Gritting my teeth against the pain, I dart to the side and grip the outer edges of the coffee table. Picking it up, I swing it like a Louisville Slugger. The wood doesn’t crack when it strikes his back, but it stuns him enough that he lists to the side. Dropping the table, I run a couple of steps, kick my rear foot, and land a flying punch to his jaw. The power of the impact sings up my arm like a discordant melody, but my gratification at his headsnapping back is extremely short-lived as he cuffs my wrist and tosses me across the room.
He stares at me, those cold, narrowed eyes promising me death.
And I stare right back.
I flick my gaze to my Glock on the shelf in back of him.
His goes to the gun behind me.
For a long moment, we don’t move.
And then we’re in motion at the same time, in a race to see who can grab their weapon first and fastest.
“Do it,” I invite with a bloodstained smile. And I even lean into the barrel pointed at my forehead. The gun in my hand doesn’t waver, trained at his head. “Go ahead. We can go together on the count of three. Or…” I slowly draw my Glock back and raise my other hand, palm out in a temporary white flag. “You can hear me out and then try to kill me later?”
He hikes a dark eyebrow.
I frown. “Yeah, mu’fucka, I said ‘try.’” Shaking my head, I tsk-tsk. “I swear, the shit is true. Give you an inch, you try to take a mile. I still got your dick on my breath, but don’t think I’ma let you punk me. I got another coffee table and bullet with your name on it.”
He mugs me, but after a long, tense moment, he eventually lowers his arm, taking the gun with him. I notice he doesn’t put the safety back on. Smart man. Neither do I.
“Just a heads-up,” I say, poking the corner of my mouth and wincing at the soreness. Peeping the blood dotting my fingertip, I wipe it across my hip. “Abena knows you didn’t get the job done. I’d watch your back for the next little while. She’s a vindictive li’l bitch when she doesn’t get her way.”
He doesn’t utter a word, but something quick and cold flashes in those silver eyes. And I’m reminded of a rabid wolf in the wild with its prey caught in its sights. There’s death there. Death and pain.
I cock my head. “Oooh. You already figured that out. What happened?” I pop up a finger. “Lemme guess. She had somebody waiting on you when you got home.”
“How do you know that?” he growls, his voice like a rusty old engine.
It sends shivers racing down my spine on feet of pure fire. Just remembering how that serrated voice demanded I lick his blood and do it a-fucking-gain has my pussy leaking into the seat of my underwear.
“Know what?”
“That she was waiting for me.” Menace rolls off him as he steps toward me, and I swear, a part of me does fucking snow angels in all that beautiful hate. “Do you know the location of my house?”
Of course I do. Like I said, the better question would be whatdon’tI know about him. But common sense and a strong sense of self-preservation urge me to keep that question to myself. Still… where’s the fun in that?
“Sure do.”
“And did you tell your aunt where I stayed?” he asks, that voice somehow becoming deeper, rougher… deadlier.
I ball my face up, offended. “Hell nah. You might want to weed out the rat in your circle for whoever delivered that info to her. But it wasn’t me. I wouldn’t give that ho a cold, much less intel.”
I squint at him as anger crawls through me. Not so much at his accusation as the thought of someone betraying him. I mean, yeah, we still got beef—he did try to kill me as recently as two minutes ago—but he’s mine. Doesn’t matter if he or anyone else knows it. And whoever gave him up to Abena now got more than the Huntsman on their ass. They got me, and they might want to start going to altar call now to pray that he finds them before I do. Because he has a reputation for quick, emotionless kills.
Me? Not so much. I’m all about taking my time and emoting.
“Now, how did I know she was waiting on you? I didn’t. Well, not for sure. It was a guess because that’s what she does. Ambushes people where they’re most comfortable to catch them with their guard down. Mainly because she’s a fucking bum bitch and coward. But…” I tilt my head. “Iamshocked that she actually showed up to handle the deed herself.”
He grunts, and in that monosyllabic note, I read,As the fuck if.
“Oh, of course.” I nod. “She just showed up to gloat. Abena did the same shit with my mother, y’know. Couldn’t resist wallowing in her handiwork even though she didn’t have enough pussy to pull the trigger herself.”
My tone is light, but inside… inside, the rage and hatred for my aunt coil and rattle like a venomous snake. They’ve seeped into my veins, my blood, for so long that my organs pump them throughout my body, giving me breath, giving me life.
“She had my mother—her sister—murdered. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. It’s like the worst-kept secret that no one will admit out loud even though we all know it’s true. She had my mother gunned down in the street like a sick dog in Mwuaji territory, where she should’ve been safest. And then, moments later, Abena happened to show up, standing over her body.”
That night is branded into my head; there’s no escaping it. I still wake up with the pop of those shots ringing in my head. The harsh scent of cordite in my nose even though I know it’s impossible for me to have smelled it with the distance separating me from my mother. Can still feel the rain dampened air on my face.
