by Debra Dunbar
Chapter 29
Raymond slipped two fingers into his mouth to release a shrill whistle as one of the Crew’s trucks backed into the warehouse. The driver stopped the truck, and two more errand boys hopped out to open the tailgate to unload the crates of wine onto a neatly-stacked pallet.
Raymond shot Hattie an approving nod. “I like it when they do the liftin’.”
“I bet you do,” she said with a smile. “Don’t you worry, though. I’ll make sure you do all the lifting when we make the delivery.”
“What, you don’t need the exercise?”
“Hang that! I’ve had enough exertion to last the rest of the year.”
Lizzie barked at the errand boys as one let a crate slip. The box only fell a few inches, but the rattling of the bottles was loud enough to draw a spate of profanity from Liz’s lips.
“She’s in a mood, isn’t she?” Hattie grumbled.
“We’re gettin’ behind,” Raymond replied, guiding her away from the activity. “Looks like another week of late nights.”
Hattie sighed. “Fine.”
She put on, but the work was highly welcome. The money came at a good time. Cutbacks at the steel mill had dried up Alton’s wages. At least he’d have his health. Hattie kept the dram of Aqua Vitae at home, now…resolving never to use it for her personal purposes. The cost, she’d discovered, was too high.
Liz, for her part, hadn’t missed a single beat getting the warehouse back into the swing of things. With that had come the return of her less-than-charming business demeanor. Which, in and of itself, was a welcome sight. When Lizzie was polite, she was worried. When she was calm, she was unpleasant. Better the devil Hattie knew.
Hattie wandered out into the night air with Raymond. The heat had come in full force, as had the fireflies which flickered in and around the crates surrounding the Locust Point warehouse.
“You wanna practice some more?” Raymond offered. “Your hoodoo?”
Hattie smiled. “No. I think I have a handle on it.”
“You’re just worried you’ll get locked in again. Hey, that’s fine. I don’t cotton to all that heavy witchcraft.”
She jabbed his ribs. “You’re happy enough when I use it to save us from snooping eyes on the water.”
“Yeah, well…a flim-flam here and there. That’s alright. It ain’t so unnatural.”
She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Well, then,” he declared. “We’ll run this latest haul on out to Winnow’s when they get it packed up. And you’re helping me load it!”
Hattie smiled. “Long nights.”
“Long nights.” Raymond sighed as they reached the Ford Runabout. He lifted a chin. “Looks like your little bird left you another note.”
Hattie half-snickered at the comment before she realized he was actually serious. She turned toward the front of the truck to find another note, crisp and white in the moonlight, tucked beneath the windscreen wiper blade.
A jolt ran through her.
Raymond shook his head. “Probably some secret damn admirer. You gotta get yourself figured out, girl.”
He trotted off to give her a moment’s privacy and Hattie stood stiff, arms to her sides, staring at the tiny slip of cardstock on the glass.
This wasn’t Dmitrevich. Nor was the note at Raymond’s house. Nor, likely, was the note bearing the admonition “Know Thyself.” Whoever had sent those messages was still watching.
She turned in a circle, eyes on crates and stacks of lumber. Nothing but fireflies and evening breeze. The rushing of the wind sent a chill deep into her core.
Finally, mustering the strength to face it, Hattie reached for the note. She jerked it free of the wiper blade and unfolded it.
She read the message, scratched in jagged slashes of ink.
Soon we shall met.
Hattie folded the note and tucked it into her overalls.
To the north, the lights of Baltimore flickered across the ripples of the Patapsco inlet. The city, so filled with souls and stories, had for so long been both her home and her prison.
Now, there was one more soul with eyes on her. What would it mean?
She cleared her throat, pulled her bangs away from her eyes, and marched back to the warehouse. There would be time to meet this mystery person later. For now, she had work to do.
Want more? Clip Joint, book 3 in the White Lightning Series releases November 13th!
Acknowledgments
A huge thanks to our copyeditors Kimberly Cannon and Jennifer Cosham whose eagle eyes catch all the typos and keep Debra’s comma problem in line, and to Damonza for cover design.
Special thanks to all our readers who have individually followed us to Hel and back, and enthusiastically cheered us on during our first collaborative project. May there be many more ahead!
Debra and J.P
About the Authors
Debra lives in a little house in the woods of Maryland with her sons and two slobbery bloodhounds. On a good day, she jogs and horseback rides, hopefully managing to keep the horse between herself and the ground. Her only known super power is 'Identify Roadkill'.
A Louisiana native, J.P. relocated to the vineyards and cow pastures of Central Maryland after Hurricane Katrina, where he lives with his wife and son. During the day he commutes to the city of Baltimore, a setting which inspires much of his writing.
For more information:
www.debradunbar.com/white-lightning or
J.P. Sloan’s Author page
Debra Dunbar’s Author page
Also by Debra Dunbar
White Lightning Series
Wooden Nickels
Bum’s Rush
Clip Joint
***
The Templar Series
Dead Rising
Last Breath
Bare Bones
Famine’s Feast
Dark Crossroads (2019)
IMP WORLD NOVELS
The Imp Series
A Demon Bound
Satan’s Sword
Elven Blood
Devil’s Paw
Imp Forsaken
Angel of Chaos
Kingdom of Lies
Exodus
Queen of the Damned
The Morning Star
Half-breed Series
Demons of Desire
Sins of the Flesh
Cornucopia
Unholy Pleasures
City of Lust
Imp World Novels
No Man’s Land
Stolen Souls
Three Wishes
Northern Lights
Far From Center
Penance
Northern Wolves
Juneau to Kenai
Rogue
Winter Fae
Bad Seed
Also by J.P. Sloan
The Dark Choir Series
The Curse Merchant
The Curse Servant
The Curse Mandate
The Dark Interest
Other Novels
Yea Though I Walk
