The Heart Has Reasons (53 page)

“Ready
fo’ ‘em?  Man, you’s trippin'.  Them motherfuckers ain’t yo’ normal
motherfuckers.  They bad.  And how you ‘spect you gonna be ready,
yo?  What you gonna do?  Run a motherfucker over in yo’ chair?”

“We’s
gonna stick together, so’s we’s got each other’s backs.”

“You
mean so’s me and Andre gots
yo’
back.  This whole mess all yo’
fault.  If’n you ain’t tried to fuck that bitch, ain’t none of this
happened.”

“
My
fault?  Bitch, it weren’t
me
runnin’ my mouth to the
po
-lice
at the hospital.  You two can do’s whatever the fuck you wants.  I
ain’t goin’ back to prison.”

Travell
gritted his teeth.  All Malik had to do was lay up in his mama’s apartment
‘til everything blew over.  But he and Andre had business to take care of
and, out on the street, they’d both be easy targets.  He glanced back and
could see the same worry mirrored on Andre’s face.

Travell
looked up and down the alley, then up at the dark windows above.  If Malik
wanted to die, that was fine with him, but the fat motherfucker wasn’t gonna
get him killed too.  Until now, he’d been walking beside Malik’s
chair.  He now slowed his pace just slightly, until he was abreast of
Andre.

With
one hand, he pulled his gatt from the waistband of his jeans.  With the
other, he shoved Andre away from Malik’s chair.  Pressing his gatt against
the back of Malik’s head, he pulled the trigger, spraying blood and brains into
the alley.  Malik pitched forward out of his chair, his ruined face
impacting the ground with a wet, meaty
thunk
that made Travell wince.

“God
damn!”
Andre shouted.  “
You done capped Malik!
”

With
the deafening report still reverberating through the alley, Travell shoved his
.38 back into his waistband, feeling the heat of the barrel against his lower
belly.  “It was him or us.  You wanna be buried out in the desert?”

“Naw.”

“Me
neither.”  Travell grabbed Malik’s new .45 from the seat of the wheelchair
and shoved it in his waistband as well.  “Then let’s bounce, ‘fo somebody
see’s us.”

CHAPTER
38

When Encarnita Jarvis arrived home from
the gym shortly after eleven a.m., she was surprised to see Edison’s SUV back
in the driveway.  She coasted into the space next to it, killed the
engine, and grabbed her gym bag from the seat beside her.

Moving
with a silent stealth that still came naturally after all these years, she
ascended the stairs and stopped at the doorway of their bedroom.  Her
husband was clad only in boxer shorts as he carefully folded a suit into the
suitcase on the bed.  Unaware of her presence, he reached up to absently
scratch the thick, dark scar on his upper chest.

During
the early days of their marriage, she’d hardly been able to bear looking at
them.  But he’d always teased her about them and with the passage of time
she’d grown accustomed to them until they no longer bothered her.

Edison
straightened, turned toward the closet, and jumped to see her standing there
leaning against the doorframe.  “Damn it,
mujer
!  Stop
sneaking around.  One of these days you’re going to give me a heart
attack.”

“I
remember when no one could sneak up on you.  You must be getting soft in
your old age.”

His
gaze narrowed menacingly.  “There’s
nothing
soft about me. 
Come here, and I’ll prove it.”

She
gave him a saucy grin in return.  “That’s the best offer I’ve had all
day.”  Her gaze shifted to his suitcase.  “Going somewhere?”

“The
airport called.  O’Malley booked a flight to Charleston for tomorrow
morning.  I want to be there before he arrives, so I booked myself on one
that leaves in three hours.”

She
absentmindedly twiddled the ends of the single, thick braid that hung forward
over one shoulder.  “You were right, then.  It
was
him.”

Just
yesterday, her husband had surprised her by coming home with a porn video
directed by a woman with the improbable name of Coco Keswick.  Having
never before seen such a movie, she was looking forward to watching it. 
Sauntering over to the dresser where the plastic DVD case rested beside her
collection of perfume bottles, she picked it up and waved it at him.  “And
what about our plans for tonight?”

