Christmas with My Enemy (Feuding Hearts Christmas)

Chapter 16

sixteen

BEAST

My handshake with Detective Edwards is firm. He looks even chubbier than the last time I saw him. Makes me wonder how much policing he does in this hood. There's a coffee cup next to his table.

“How can I help you, Beast?” Edwards rubs his hands together. “By the way, I appreciate that you and your boys have maintained order since the corpse issue.”

A smile tugs at my lips. This man doesn’t know the shit is about to hit the fan. “You’re welcome, Captain. I want to make inquiries about a case.”

Edwards leans forward. “What case?”

“Nathaniel Reynolds’ murder. I need the details of the case. The suspects, the eyewitnesses.”

“We can’t give you all that.”

“Come on, detective. We have some history. I know you can give me these things.”

“I can’t because we don’t have it. The case died because there were no suspects, no witnesses. The car that killed Rodney in the drive-by was never seen again. Thousands of crimes happen every day, Beast. We can only spend so much time on dead ends. I’m sorry if that’s insensitive, but it’s the bitter truth. That case was dead and buried seven years ago, looking for details today is like digging for fossils.”

I shift in my chair and nod. “I understand from your perspective, but the people involved won’t forget so easily.”

Edwards holds up a hand and quickly gets on a call. I look around his office as he answers a superior officer about a case. The paint on the wall is shiny, and there are stacks of files behind him.

“So, Beast, I’ll let you know if there’s any way we can help, but reviving the case or providing those details aren’t an option.”

I thank him and leave his office, knowing he has to get busy. It has been quite a day for me already, I think as I leave the police station.

I’ve spent the better part of the morning interrogating Pop about his betrayal. Nothing has come out of it. Pop is as stubborn as a mule and built like an ox. Like me, he knows how to resist pain and refuse to talk under pressure.

Seeing the cuts on his body makes my heart bleed, but I can't stop. The other boys have to learn a lesson. If I can do this to my own family, how much more other betrayers are in my ranks?

I jump into my car and drive home, listening to upbeat rap tunes. The trip goes by in a blur. Before long, I'm on the snow-filled road that leads back to the cabin where Tati and I took refuge after the Detroit Kingz attacked our safe spot. The loneliness and stark whiteness of the road bore me.

I adjust my earphone and put a call to Tati. The call rings on and on, but she doesn’t answer. That’s odd because Tati is rarely away from her phone.

As soon as I get to the house, I wiggle into the parking spot and remain in the car. I open ChatterSpot and shoot Tati a couple of messages on her Beauti4U account.

A look outside the window shows it's snowing again. For a moment, I see two black kids playing hoops in the snow. Two kids, the young versions of Darren and me. The view clears as I open the door.

Hurting Pop breaks my heart. I'm not sure how long I can keep up with that. But he has to fucking confess and stop acting like he's The Rock.

I pull the hood over my head and dart to the door. The door is unlocked. Clyde is back.

“Hey Clyde, where are you?”

There's a shuffle from the kitchen, and then I hear a muffled cough from there.

"Clyde?"

He steps out after a moment, his face his looking red. “Sorry, boss. This cough has been disturbing me since I got back.”

“Sorry, have you taken something?”

Clyde shakes his old head. “I will use something now.”

“Did you drop her safely? When did you come back?”

“I came back an hour ago. And yeah, she’s fine. She looked so sleepy before I left so I doubt you’d be able to reach her.”

“You’re right. I tried already.”

I turn away from Clyde, heading to the bedroom door.

“I made you coffee.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Clyde dashes into the kitchen and returns with a mug of coffee. I take the coffee, hold it to my nose, and offer it to him.

“Take a sip first.”

Clyde’s face immediately reddens. “No, I made it for you.”

“And I’m offering you the first sip,” I stretch the mug toward him.

His hand drops to his side, and even before I see the weapon, I know he's trying to pull a gun on me. I throw the mug at him as a desperate means of distraction and jump away from him.

The crack of his gun and the smash of the mug against his face go off at the same time. I feel a surge of pain as I land on my shoulder, but I quickly pull out a gun and fire at Clyde's thigh.

He crumples to the ground, and his pistol falls up. Before he can struggle to pick it up, I hurry over and kick the gun away.

“What the hell was that? What have you done to Tati?”

“Don’t worry, boss. She’s with the real king of the hood now.”