A Test of Love: Interracial Erotic Romance (Chasing Love) (23 page)

They’re all doing it together, probably.

So when the third morning hit and still no news, I got everyone together to discuss moving Jazz out of Atrani. Surely, there was no other way. These broads knew where she was, but Jazz had no idea where they lurked. She’d be blind prey in a jungle crowded with predators.

Hell, no.

Yet, no one was prepared to hear what Chase said as he stepped into the dining area. “Dawn just texted me. All three of them are coming here to stay. She said that she didn’t have access to her trust fund, something I did as soon as I heard they were destined for Italy.”

“What do you mean they’re coming here to stay?” Jazz jumped up from the table. “Tell me you don’t think I’m going to help roll out sheets and pillows as one of them plans my death.”

“No.” He headed to his chair and sat down. “I have a staff for that.”

Not a good response, man.

Jazz stalked toward him. “This isn’t funny.”

“No. It’s not.” He massaged his temples. “Having them around living under this roof with you, isn’t ideal but—”

“Isn’t ideal?” Jazz still stood, but now with fisted hands on her hips.

Not a good sign. Once she puts them on her hips, she’ll be drop-kicking somebody with her words.

“This isn’t my house, but do you really think those. . .bitches will make it pass the doorway before I stab or—”

“First of all, this is your house.” Chase reached for his glass and took a sip. “Second, you won’t be here.”

She stared at him for several quiet seconds. Her mouth hung agape, as Viv’s did in that moment. This could go either way. Both possibilities had Chase with a new hole in his behind to take a dump with.

Jazz gathered her composure. “
This
is not my house, so I can’t—”

“Do I need to repeat myself,
tesoro
?”

“Chase, let me finish.”

“No.” With one finger, he tapped hard on the table. “This is your house. If you don’t want them to stay here, then say something now. Second, and this may be difficult for you to be okay with, but no, you won’t be here with them. I’m flying you back to Oshane City with Vivian and several guards. I pulled some very expensive strings to get your brother Sherman released. Troy made a good point that the people who are guarding you, should be—”

Jazz raised her hands in the air. “Just stop! Right now.” She paced in front of the table. Viv tossed me a worried look. I shrugged, not knowing where all of this would be going.

Chase has balls bringing Sherman into the game.

“I’m not your wife or someone you tell where and when to go places,” Jazz said. “This isn’t my house. Let’s first agree on that. Then let’s stop the freaking madness.”

“This is your house. I don’t need a ring to say that, but if that’s something you need feel free to give me the size of your finger.”

Talk about an odd proposal.

“And will this ring come with a number?” Viv just couldn’t help to get in a little jibe while Chase was knocked down.

I coughed into my hand and got everyone’s attention. “Let’s forget about who owns the house for a minute and go back to Sherman being released.”

“Yeah. What the hell is wrong with you?” Jazz covered her face with both hands. “I mean. He’s looney! And we don’t get along.”

“No?” Chase raised his eyebrows.

I had to explain this. “No, they don’t get along because Jazz thinks she’s a smart, adult woman and Sherman thinks she’s still nine years old. That was the last time he really lived with us, so anytime he came back he just kind of patted her head, told her to be quiet, and gave her some gum. She hates gum by the way.”

“Duly noted.” Chase nodded.

“That’s not why we don’t get along.” Jazz finally removed her hands from her face. “He stabbed a guy at the playground for looking at my butt.”

“In all fairness, Jazz.” I jumped in again. “The guy sat on the bench, hooting and hollering about your ass. He did some nasty shit that made everyone have to get their kids out of there.”

“Which was good because Sherman stabbed him!”

“Not the point,” I said.

“Yes.” She hit the air. “That is exactly the point. Sherman and I are a no. And if you think I’m just going to leave you here with your ex-girlfriends so you can all be lovingly reunited then just break it off now.”

Sis is jealous?

“This isn’t a reunion of lovers,” Chase said through clenched teeth.

She crossed her arms around her chest. “Then I’m staying.”

“One of them is trying to kill you, if not all of them.”

