Grace & Jamaal: Part 2

by D D

Grace and Jamaal’s dangerous love deepens as they navigate high-stakes risks and intense passion while evading those hunting them down.

Realistic 3D

romance

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GRACE & JAMAALPART II - THE JOB Grace woke before Jamaal did. For a few quiet seconds, she forgot everything complicated about him. Morning light slipped through the blinds in narrow gold lines, cutting across his bare shoulder and the dark ink curling over his upper arm. Jamaal slept on his stomach, one hand resting near her hip beneath the sheet, his face turned toward her. Awake, there was always something guarded in his eyes. Sleeping, he looked almost peaceful. Grace knew better than to mistake peace for innocence. She had known for months that Jamaal lived outside the lines. She knew Choppa, Slim, and Griggs weren't simply friends from the neighborhood. She knew there were conversations that stopped when she entered rooms and nights when Jamaal came home carrying tension like another layer of clothing. What she didn't know was exactly what he did. That changed on a Tuesday. Jamaal's phone vibrated on the nightstand. Once. Twice. Three times. Grace glanced at the screen. SLIM: Van ready. Griggs has the codes. Choppa says we hit at 1:15. Her stomach tightened. Another message appeared. SLIM: Jewelry shipment confirmed. We got eight minutes inside. Grace stared at the words until the screen went dark. Jamaal shifted beside her. She looked at him differently now. Not drugs. Not some vague street hustle. He was a thief. A real one. The realization should have sent her out the door. Instead, it sent a slow, forbidden thrill through her. Grace hated that reaction. Hated it enough that she climbed out of bed, wrapped Jamaal's shirt around herself, and walked toward the kitchen as though distance might make her sensible again. It didn't. Jamaal appeared several minutes later wearing gray sweatpants, his chest bare, his expression immediately suspicious when he saw her standing silently at the counter. "What's wrong?" Grace folded her arms. "What's happening at one-fifteen?" He stopped. That was all the confirmation she needed. "Grace." "Jewelry shipment? Eight minutes inside?" His jaw flexed. "You went through my phone?" "Your phone announced your felony on the nightstand." Jamaal rubbed a hand over his face. Grace watched him carefully. "You're a thief." He didn't answer. "Say it." His eyes settled on hers. "Yeah." The bluntness of it stole her next question. Jamaal leaned against the opposite counter. "Me, Choppa, Slim, Griggs. We've been doing jobs for years. Warehouses. High-end merchandise. Cash when the opportunity makes sense. Things people insure for more money than either of us will probably ever see." Grace's heartbeat quickened. "You rob people?" "We try not to deal with people at all." "That's supposed to make me feel better?" "No. It's supposed to answer your question." She stared at him. He looked infuriatingly calm. "How many?" "Grace." "How many jobs?" "Enough." She walked toward him. "And all this time you let me think-" "I let you think exactly what you already knew. That I wasn't clean." "I didn't know this." "Because I didn't want you carrying it." Grace stopped inches from him. "You don't get to decide what I can carry." Something shifted in his expression. He reached for her waist, but Grace caught his wrist. "Don't distract me." "Wasn't trying to." "Liar." That small smile appeared. It irritated her. It also made her want him. That was the worst part of Jamaal. The more dangerous he became, the harder it sometimes was for Grace to separate fear from attraction. He stepped closer. "You scared of me now?" Grace looked into his eyes. "No." "Maybe you should be." "Maybe you should stop trying to scare me." His hand settled at her waist again. This time she allowed it. The room seemed to shrink around them. Grace could smell his cologne lingering from the night before. She could feel the warmth of his body through the thin shirt she'd stolen from him. "You're mad," Jamaal murmured. "Very." "You leaving?" She didn't answer. His fingers tightened slightly against her waist. Grace caught the back of his neck and kissed him. It wasn't forgiveness. The kiss carried frustration, desire, and every question she still wanted answered. Jamaal pulled her closer until there was no space between them. Grace felt the hard edge of the counter against her lower back as his mouth moved from hers to the side of her neck. Her breath caught. "Still mad?" he whispered. "Shut up." He laughed softly against her skin. Grace pushed him backward, and Jamaal let her, watching her with that dark, amused look that always made her pulse race. She kissed him again, slower this time, deliberately dragging out the moment until his composure finally cracked. His hands moved along her sides, strong and possessive without becoming careless. Their arguments had always seemed to turn into another kind of conversation - one spoken through lingering kisses, fingers gripping fabric, bodies pressed close, and the charged silence afterward. That morning was no different. Except now Grace knew exactly what kind of man