Fatal Reunion

Blues music drifted from clubs, restaurants and bars. Saturday night. Throngs of people packed into the buildings. Riff’s turned a blind eye and welcomed anyone who at least looked sixteen, mostly riffraff. Piper had been coming and going since she was fifteen.

The neon pink sign blared over the aged brick building. Two large windows revealed patrons enveloped in cigarette smoke and pale lighting. She stood out front, inhaling the tangy scent of BBQ and char-grilled burgers. Liquor permeated Beale Street on Friday and Saturday nights. Wasn’t even May yet. Memphis in May would draw huge crowds.

She could stand here with a million regrets or go in and try to dig up some information on Christopher Baxter.

A chill swept up her spine. That being-watched feeling coated her skin. No time to second-guess the idea. It was now or never.

FOUR

Piper marched through the doors, cigarette smoke burning her nostrils. The smell of pungent sweat, stale beer and peanuts sent a wave of nausea through her. How could she have ever called this her stomping ground? A few leering eyes roamed her, but she maneuvered through the mob. Pool balls clacked together. Laughter and the thump of bass mixed with a tenor voice crooning an old Bonnie Raitt song.

Everyone seemed young. Not that Piper was old, but she’d aged before her time in many ways. Made a lot of shoddy decisions, thinking she was all grown-up. She ached to go back to age ten, when Mama Jean had sent her to church camp and she had walked to the altar to ask Jesus into her life. On the following Friday evening, Mama Jean had come and watched her be baptized. That moment had felt like warmth cocooning her. A safe place. She hadn’t wanted to come up out of the water.

What happened in those next years? How had she fallen so hard so fast? Mama Jean would say, “Dear one, you spend more time with those friends than the friend that sticks closer than a brother.” Piper didn’t understand exactly what she meant, other than she was talking about Jesus. Mama Jean always talked about Jesus.

She slipped her coat off and hitched herself up onto a high-top chair. A greasy menu was laid out for her to skim. Her stomach protested the thought of food. Behind the bar, cooks in white shirts and hats slung hash.

An eruption of laughter and applause exploded near the pool-hall section. Piper checked out the crowd. No one she recognized. Did she expect anyone to still linger here?

“Well, look who else the cat dragged in.”

Piper turned her head and smiled. “Jazz.” The big burly guy, skin the color of espresso beans, now in his fifties, wrapped her in a bear hug. His physical strength overpowered her as much as the scent of grease and onions. “How ya been?”

“Holding my own, Pipes.” Jazz had managed this place for as long as Piper could remember. A fairly decent guy—never tried to take advantage of her. “What brings you back here?”

“You wouldn’t know a guy named Christopher Baxter, would you?” Hope and a prayer—that God probably wouldn’t hear—floated from her mind. Something Jazz had said a minute ago hit her. “Wait, what do you mean ‘who else’? You said ‘look who else the cat dragged in.’” Piper’s hands turned clammy. “Who else is here?”

“Your boy from way back. Came in about five minutes ago.”

Chaz? Piper might pass out. “Which boy?”

“Luke.”

He must have a lead. “He say anything?”

Jazz shrugged. “Just came in, shook my hand like old times.”

Luke had been undercover once. Was he trying to stay that way?

“So Christopher Baxter. You know him? Who he ran with?”

Jazz clucked. “That fat cat, Derone, and him were tight till Baxter found the Lord over on Riverside. They call Derone ‘Wheels’ ’cause that tricked-out Caddy he be drivin’.”

“Is Derone here?”

“Was fifteen minutes ago.”

Now for one more question. “Have you seen Chaz around?”

“Not in years. Saw Tyson a few times, but he didn’t go in the back. Not after Sly went to prison.” Jazz removed his toothpick and pecked Piper on the cheek. “Don’t go gettin’ in any mess.”

“Me?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He gave her a knowing look and strutted behind the counter. Piper snagged her coat and pushed through couples dancing, playing pool and darts, past the bathrooms that flanked the narrow hallway to double doors leading to the real action. Anyone jonesing for trouble gravitated back here. Cops showed up, easy exit. The dull metal door opened to an alley that connected with an Italian restaurant.

Piper opened the door to a massive room, sectioned off by wooden half walls with cedar beams towering to the ceiling. Smoky. Crimson shades hung over dim lights above red vinyl booths that lined the walls. Several games of pool and darts were going on. Black-topped tables with matching scuffed chairs splotched the right side area.

No sign of Luke yet.

“You look lost.” An athletic-built man with shaggy black hair and intense blue eyes sidled up to her. “Are you?” His voice was warm-paraffin kind of smooth, and in the old days Piper would have already swooned. And been sorely burned. This guy was wildfire.

“I’m looking for Derone.”

“You his girl? Because I’m not seein’ it.” He flashed a grin. Definitely not a meth head with those Colgate-white chops. Dimples creased his scruffy cheeks.

“I need to find him.” She scanned the crowd around the pool tables.

“If I tell you where he is, will you have a drink with me?” His spicy cologne was enticing.

“I don’t drink.”

“Not even water?” He chuckled. “Tell you what. I produce Derone, and you have a drink of water with me. Just water.”

Never gonna happen. Nobody back here was up to anything honorable. No matter how incredible they smelled or appeared. “I’m not thirsty.”

He gave a quick nod. “I can live with that answer. My name’s Holt. Holt Renard. I’d remember if I saw you before. First time here?”

Piper peered over his shoulder. “Which one’s Derone?”

He sighed and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Last booth on the right. Nice girl like you don’t need to be tangling with Wheels.”