“Then maybe
I’ll
kill
them.
”

I smirked. Jazz couldn’t fight. Sure, she rumbled with us and defended herself in moments when it counted around our neighborhood, but she wasn’t a fighter. Too much book smarts in her head. A person like me saw a problem and used my hands, Jazz took the time to analyze the situation and use her head, and sometimes her heart.

“Jazz shouldn’t be here, not when these chicks are here,” I said. “Viv shouldn’t either.”

“Oh, no.” Viv wagged her finger. “I’ve just been itching to whip their asses. Now I have real reasons. Before I just hated everything they stood for.”

“You’ll have to jump in line.” Jazz sucked her teeth. “I’m attacking them as soon as their feet step over the threshold.”

“You need a shank? I’ made a few and left them in my room,” I joked.

Chase pounded the table with his fist. “No one is fighting anyone and we don’t deviate from my plan.”

“Yes, we actually will, rich boy.” Viv rose from her seat. “There’s something that you need to know about us three. We’re a bunch of troublemakers, never listened to authority, broke as many rules as possible in the name of fun. Granted, Jazz is a bit scarier than Troy and I, but if you think she’ll listen and follow your plan, then you clearly haven’t been paying attention during your time together.”

“She listens when it counts.” Heat rose in his eyes.

I chose to ignore that shit before I punched him. “How about we let my man finish telling us about this plan first.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear anything that has me leaving Atrani and those bitches coming here.”

Jazz cursing was a lovely thing to behold. She didn’t do it around me often, but when she did it sounded all awkward out of her mouth.

I directed my gaze to Chase. “Go ahead, man.”

“They are going to come here under the guise of me listening to their pleas for me to open up their bank accounts. It was the only way I could get all three of them here. I think it’s a great opportunity to catch the killer and end this overall.” He tapped his fingers. “If Jasmine is here, however, I will be off my game, because I stress over her getting hurt.”

The back door opened. The devil stepped in.

“Which is why I’ll now be staying here too.” Waving at the two busy cooks putting together breakfast, Benny strolled over to our table and lifted a biscuit from the serving tray. “Oh, Ada, is this one of your specialties?”

Ada’s smile widened from ear to ear as she nodded.

Benny held his hand over his heart. “I’ve dreamed about these savory biscuits on some of my lonely nights.”

I’m sure you have some even lonelier nights to come.

Viv chose that moment to jump up and storm away. She hadn’t talked to her father since we showed up at his doorstep the morning after we heard the news of our relation. If anybody was a pro at silent treatment, surely they’d learned from Viv. Further down the hall, her bedroom door slammed closed.

“Why are you here?” Chase’s face reddened. For some sick reason, I enjoyed seeming him uncomfortable. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t show up at the house unless I needed you.”

“Your girlfriends are coming to the house. You need me.” Benny bit into the biscuit and groaned. “Jesus, the woman can cook. You know how hard it is to prepare a perfect biscuit from scratch? There’s a loving process to it. The cook picks the ingredients like an artist chooses what color to represent their muse. Ada is heavy on fresh herbs.”

As in true Jazz fashion, she strolled over and grabbed her own biscuit.

Just couldn’t resist, huh?

If someone asked Jazz where she got her love of food from, she would claim it was Gabe who did it. I knew better. Benny did it. The man had spent hours talking about food when we were kids. Back when we were seven or maybe even six, he’d pick us up on every Sunday and cart us off to a new eatery. Viv and I would always get in trouble as we played around at the table, inciting duels with our silverware. Jazz always sat next to Benny watching him sample each dish and lecture on its qualities. I never got their passion. I loved a good plate like anyone, but to talk about it for hours was ridiculous.

Jazz chomped into one and groaned too. “This is good. Really moist.”

“You won’t find a better biscuit in the northern hemisphere,” Benny said.

“Well, Batana’s on West Boulevard and North has some good ones.” Jazz munched some more.

“Yeah, but they add cheese. That’s a whole other animal.”

Jazz nodded in agreement. “That’s fair.”