was holding her. And some hidden part of her loved him even more for it. Hours later, Jamaal left. He didn't tell her where he was going. He didn't need to. * * * The job was supposed to be simple. Griggs had spent three weeks watching the distribution building. Slim had secured the van. Choppa knew the shipment schedule. Jamaal had memorized the interior from floor plans Griggs obtained through a contact. No improvisation. That was Jamaal's rule. They entered through a service door shortly after one in the morning. The building was mostly dark. Griggs handled the security panel. Slim moved toward the loading area. Choppa stayed near the corridor while Jamaal headed for the secured storage room. Everything worked. For six minutes. Then an alarm screamed. Jamaal spun toward Griggs. "What happened?" "Wasn't me." Choppa appeared at the doorway. "We gotta move." Slim came running from the loading area. "Security truck pulled up outside." Jamaal grabbed the nearest bag. "Leave the rest." Choppa stared at him. "That's half the haul." "Leave it." "We didn't come here for half." Jamaal shoved the bag into Choppa's chest. "And we ain't dying for the other half. Move." They ran. By the time they reached the rear corridor, blue and red light flashed through the narrow windows. Police. Too fast. Much too fast. Griggs swore. "Somebody knew." There wasn't time to argue. Jamaal shoved open a side door. "Van's burned. Split up." The alley outside erupted in shouted commands. Choppa disappeared behind a dumpster and vaulted a fence. Griggs went the opposite direction. Slim followed Jamaal. Then everything happened at once. A police officer shouted for them to stop. Slim turned. Jamaal heard another command. Then gunfire cracked through the alley. Slim jerked backward. For half a second, Jamaal didn't understand what he was seeing. Slim collapsed onto the pavement. "Slim!" Jamaal started toward him. More shouting. More officers were coming around the corner. Slim didn't move. Jamaal stood frozen between instinct and reality. Then Griggs appeared behind the fence. "JAMAAL!" That broke the spell. Jamaal ran. Not because he wanted to. Because staying meant joining Slim on the pavement or spending the rest of his life behind bars. He climbed the fence, dropped hard onto the other side, and disappeared between two buildings with Griggs several yards ahead. Nobody spoke Slim's name again that night. There wasn't time. * * * Grace heard pounding on her apartment door at 3:47 in the morning. She reached it wearing a robe. "Who is it?" "Me." Jamaal. She unlocked the door. He entered quickly and locked it behind himself. His jacket was torn. There was dirt along one side of his face and blood on his sleeve. Grace's stomach dropped. "Is that yours?" "No." "What happened?" Jamaal walked toward the window and looked through the blinds. "Jamaal." He remained silent. Grace grabbed his arm. "What happened?" He turned. The expression on his face frightened her more than the blood. "Slim's dead." Grace released him. "What?" "Police shot him." She stared at Jamaal. He didn't cry. Didn't collapse. Didn't give her some dramatic speech about friendship and loss. He simply stood there breathing too quickly, his mind clearly still in that alley. "Were you there?" "Yeah." "Did you see it?" "Yeah." Grace swallowed. "Are they looking for you?" "Probably." That single word changed the room. Grace closed her eyes. This wasn't exciting anymore. This wasn't the mysterious man at the lounge or whispered phone calls or the intoxicating knowledge that Jamaal lived dangerously. A man was dead. Police might be searching for Jamaal. And Jamaal was standing in her apartment. "You need to tell me everything," she said. "Not tonight." "Tonight especially." "Grace-" "You came to my home covered in somebody else's blood. Don't Grace me." Jamaal looked toward the floor. "The alarm got triggered. Cops came faster than they should've. Slim was behind me when we came out. They told us to stop. He turned. They fired." "Was he armed?" Jamaal's silence answered enough. Grace sat on the edge of the couch. "Jesus." "I shouldn't have come here." "Probably not." He nodded. Then headed toward the door. Grace stood. "Where are you going?" "Away from you." "I didn't tell you to leave." Jamaal turned around. "You shouldn't have to." For once, there was no swagger in him. Grace crossed the room slowly. She touched the torn edge of his jacket. "Take this off." "Grace." "Your jacket. Take it off." He obeyed. She led him toward the bathroom and dampened a towel beneath warm water. Jamaal sat on the closed toilet lid while Grace wiped dirt from his cheek. "You could've been killed," she said. "I know." "That isn't sexy to me." His eyes lifted to hers. "I know." "I need you to understand that." "I do." Grace cleaned a scrape near his temple. Her hand lingered against his face. Jamaal caught her wrist and kissed the inside of it. The gesture was so unexpectedly intimate that Grace stopped breathing for a moment. He stood. Now she had to tilt her head back to look at him. "I thought I wasn't coming back tonight," he said. Grace's anger softened without disappearing. "But you did." "Yeah." His forehead touched