“
Mierda
. 
I’m sorry, Encarnita.  I have to go.”  He turned toward the closet,
then spun back around.  “Don’t you dare watch it without me.”

“That
depends on how long you’re gone.”

He
crossed the room toward her, arm extended.  “Give it to me.”

“I
don’t think so.”  She shoved it down the front of her jeans. 

He
regarded her archly.  “Do you honestly think that’ll stop me?”

“I
sincerely hope not.”

He
gave her a rakish grin, then glanced at his watch.  “
Mierda.
 
I need to get going,
querida
, lest I miss my flight.”  He pulled
her into an embrace.  “Forgive me?”

“This
time,
mi amor
.”  She raised her eyes to his.  “What do you
intend to do to O’Malley?”

“Whatever’s
necessary.”

CHAPTER
39

The following day, Larissa slouched in
the passenger seat, gazing disinterestedly at the city scenery rolling
past.  Feeling the weight of Brendon’s eyes on her, she turned to
him.  “What?”

“I
didn’t say anything.”

“You
were staring.”

“Sorry. 
I’m worried about you.”

“I’m
fine.”

“No,
you’re not.  Everyone at the salon keeps commenting on how depressed you
are, even the customers.  You should consider going on antidepressants.”

“I
don’t want to take drugs.”

“They’ll
make you feel better.  My motto’s always been: ‘Better living through
pharmaceuticals’.”

She
managed a small laugh.  “You’re so bad.”

“
You
should try being bad.  You might like it.”

“That’s
what worries me.”  She heaved a weary sigh.  “If I’m not feeling
better in a month, I’ll make an appointment with my doctor.”

He
reached over to give her hand a squeeze.  “So, how’s Cujo?”

“Stop
calling him that.”

“It’s
better than the name you gave him.  What would your Agent Jarvis say?”

“What
Agent Jarvis says or does is no longer my problem.”

A
couple who lived across the alley bred pit bulls and, four days ago, they’d
appeared on her door with a puppy.  She’d tried politely to decline the
gift, but they’d insisted she needed a dog for protection.  Since her two
handguns hadn’t prevented her kidnapping — not to mention that the puppy was so
damn cute — she’d finally accepted.  Brendon insisted on calling him
“Cujo” despite the fact that she’d named him “Chase”.

A
silver Suburban aggressively cut in front of them.  To avoid clipping its
rear fender, Brendon stomped on the brake and the seat belt dug into Larissa’s
shoulder as inertia propelled her forward.  A month ago, such a near miss
would have had her heart racing, but now she might not have even noticed if
Brendon hadn’t leaned on the horn.

“Did
you talk to your mechanic?” he asked.

“He
says my car’ll be ready tomorrow afternoon.”

The
day after she’d gotten the puppy, her transmission had gone out.  She
didn’t yet have the money to get her car out of the shop, but Brendon didn’t
need to know that.  He’d insist on loaning her the money even though she
still owed him for the plane ticket from California.  Tomorrow morning,
she’d see about taking out a $1,500.00 bank loan, using the small amount of
equity in her house as collateral.

Brendon
pulled to a stop in front of her house and let the engine idle.  “I’ll be
picking you up at seven tomorrow.”

“Why
so early?”

“There’s
a new pastry shop I want to check out.”

“Neither
of us eats pastries.”

“Well,
honey, you need to start.  You’re starting to look anorexic and Cujo’s the
only one who wants a bone.  How much weight have you lost, anyway?”

“Twelve
pounds.”

“You’re
definitely
having pastries for breakfast.  Anyway, the real reason
we’re going is there’s a hunk working there that looks like a young George
Clooney.”

“I
should’ve known you had an ulterior motive.”  As she opened her car door,
he opened his as well and got out.  “You don’t have to walk me to the
door.”

