Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

  “We’re not carrying guns into a meeting with Quinell,” Cash said, and looked to her. “Or knives.”

  “Good thing I’m not carrying one,” she lied.

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Then frisk me,” she challenged.

  Cash’s eyes heated with desire, just before he slid on his sunglasses. “Let’s go.”

  As they walked, Sully fell into step with Harrison, while she and Cash followed behind. “Frenchtown has a bad rep, but there’s been quite a lot of revitalization here over the past few years,” Sully said. “Want to know how the area got its name?”

  Harrison glanced at him. “French settlers.”

  “Okay, easy guess. But did you know that one of the settlers was a prince and the son of the sister of Napoleon Bonaparte?”

  Cash nudged her. She looked to him and couldn’t help smiling when he repeatedly opened and closed his fingers to his thumb, indicating Sully was talking too much. She grinned. Dang, she missed Cash. Before she could think about him, and all that she missed, Sully tapped Harrison on the shoulder and looked back to them.

  “You recognize the guy on the stoop?” Sully asked Cash, referring to the biracial man with sleeves of tattoos along both arms.

  Cash nodded. “Quinell’s half-brother. He’s the good one.”

  “Good one?” Harrison echoed.

  Sully nodded. “Yeah, Quinell has six or seven brothers. Can’t remember which. Me and Cash went to school with a couple of them.” He waved to the man on the stoop. “What’s up, Demetrius?”

  Demetrius frowned at first, then grinned and came onto the sidewalk. “You lookin’ to get your ass kicked, Sullivan? You know no one but my mama calls me that, or maybe Prescott’s been feeding you stupid for breakfast.”

  “Fuck you, Dizzee,” Cash said with a grin, and shook the man’s hand.

  “Who’s Prescott?” Harrison asked.

  Demetrius, aka, Dizzee, laughed. “Oh, shit. I guess I just blew your cover, bro.” He nodded his head toward Cash. “Cash’s real name is Prescott. His crack-head mama named him after the rich dick who’d knocked her up, hoping he’d pay for her baby.” Demetrius looked to Cash. “Is your mama still trying to get you into your daddy’s will?”

  Mel tensed. While there had been no love lost between Cash and his mom, she knew it hurt him to know that his father had wanted nothing to do with him. His mother had no proof that Cash was Prescott Chandler Maddox’s son, or that the man even existed. Cash had tried to find his father, but had been unsuccessful, leaving him to believe his mom had made up the man and the name.

  “She’s dead,” Cash said.

  Demetrius sobered. “Sorry, Cash.”

  Cash waved him off. “We’re looking for Quinell. Is he around?”

  A rickety screen door opened. Four African-American men spilled out, three of them making their way onto the sidewalk. The fourth man remained on the stoop, glaring at them. “I know you’re not here for drugs and I see you got a girl, so I’m thinking you don’t need one of those, either.” He looked to Demetrius. “What do you think, Dizzee? Social call? Maybe Cash and Sully want to talk about our high school glory days? Or maybe they came here looking for a fight.”

  Demetrius nodded. “Probably want to impress Blondie.”

  “Do you impress easy, Blondie?”

  She didn’t know what these men were doing, and didn’t understand their association to Cash and Sully. Yes, she heard them mention school and that they grew up knowing one another, but Quinell clearly had an issue with them.

  “She stays out of the conversation.” Cash took a step in front of her. “We’re looking for someone and heard they were seen with you.”

  “People do love Quinell’s charismatic personality,” Demetrius said, eliciting chuckles from the four men behind him. “Why, Quinell has been known to do a comedy act from this very stoop and draw a crowd.”

  “A crowd of po-nine,” one of the other men said, and they all chuckled again.

  Police. Outnumbered, and worried about their safety, she wished the cops were around now.

  “For real.” Demetrius grinned and shook his head. “Okay, Cash, who you looking for?”

  “His name is Bobby Scarlet.”

  “I have a picture of him,” Mel said, pulling the photo from her purse, then handing it to Cash.

  “What else do you have in there, Blondie? Any money for me?” Quinell asked as the picture was passed to him.

