he married, who his friends were, all that- yes, honey, I knew who YOU were, all along- and I knew all about your weakness- your obsession for hatin de ‘white man’. I USED that ta get close ta you and take you away from Danny-boy,” Lionel exulted. “AFRICA’S ISSUE was a big fat lie- I don’t care bout no Black Man’s burden- I made dat shyt up just ta git you into BED, ya dumb BITCH.”

The monitor grew even louder, and the form started to move slightly.

“You were so fukkin STUPID, you believed every word I said- I even made you believe that givin up da pussy was helping to ‘further my CAUSE’, but actually, all that was about getting my payback on da boy who my daddy killed my mama over,” he fired at her then. “I wuz blessed with the gift of gab, jus like ol’ Juke Jenkins- truth is, I aint never wanted ya funky-ass pussy,” he growled- “I aint NEVER loved NO BITCH..!! All yall are da same- stupid, gullible, bunch of dick hungry whores dat would break up marriages an families jus cause a nigga come along dat wit a bigger dick..!” He gripped the metal arms of the bed and leaned in, all self-restraint gone. “I woulda wished sumthin else on ya, but seein as you’re my son’s mama, I guess livin da rest of yo life az a wildebeest iz enuff revenge- an I gotz revenge on Danny ‘cause he lost ya to ME, his older brother- and I let him raise a kid dat weren’t even his- and NOW I get ta take dat kid away from him, leavin him all alone!!! NOW HE’LL KNOW HOW IT FEELS,” he howled, then hawked and spit onto the bandages of Claire’s face.

Her monitor was dangerously loud now, and muffled sounds were heard from underneath the wrappings.

“Good-BYE, BITCH- hope ya rot in HELL.” And with that he turned and stalked from the room.

Claire had awakened at the sound of his voice, and had heard most of Lionel’s vent- her face was heavily bandaged and she couldn’t speak, but as he left her parting thoughts to him were: THE JOKE’S ON YOU, LIONEL JENKINS- LAMAR MAY NOT BE YOURS… and then she passed out from the strain as the floor nurses came rushing in.

*******

Smithers, dressed in his usual manservant’s suit and cravat, opened the front door of Crimson Crest as Joe and Joan Hill entered, coming into the foyer. “Welcome home,” he rasped.

“Helloo, Smitty,” Joan said- it was her knickname for the old man, who grimaced each time she said it. “Would you put on some tea and bring it up,” she added as she started up the sweeping staircase.

“Very good, mum,” Smithers replied with an inclination of his head. “And you, sir,” he asked, turning to Joe, who looked towards his study.

“Nothing right now, Smithers, thank you,” Joe replied absently. “I’ll be up in a little while, sweetheart,” he called after Joan, who had reached the landing.

“Uh-hunh,” Joan said, yawning, as she disappeared around the corner.

Joe looked at Smithers. “You won’t need to make that tea,” he replied. “By the time you get upstairs she’ll be asleep- we’ve been up all night.”

“I understand, sir,” Smithers agreed amicably. He bent close to his employer. “You have a …guest, waiting in your private study,” he said.

Joe looked sharply at Smithers. “Uh- thank you,” he slowly said, surprised that the old man didn’t mention it until after Joan had gone upstairs...

“I think I’ll take the Mrs. a tea and brandy,” Smithers added, turning to shuffle off to the kitchen.

“If she drinks that, she’ll sleep all day long,” Joe cautioned the old butler.

Smithers turned back and gave Joe a penetrating grin. “Exactly.” And with that he shuffled off to the kitchen and out of sight.

Joe stared after the old man, eyebrows raised in amazement. He knew that although they never discussed it, the butler was aware of his secretly fucking men in his private study on occasion, but he never expected Smithers to assist him in getting some ass on the side..! Mildly impressed by the sudden streak of mischievousness in his manservant, he headed silently for the study and opened the door.

Lionel Jenkins lay on the floor on top of a bearskin throw rug, butt-ass naked, his legs spread wide, his enormous 12-inch dick throbbing at full strength. “Well, you just gonna stand there,” he asked with a leer. “Get on in here and handle this, Joey!!”

Joe stood stunned, but then his passion rose and his massive 11-inch milk chocolate monster got rigid, threatening to break through his pants. Joe stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. As he pulled off his clothes Lionel reached down between his legs and began to lightly push his fingertips in and out of his asshole, the muscle perking and clenching around his fingers as he moaned softly, keeping his eyes directly on Joe.

