Justified, page 21
As if she just realized she was still holding the weapon, Kennedy loosened her grip and let the metal slip from her grasp to clank loudly on the bathroom linoleum. Her breath came out in a heavy whoosh that nearly stung her lungs.
“Deven, what the hell?” She didn’t mean to shout, but adrenaline had her voice elevated.
“What the hell are you doing with a knife, Kennedy? Damn!” Deven lowered her gaze to the knife before lifting stunned eyes back to her sister in a questioning stare.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
“My key!”
“Shit!” Kennedy hissed and took a staggering breath to calm herself down. “I’m sorry. I thought someone had broken in, so I was trying to—”
“Butter them to death?” Deven reached down to pick up the knife and shook her head.
If the situation hadn’t scared her shitless, Kennedy would have laughed. She was tempted to hug her sister, but for what? I’m so glad you weren’t Lisa’s killer trying to finish me off?
Kennedy touched her forehead and felt the beads of sweat pearling on her brow. She let out another grateful sigh as she turned and led the way back into the kitchen. She needed a damn drink. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You said I could stay a few days while my carpet was being replaced, remember?” Deven tossed the knife into the sink. “But damn, I didn’t know I was going to have to die for it.”
Kennedy shook her head as she brought two glasses down from the cabinet. “I’m sorry. I forgot all about that.” She reached in the refrigerator for the Sangria she kept in the door and poured some into each cup. She turned then, handing her sister one, and she giggled when she took it gratefully.
Deven was only older by about fourteen months. With the same mother and different fathers, they had inherited a few similar characteristics but more differences than anything. Deven was taller with hair she kept shaved close to her head and dyed a gorgeous blond. They both were the same complexion, but Deven had the natural beauty and body Kennedy had had to get surgically enhanced. Rarely did Deven even wear makeup. Kennedy, on the other hand, kept herself glamorous with a strict beauty regimen from foundation to lashes and every other cosmetic aesthetic in between. Before all of Kennedy’s procedures, the two women might have passed for sisters. Now they didn’t even look related.
“So, what’s going on, Kill Bill?” Deven teased after she took a healthy swig of her alcohol. “You want to tell me what’s got you so shook up?”
Kennedy ran her fingers through her hair, allowing the drink to take effect. Thankfully, she had completely relaxed. “It’s nothing,” she reiterated. “I’ve been watching way too much ID Channel. Just has me a little on edge.”
“Right.” Sarcasm laced the solitary word. “You sure it’s not anything else? Anything you need to tell me?”
Kennedy lifted an eyebrow but kept her face neutral. “What do you mean?”
Deven shrugged and turned to cross into the living room. She tossed herself on the chaise, tucking her socked feet underneath her. “I’m just checking with you, that’s all,” she commented absently. “Especially after the cop came by earlier.”
Kennedy had been heading toward the foyer to get her bags and purse, but Deven’s statement had her pausing in her tracks. She pivoted then, once again facing her sister.
“What do you mean, came by?” It was a stupid question meant to stall for a few additional seconds as her mind kicked into fight-or-flight mode.
Deven was pulling a laptop from the floor, and she glanced up with a deep-set frown. “The hell you mean? Came by, like came by. Walked up to the door, rang the doorbell, and asked if I knew where you were.”
Kennedy’s eyes slid to the door as if he would still be standing there on the porch, even though she had just passed the entryway. Her mind flipped back to the black Malibu waiting outside when she pulled up. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him I didn’t know where you were because I didn’t. What was I supposed to tell him? What was he here for? Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” she lied. “Did he say anything else?”
Deven sighed. “He asked if I knew a Lisa Brown.”
“What did you say?” Kennedy crossed to her sister and stood right in front of the couch at her continued silence. “Deven, please,” she pressed. “It’s important.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Deven’s look was weary. She tossed up her hand in surrender. “I told him no, I didn’t know a Lisa Brown. He said okay and to tell you he would come by again.”
