Free Boss Divas by De'nesha Diamond Page A

wait through her two-finger typing on the keyboard. “Yes. She’s been admitted. She’s in room 712.”
    â€œAdmitted,” Profit repeats. “What’s wrong with her?”
    â€œYou’ll have to talk to her doctor about that. I don’t have that information.”
    â€œThis is fuckin’ ridiculous.” He slams a fist down on the counter.
    The nurse jumps in her seat. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.”
    â€œProfit, baby.” I touch his shoulder in hopes he’ll calm down.
    â€œC’mon.” He grabs my arm again and pulls me toward the elevators.
    I don’t have the heart to tell him that he’s pulling my arm out of its socket so I roll with the pain.
    He jabs the up button a dozen times in two seconds while the glowing green numbers above the door descend at a snail’s pace.
    â€œC’mon. C’mon,” he grumbles.
    â€œProfit, don’t get yourself so worked up.”
    He ignores me and keeps pacing. I drop my hands to my sides and let him roam around in a circle.
    By the time the elevator doors slide open, I’m about to crawl out of my skin, too. We rush into the small box, press the button for the seventh floor, and then suffer through another excruciating wait as it climbs at the same slow-ass pace.
    On the seventh floor, we spring out and immediately notice a cluster of police officers in the center of the hallway—a major clue as to which room a kidnapping victim is lying in. Dread creeps up my spine. Bad news is the only news we know lately.
    â€œMom?” Profit inquires, rushing into the room. He drops my hand when he sees her lying in the bed. She’s banged up pretty good: one black eye and a busted lip and nose.
    I hang back, awkward, like a third wheel.
    â€œRaymond,” his mother exclaims, opening her arms.
    Profit leans into her embrace and they hold each other and rock together for a moment before he begins his interrogation. “Momma, what happened?”
    KNOCK. KNOCK.
    I turn around to see a woman with a police badge draped around her neck enter.
    â€œHello, I’m Captain Hawkins,” she says, jutting out a hand. “I’ll be investigating your mother’s case. I came to get a statement.”
    â€œOh, no. She’s not my mother,” I correct her.
    â€œShe’s mine,” Profit says, eyeballing the cop suspiciously.
    â€œSorry about that.” The captain smiles and then walks over to Profit to shake his hand. “And your name is?”
    Profit ignores her question and leaves her hand hanging in the air. “Who did this shit to her?”
    â€œRaymond, baby.” Barbara says, patting a spot next to her on the bed. “Please, sit down.”
    He shakes his head. He can’t sit right now—not when he’s ready to punch someone.
    â€œThat’s exactly what I came here to find out.” Captain Hawkins lowers her hand and then turns her attention to his mother. “Okay, Mrs. Lewis, if you could start from the beginning. . . ”

12
    Lucifer
    H e’s alive.
    I’m scared to go to sleep, afraid that I’ll wake up to an empty bed, like this is all a crazy dream. I can take a lot of shit, but I won’t be able to take that. I lost him once—I can’t do that shit again.
    Mason must feel the same way because after a long session of lovemaking he’s lying beside me and staring into my eyes. Only Mason knows how to transform me from a stone-cold killer to a passionate woman.
    I’m his bitch.
    I’m his woman.
    I’m his everything.
    I wouldn’t have it any other way.
    Dawn comes too soon. At any moment, the real world outside my window will intrude. There’s so much to tell him—so much has happened since his “death” that I don’t know where to start. The wars, the infighting—the deaths.
    â€œWhassup, Willow?” He brushes a kiss against my lips. “What’s