This made Joe weak in the knees, and he yanked the rest of his clothing off, tearing some buttons on his shirt- and in seconds he was butt-ass naked as well, dick pointing like a mast straight out- and he dropped down on his knees before the spread-eagled Lionel. He grabbed that hand which steadily pushed its way into the winking man-pit and leaned down, slowly sniffing the fingers first, eyes closed. Lionel moaned and arched his lower back in lust as Joe slid each finger that had poked the asshole into his mouth, slowly sucking the taste off, one at a time.

“Got-DAYUM,” Lionel exclaimed, the feeling of strong wet warmth on his fingers sending jolts of fire through his body. His dickhead started to drip pre-cum in a steady flow, pouring like molasses down the veiny, rigid shaft.

Joe let go of the hand and then dipped his head below, his tongue suddenly stabbing Lionel’s peeking asshole, swirling the skin around the opening hard.

“AARRRRAAAAHHH,” Lionel yelped as Joe continued his intense assault on that wet hole, which began to soften and open wide before Joe’s thrusting tongue. The hairs of his mustache tickled Lionel and he began to twist and squirm- but Joe kept the tongue-lash going, deeper and stronger…

“I cant TAKE IT,” Lionel hollered, “PLEASE FUCK ME-FUCK ME NOWWW…” and actual tears filled in his eyes from desire.

Joe lifted his head and in the same motion slammed his swollen, hungry dick ball deep into Lionel’s aching ass-

“YEEEOOOOWWWAAAAHHHH,” Lionel cried out in pain and ecstasy simultaneously as Joe pulled his legs upward, grinding him. Lionel's whines of lust grew louder.

“SHUT UP,” Joe growled, hoping that Smithers had given Joan the brandy-flavored tea- even with all the floors and rooms between them, and her exhaustion, Lionel was yelling loud enough that she just might hear him.

But Lionel wasn’t getting any quieter; in fact, he began to sound like an extra from a triple-x movie. “AHHHH, AHHHH, BABY, FUCK ME, FUCK MEEEE,” he cried, grabbing his own legs and pulling them wider.

Joe started slow-stroking his huge dick in and out of Lionel's asshole, feeling it squish and clench as he slid it in so deep his nuttsack lay against the back of Lionel's butt-cheeks- it was the most prime piece of ass Joe had ever had. “Arch your BACK,” Joe commanded, sliding his dick deep again-

Lionel jumped and yelped again. “Ahhh yeah, jus fuck me,” he moaned and groaned, over and over- he started trying to grind back on Joe’s dick. “I wanted this for so long, so long- FASTER, MUTHAFUCKA,” he yelled, his face full of desperate lust. He started to use his ass muscles to clamp down and suck the dick back in ball deep once again.

Joe grunted. “Fast, huh,” he said- then he pulled out and grabbed Lionel, flipping his over and getting him to his knees. Before Lionel could say anything Joe slammed his big dick back into Lionel's hole and began to batter it without mercy, smashing into his back-

“YEAAAAHHH, YEEEAHAHH, AHHHH, AHHHH,” cried Lionel, “THATTTSS WHATTT IIIMMMTALLLIKKKINN ABBBBOOUTTT,” and he grabbed onto the fur of the bearskin as Joe smacked his ass repeatedly, watching Lionel's legs shake and quiver from the pounding and his dick slammed in and out, up and down-

“IIIII’MMMM CUUUMIINNNN,” Lionel yelled- “AARRHHHHGGG, AAAAGGGHHHH, AAAAYYYYYEEAAAAAHHHH-” and his asshole clamped down HARD on Joe’s thrusting pipe as his legs stuck straight out in convulsions-

Joe’s nature rose. “TAKE MY CUMMM, NIGGGAAAHHHH,” he bellowed as ropes and ropes of his nutt burst into Lionel's swollen asshole, which clenched and sucked in each explosive drop. Joe felt like all the liquid inside of his body was flowing out through his dick up into Lionel's guts… he felt his dick splash off again, then again… his body was shuddering and jerking-

…and then it was over, and Lionel quivered and sank down on the bearskin, Joe laying down on top of his back with a sigh, his dick still pushed all the way inside of Lionel, still leaking out the last of his spent passion. They lay there spooned for a time, trying to catch their breath. Joe lifted up and kissed Lionel on the back of his head. “Thanks,” he said- “I needed that.”

“We both did, after what happened all night long,” Lionel replied with a yawn. “I could sleep for a week now.”