Piper pitched a lukewarm shrug. “I’m not known around here as a nice girl.” And shame painted her skin red.

She charged toward the booth. A beast of a man with a tattooed bald head swung around the corner with a pool stick in hand and a leering eye.

“You looking for a good time?” he rasped.

Would this never end? Piper glared up at him. “If a good time is named Derone.”

“Derone.” He laughed. “Derone can’t show you a good time. But I can.”

Losing her patience wasn’t smart. But the ape loomed over her, and getting in her personal space was a mistake. “You need to seriously consider stepping aside.”

“Feisty, aren’t ya. I like it.”

He had no idea just how feisty Piper could be.

“And if I don’t?”

Piper didn’t encourage fighting, especially picking one, but she had a mission, and the longer this goon messed with her, the chances of finding Derone slipped away. “I don’t have time for this. Move.”

She started to step around him, but he clasped her shoulder, digging his fingers into her flesh.

Mistake.

Piper laid an elbow into the giant’s sternum with a quick jab. He fought for a lungful of air, but she’d knocked the breath out of him, sending him into a panicked state. Taking the small open window of opportunity, she grabbed his hand, twisted around, faced him and landed a double-front kick to his rib cage, toppling him over the pool table.

“You said you liked feisty.” Piper ignored the stares, hoots and applause and targeted on the last booth to the right. Where was Luke? Had he already found who he was searching for? Had it been a bust?

“Was that necessary?” Luke appeared from a crowd near the darts area, a twinkle in his eye. He led them to a quieter corner away from the humiliated man seething over getting beat up by a woman and where they could have a more private conversation.

“He was in my personal space and wasn’t going to let up. And if you came by to see if I was hanging around my old place for fun and giggles, you’re wrong.”

Luke fiddled with a blue chalk square lying on a high-top table. “I had no idea you were here. But I’m not surprised after you so sweetly told me you planned to track down the person behind Mama Jean’s assault and probably yours.”

“And I meant it.”

“And I still believe you.” He lifted his eyebrows. “So, your plan is to go all Bruce Lee on everyone until you get answers?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Did he have to be so attractive with his grin, one side lifting higher than the other? “What have you found out?”

“I was just starting a conversation when you pulled your stunt. Baxter frequented here at one time and ran with a guy named—”

“Derone. I know. Got that from Jazz.” Piper tried not to inhale his scent or be hypnotized by the gravel in his voice.

“How would you know to find Derone here?”

“Mama Jean mentioned Riff’s. I also know the kind of people who frequent this joint. It doesn’t take a detective’s shield to make that dog hunt.” Piper propped her hands on her hips. “Excuse me while I find him.” She forced a tough exterior, hoping Luke wouldn’t bring up her lack of invincibility. She was only one person. But she was the only one she could depend on. Keep the brave front, Piper. Do what you have to do. Find out who’s behind this.

* * *

“How about we find him together?”

Luke rubbed his chest. Feelings he didn’t want to experience seeped to the surface, ignoring his attempts to keep them behind the wall he’d built. Piper lived in Jackson now and was happy, according to her. A good quiet life. No room for him. Not that he wanted her to make room.

She needed to stop digging into things on her own.

“Piper, you should go home.” It hit him. “Wait a minute... How did you get here? Your car isn’t going to be ready until Monday.”

Piper glared. “I took a cab from the hospital. I’m not helpless. And I’m not leaving until I have answers.”

No. Piper wasn’t helpless, but sniffing around might get her killed. Karate was an excellent defense, but it wouldn’t stop a bullet. “Please don’t make me arrest you for obstructing justice.” Throwing her in a cell would keep her safe.

Piper invaded his personal space, pinning him with a glare; the smell of jasmine messed with his head. “I’ll tell you what—if you think you can get a pair of cuffs on me, I’ll let you haul me in.”

The dare in her eyes only furthered his attraction. Piper wasn’t going to let anyone, including him, run all over her. This wasn’t the same woman from ten years ago. She was stronger, more determined and unstoppable. A wave of admiration and respect swelled within him.

Better to work with her than against her. Having her near would be smart, to keep an eye on her and to protect her. But when it came to his heart, it might be the dumbest move in history.

“Fine. You can stay.”

“Can?” She shot another lethal glare.

He glanced around the crowd, making sure Bald Guy hadn’t decided to go another round with Piper. Looked long gone. “That came out wrong. Let’s put our heads together.” Last time they’d put their heads together, they’d been kissing. His sight trailed to her soft lips.

“How are we supposed to do that when I’m a suspect to you?” Piper rolled her shoulders around. He could relate to the tension.

Her eyes widened and she shot her hands up. Luke turned to see a man who should be playing linebacker for the Chicago Bears slide from the booth and head for the restroom area.

“Derone!” Piper shoved past Luke. Derone sized Piper up and bolted.

“Wait!” Piper took off after him as he thrust open the exit door and burst into the alley.

“You wait!” Was she crazy? Luke blew after her, but she was so much smaller it’d been easier for her to maneuver through the crowd.

Piper was halfway down the alley by the time Luke ran out the back door.

Derone obviously thought she was a cop. No wonder, the way she came in owning the place. Piper never did understand subtle. Luke sped up, gaining on Piper, who was dogging Derone. He whipped right, hauling it past a gathering of spectators and ignoring the foul remarks and name-calling.

Derone was about twenty feet ahead and Piper was gaining. Man, she was fast.

Derone shot down a side street. Luke pumped his legs harder. The cold air burned his lungs. The guy might have a gun. He had to get to Piper. Or to Derone first.

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