  “She stays out of the conversation,” Cash repeated.

  “She engaged with me,” Quinell said, looking at the photo. He snorted. “Yeah, I know this guy. He wanted me to cash a couple checks.”

  “What’d you tell him?” Cash asked.

  “To get the fuck outta here.”

  “How long ago?”

  Quinell shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

  “About two weeks ago,” Demetrius said.

  “Shut it, Dizzee. We don’t owe Cash no favors. I’ll reconsider maybe once I see what Blondie has in her purse.”

  These men were no help. She’d rather head to Hope House and flash Bobby’s picture around there. “Sorry, I don’t have much in my purse. Lipstick, compact, tampons…girl stuff. Can I have my picture back?”

  Quinell nodded to the man closest to him. “Get her purse.”

  “Are we really going to do this?” Cash asked, moving alongside Harrison and Sully, creating a barrier between her and Quinell’s men.

  “You were stupid enough to come where you don’t belong, what do you think?”

  “You’ll be sipping from a straw.”

  Demetrius whistled. “Damn, Cash. Those bombs you used to play with must’ve rattled your brain. Are you lookin’ to get your asses kicked?”

  “Just looking for information. Since we got what we came for, we can be on our way.”

  “Not without paying,” Quinell said, taking a few steps to the sidewalk. He crumpled the picture, then tossed it at Cash.

  Not good. She did not want Cash’s temper flaring and a fight to follow. She quickly pulled a twenty dollar bill out of her purse, then stuck her arm between Cash and Harrison. “Here’s a twenty. It’s all I’ve got on me. Thanks for your time.”

  Quinell looked at the money and nodded to Demetrius, who took it.

  Cash motioned for them to step back. “Let’s go.”

  Harrison walked backward, then stopped. He took a few steps forward, then bent to pick up the crumpled picture. Quinell nudged one of his men, who grinned and kicked Harrison in the stomach. Harrison grunted and dropped to his knees.

  “Son of a bitch.” Sully, who was closest to Harrison, rushed forward. He swept the man’s leg before he could release another kick. The man dropped to the concrete, but there was another right behind him, fist cocked.

  As Sully reacted, blocking the blow and delivering his own, Cash jumped in, knocking the next man to the ground with a double jab and swift uppercut. Mel quickly bent and retrieved the knife from her boot. Harrison moved next to her, clutching his stomach. “Don’t go there. Come on, back to the car.”

  “Not so fast.” Demetrius blocked their path, rushed Harrison, knocking him onto his back.

  Keeping the knife at her side, she whacked Demetrius over the head with her purse. Over and over, until the man reached back to block the blows. She straddled him. Dropping the purse, she latched onto his wrist, twisting his arm up and behind his back. When she took him to the point where a few more inches would cause the arm to break, she quickly brought the tip of her knife near Demetrius’s eye. “Enough,” she shouted. “Or I’m blinding him.”

  Quinell wiped blood from his nose and told the last of his men standing to stop. Cash and Sully were sweaty and breathing hard, but appeared to be okay.

  When Demetrius went to move, she pressed his arm higher. “I’d remain absolutely still. It’d be a shame if you accidentally jerked your eye into my knife.”

  Demetrius winced. “Call her off, Cash.” />
  Cash picked up the crumpled photo, then moved next to her. “If you’re not going to stick him, let him go. We’re done here.”

  Since she had no intention of going to prison for mutilating the man’s face, she removed the knife, released his wrist and jumped off him. She kept the blade in front of her. Not until they were far away from these men would she put it back in her boot.

  Demetrius stood, and rubbed his wrist as he moved toward his brother. The two men on the ground slowly rose. “Either Blondie doesn’t know our rules, or you’re fighting dirty now,” Quinell said.

  Sully wiped his hands on his jeans. “She didn’t know. And since when do you guys start stealing purses from women?”

  “Now? What’s he talking about?” Harrison asked. “Do you guys get together for impromptu fights?”

