Page 19 of Own It

“No. I need to be here to monitor everything in case anything goes awry.” I massaged my forehead, elbow resting on my desk. “Shaun, I think we maybe need to take a little break.”

“Break from what?”

“This. We’re on two different pages right now, and it’s been difficult to get on the same one. You wanna get engaged soon and . . .” I was trying to find a nice way to say I couldn’t see myself accepting his proposal. I hated being harsh, especially when in the grand scheme of things, Shaun was a good guy.

“Sorry.” Morgin waltzed in. “Jammed.” She held up the label printer, making me grunt.

“Baby, we⁠—”

“We will talk later. I have to get back to work.”

“Aight, love you⁠—”

I hung up and grabbed the printer from Morgin, trailing her back out to the main floor.

For the next few hours, we worked until it was going on nine p.m. By then I’d told Morgin to go on and that I would close up alone.

Her ass wasted no time taking me up on the offer. I knew most likely Morgin would be in the streets tonight and wondered how she could work all damn day and still get all dolled up to be in some nigga’s face only an hour later. I wouldn’t survive. The thought made me wonder what I would do after ending things with Shaun.

Finishing up a few tasks, I then made a checklist for the next day before shutting everything down. As I stepped out and began locking up the warehouse, I heard footsteps approach, making my head pop up from focusing on the lock of the door.

I spotted a very tall, well-built man approaching me in all black, and the sight of him alone choked me with terror. For a while, I couldn’t find the words to speak or even scream as my eyes widened in fright. When people spoke on being paralyzed with fear, this was what they meant.

“Daylin?” The deep voice seemed to shake the ground beneath my feet as I swallowed the huge lump in my throat.

“Um, who is asking—hey!” I screeched when the man snatched my fucking purse, dug my wallet out, and peered down at the ID that was visible through the clear frosted pocket, confirming I in fact was Daylin.

My heart rate sped up as I remembered I was in the far back of the lot where no one could see me. I could try my luck and run around the large ass man, but it was very likely that he’d grab me.

Shoving the contents of my purse back into it, he put the bag under his armpit, making it look miniature, and said, “Aight, I need you to come with me.”

“Where?” My voice shook like a lone leaf in a full winter breeze, making me hate how fearful I sounded. I knew that often criminals got off on the fear of their victims, so I tried to remain collected.

The man paused then chuckled so subtly it took a minute for me to pin down the sound he’d just let out.

“You’ll see when you get there. Anymore muthafuckin’ questions?” He got serious really quickly while remaining calm, and that scared me even more. He wasn’t irate or foaming at the mouth; he was placid as if he kidnapped people all the fucking time.

“Do you know me?” I asked, doing my best not to allow my voice to quiver again as I stared up at the extremely tall man. He was dark, in shape—something one could see even under the black hoodie he wore—and had menacing eyes that sent a chill so deep I could feel it in my bones.

The man shook his head, tongue gliding across his lips just before he blew out a frustrated breath.

“I don’t, baby girl, but don’t make shit hard for a nigga. Come with me, and don’t make me chase you. If I have to chase you, that’s gon’ piss me off, and I’m pissed the fuck off already as it is,” he replied cooly, and I was surprised I could hear him over the sound of my heart thundering in my chest.

“But why?” I attempted to stall, eyes bouncing around as inconspicuously as possible in an attempt to find a way to get around and possibly outrun this nigga without him noticing the wheels churning in my fucking head.

As I peered up at him, fidgeting and thinking, I tried to see if I recognized him or not, but because my ass was filled to the brim with fear and terror, that part of my brain wasn’t processing. He was young, though, maybe a few years older than me, but his eyes mirrored ones of a man who’d lived two lifetimes.

Then, it hit me like a gut punch. This was Rakim Godfrey, Ayan’s brother. Was this some type of ploy for Ayan? It probably was no coincidence that they showed up to my place of business in the same day. Had he tasked his brother to kidnap and deliver me to him?

Then again, the two didn’t seem fond of one another back at the party. My damn head was spinning trying to piece everything together.

Truly, I didn’t get what I’d done in life for something like this to be happening to me. With every true crime documentary I’d watched, I never fathomed that I could ever be the subject of an episode or, depending on how far things went, a whole two-hour documentary dedicated just to my case. The thought alone made my blood go cold and tears form at the rim of my eyes.

I began to replay every conversation I had with the people I cared for, and from what I recalled, none of them were positive.

“Don’t matter why. Shit is bigger than you.” He checked the time on a watch that seemingly blended into his clothing, so I wasn’t able to clock it well enough to tell on him once I eventually escaped the situation, . . . if I escaped the situation.

That small detail let me know that the nigga before me was a career criminal, and shit like what he was doing right now was nothing new to him. That, coupled with the current circumstance at hand, heightened my fear somehow.