Destiny's Wrath (Destiny Series - Book 3) by Straight, Nancy (read full novel .txt) 📗

“No frickin’ way! Get out! Get out of my head. Get out of my body, now!”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible just yet. I have a few more loose ends to tie up. Then you’ll be rid of me for good. Now go to the dark place so I can get this mess cleaned up before it gets out of hand.”

“You aren’t listening, you depraved bastard. Get out of my head!”

Bert wiped his face with a towel and stepped into the kitchen. Setting on the counter was his briefcase. He reached inside and saw five very large stacks of cash. More conscious of the fact that Dennis could hear him, Bert thought his question rather than asking out loud. “Where did this come from? Did you rob a convenience store?”

“Do you really want to know? Come on, give me your body; this will be my last jaunt with it. You’ll have your boring life back this evening. Incidentally, I did give Cynthia the night off. I’ve made arrangements for another beauty to stop by at seven p.m. I’ll want to be around until then. I’m sure you understand.”

Bert didn’t care if Dennis heard him. Anger welled up and spilled out when he shouted, “No, I’m done with this! Get out now!”

His friend stepped from the entryway, and took two steps into the kitchen, with a look of genuine trepidation, “Bert, if you want to talk or something, I’ll listen. I just need your word that you won’t see Cynthia again.”

Bert’s eyes clouded. He turned to face his friend with the cash he had removed from the briefcase still in his hand. “You have my word. If you talk to her, tell her. . .tell her, I’m really sorry.”

Dennis couldn’t believe his ears. Bert was what he didn’t want to believe. His eyes wandered to the cash in Bert’s hand. “What’s that?”

Bert stuffed the money back into his briefcase. “I’m not feeling very well. I’m going to call in sick today.”

“You all right?”

“No, Dennis, I’m not all right.” Bert bowed his head and walked to the steps.

Dennis pulled out his cell and dialed Maggie. “I just talked to him. Let Cynthia know he’s going to leave her alone. Give her my number in case she needs it.”

A couple hours passed. Several arguments between Samael and Bert took place. Samael threatened to simply take the body over if Bert wouldn’t give him permission, but something didn’t allow Samael to take over, and Bert wasn’t about to hand it over again.

“I have one more task to accomplish. Then you’ll be rid of me for good.”

“No, I don’t trust you. Not after what you did to Cynthia.”

“I could pinky swear?”

“Samael, no, leave my body.”

“What more can I give you? We had a deal. I do not look favorably on someone who reneges on a deal.”

“That’s hysterical. You don’t look favorably on me? I don’t look favorably on you brutalizing a woman. I wish I could go back to you being a figment of my imagination.”

“I was never a figment of your imagination.”

“Get out.”

“I will get out, but there is this one last thing I need to do, while I still have the use of your body.”

“You don’t get it. You no longer have the use of my body. We’re through. Whatever deal we made was not on the premise of you . . . torturing another person.”

Bert saw his cell phone was ringing. He was going to ignore it, but saw it was Dennis calling him. “Great,” he muttered to himself.

“Hi, Dennis, what’s up?”

“Bert, did you sign out $50,000 from the evidence locker last night for a sting?”

“No. Why would I?”

“The morning custodian mentioned it to the chief. The chief wants to talk to you. He sounds pissed.”

Hesitating, just for a moment, remembering the five stacks of bills in his briefcase, Bert answered, “Oh, yeah, I must have forgotten. It ended up not going down. Say, you didn’t say anything to him, you know. . .”

Dennis cut him off, “About, Cynthia? No. Not a word. You better give him a call; he’s about ready to blow a gasket.”

“Thanks.” Bert took a deep breath, steadied himself the best that he could. He dialed the chief’s line.

A gruff voice growled into the phone, “Crosby.”

“Hey, Chief, it’s Bert. Dennis said you were looking for me?”

“Glad to hear you didn’t skip town. Tell me, Bert, how is it that you signed a large sum of money out from the custodian last night, under my authority, without my knowledge?”

“Chief, I, I don’t know why I did that.”

“You realize, I don’t care how sick you are. You pull yourself out of bed, get down to the precinct and turn that money back in. Once you’ve returned the money, you’re going to write a statement detailing why you broke procedure, why you lied to a fellow officer, and for added measure explain why you forged documents for a case that doesn’t exist. You’re going to meet with your union rep., and you’re going to make an appointment with Internal Affairs. Sometime in between all your errands, I’ll expect you to bring me your shield and gun. Am I clear?”

“Chief, I screwed up.”

“Your damn right you screwed up! You are not going to take anyone else down with you, you understand?”

“Yeah, I understand.” The chief disconnected the call. Bert had never heard him so furious about anything in his life.

“Okay, Samael, care to tell me why I withdrew all that money last night?”

“Wine, women and song cost money.”

Bert sat down with his head between his legs on the side of the bed. He didn’t see any of this coming. He looked at his issued weapon on the nightstand, his photo identification and a rolled up piece of metal setting right beside. He picked up the rolled up metal to examine it and realized it was his shield. He was exhausted, broken, and knew life as he knew it - was over. Bert mumbled to himself, “Private security won’t