“Come by again when?”
“He didn’t say. Now, what’s up, sis? Did you do something?”
Kennedy lowered herself to the couch, and Deven scooted over to make room. Thoughts and excuses tumbled on top of each other as Kennedy rested her head in her hands, not surprised when she felt a comforting hand rubbing her back.
“Have you been watching the news?” she asked, but she already knew the answer was no. Deven never cared for the news. Said it was too depressing. Instead of waiting for an answer, Kennedy went on. “One of my coworkers died a few weeks ago.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, nor was it the truth. But it would do.
She heard the sharp intake of Deven’s gasp at the information. “Damn, for real? What happened?”
“They’re not sure.” Last report Kennedy saw on the Internet, they had concluded it was asphyxiation, but she decided to gloss over that detail.
“I’m so sorry, sis. How are you holding up?”
Truth? Barely. But Kennedy nodded to mask her discomfort. “It’s just put us all a little on edge,” she admitted.
“Why are the cops questioning you? Well, a detective,” she corrected. “Is it some kind of investigation?”
Kennedy didn’t know, but that piece of information was news to her, so she went with it. “Yeah, I think they’re questioning all of us. You know, her coworkers. Just trying to see if there is anything we can do to help the case.” She risked a sideways glance at Deven and felt relief when she saw her face was bent in sheer worry. Good, she bought it.
Kennedy rose, pulling out her cell phone. In any other circumstances like this, she would have called Benji. He would know what to do. But she remembered she still wasn’t talking to his sneaky ass after the news of his engagement was dumped into her lap. So, she scrolled past his name in her contact list.
“You can stay here at the condo until your place is finished,” Kennedy offered. “I’m probably going to stay over at Washington’s for a while.”
“Speaking of which, what did you decide to do?”
Kennedy frowned. “About what?” At her sister’s narrowed eyes, she thought more and then had to chuckle at her lack of focus. “Oh, the proposal. Yeah, we decided against that,” she lied. After a thought, she added, “We are going to just take our time, you know. Don’t want to rush into things.”
Deven smiled in relief. “I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, but I really think that’s for the best.”
Kennedy nodded as she dialed Washington’s number and placed the phone to her ear. Damn right, she deserved to be happy. The lie was to keep her sister out of the loop so she could turn her focus to the task at hand. Because after hearing the police were on her ass, she needed to wrap this shit up with Washington, get his money, and get the hell out of Dodge.
CHAPTER 8
Benji rolled over to sneak a peek at the glaring red numbers on the digital clock on the nightstand: 1:37 a.m. He wasn’t surprised. He had planned to at least try to get a few hours of sleep before he needed to be up at two, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen now. Lately, with everything going on, it seemed as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. The stress lines creasing his forehead seemed so ingrained in his skin that it caused him frequent headaches.
A movement had Benji glancing at his new fiancée. Sure enough, she was shifting to snuggle against his naked chest, the darkened room doing nothing to hide the curvaceous silhouette under the drape of the sheets. Slowly, he eased from underneath her body, and snatching his phone from the nightstand, he padded toward the closet. He would get dressed in there so as not to wake her. She wouldn’t approve of him handling business so late again, but duty called.
Benji wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, so he quickly stepped into some black jeans and a T-shirt, then tossed a sweatshirt over his head. He shoved his feet into some sneakers and checked his phone once more. He was worried. He shouldn’t have been, but he was. Not only did he have a situation on his hands that needed to be resolved, but he hadn’t bothered to call Kennedy in over a week. There wasn’t really a reason for that other than the fact he knew she was pissed he had gotten engaged. But there was a lot she didn’t understand, and the move had been a good one. A necessary one. He was trying to take his street hustle to the next level and snagging the kingpin’s daughter came with an allegiance that would ensure his protection. And his protection meant Kennedy’s protection. It was strictly business.
Of course, Kennedy would know all about taking extreme measures for business purposes. Especially when it was lucrative. She just needed to get the hell out of her feelings about it.
