Chapter Eight

  

Blu did not hide his anger. He parked directly behind Pelton, got out of the Land Cruiser, and walked to the driver’s side of the pickup.

Pelton got out just in time for Blu to get in his face.

“You think this is some kind of game?”

The kid didn’t flinch. “Why are you tailing me?”

“That killer you missed is going to want to square things with you for killing his brother.”

Pelton leaned against his truck and folded his arms. “So I guess you’ll wait until he makes his move on me, hit or miss, and then take him out for killing your friend.”

“Something like that.”

To passersby, it must have looked like two men just hanging out on King Street, making cars go around them. The area was just now getting gentrified but hadn’t made it all the way yet.

Pelton said, “Why don’t we work together on this?”

Blu said, “I don’t need some amateur slowing me down.”

He frowned. “Sorry that’s the way you feel.”

Blu ignored the comment because something else was nagging at him. “How’d you find the connection to me and this store?”

“I just pulled over when I saw you.”

Blu got in Pelton’s face again. “No you didn’t. You leave Billie out of this. You want a war with the shooter and me, you’ll get one.”

Pelton stood straight and looked like he was about to try and shove Blu off him.

Before that could happen, Billie stormed out of the building. “You two get the hell away from my store. You’re scaring my customers.”

Blu took his attention off Pelton, probably a mistake. But he couldn’t help it. The aura of the woman that was Billie Day stared—no, glared—at him.

He said, “Hi, Billie.” Every time he saw her, he wished he were a better man. He loved her light brown skin, her curvy hips, her short bob hairstyle, and her attitude.

“Don’t you ‘Hi, Billie’ me, Blu. What are you doing bringing your trouble here in front of my store? You know better than this.”

Pelton said, “It’s my fault, ma’am.”

With hands on nice hips, she said, “I’ve never seen you before.” She nodded at Blu. “I know him and he knows this is my store. How do you figure it’s your fault?”

“Mr. Carraway was following me. He didn’t know I knew he was. I want him to agree to work with me, so I thought I’d show him how good my sources are. They told me he was associated with the owner of this store.”

“And you figured by leading him here, you’d rattle him?” She took a long look at Blu. “Looks like you succeeded.”

Pelton smirked.

Blu wanted to deck the smug bastard. Instead, he took a calming breath, walked back to his SUV, and drove away. In the rearview mirror, he watched Pelton continue to talk with Billie. That annoyed him even more than getting made in the tail. If that other killer didn’t get Pelton, Blu entertained himself thinking about how he could do the job for him.

  

Brack smiled at the woman, a light-skinned African-American about a decade his senior. Pretty, with a body closer to Kardashian than Swift. He understood why Carraway liked her. He liked her, too.

She watched Blu drive away and then turned her glare on him. “Blu’s a good man, but he doesn’t take things lying down. I know you think you’re so smart for leading him here. But all you did was piss him off.”

“I want to work with him.”

Her hands were on hips Brack would rate somewhere around perfect. “You said that already.” She cracked a smile. “If that’s what you want, you don’t drop a boulder on him. Blu needs finesse.”

“Is that what you do?”

The smile left. “You are pushing it.”

“How about if I buy you a cup of coffee and make it up to you?”

“How about if you take that cocky attitude and shove it where the sun don’t shine. I can see why Blu doesn’t want to work with you. You’re all balls and no brains.”

Brack said, “I’ve been called worse.” Although not by a woman this pretty in a while.

She turned back to the store. “And when I walk inside you’ll be all alone. I’m guessing that’s how you really like it.”

That one hit deep. He really didn’t like being alone, but always seemed to end up that way. At least since his wife Jo had passed. And since Darcy moved to Atlanta.

The woman named Billie made her way toward the door to her store.

Brack’s phone buzzed in his pocket, jarring him from his thoughts. He took it out, read the display, and answered the call as he watched the woman’s curves. “Hey, Brother Thomas.”

The woman stopped in midstride and turned around, catching him looking.

He snapped his eyes to her face, a tad late.

On the phone, Brother Thomas said, “You alright, Brother Brack? I just heard you had a shootin’ at yo’ place.”

“I’m still here,” Brack said. “No new holes.”

Brack’s friend and pastor chuckled. “Glad to hear it. Why don’t you come by and tell me about it when you can.”

Still looking at the woman, Brack asked, “Say, Brother, you know a woman named Billie? Works at Willie’s Music on King, not too far from your church.”

The look Billie gave him was a lot different than the look just before she had started to walk away. Gone was the anger.

Brother Thomas said, “Yeah, I know Billie. Pretty as the day is long. She sings like a bird, too. Sometimes she come to the church and sing on Sunday morning. What about her?”

Brack smiled at Billie. “I’m looking at her. You wanna talk to her?”

“She there? Yeah, I wanna talk to her.”

Billie looked at Brack’s iPhone when he handed it to her.

Brother Thomas spoke loud enough for both of them to hear with the phone between them. “Billie, that you?”

She took the phone and put it to her ear. “Hey, Brother Thomas. How you doin’?”

The thought that came to mind while he watched Billie talk to Brother Thomas was that he should have called the pastor earlier. The man knew everything that happened in the African-American community of Charleston. Besides, messing with a man’s woman was a surefire way to get shot. Billie was right about him sometimes being all balls and no brains. This was a perfect example.

After a few nods and false starts, Billie was able to get a word in. It was like that talking with Brother Thomas.

Into the phone, she said, “I just met him.”

Another nod and then another glare at Brack.

“Well, he hasn’t exactly made the best first impression.”

A pause with a reflective look on her face.

“Okay, only because he knows you. Otherwise, I might shoot him.”

Brack could imagine Brother Thomas replying with something like, “There be times I wanna shoot Brother Brack myself. Mm-hmm.”

“Good to talk to you, Brother.” She ended the call and handed the phone back. “He said God told him to call you and now he understands why.”

Brack took the phone and slipped it in his pocket. “So how about that cup of coffee?”

Billie looked down the road in the direction Carraway had drove off. “I’ve got some already made. Come on in.”