Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Betty!” I snap at her, moving back to my chair. “I didn’t tell you that shit so you could throw it back in my face years later.”
Her smile softens and she reaches over and pats the top of my hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Tell me more.” Betty is truly the best friend that I could ever ask for. Her mom and dad moving from Atlanta when she was four years old was the greatest gift to me, and to this day, I still go around there for homecooked meals.
“I don’t know what else to say other than it just feels like he is, but it’s not something small. It’s big.”
“You think it’s about your ma?” Betty asks softly, scooping her braids into a low pony.
“No.” I shake my head. “Wicked is a killer, but I know he wouldn’t do that to Wolf.”
“True.” Betty flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Then maybe ask him?”
I roll my eyes. “Sure. Betty, the only time you ask someone like Wicked a question, is when you want to be lied to.” I stare off into the distance. “We’ll find out.”
The elevator doors slide open and Papa enters, unbuttoning his jacket. “Principessa.”
“Hi!” I stand from my chair, flinging my arms around Papa’s neck. The wrinkle lines are deeper around his eyes, and his beard has grown thick. Dare I say he’s stressed. “Is everything okay?”
He takes the chair at the table, casting a short glance up at Tony behind me. “Yes. Betty, can you give us a second?” I don’t bother telling Papa that Betty knows everything about what we do. It’ll just get me in trouble.
Once Betty is out and upstairs, Papa loosens the tie around his neck. “We need to push the wedding forward.”
“What!” I fall back against my chair. “Why?”
Papa reaches into his pocket and takes out a Cuban cigar. “Because we need the alliance, Bubba. I told you about what will happen when they find out about Wicked. We need to do this fast before they do anything. Stop being selfish!” His tone is harsh, and I wince, watching as he rolls the cigar around his lips. He blows out a cloud of smoke. “And another thing, I no longer trust Wicked.”
The words hit me harder than the ones about my marriage. “What?” I shoot from my chair, spinning around to look at Tony before looking back at Papa. “Wicked is like a son to you!”
“Well, I don’t fucking need a son, Ruby!” Papa snaps again, and then slowly rises from his chair. The silence is enough to be called tension. Papa rounds the table again, pulling me in to kiss me on the head. “You and my grandson stay away from him until after the wedding.”
I don’t say anything as he disappears the way he came. I stop. “Who killed Mama?” The thought had never crossed my mind, but after Betty threw that out there just seconds ago, it’s still fresh.
Papa doesn’t breathe a word as he enters the elevator and the doors close.
I drop down onto the chair, sighing into my hands.
“Something doesn’t add up…” Betty appears in the kitchen. “I don’t think it’s Wicked you should be worried about, Rubs.” When my eyes meet hers, they’re wide with fear. “I think it’s your papa.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I squeeze my eyes closed. “Papa has only ever done what was right for the family.”
When Betty doesn’t answer, I look back up at her and the corners of her eyes soften. “I know, sweetie, but sometimes, when we love someone, we don’t see what everyone else does.”
“I need to see Wicked.” Pushing off the table, I snatch my keys. “Can you watch Wolf?”
“Of course.” Betty shoos me away, and I wait for the elevator before stepping inside. I can’t sit still. The underlying need to know what is going on is eating me inside and if Wicked doesn’t tell me, I’ll force it out of him. The elevator stops at the bottom parking lot level and I beep my DB 11, goose bumps raising down my spine. Spinning around, I look around the space. Empty parking spots except for mine, that’s parked in the penthouse section.
Pushing the button again, I reach for the door handle just as a hand covers my mouth and I’m being dragged backward. I kick and scream, my arms flying behind me to reach for something—anything—when I’m being shoved forward and a dark blindfold is forced over my head. The sliding door to the van closes and the heavy body on top of me lifts.
“You motherfucker!” I scream before a heavy fist thumps me across the head and everything goes black.
Water drips onto hard concrete floors to the rhythm of the pounding in my head. I slowly crack my eyes open, wincing when my hand reaches up to touch the side of my temple. Finally, I blink away from the blur and my eyes rest on the ceiling. Moss grows through paint cracks, water seeping through the damaged crevices.