“Me too,” Joe said- “and I would love to wake up to you in the morning sometime.” He rolled off of Lionel and, noticing his smoking robe was draped over the nearest chair, he reached for it. “We’ll have to set that up.”

Lionel had reached for his clothes to get dressed. Sliding on his pants and socks, he looked at Joe, a weary yet intensely satisfied smile on his face. “So does this mean after all these years we could get it goin on, you an me,” he asked then; “like a real relationship? I’ve always wanted that with you, Joey, since we were little kids.” He pulled on his shoes and stood up.

Joe smiled. “Sure, it would be nice to be in a real relationship again. Not to say that Joan and I don’t do okay, but… you know what I mean,” he replied wickedly.

“I think I do,” Lionel smiled back, going up to Joe and leaning in to lightly bite his lower lip teasingly, which made Joe’s dick start stirring again, as active as it used to be when he was in his twenties. Who needs Viagra, Joe smiled to himself as they parted.

Lionel gathered the rest of his clothes and headed for the door. “I’ll set us up a dummy account at this little B&B I saw near the Bay, under the name Jenkins,” he said then. “I’ll call you later with the details-” and with that he was gone.

Joe sat back in his favorite armchair then and relaxed in his bathrobe, smoking a choice cigar from one of his hush-hush Cuban contacts. His nutts still throbbed from that last explosive orgasm- not only did Lionel give the best ass he ever remembered having, he wondered whether maybe this was the one he should have always been with- if they could have only grown up together like they should have…! If Juke Jenkins hadn’t kept Lionel away from Crimson Crest when he was a boy, Joe was sure they would be the love of each other’s lives by now, and Danny would have never been even a passing interest. The chemistry between him and Lionel was there, just like his son Malik shared with Lamar- and also (he ruefully admitted to himself) something of what Trey and Danny briefly shared… he was ready to see what could happen between himself and Lionel. If nothing else, they seemed to take the same approach to life, which constituted a strong foundation for a possible future.

He luxuriated in front of the window, looking out at the mid-morning skies as Smithers appeared with a Glenlivet and Scotch, placing it on a nearby table before withdrawing from the room. Joe glanced up at the retreating figure, finally appreciating Smithers and his ‘don’t-ask-don’t-tell’ policy when it came to his employer’s indiscretions.

The phone rang once; Joe waited, sipping his drink. In seconds the butler reappeared in the study doorway. “Mr. Potters from WolfRam & Hart, on the phone for you, sir.”

“Thank you, Smithers,” Joe said, putting down his glass and reaching for the extension nearest his hand as the old man shuffled back out of the room. “Hello…?”

“He’s called again,” Potters said; “he wants three more this time.”

This startled Joe. “All three for the same subject as before?”

“No. He swore me to secrecy of course,” Potters chuckled; “but the tests are for a little girl, his own son- and HIMSELF.”

For a moment Joe didn’t speak. Of course he had just heard of the claim that homeless guy Ray had on Jamara, but he had no idea Danny was questioning Lamar’s paternity, or even his own… Lionel must have gotten to him-

“HELLO,” Potters repeated.

“Sorry,” Joe said, snapping out of his reverie, in time to flick the long stem of ash from his cigar into the closest tray. “What did you tell him?”

“Same as usual- that I’ll run the tests, on the hush.” There was a pause. “So, how do I run THESE....?”

Joe thought a moment. “Call me back when you get the results- but BEFORE you call Danny,” Joe added.

“I know, I know- same deal as before,” Potters said. “So are you gonna give Danny the RIGHT results this time, or am I making em up again....?”

“That’s my business,” Joe snapped. “I pay you well enough on the side to keep your loyalty, am I correct…?”

“Cool your jets, big dog,” Potters soothed; “I like my ‘extra’ paycheck, its bigger than the regular one I get from WolfRam & Hart. Danny-boy will only hear whatever results you want him to hear. I’ll call you once I’m through.”

“See that you do,” Joe said, hanging up the phone. He picked up his glass once again, took a long drag off his cigar, and exhaled, sitting amidst the cloud of Cuban smoke that swirled around his face.

A smaller part of his conscience (the part that understood that Danny and he had come closer towards being friends as a result of last night’s long ordeal) felt terrible about keeping such a drastic secret from everyone. The other, larger part of his conscience, however- the part that still festered a decades-long bitterness for the man who broke his heart- stubbornly refused to accept Danny having a relationship with his brother… any brother of his. He knew that if they wanted to, Danny and Ray would be together anyway, whether Ray knew his last name was Hill or not- Joe just simply hated knowing that once Ray was proven, that the suddenly rich man would use his inheritance- Joe’s father’s money- on Danny. This grated Joe’s nerves to no end.