hers. The kiss that followed was slower than the one that morning. Not frantic. Not celebratory. It was the kiss of two people painfully aware that a few inches of bad luck could have erased everything between them. Grace slid her arms around his neck. Jamaal pulled her against him, holding her with an intensity that made her feel the tremor he'd been hiding since entering the apartment. She kissed his jaw, then his neck. His hands tightened at her waist. "Grace..." "I'm here." He kissed her again. The heat between them built quickly, but underneath it was something heavier - urgency, anger, relief. Jamaal lifted her into his arms, and Grace wrapped herself around him as he carried her toward the bedroom. Their clothes disappeared somewhere between the doorway and the bed. What followed was passionate and rough-edged, the kind of intimacy they had always shared when words became inadequate. Grace matched his intensity, refusing to let him disappear inside whatever darkness he'd brought home. She wanted his attention completely on her - her mouth against his, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his shoulders, his breath warming her skin. Jamaal slowed when she touched his face. That changed everything. The urgency became something deeper. He kissed her as though memorizing her. Grace drew him closer, whispering his name, feeling the tension gradually leave his body as the world outside her bedroom disappeared. For that night, there were no sirens. No crew. No stolen jewelry. No alley. Only them. Later, Grace lay beneath the sheet with her head against Jamaal's chest. His fingers moved slowly along her back. "You still love it?" he asked. Grace knew exactly what he meant. The danger. The criminal in him. The part she'd secretly found exciting. She lifted her head. "Some of it." Jamaal almost smiled. "That's messed up." "I know." "You should want some accountant who goes to bed at nine." "I'd ruin his life." Jamaal laughed quietly. Grace smiled, then became serious. "But tonight changed something." His laughter faded. "For me too." Before Grace could answer, Jamaal's phone vibrated on the floor. He reached down and picked it up. One message. From Choppa. WE GOT A PROBLEM. A second arrived. GRIGGS THINKS SOMEBODY SET US UP. Then a third. AND I THINK I KNOW WHO. Jamaal sat upright. Grace watched his expression harden. "What?" He didn't answer immediately. His phone rang. Choppa. Jamaal answered. "Talk." Choppa's voice was loud enough that Grace could hear pieces of it from beside him. "...wasn't random... somebody gave them the building..." Jamaal stood and began pulling on his clothes. Grace sat up, holding the sheet against herself. "You're leaving?" He looked at her. "I have to." "Jamaal, somebody just died." "That's exactly why I have to." Grace watched him pull on his shirt. Ten minutes earlier he'd been warm beneath her hands. Now the other Jamaal was returning. The one she'd finally met completely. The thief. The criminal. The man whose world had followed him straight into her bedroom. He bent and kissed Grace once. "Lock the door behind me." Jamaal paused. "To find out who killed Slim." Then he left. * * * Choppa waited inside an abandoned auto shop across town. Griggs was already there. Nobody looked devastated. They looked furious. Slim's empty place among them said enough. Choppa threw a burner phone onto a workbench. "Cops didn't magically show up in six minutes." Griggs nodded. "Alarm company couldn't have gotten them there that fast either." Jamaal picked up the phone. "What am I looking at?" "Call log." There were three numbers. One belonged to Choppa. One belonged to Griggs. The third was unfamiliar. "Whose phone?" Jamaal asked. "Slim's." Jamaal looked up. Griggs stepped closer. "He called that number seventeen minutes before we went inside." Silence. Jamaal stared at the screen. "You think Slim set us up?" "I don't know what I think," Griggs said. "But somebody knew." Choppa shook his head. "Slim wouldn't sell us out." "People do things when they're scared," Griggs replied. Choppa slammed his palm against the workbench. "Don't talk about him like that." Jamaal stepped between them. "Enough." Both men looked at him. Months earlier, Choppa had accused Jamaal of becoming soft. Now there was nothing soft in his expression. "We don't accuse anybody until we know," Jamaal said. "We find out who owns that number. We find out how the police knew. And until then, nobody does anything stupid." "And if somebody set us up?" Jamaal looked down at Slim's phone. Then back at the two men still standing. "Then we're already in deeper trouble than we think." Across town, Grace stood alone at her bedroom window wearing Jamaal's shirt again. She watched headlights move along the street below. She had wanted to know who Jamaal really was. Now she did. And somewhere beneath the fear, beneath the anger and the questions, that dangerous attraction remained. But Grace understood something she hadn't understood before. Loving a dangerous man was easy when danger was only a mystery. It became something else entirely when danger learned your address.

Grace & Jamaal: Part 2

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