She didn’t like noticing anything nice or good about him.
But then, she was in shock at the moment. Her brain was on autopilot. She felt numb and somehow drunk at the same time. She recognized the symptoms. If she stood up, she would likely pass out.
She should just sit here for a bit.
“I tell you what, CJ.” He looked directly at her, let her see how serious he was. “If you promise to go home and stay out of trouble tonight, you, my partner, and I will have a conference tomorrow. We’ll go over everything we’ve got. Check in with the ME and see if they’ve been able to move up the autopsy. We’ll talk it all out.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to the offer. Was he trying to get her to agree to something? It sounded exactly like the way oncologists delivered the prognosis to the patient right before they explained the treatment. Ultimately it meant the patient might very well live, but quality of life would suck.
“We’ll keep you informed of every step of this investigation. You’ll be sick of hearing from me before it’s over.”
Now came thebut.
“All I ask in return is that you lay low for now. Stop asking questions and digging around. I don’t think your sister would want you to get hurt ... not even to bring her killer to justice.”
Shelley had trusted Braddock. That may very well have been the primary contributing factor in her death, but the fact remained: She’d trusted this man.
At one time CJ had as well. Before he’d betrayed her trust on the most primal level.
Still, she had two choices.
She could get herself into the kind of trouble she might not be able to talk her way out of. Her throat burned where the knife had ripped at her flesh.
Or trust this man to do his job.
Chapter Twenty-Three
1407 Dubose Street, 11:40 p.m.
Tyrone looked out over his village. It was quiet tonight. That was the way he liked it. His people doing their thing. No interference from the cops. Something to be said for free enterprise.
Fury tightened in his gut when he thought of that doctor bitch having the nerve to move back into his village. Banks better get that taken care of fast or Tyrone was going to end this shit. He did not tolerate disrespect. CJ Patterson was disrespecting him big-time, coming into his territory acting like she was all that. Like she was better than him.
Maybe he should remind her that she still had it coming for the last time she’d gotten in his way.
He touched the scar on his cheek, the one that reminded him just how annoying that bitch could be. Yeah. They had a history. One he’d bet his sweet ass she wouldn’t want to repeat. She’d gotten in that one swipe, but he’d put the fear of God in her.
A tap at his door hauled his attention from the window. The door opened just enough for his number one to stick his head in. “Widow’s here.”
Tyrone nodded. “You know what to do.”
The number one member of his unholy trinity hesitated like he had something else to say but didn’t want to spit it out.
“What?” Tyrone demanded. He didn’t want to hear no shit. He had plans for relaxing and enjoying the rest of this night.
Number one stepped into the room, closed the door behind him. “We got trouble.”
Tyrone’s survival instincts reared. “What trouble?”
“Celeste and a couple other foot soldiers said that doctor bitch was asking questions at the clinic today. Questions about you and what happened to Shelley. Some say Celeste spilled her guts. She says that doctor just kept drilling her, but she didn’t say nothing important.”
Rage pulsed in Tyrone’s belly. He shook his head. She just didn’t know when to walk away.
“She was asking about Banks too. Wanting to know if Banks worked for you. Lotta questions, Ty. Lotta questions. She been talking to Banks. She been over to his house. And I already told you about that bitch cop bringing him home. The fool was falling-down drunk. Then the cops picked him up again today. Something’s going on with that crazy bastard.”
Tyrone digested all that his number one had said. “The Patterson bitch needs another lesson. You know what to do.” He puffed out his chest. He’d tried to do this the easy way and CJ just didn’t want to pay attention. Now she would be sorry. “This is on her.”
Number one gave a nod of understanding, then left the room to do his duty.