He had just made it out to the car when he felt his phone vibrate with an incoming notification. Benji didn’t bother checking it. He knew who it was, and he knew what it would say once he swiped the screen to view the text message. Instead, he slid into the driver’s seat of his black Camry, backed out of the parking space, and wheeled the car in the direction of Park Avenue.
His hand reached for the radio dial. Music would help clear his mind. If he thought too long and hard about everything going on, he was sure it would piss him off even further, and he was liable to react out of anger. So instead, he got lost in the song, letting the windows down so the cool night breeze could mix with the soulful bars of Amel Larrieux. He drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, and again, his mind wandered to thoughts of Kennedy.
Damn, he missed her. He had gotten used to their conversations, and over time, their relationship had flourished. She had become his best friend without him even realizing it. He could still remember how pissed she was when Shawn had revealed he was getting married. Benji frowned. No, not pissed. Hurt. He had seen blatant hurt in her eyes and in the stubborn fold of her arms. Benji wasn’t an idiot. He had love for her in so many ways, but circumstances prohibited him from entertaining more than a platonic relationship. But that hadn’t stopped the tug Kennedy had on his heart. Or the frequent thoughts and desires that crept in when he tried his damnedest to shift his focus elsewhere. Then, during his recent trip back to Jersey, he saw the new face and the new body had catapulted the little, gangly girl he once knew into a grown-up sex goddess. Amazing what a few dollars and some meat in the right places could do. But still, he had closed his heart off a long time ago. A relationship with Kennedy would just complicate an already sticky situation. And another complication was the last thing either of them needed. Benji shook his head to dispel the thoughts. The sudden longing that clenched his heart was beginning to make him furious.
As expected, the corner was littered with prostitutes. Scantily clad women, from the frail to the sloppiest, in various shades and hues, scattered around the sidewalk adorned in matted wigs and booty shorts that left full breasts and ass cheeks on display. Dingy fur crop jackets seemed to be the chosen attire, apparently a satisfactory barrier between their chilled skin and the October air.
As Benji navigated his car near the curb, a few women immediately made their way in his direction. He lifted his hand to wave them off, not bothering to slow down. His eyes scanned the faces, all seemingly sunken in by either malnutrition or drugs, until they landed on the one familiar face that stuck out in the crowd.
It needed to be done. He comforted himself with that knowledge.
The first time he had killed someone, he was sixteen, and though it had been self-defense, he hadn’t cared about hitting the teenager repeatedly until the bloody brick cracked the skull open. Now, murder was . . . second nature to him. His heart had hardened with years of experience, so he sure as hell didn’t have room for regrets, either. He only had one Achilles’ heel. Thankfully, Kennedy would never know it.
The prostitute wore a jet-black wig, but the hair was stringy and standing all over her head. A neon-green halter top hugged her upper half, while she had opted for a dingy denim skirt that came as high as her crotch with tattered fishnet stockings and red patent-leather pumps. Benji brought the car to a stop right in front of the woman and rolled down his window. Recognizing the attention, the woman smiled, displaying a row of stained brown teeth with a few missing. He was glad he had such a photographic memory. Anyone else wouldn’t have been able to convince him this crackhead was who she really was.
The woman struggled to put a little twist in her gait as she stumbled toward the Camry. She leaned down onto the passenger door, bringing with her the stench of musk and cigarette smoke. “What you want, sugar?” she slurred and batted her eyes.
Benji’s lips spread into a grin. “What can I get for twenty?” he asked.
Her eyes lit up as if the thought of an extra twenty dollars was as tempting as two hundred dollars. “Whatever you want, sugar.”
Benji glanced around and popped the lock on the door. Eagerly, the woman opened the door and fell into the passenger seat. “I just want some head,” he said, eyeing her out of the side of his eye.
She licked her crusty lips caked with day-old red lipstick. “I can do that. No problem,” she said.
