Hard Candy Saga (11 page)

Following on Shana's heels, Candice felt a surge of adrenaline, and her pulse quickened—a mixture of fear and power.

“Thanks. I try,” Shana replied, giving Candice a half-hearted smile.

They strategically dodged bodies as they passed several different groups of people holding conversations throughout the house. Some were laughing, some were still crying, while others were just eating and drinking.

Shana finally pushed through two short white swinging doors and stepped into her gourmet kitchen. “It's kind of peaceful in here. Too many people out there for me,” she said, flicking her wrists dismissively. She climbed up on one of the leather stools that sat in front of the bar-style granite counter.

Candice joined her. “Are you all right? I mean, with Broady and everything. I know you said he had been acting a little erratic,” Candice said, choosing her words carefully. She had finally gotten a grip on her shaking legs and hammering heartbeat.

“So far he has just been caught up with a bunch of different dudes trying to play detective behind Razor's murder. He hasn't had time to really focus on me. I know he was very happy with the way I arranged this little thing for everybody, so maybe shit will be all good tonight. Maybe his days of laying his hands on me are over,” Shana said, looking down at her feet.

“So Broady is playing detective? I mean, nobody has heard any more information from the police about suspects in Razor's murder?” Candice didn't want to sound like she was prying.

Shana's facial expression turned serious. “Candy, do you really think the fuckin' jake is looking for Razor's killer? C'mon now, girl, be for real.” Shana chortled, moving her hands in front of her and snapping her neck in and out. “Let's see . . . Razor was a known drug dealer, a ‘predicate felon,' and ain't never paid a cent in fuckin' taxes. Those bastard-ass DTs are probably having coffee and donuts right now, saying, ‘Good riddance,'” Shana replied with an angry sigh.

Candice knew she was right. She had thought all of this through when she set out on her revenge mission. Nobody would care if Junior, Broady, or even Razor was wiped off the face of the earth, as they were all menaces to society. She couldn't help but think that was the reason no one was ever charged in her family's deaths. Did the police officially say, “Fuck finding the killers,” since her father was a well-known drug kingpin? Why else would there have been no arrests for such a horrific crime? The rumor mill on the streets pointed the guilty finger at Junior and his little cronies, but Candice didn't need the police to exact her own brand of justice.

“Well, I still would like to know who'd do some shit like that to Razor,” Candice said. The last time she'd seen Razor was at Club Skyye when she'd stormed out of the club in a huff. Razor had followed her outside to calm her down, but she could barely remember their conversation. She was so furious with Broady that night, all she could see was red.

“Ayo, Shana!” Broady growled.

Shana bolted upright on the stool, almost losing her balance.

Candice sat up straight as well, Broady's voice sending a prickly feeling down her spine.

“Yeah, Broady. I'm in here,” Shana responded, twisting her lips. She looked at Candice and rolled her eyes. “I'll be right back.” Shana sighed. She wasn't going to do anything to set Broady off, with so many people milling around the house.

Candice shook her head in disgust.
When would Shana learn that no man is worthy of such blind obedience?
She drummed her fingers on the granite countertop and gazed around the kitchen. She could see herself living in a home like this, with a gorgeous man and a few kids running around.

Candice almost laughed out loud. She didn't know why that thought had crossed her mind. It would be the Immaculate Conception indeed, considering she had never even been touched by a man. She chalked up her strange thoughts to the fact that she was feeling lonely and out of place. Marrying and having children would be one way to fix that problem. But if she heeded the words of her uncle Rock, it could also mean an uncertain future. If Candice wanted to plant roots, as Uncle Rock said, she would just have to become a tree. She inadvertently smiled at Uncle Rock's eccentricity.

“You look pretty when you're smiling and not looking so angry all the time,” a male voice chimed from behind her.

Candice jumped off the stool, whirling around and clutching her bag, her boyfriends (Glock and SIG Sauer) nestled safely in her purse. She relaxed a bit when she recognized the voice belonged to Tuck.

