Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Putting together my salad, I roll my lemon to get the juices moving. Slicing it in half, I feel the nick of my knife hit the edge of my thumb before I see the red of my blood.
“Shit,” I mutter to myself. “See, this is why I have to make things right with Coal. He may be letting me off the hook in his mind, but his spirit is still calling to me. We have to get the balance back,” I tell the room around me, wishing I knew how to explain why I have to do something for the stranger. My bumping into him has linked us, and I need to sort it out.
Sucking on my thumb, I try to slow the bleeding. Releasing it with a pop, I then absentmindedly squeeze the lemon halves over my salad, feeling the acid burn on my open wound and bringing tears to my eyes.
Dropping the lemon, I suck on my thumb again, trying to get the juice off as I move to the sink where I wash my hands. I eye the salad as if it’s suddenly my enemy.
Using a lemon zester, I grate some of the peel before I sit down to eat my meal. And with each crunch of my salad, my mind continues to think of a way to make things right with Coal.
I don’t know his actual name, and I don’t know what he does, but I will find out. He may not want dinner, but I will find some way to serve him and make up for my misjudgment today.
Watch out, Coal, your days of being in the dark are gone. I’m going to be your sunshine, even if only for a day.
Chapter Three
~Coal~
“Picadillo,” I order my beef and potatoes while Ice takes his turn to order the same thing he did yesterday. Today, BJ is with us, ordering a burrito that is almost as big as his head, which is pretty fucking big in my opinion. Where the man shoves all that food, I have no clue. The brother is as skinny as a bean pole.
The waitress scribbles on her notepad then walks away, leaving us to talk.
I look at Ice before he can say anything. “My gut is churning on the street chatter. There’s a murder popping up in our vicinity on a regular basis now. I’m starting to think we have a problem.”
“The question is,” Ice murmurs, “who would come into our territory and pull some shit like that? Either they’re too stupid to care, don’t know that Miami is ours, or they just plain don’t give a fuck.”
“Do we know any connections between the victims?” BJ asks.
Ice shakes his head. “Not yet. I’ve got Screech working on it now. We just tied up the cruise liner shipping drugs for the DEA, so we can switch gears and give our attention to this.”
Taking a drink out of my glass, my cell phone suddenly starts to ring. Putting my glass down, I pull out my phone, take a look at the screen, and frown.
Precious.
Why the fuck would she be calling me? I only gave her my number in case of an emergency.
Pushing the talk button, I put the phone to my ear. “What’s wrong?”
A muffled sob comes over the line. “Coal, where are you? Can I come see you please?”
Looking up at Ice, I nod toward the entrance to let him know I have to go. Ice gives me a questioning look, but I don’t have time to answer right now.
“Where are you?” I bark at her through the line.
I can still hear her crying, but that’s not what bothers me at the moment. No, it’s the sound of a young child crying near her that makes me see red.
Taking out my wallet, I throw a twenty-dollar bill on the table to cover my cost and get up to leave. Quickly walking out of the restaurant, I head toward my bike as Precious finally speaks again.
“222 Sycamore Street, Apt 3B.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” I hang up the phone, start my motorcycle, and speed off through the parking lot.
Once I hit the road, I open the throttle and let myself fly down the path that will take me to Precious. We aren’t close, and I don’t love the woman one bit, but I won’t stand by while she’s hurt, either. I know that, right now, she must be hurting something fierce. Precious is a proud woman, despite her chosen profession, so there’s no doubt in my mind that something is wrong.
She doesn’t call me for a hook up. She’s been honest anytime she’s needed an extra few bucks and knows I will cover her. This, the sound of torment in her voice, there is something more to this, and I’m going to find out.