“A
gentleman never leaves a lady on the curb.”

* * * * *

Upon arriving in Charleston, Chase had
rented a motel room not far from where Larissa lived, then drove by her
house.  Not finding her vehicle there, he then drove by the salon, only to
find it wasn’t there either.  Pretending to be a client, he’d called the
salon.  The man who’d answered had informed him that, although Larissa was
there until five, she was booked up.

At
four-thirty, he’d driven back to her house and parked in front.  The
elderly Asian woman next door kept a suspicious eye on him from behind a
curtain.  Worried she might call the police, he drove off, circled the
block, and parked down the street out of her view, but where he could still
watch for Larissa’s arrival.

He
missed the little calico, whom he’d finally given the name “Artemis”, after the
Greek goddess of the hunt.  Afraid the cat would think he’d abandoned her
once again, he’d arranged to have Roach stay in his apartment until his return.

Once
again, he felt the weight of unseen eyes upon him, as if a sniper had him in
the crosshairs.  With icy fingers of dread curling around his neck, he
twisted around in his seat to scan the street, but spotted nothing out of the
ordinary.

He
drummed his fingers on the dashboard.  How could he expect her to talk to
him after all he’d put her through?  It had been an act of sheer idiocy
for him to come.  If he were merely trying to make restitution for all the
pain he’d caused her, he’d simply drop the envelope into her mailbox and drive
off.  The smart move would’ve been to mail it with a brief note of
explanation.

The
longer he sat there, the more doubts poured into his mind.  What if she freaked
when she saw him?  Worse, what if she shot him?

A
royal-blue Honda Civic drove past and the sight of Larissa sitting in the
passenger seat caused his heart to skip several beats and left him feeling so
hollow and shaky inside that he neglected to get a look at the man
driving.  Shit.  It hadn’t even occurred to him that she might
already be involved with someone.  He’d been a fool to come all this way.

However
… since he was here, it’d be asinine to leave without even attempting to speak
to her.  He started the car and pulled away from the curb.  Beads of
sweat popped out on his face as he pulled up behind the Civic and killed the
engine.  As Larissa and the man got out of the vehicle and started up her
walk, a wash of relief flowed over him as he recognized the man with her as her
boss.  Her
gay
boss.

She’d
lost a considerable amount of weight since he’d last seen her.  A knife of
guilt pierced him at the realization that the loss was due to his
actions.  Well, if she didn’t kill him, he’d do his best to put some
curves back on her.  Despite the weight loss, she was even more beautiful
than he remembered.  A denim dress skimmed her body and high-heeled
sandals made her slim backside sway enticingly. 

He
got out of the rental car and closed the door with a thump.  She glanced
back in his direction, did a double take, and faltered to a stop.  Despite
the heat, the sweat that sheathed him had gone cold.  Trying to tame his
galloping heartbeat, he strode up the walk and stopped several feet from
her.  “Larissa, I apologize for showing up with no advance warning, but I
need to talk to you.  Will you give me just a few minutes of your time?”

She
stared at him, her entire body rigid.  Jesus, she looked as if she were
about to succumb to a stroke.  Movement at the house next door caught his
eye.  The elderly Asian woman was back at the window.

Her
boss appraised him with frank interest, obviously trying to figure out what his
relationship with Larissa might be.  After a moment, though, Larissa’s
continuing silence alerted him to the fact that something was amiss. 
Brows knitting into a frown, he cast a suddenly suspicious glance at Chase
before turning toward her.  “Honey, are you okay?”

Ah,
Jesus, he’d made a terrible mistake in coming here.  “Larissa, do you want
me to leave?”

She
blinked several times, then shook her head as if to clear it.  In a drawl
as thick as honey and as sultry as the warm, humid air surrounding them, she
finally spoke.  “No, don’t go.”

The
relief that suddenly flooded through him made his knees feel wobbly.  “All
I ask is a little of your time.”