“Nobody ain't ever teach you not to be sneaking up on somebody like that,” Candice huffed, attitude in full force. She knew she shouldn't have come back to Shana's house. Her pulse raced, and her heart quickened. Just being in his presence made her feel hot, flushed, and uncomfortable.

“It must be me. I must be the reason you're so mean. Because I know I just looked in that mirror across the kitchen and saw you smiling,” Tuck said, moving closer to her side.

Candice swore she felt an electric current flowing between their bodies.
Is this what it feels like to lust after someone?

“Maybe it
is
you . . . since you like bumping into people and sneaking up on them. I don't like that.” Candice didn't like the overwhelming sexual attraction she experienced each time she laid eyes on him. It was dangerous. It was pure, raw emotion—something she had been taught to suppress all of her life, professionally and personally. Candice clutched her bag tightly, her lips curled into a snarl. She was going to fight these feelings. She wouldn't go panting after this guy like some bitch in heat and do something she would regret.

“I'm sorry for whatever it is that I didn't do to you,” Tuck offered.

Candice snorted and rolled her eyes.

Tuck sighed. “See, I am even willing to apologize when you know good and well I ain't do a thing to you and you
still
won't throw a dude a bone. You're something else.” Tuck flashed the sexy smile that always fucked Candice's head up.

“Hmm!” Candice grunted, petulantly cocking her head to one side. She wiggled her toes in her shoes. She felt agitated and hot enough to melt, but she was damned if she was going to let him know the effect he was having on her.

“So, Candy, tell me something about yourself,” Tuck said, ignoring Candice's defiant body language.

“I don't tell strangers about myself.” Candice refused to make eye contact, afraid that looking into his eyes would cause a floodgate to open.
Stay focused, Candy. Stay focused. Stay focused.

“Damn, you a tough nut to crack.” Tuck pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead. “Look, how about we start from scratch? I tell you one thing about me. Then you tell me one thing about you,” Tuck said, dipping his head up and down and around, trying to make eye contact with Candice.

Every time he moved his head to try to meet her gaze, she turned her head and eyes in the opposite direction.

“Last I checked, this is not
Let's Make a Deal
. I'm not a game show contestant, and I don't have to negotiate a truce with you. I don't even know you!” Candice secretly enjoyed the back-and-forth and giving him a hard time. If Tuck wanted to get to know her, he'd have to work for it. Besides, Candice knew that if he got in the way of her mission, he'd have to be dealt with swiftly, and she didn't want to get attached to anybody she considered expendable.

Tuck laughed at her tough-girl façade, seeming to enjoy the byplay. He could see right through her act. Her flaming red cheeks had already given her away. “I'm sayin', for real, though . . . you are one hard-ass Candy, ain't you?” Tuck chuckled, still trying his best to get a smile out of her.

Candice opened her mouth to respond, but a bloodcurdling scream cut through the air, forcing the words down her throat like hard marbles. “What the fuck!” she mouthed, instinctively moving toward the door. She recognized the voice behind the scream all too well.

Tuck spun around like a man possessed. More screams prompted him to pull his weapon out of his waistband and race through the kitchen doors.

Candice was hot on Tuck's heels. “Oh my goodness . . . Shana,” Candice whispered breathlessly.

Tuck and Candice rushed toward the commotion against a wave of people heading for the nearest exits. No one, apparently, wanted to be a witness to anything going down.

“Junior! Stop it!” Shana screeched, her voice sharp like nails on a chalkboard, her eyes stretched wide with fear.

“Fuck!” Tuck huffed, rushing over to the tangle of bodies.

“Tuck! Help him! Get him off of him!” Shana screamed, jumping up and down.

Candice was finally able to make out the identity of the individuals in the twisted heap of arms and legs. It appeared to be a fight as old as time—Cain versus Abel.

“You ain't so fuckin' tough now, you pussy!” Junior growled, his left arm wrapped tightly around his brother's neck in a headlock that threatened to crush Broady's windpipe. In his right hand, Junior gripped a .357 Magnum and held it to his brother's temple. Broady's huge body was slumped against Junior's smaller frame, but with his air supply being choked off, his size wasn't helping him.

