Every vague conversation suddenly replayed itself in my head. Targen never actually said Chauncey was dead. I just assumed, and he let me. A current of anger tripped down my spine. Kemp mistook my silence for fear and smirked.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Ain’t as safe as you thought, huh?”
I smiled at him then. Kemp was low-banging fruit, a loud, ignorant braggart. Chauncey’s aunt ran a tight ship. No way anyone trusted this piece of shit. He probably had been ear hustling, picking up bits and pieces and trying to rub them in my face. Ain’t no way he knew as much as he was bluffing.
“You done?” I asked calmly.
He blinked, surprised. His smirk slipped. “What?”
“You came in here trying to scare me. It didn’t work. Are. You. Done?” I repeated slowly enough for him to get it.
His face fell. “It ain’t my fault you too dumb to know when you in trouble.”
Emory shifted beside me. “Theory…”
I chuckled, walked closer. “Oh, Kemp. Poor, delusional, desperate Kemp. I’m not the one in trouble. The day I met my husband, he told you to never be where I am. And look at you. Just… being.”
I made a tsking sound as I patted his cheek. He tensed, his eyes lit up with rage.
“Do something stupid. Please, Kemp. Do it,” Hyacinth taunted, as she reached into her purse.
I shook my head as she pulled out a set of brass knuckles and slid her hand into them. The contrast between the gleaming metal and her extra-long, bejeweled and bedazzled nails made my smile spread.
“You better hope your husband can protect you when all this catch up to him,” Kemp warned.
I tilted my head. “You better hope you survive when my husband catches up toyou.”
“Theory.”
Targen’s voice cracked across the store like a whip.
Every head turned.
My husband stood beside a display of satin bonnets while Mikhail and Juvie were behind him.
And Lord, I could tell he was mad, seething with rage. He looked dangerous… cold and dangerous. His silvery stare settled on Kemp like a death sentence. That bitch ass nigga took one step backward.
Targen walked toward us slowly. “You left your detail,” he murmured to me, his voice soft, nonchalant, like it wasn’t a big deal.
I knew better.
“Yo’ ass stay in trouble,” Hyacinth hissed.
I did, but we were even. Cuz he was in trouble, too.
Targen came to a stop in front of Kemp.
“You bothering my wife?”
“I was just talking,” Kemp back tracked hastily.
“Nah. He was practicing his ‘menacing villain’ role, just being real dusty,” Hyacinth volunteered immediately.
“Very dusty,” Emory added.
Juvie nodded solemnly. “Ain’t nothing I hate more than a nigga engaging in dust-covered activities,” he intoned.
Even Mikhail looked disgusted. Targen laughed softly.
