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“We need him back. And if he’s dead…” She sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes. “We need a body to bury. Me and my daughter need closure. We need…” Another round of sobs escaped her. “God, please let him be alive.”
His heart broke for her and Azariah. Con stared toward the hallway that led to his god daughter’s room. He would keep his promise to Delilah. He would find Boris. Dead or alive. He would bring Boris home.
And then he’d punish the motherfuckers who’d taken him.
Home.
Finally.
Cristal unlocked her front door and stepped into her house. Back pressed against the door, she kicked her heels off and sighed. Her feet were finally free and as soon as she reached her bedroom, she’d free her breasts from the constraints of her bra.
It was early. A little after three a.m. The house was quiet. As it should be. Yet, something felt off. Cristal stared down the long hallway of the old house she shared with her granny and niece.
Nothing was out of place. However, there was no music playing. No matter how many times she told her granny not to wait up for her, that didn’t stop her granny from trying to. She always ended up falling asleep in the living room with her gospel music playing.
This morning, there wasn’t any music playing. Moving slowly, Criss bent down and picked up her heels. Holding them like weapons, she walked down the hallway, stopping and standing still when she reached the archway to the living room.
A floorboard creaked. Someone was in her living room. Criss rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she knew who it was. Just in case she was wrong, she inched closer to the archway, hoping to get a peek into the living room.
“I know you’re out there, Criss. Bring your ass in here. And don’t try nothing funny or I may not be nice to the old lady.”
Granny!
With her high heels still in her hands, Criss stepped into the archway. There he was, the man she hated with every fiber of her being. Every time she saw Scott McMahan, hatred and rage soared through her veins.
He was a liar and a murderer. He may not have physically killed her sister, but he was still the person responsible for her death. Cindy never would’ve started doing drugs if she hadn’t met him.
She never would’ve gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd if she hadn’t run off with him ten years ago. He was the reason her sister was dead. He was the reason her twin sister had overdosed.
He was the reason her niece, Ashley, was now a motherless child. He was the reason her family was now living on the run. He was the reason she could barely afford to pay for her granny’s medicine or buy Ashley the trinkets she liked.
Criss clutched her heels tighter. Times like this, she felt it would be easier to just kill him and be done with all the drama that him and his family had brought into her life. Her gaze drifted to her grandmother, who was sitting in her recliner.
Granny didn’t look afraid. She looked pissed off. Like her, her granny was tired of Scott and the shit-storm that followed him everywhere he went. Scott raised his weapon and pointed it at Cristal.
His pale hands trembled slightly as he said, “Put those heels down.”
“Why? So, you can steal them and sell them for drugs?”
He had the nerve to look ashamed. “Why would I want to steal your cheap ass shoes? My family has money.”
“But you don’t. A trust fund baby without a trust fund is just a baby.”
“Shut the fuck up.” With a crazed look in his eyes, he pulled at his blond hair. “Why do you always say shit that makes me want to hurt you?”
“You, hurt me? Never. Oh, you mean that time you sucker punched me? That was a cheap shot. And as I recall, you came out of that fight worse off than me.”
“Shut up, Cristal,” he yelled. “Shut the fuck up before I shoot you and the old lady.”
Her lips snapped shut and her eyes strayed to her granny. She really needed to learn to keep her mouth closed. Her granny’s gaze met hers. For the first time, she saw real fear in her grandmother’s light brown eyes.
Criss returned her attention to Scott. Something was different about him. Usually, he was just a pale, ungrateful white boy who’d been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He still looked pale and ungrateful.
Now, he also looked threatening. His hands were trembling and there was a wild look in his eyes. She’d seen her sister look this way a few times. It happened each time she tried to get off of drugs. Shit. Scott was going through withdrawals.
“Scott, how about you put the gun down.”
“How about you shut the fuck up and listen to me.”