Yet, if no one ever found out that Potters, on orders from Joe, falsified the DNA test results- then Ray would forever remain just another trick Danny chose to fuck- a homeless man at that. He knew Danny would have been startled by the resemblance, and then, just in case, he would then try the Cayenne Pepper test on Ray- just to see if he was genetically linked to the Hill Family. Joe laughed to himself trying to picture Danny’s face when Ray turned out not to be allergic to the spice; he knew that the Cayenne allergy was passed down from his mother Martha; so of course, only her son Joe and Joe’s children, like Malik, would inherit that. But J. Mayson Hill was NOT allergic to Cayenne Pepper, nor would any sons he had by other women. The copies of the original DNA test, now stashed in Joe’s wall-safe, held the only evidence that Raymond the homeless man was, indeed, Raymond Hill, dead Atreyu’s twin brother.

Joe speculated for a time about that; a homeless man was now revealed as yet one more long-lost brother of his. Ol’ J. Mayson never got a chance to see either one of his younger sons; he died knowing only one of his heirs. Joe was suddenly saddened with the realization that Trey searched for a brother all his life, but he wasn’t really looking for Joe at all. The bond Trey felt compelled him to search for a brother, yes- but he was actually looking for Ray, finding Joe instead; in the confusion, no one even thought of the possibility of there being a twin. And yet, Joe mused, twins did run in the family, remembering that the twins’ biological mother Maisie was twin-born to his own butler Smithers...! The old man’s last days would be happy if he knew Maisie’s children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren existed; Joe knew deep down that they would all benefit from such a revelation… but his residual bitterness for Danny would probably keep his silence- to the grave; Smithers’ grave, and his own.

Joe sat up in his chair then, running this over and over in his mind. He would decide what to do once Potters called him back with everyone’s test results. In the meantime, he mentally noted to call his lawyers and draw up a new will. He would put a codicil in, a letter providing full disclosure to his remaining heirs… which, once they read it, would make his survivors probably hate him and his memory forever.

Not that it mattered, he thought as he stared out at the bright skies, his eyes dark.

*******

Lamar sat still in his hospital bed as the news of his prognosis sank in. Malik also sat , quiet and unmoving on the edge of the bed, staring at him.

Lamar swallowed. “Where is everyone else,” he managed to whisper.

“Everyone went home to get some sleep,” Malik replied. “Marquis and his gang went back to HT to keep an eye on Jamara. My parents went back to Crimson Crest, your dad went to speak to the police about what happened, and he was going to pick up Ray from HT and then go home.”

“I …don’t understand,” Lamar said, frowning at Malik. “Besides the pain from the bullet hole, I feel fine- that’s also from the surgery. I FEEL fine,” he repeated, frightened tears beginning to moisten his hazel eyes.

“Look, we can get a second opinion,” Malik said gravely- “but two different doctors agreed on this…”

Lamar began to absent-mindedly feel his chest. “I wonder how it’ll feel,” he said to himself. “And what about Jamara…? She wont know me, wont remember me, if… if…”

“Look, baby,” Malik said, reaching over to Lamar and grabbing the hand that searched his chest- “if any problems show up we’ll face them- together. I’m not leaving you, and you’re not leaving ME,” Malik declared with some force.

Lamar smiled meaningfully at the man who’d been his lover half his life, and his best friend all of his life. “Whatever happens, I wont be afraid,” he said then, his voice breaking. “I know you’ll catch me if I fall- well, when...” he added quietly, looking downcast.

“I will always catch you when you fall, Lamar. Now- and forever,” Malik said, leaning in to touch Lamar’s lips with his own, the quiet interlude as spell-binding as for both men as always.

They drew apart. “You know that nightmare I kept having, the one where Rah-Rah escapes from the asylum and shoots you, then shoots at me....?” Lamar softly asked then.

“Kind of came true- I guess you’re sort of psychic then, huh?” Malik smiled quietly.

“Yeah,” Lamar said. “In my nightmare, Rah-Rah escapes and attacks us both, shooting you; in real life, Rah-Rah escapes and we get attacked- only I’m the one who gets shot instead of you, and not by Rah-Rah.” Lamar sighed, tears shining out of the corners of his eyes. “What about that cop who shot me, anyway,” he asked quietly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Is he in custody?”