  Cash shrugged. “Not on purpose. They sometimes happen. When they do, no one is allowed to pull a weapon, which is why I said no knives. Sully’s right, though. Trying to steal from my girl wasn’t right.” He nodded to Quinell. “I wanted to kick your ass for suggesting it.”

  “And I wanted to see if you still had any fight in you since your accident.” Quinell wiped blood from his nose and looked to her. “We’ve been doing it since we were kids.”

  “How did I not know this?” she asked Cash.

  “Because I didn’t want you looking at me the way you are now,” he said.

  Demetrius laughed. “I wouldn’t, either. She looks like she wants to stick you, bro.”

  Good Lord. Her husband was certifiable. Pre-accident, when he’d been his most reckless, there’d been many occasions when he’d come home wearing the unmistakable signs of a fight. She’d assumed something had happened during a repo job or he’d been in a barroom brawl, but had never figured he’d actually gone looking for a fight.

  “So this was like a little reunion of sorts?” She should be furious. Instead, the disappointment weighed heavily on her. This moment solidified just how reckless and selfish Cash truly was, and why they could no longer work. “Quinell could have simply told us what we needed to know and we could already be on our way to Hope House. In the meantime, I’m terrified something has happened to my cousin, and instead of helping me, you chose to continue with this juvenile fight thing. And you wonder why we’re not together.”

  “In Cash’s defense,” Sully began, “they started it.”

  “By kicking my friend.” She sighed. “Quinell, did Bobby tell you why he came to you for money instead of going to a bank?”

  “Yeah, he said he got mugged. His wallet and phone were stolen. Without an ID he couldn’t cash the checks.”

  Mugged? Oh, God, Bobby. Why didn’t you go to Cash for help?

  She slid the knife back inside her boot’s built-in sheath. “Let’s go find my cousin,” she said, then, ignoring Cash, fell into step with Harrison.

  “Hey, Cash,” Demetrius called. “Better watch your back with that one. She’s got crazy written all over her.”

  “Better watch how you talk about my wife, or I’ll kick your ass for real.”

  Harrison tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. “You’re his wife?”

  She quickened her pace. “Not for long.”

  Chapter 5

  Hope House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Friday, 4:22 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  “YOU’RE SERIOUSLY MARRIED?” Harrison asked as they made their way toward the homeless shelter.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The anger radiating from Cash’s eyes should have burned a hole in the back of her head. Whatever. She faced forward. “I’m seriously married. This is another item to add to the list of things I don’t want anyone in Everglades City to know.”

  “You know, I thought you were…different, but I didn’t realize just how out there you really are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Cash and her daddy thought she was perfect. Barney doted on her and treated her like a daughter. Even the millionaire owner of CORE thought she was all that. Granted, she had disposed of a couple of bodies for him that, if discovered, could shut down his agency and send him and his employees to prison. Still. She was cool with who she was. She liked herself. If no one else did, that was their problem.

  “Give me a break, Mel. You know exactly what I mean.”

  “I honestly don’t. If what I’ve done in my past, or what I’m currently doing seems out there to you, maybe you should consider that who I am is natural to me.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance. “In the weirdest, scariest way, that made absolute sense. But I still don’t get why you would keep being married a secret.”

  “I don’t plan on explaining myself with my husband walking five feet behind us. This will give us something to talk about on the drive home.”

  “When?”

  “When can we go home?” At Harrison’s nod, she said, “If we find Bobby today, we’re leaving first thing in the morning.”

  “Why not tonight?” he asked. “We can take turns driving if you’re worried about being too tired.”

  She stopped at a crosswalk and waited for the light to change. “I have unfinished business that needs attending.”

  “Cash?”

  She nodded and tried to maintain a blasé attitude about the finality of their marriage. On the outside, she probably looked in control but, dang, if her insides weren’t a jumbled mess. She loved Cash, but she hated that he wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t even make an effort to change. Today proved just how far apart they’d grown, or maybe how much she didn’t really know him. Had she ever truly known him? Or had she’d been attracted to his looks, his kisses and touch, his dangerous aura. Maybe she should check herself on this one. Instead of faulting him for being the man he was, she should take a look at the woman she’d become. What right did she have to expect him to change because she had?

