Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
I clear my throat, walk toward Lucky’s booth.
“You’ve changed, Blue,” he says when I slide in across from him.
He’s tall, I can tell, even though he’s seated, and he’s lean. Almost too much so. I guess him to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties but he looks older.
“Lucky.”
“You’d be Ezekiel, am I right?”
“Now how would you know that?”
He grins, picks up his almost empty coffee cup and sips. “I have friends in high places.”
“Those friends do that?” I gesture to the bandage.
His grin vanishes as he glances at his hand. Was it Girard? Has he developed a taste for mutilation since he was so brutally disfigured?
“How’s my little Bluebird? She waiting in your fancy car?”
My eyes narrow and one corner of his mouth curves upward. He hit a nerve, and he knows it.
“She’s not here.”
He straightens, leans toward me. “Let me give you some advice, Ezekiel. Like mother like daughter. That little bitch will fuck you like she fucked me. Hell, you should probably check your bank account. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already emptied it.”
“Thanks for the advice. You and I have business.”
“Can I get you something, handsome?” The waitress who was behind the counter asks me as she pours fresh coffee for Lucky and sets a big slice of apple pie in front of him.
“No, thank you,” I tell her, never taking my eyes off Lucky.
“Well, if you change your mind, just holler and I’ll come running,” she says with a wink.
“I bet you will,” Lucky says. “Took her long enough to get my pie,” he bitches when she gives him a sneer before walking back to the counter. He turns to me. “You were saying.” He slices into his pie and puts a forkful into his mouth. I see the yellowing teeth, the missing one at the bottom. He closes his eyes as he chews and makes an appreciative sound. “Haven’t had pie like this in a long time.” He wipes his mouth, puts his fork down. “They don’t bake in prison.”
“No, I guess they don’t. How did you find Blue? Who’s helping you?”
Lucky shoves more pie into his hole and studies me as he chews with his mouth open. I try not to look.
“A friend. Why didn’t my daughter come? I really would have loved to see her. It’s been years.”
“She didn’t want to see you. Which friend is helping you?”
“The one who wants what’s on my laptop which that little bitch of mine stole. You have it? Didn’t expect to see you walk in here empty-handed.”
“It’s in the trunk.” I gesture to the parking lot and stand.
“Well then, let me just finish this delicious pie.” He continues to eat, finishing the thick slice in three huge bites before swallowing his coffee, wiping his mouth and standing.
I was right, he’s tall, and definitely skinny. I note the pallor to his skin, the shadows under his eyes. I know that look. Mom had it throughout her cancer diagnosis and treatment. I wonder if Lucky’s sick. If he is, does he know it? Not that I care. I just need one thing from him before I kill him. Because I plan on doing the killing myself. I won’t allow Blue to soil her hands with this low-life’s blood. First, though, I need to know who pulled those strings that got him out of prison. I assume Girard but it could be Councilor Augustus. At this point, I can see him getting Lucky out of prison to get the files back. I assume he’d have him killed afterwards. He wouldn’t want to leave anyone who knows what he’s done alive.
Lucky pats his pockets. “Shoot. Fresh out of cash. You don’t mind, do you?”
This man is a criminal. I couldn’t actually expect him to pay his own tab. I take out my wallet and drop a twenty-dollar bill on the table. It should cover coffee, pie and a generous tip for having to put up with this dirtbag.
“Why thank you. Lead the way, handsome,” he says, mimicking the waitress who is watching us.
I walk ahead of him but when we get to the door, I open it and gesture for him to go ahead. He does. I don’t want this man at my back.
“Who helped you get out of prison?” I ask as we cross the lot to my SUV.
“I saw you didn’t come alone. You hurt me, my friend will hurt you,” he says, ignoring my question.
“I doubt that.” We get to the SUV and Dex climbs out, opens the trunk. He glances around, subtly nods to me. “Who. Helped. You?” I ask once we reach the SUV.
Lucky glimpses his laptop, eyes Dex, then turns back to me with a grin on his face. “I’m a dead man either way but I will die knowing my little girl will be joining me soon in Hell.”