“First off, he wasn’t a cop; secondly, he’s dead,” Malik replied abruptly- and seeing the look of shock on Lamar’s face, he held up a hand. “It’s not what you think,” he said, and he filled him in on Goody’s obsession with Rah-Rah.

Lamar registered silent shock on his face for several moments. “That’s crazy,” he finally managed. “So that was all about Rah-Rah?”

“Basically,” Malik answered. “I don’t know what it was about my cousin, but Rah-Rah sure knew how to manipulate people.” He turned his head and looked out the nearby window, in the direction the Carthage Bluffs lay. “You know, Mar- down in the caves, he and I had a real conversation for once, and even though I was all ‘Joop’ then, I almost thought I saw potential in Rah-Rah- a chance for the good man hidden deep down to come forth and become someone great, had things turned out differently... And yet I have to remember that this is the same man, meanwhile, who put his mother in a coma, seduced medical personnel to help break him out of a mental asylum, and dangle a baby over the side of a cliff… I’d hate to think that his whole spiel in the Carthages was just another manipulation.”

“I know what you mean,” Lamar admitted. “Remember the night he kidnapped me and we were driving to his house? He was talking crazy- but underneath that, just for a second- I saw something in him that made me want to forgive him for… the rape; to give him another chance to act like a human. But then-”

“-Then that spark just disappeared, and he went back to being full-time crazy,” Malik finished, nodding grimly. “I finally saw that happen for myself. You know, I wish that nice-guy moment had been real. And yet, if Rah-Rah really wanted another chance to change, he wouldn’t have tried to kill me, AGAIN- he would’ve taken himself back to Oak Grove instead, and turned himself in.” Malik sighed. “On the one hand, I’m sorry he’s dead, and on the other, I’m glad it’s finally over.”

---

EPILOGUE

It turned out that the weekend was not completely free of storms. Malik and Lamar spent the rest of the day in the hospital, and by the time Lamar convinced the doctors (and Malik as well) that he would recuperate faster at home than there in the hospital, the sun had set amidst threatening storm clouds. The first drops of rain hit Malik’s ’06 white Jaguar as he pulled onto I-5, heading north towards Mt. Rainier and home. The rain grew harder as they passed the turnoff that led towards Oak Grove Sanitarium for the Criminally Insane. Soon enough the streets were lashed with a torrential downpour as darkness filled the night sky. Lamar, his chest tightly bound with bandages, had fallen asleep in the car, possibly from all the meds the doctors prescribed. Malik stared sideways at Lamar the whole way home, wondering whether or not, irony of ironies, if he would one day lose the man who had his heart, because of a heart condition.

A tear trickled down his face; he let it fall, knowing that Lamar wouldn’t see it- he was asleep.

*******

Five miles west of the turnoff from I-5 stood the gated, rain-lashed Oak Grove Sanitarium, all the windows and patio doors closed against the sudden rainstorm. Across the sweeping grounds, thunder rumbled through the skies and lightning flashed and crackled. At Oak Grove’s front desk, the night nurse jumped with fright with each flash of lightning, each boom of thunder- reminding herself she’d always been skittish of thunderstorms since a little girl. Tremblingly, she poured herself a glass of water to calm and sat down in her chair, trembling as she raised the glass to her lips.

BANGBANGBANG!!

The nurse shrieked with fright, dropping the cup to the floor, water sloshing everywhere as she threw her hands over her ears, closed her eyes- and hoped the sound would go away.

BANGBANGBANG!!!

With growing realization she began to define the sound- someone was banging on the front oak doors. Her legs shook as she fought to stand, finally getting her bearings. She headed for the door, un-clicked the bolt, threw up the latch-

The door swung open to reveal a dark, menacing shape outlined black against the rain-swept night- the nurse screamed in terror. Yet at that moment a bolt of lighting sizzled across the sky, and she blinked- and saw that the menacing shape was a bedraggled man in torn and bloody clothes, wet and pale against the storm, with cuts and bruises across his sodden body. Suddenly the man staggered closer, and although she shrank from him, the light inside the foyer revealed to the nurse who it was- and she gasped again, in surprise.

“YOU,” the shocked nurse managed.

“I’m back,” Rah-Rah stammered with the last of his strength, rain splattering his body- and then, without warning, he collapsed in the doorway, unconscious.

FIN