  Memories of seeing him lying in a hospital bed filled her head. Swollen, bruised, practically unrecognizable. Tubes running in and out of him. Watching the monitor, and hoping to God he wouldn’t flatline.

  She glanced at Cash when he and Sully reached them at the crosswalk. His lower lip had swelled since walking away from Quinell and his crew, and a bruise was developing on his cheek. There was a small cut above his eyes, which still held anger. He could choke on it. As it was, she was having a hard time containing the fury coursing through her body. What grown man purposefully provoked fights to let off steam? Why would Bobby come to Frenchtown in the first place? Why—

  “Light changed,” Cash said, and she realized she’d never stopped staring at him.

  She quickly looked away. “How much longer before we reach the shelter?” she asked as they crossed the street.

  “Next corner,” Cash said, catching up with her.

  Knowing they were close had anxiety replacing her anger toward Cash. “And if we don’t find him?”

  He took her hand in his. “There are other shelters in Tallahassee we can try. If he’s not at those, we’ll go to the police.”

  She held his hand tight and wished they could always be a team. A solid partnership without the Jerry Springer drama. As Sully fell into step with Harrison, and began telling him more about the history of Frenchtown, a crowd of people came into view.

  Her heart sank. Men and women lined the sidewalk and spilled into the vacant lot next to the two-story building. Those who weren’t hovering around the shelter doors, like groupies hoping to snag tickets, were sleeping against the side of the building, or on the grass next to various pieces of litter.

  Some looked as if they’d given up on life. Others looked lost, yet hopeful. She stared at them and realized that as crazy as her daddy was, he’d been smart enough to keep them five steps from having to live this way—and this was no way to live. Just thinking that Bobby had to turn to a homeless shelter tore at her heart. She pulled away from Cash, but he held her still.

  “Be cool,” he said, leaning close. “Some of these people don’t want to be found. We don’t
want to spook anyone.”

  She nodded and drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t understand why Bobby wouldn’t have come to you.”

  “I don’t, either. You know I would have let him stay at our house, right?”

  She met his gaze. The anger had disappeared—for now—in its place was nothing but concern. “I know.”

  “Got him,” Sully said.

  “Where?” Mel asked, combing the crowd for Bobby.

  “By the back of the building. See him? He’s propped up against a backpack.”

  When she spotted him, overwhelming relief filled her to the core.

  “Be cool,” Cash reminded her.

  She nodded. But as they made their way toward Bobby she had the urge to rush to him, hug him, then give him an earful for what he’d put her through. When they reached him, and she realized he was sleeping against his backpack, she swallowed a sob and looked away. Cash wrapped an arm around her. She leaned into him, soaked up his comfort and strength, then cleared her throat. “I’ve got this,” she said to Cash, then stepped toward her cousin. “Bobby? Honey, it’s Mel. Wake up.”

  Bobby flinched, quickly snapped open his eyes and grabbed his pack. “Mel?” He grinned. “What are you doing here?”

  She touched his dirty cheek. “Honey, I’m wondering the same thing. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

  “I can’t. I’m waiting on Noah.”

  “Bring him with us.”

  “But I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  She glance to Cash, who mirrored her confusion. “Back from where?”

  “What time is it?” Bobby asked, instead.

  “About a quarter to five.”

  Bobby hung his head. “It doesn’t matter now. She’s not coming.”

  “Who?”

  “Madeline.”

  Chuck’s Diner, Tallahassee, Florida

  Friday, 5:56 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  Cash shoved his half-eaten burger aside and watched as Bobby inhaled his food like a wild animal. While he was concerned about Bobby’s welfare, he was more worried about how Mel was dealing with her cousin. Once Bobby realized the woman he’d been waiting for was a no-show, he’d agreed to let them take him to dinner and to stay in Mel’s room at the hotel. But after Cash dropped Sully back at the garage, Bobby insisted that tomorrow he’d head to the shelter to wait for his friend.