“You're gonna choke him to death!! Ahhhhhh! Don't shoot him!” Shana bawled hysterically as she jumped up and down, flailing her hands like a crazy person. Her face was now a cakey mess of smudged makeup, salty tears, and sweat.

“Get her the fuck out of here!” Tuck hollered at Candice.

Candice rushed over to take Shana away from the fracas, although she didn't appreciate Tuck screaming at her. “C'mon, girl,” she said calmly, cutting an evil eye in Tuck's direction. She felt like she was the only sane person in the room at the moment.

Tuck knew he needed to get Broady's head out of Junior's death grip. Broady's body was already going slack, like he was being put to sleep. He tried to place his hands on Junior's arm to loosen his grip, but it only made matters worse. Junior not only tightened his grip, but he pressed his gun into Broady's head even harder.

Fuck!
Tuck screamed inside of his head. “C'mon, Junior, man. It ain't worth it.” He couldn't afford to grab Junior's weapon and cause an accidental discharge. That would put the last nail in his career coffin.

Meanwhile, Candice tried to persuade Shana to leave the upturned family room.

Tuck tried his most compelling argument. “Junior, man, he is your brother. I know you mad, man, but—”

“I'm not leavin' him! He's gonna kill him!” Shana squealed, her voice a high, keening pitch, her body trembling. She was running in place now and screaming for Junior to release Broady.

“I said to get her the fuck outta here!” Tuck barked again.

Candice shot him another glare.
Don't this motherfucker see I'm trying to calm her ass down first? What am I supposed to do? Pick the bitch up over my fucking shoulder?

“Stop fuckin' screaming at me! I'm doing my best!”

Tuck quickly got the message. Now he had two angry women to deal with. Things were going from bad to worse. The situation was spinning out of control, and he had to put things back in order. If Junior killed his brother and went to jail, Tuck's case would be over.

“You slapped a nigga's wife and didn't even tell me? You goin' out of borough, startin' a fuckin' beef, and didn't even tell me? Huh, motherfucker? You can't keep it one hun'ed?” Junior barked, still applying pressure to Broady's neck.

“Cuh! Cuh! Cuh!” Broady struggled for breath. His windpipe was on fire and would surely buckle under Junior's grip.

Broady's vision was narrowing; he would soon lose consciousness if Tuck didn't act fast. Junior had been holding him in the dope fiend sleeper hold for too long.

“You embarrassed me!” Junior belted out, his words coming out in raggedy, clipped breaths. All of the liquor he had consumed during Razor's funeral services didn't help the situation either.

“Junior, man! You gon' fuck around and kill this motherfucker! He turnin' blue and shit.” Tuck touched the outside of the arm wrapped around Broady's throat.

At Tuck's touch, Junior jumped. His eyes bugged out, and sweat dripping off his face, he was like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, and looking to take a bite out of a helpless victim. “Back the fuck up!” he hollered, moving his gun from Broady's face and pointing it at Tuck.

Tuck threw his hands up in surrender. He didn't have a choice. He thought of his father dying in the line of duty and what it did to his mother. He couldn't do that to his wife and kids.

Junior turned his attention back to his brother. He loosened his grip on Broady's neck. “You so lucky I care about my fuckin' mother and don't wanna see her have to bury your worthless ass. It's only because of her that I don't fuckin' murk you right the fuck here in ya own crib,” Junior screamed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Broady fell forward onto his knees with a thud. His hands uncurled, and he dropped the little blue card he was holding. He gasped and wheezed, trying to get his lungs to fill back up with air. Broady couldn't stop coughing. He rolled around on the floor like he was having a seizure, his hands massaging his neck.

Shana raced over to his side, rubbing his back to soothe him. “Oh my God! Broady, are you all right?” she screeched, stooping over him. Shana glanced up and shot Junior an evil look. She really hated his ass.

“You a fuckin' punk bitch! You better stay the fuck away from me! Next time some bullshit pops off, I'ma kill you my fuckin' self and that hateful bitch standing by your side!” Junior glowered at Broady.