Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“How did you find me?” His voice was tight enough to tune a guitar. He peered outside before letting me in, then locked the door with the energy of a man who trusted no one.
I sank onto a khaki couch, casing the place like I might return later with glass cutters, a black turtleneck, and a heist plan. The place was clean.
Serial killer clean. As if he dusted the floorboards every Saturday to prepare for another victim.
My brow lifted. “Nice place. You renting? You own? Do you got a whole-ass family Momma doesn’t know about? If so, I may lower my voice!”
He pulled a gun from his back pocket and put it on the mirrored coffee table, then sat on the loveseat across from me. “You want some cognac while you explain how you found me. I’ma need details.”
I shrugged, glaring at the gun. “ Is that supposed to put me on my best behavior?”
“Nah, fool. Drink?”
I nodded. “No cheap crap.”
“The best. Trust me.” He slapped his hands onto his knees, then sat forward and opened a compartment of his mirror table. Impressive. He pulled out two glasses and poured us both cognacs, then handed one over.
I drank, brain doing a factory reset. The only remaining file read, Damn, that’s good.
“Bruh, you speechless?” Texas chuckled, watching me as if I might ascend.
Yeah. I could hear angels singing. But would I admit it? “It’s aight.”
“How did you find me, Washington?”
I sipped my drink down. Poured myself more, then took a sip of that too before I spoke. “Momma’s at home crying her eyes out every night.”
“Whatchu mean she’s crying? You didn’t tell her you saw me?” He forced the words through snarled lips. “I went to Madison’s house, knowing damn well she’d snitch. By the time y’all got there, I figured you’d have your heads on straight. You’d think logically enough to tell Momma I was fine! You should’ve told her what I said.”
“What did you say?”
“That I needed time alone.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “So, you didn’t do nothing? You wouldn’t lie for me? I came over there looking like Booboo the Fool on purpose. Like I’d just tucked and rolled through all the potholes in Crescent City. Why would you want Momma to see me like that with your dumb ass? You should’ve told Momma that I was working on myself. Bring her casseroles. Do something, damn!”
Oh, so I’m dumb for not understanding his malfunction? And when had he said he needed time alone? Laughter ripped from my lips as I settled back and took another sip. “Funny, I almost had a couple of buddies bring you down to the station like they did with Maddy. Have this conversation in a different setting.” I waved my glass around. “Because this whole situation is funny. My soon-to-be wife again is at home, warm and soft and waiting for me.” Was it necessary for him to know that she was asleep? Nope. Nah.
“But this right here, Texas, it’s an entire comedy show.” As I waited for him to get over his audacity of feeling betrayed because I hadn’t lied to Momma, I regaled him with how Madison had sat in the interrogation room months ago. I chuckled. “Nico Roman could turn that into an entire segment and run me a couple of dollars.”
“You got jokes.”
“Yep. Jokes for days. Let’s be serious. Momma’s at home crying. If we went the whole interrogation route at the NOPD, they may come up with something that I can’t help you with. That I’d have to recuse myself from.” My innocent palms rose. “Matter of fact, I’m confident I switched from corporate law to juvenile law so I could circumvent this. Whatever this is … with this nice home and damn good cognac.”
He shifted in his seat, not taking a sip of his drink. Evasion. Classic Texas Falsehood #4. My brother only did that when he was lying or trying to hide the truth under two hundred pounds of attitude.
I pulled out my phone. “Okay, I’m about to push this address out in a family text message, and I mean not just our brothers. Momma, Auntie Peaches. Are you living off some geriatric sugar mama?”
Texas mirrored my response, picking up his phone.
Didn’t see that coming. “You calling Momma?”
“Nah, texting an associate to let him know you done breached my cover house. I’m undercover FBI. Congratulations, Wash.”
I shut my eyes, assessing the cognac’s quality. Was this stuff that good? Was it drugged? Because what I heard … “Federal recipient of what service?
“Fool! I’m not on welfare. I’m a special agent with the FBI.”
I laughed so hard my stomach begged for some red beans and rice. My body was saying, Bruh, we’ve exerted enough energy on Maddy, now you wanna laugh too? Have several roast beef po’boys and stop.