Satisfied, Benji drove a little farther up the street and turned onto a dead-end road. He cut the car off and reclined his seat so she could get to work. The prostitute wasted no time, her movements sloppy as she fumbled with the buttons of his jeans.
His movements were quiet as he slid the leather gloves from the pocket of his sweatshirt. He eased them onto his hands, using one to pat her hair in silent encouragement as she buried her head in his lap.
As he wrapped his hands around her neck, she gagged and Benji squeezed tighter. Suddenly aware of his intention, she snatched up, clawing at his gloved hands, her lips still swollen and wet. She gasped for air as her eyes bulged with the tightening of his grip. Benji didn’t think. Just continued to squeeze the woman’s frail neck until it felt as if it would snap in two.
A few more choked breaths and her eyes closed, her head lolling to the side with the heaviness of death. Benji held on for a few moments longer until he was satisfied every ounce of breath had left her body. Then, he gently laid her head back on the seat and sighed. He took a moment to observe the corpse. He almost felt sorry for her. She had been dealt a bad hand and it was no fault of hers who her brother was. She looked like she could have even been beautiful once upon a time. But her looks had now been tainted by drugs and abuse.
Benji removed the gloves and dropped them in a plastic bag he had brought along with him. He would be sure to discard them later. Right now, he needed to wrap up his business.
The first number he dialed was to his cousin, Shawn. He knew his boy would be awake even though it was the middle of the morning. Sure enough, Shawn picked up on the first ring.
“Yeah?”
“Has Kennedy tried to contact you?” Benji asked.
“Nah. Why?”
“She will. She’s in some trouble, and she needs my help even though she’s too stubborn to realize it.”
Shawn chuckled. “That’s your girl.”
“Yeah, I know. Hit me when she calls you. I’m trying to keep tabs on her, but she’s still pissed.”
“I got you. You good?”
Benji tossed an absent glance at the dead body next to him. “I’m good,” he answered, before hanging up.
Because he knew his uncle Bernard was asleep, Benji shot him a quick text instead. UNC, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT KENNEDY. HIT ME WHEN YOU GET UP.
Benji dropped his phone in his cup holder and began straightening his pants. He then fished in his pocket for his weed and lit up, letting the flame dance in the moonlight. Maybe one day, Kennedy would realize how much he would do for her.
Even if that meant murder.
CHAPTER 9
Two Months Later
It was a beautiful day for a wedding. The sun hung low in the sky, casting brilliant rays to glitter across the expansive lake. The gazebo had been decorated in eggplant, white, and lavender sashes draped in a canopy and wrapped around the white wooden railing. About fifty fold-out chairs were arranged in semicircles around the gazebo with a white runner up the middle of the manicured lawn.
Kennedy used her index and middle finger to pull the blinds apart so she could peek through. A small backyard wedding was her idea. Something quaint and casual. But she didn’t expect more than ten people to come. Primarily his family. Since Kennedy had told Deven they weren’t getting married, it kept her from having to invite her. She hadn’t even bothered to invite Benji’s family, either. She had wanted—no, needed—something short and to the point. Just enough to appease Washington while she went through the motions of becoming his wife. Then she could rob him blind. Boyfriends are smart. Husbands are stupid.
Kennedy turned from the window and walked farther into the master bedroom. The silhouette of her trumpet wedding dress curved around her hourglass figure, ruching at the bodice and waistline. Her bronze complexion peeked through the lace material at her shoulders. The rhinestone belt wrapped around her waist, accentuating the dress and complementing the teardrop diamond earrings in her lobes. It was simple, but expensive. Kennedy indulged in both.
It felt different this time. When she married Lewis, she was panicked and fear-stricken with the decision she felt like she was being forced to make. This time, Kennedy was surprisingly calm. It didn’t feel like her. It felt like she was on autopilot, staring down at herself while she moved about the bedroom to put the finishing touches on her makeup. She was content with her decision. And even more so now that she knew all the perks.
