Page 148 of A Lick and A Promise
“Yo,” I greeted.
“Yo,” she replied.
I stopped at the beverage fridge, observing, “You’re a surprise guest.”
“And you bitches have never been involved in a case this risky. Arthur wanted a voice of reason at the proceedings.”
Huh.
Well, first things first.
I turned to the rest of the assemblage. “Byron is a good kisser and he and Dream are going on date number two tomorrow night.”
I shared this before I nabbed a drink out of the fridge.
“Ohmigod, a second date this soon?” Willow asked.
At the same time Gemma asked, “Ohmigod, he’s a good kisser?”
I threw myself on the sofa with a single-serving bottle of Perrier (Arthur didn’t scrimp) and answered, “She didn’t say if he was a dueler, dancer, plunderer, or a mix, but she said nerds can kiss.”
Delivering that, I popped the cap on my water.
“Dueler, dancer or plunderer?” Gemma asked.
We all stared at her.
“Oh,” she mumbled when the light dawned. “I hope he’s all three.”
I hoped he was too.
Just FYI: Knox had that mix all the way down, and the best part of it was the dizzying array of how he could mix that mix up.
“And right now, Knox is sitting down with Cheyenne at the Starbucks on Twenty-eighth and Indian School.”
Everyone made faces, except Shanti.
“I hope that goes well,” she remarked. “I fear it will not,” she concluded.
Hmm.
“Also, news on the Chambers Family front. Apparently, they’re in a Chambers Family Feud,” I told them, my gaze keen on Clarice, wondering if she and Arthur already knew this. “A split between the sister and her boyfriend, and the dad and two brothers. Knox referred to it as war.”
Clarice didn’t give much away, but I saw the tightening of her lips, so I suspected even she and Arthur didn’t know about the Chambers Feud.
“Holy shit,” Raye said.
“Yeah,” I agreed, and kept the information flowing. “That was what happened that led up to the shooting. Knox was having a sit-down with Rocco, the sister’s boyfriend. Knox was putting his foot down about them backing off recruiting him to return to the family business. Rocco was there to press him into service and take his sister’s side. And one of Rocco’s henchmen got trigger happy when this descended into a shouting match.”
At this intel, they were all casting glances at each other.
“What?” I asked.
Jessie caught my gaze and said, “The guys got word this morning that the cops in Tucson found the triggerman dead. Shot in the forehead, execution style. He’d been dead awhile.” A heavy pause. “And they reckon that while is a little over a week.”
“Fucking hell,” I breathed, unable to absorb the news that Rocco, or God, I hoped not, Gypsy ordered a hit.
Alternatively, perhaps feeling some tardy fatherly (or brotherly) love, one of the other ones had done it.