Benny took another. “But many would say that the butter—”

“No one cares about your commentary on biscuit preparation.” Chase took off his suit jacket as if he were about to fight. “When did you have my house bugged? I never told you that they were coming to the house, but here you are, already knowing the info.”

Benny paused from eating his second biscuit and spit out words along with crumbs. “When I bugged this house, you were shitting in your diaper, little boy. Be quiet and listen.” He swallowed. “Now where was I. . .butter. Yes, butter. You can’t just use any butter. It has to be salted and fresh.”

Done with her biscuit, Jazz’s shoulders relaxed as she put her hands into her pockets. Benny always had that effect on her. When she flew off the handle in erratic ways, just his presence could bring her down from the edge.

“Some people just cut up large squares of butter and dump it all in the bowl.” He wagged his fingers. “Tsk. Tsk. It leaves large clumps. Not effective in getting all of that rich fat into the batter evenly. I mean one can argue that chomping down on a piece that has a big hunk of butter would be a great prize, but usually the biscuits end up being too dry. You need butter to blend with the whole batter. They’re skipping. Not Ada. I’ve watched her make these.” He stared at the last bite before tossing it into his mouth. “She uses a pastry cutter to create those nice pea-shaped pieces. Only the really good cooks do, you know. Pastry cutter. Have you ever seen one?”

“No.” Chase frowned.

“Oh. It’s this thing that you have to clamp your fingers around and hold real steady like this.” Benny punched the air and held his fist out for all to see. I might have jumped a little in my chair, probably Chase too. “The little blades are beautiful. Most aren’t that sharp, but I know people who can make a pastry cutter with the sharpest blades and a nice leather handle, so as to not cause calluses during the cutting, of course.”

Sharper blades? Leather handle? Why do I get the feeling we’re no longer discussing baking.

“Ahh. The things that one could do with a really good pastry cutter.” Benny looked up at the ceiling, staring in thought for a few seconds. “Anyway, Ada’s biscuits are moist and so soft that they evaporate as soon as they meet my tongue.”

“Why are we talking about biscuits?” Chase growled.

“Because sometimes you need to know what tool to use and which one to keep in the drawer.” He slid back Viv’s now empty chair, sat in it, and crossed his legs. “Take these three sad little women.” He drew an invisible cross in the air. “May they soon rest in peace.”

I shifted in my chair. Things thickened to heavy too soon when Benny stepped on the scene. Again that scent of blood radiated around him.

“These women.” Benny held up three fingers. “They’re not your ex-girlfriends to me. No. They’re walking corpses that just haven’t gotten it in their ditzy little heads that they’re already dead. Did they know that Jasmine was my daughter?”

Chase refused to answer.

“Dawn knew. I’ve seen her talk about it on video,” I said.

“Well, Dawn damn sure knew better. Here I am.” He tapped his own chest. “I’m the best tool you have in the drawer, but you keep it inside as you stumble around, using rusted utensils.” He searched the table like he was looking for more food. “What are we having for breakfast?”

“Get. Out.” Chase stood. “You want to be here when they arrive? Fine. Stand outside. You want to kill them. Good. Wait in line. There’s a long one forming and I’m in front—”

“You don’t have it in you to kill those girls,” Benny countered. “Neither does Troy. Sure you’ve both killed, but in situations where they call for someone to do it.”

“But you’ve had tons of practice in killing for fun, right?” Chase formed his lips into an angry line.

Benny’s gaze shifted to deadly. His pupils sort of spread out and took over his whole eye. I checked everyone’s faces. As usual no one noticed it but me. No one ever saw murder between eyelids like me. Benny tossed him that signature smile. “Yes. I’ve killed for fun. I would never call it practice when I’m enjoying myself.”

Jazz shook and held herself. She transformed into a little bony girl with pigtails right before my eyes.

See, Jazz. Benny has never been a hero. I told you that motherfucker was the villain.

“So Jasmine wants to stay, and you want her to leave.” Benny turned to me. “I’ve been listening to the whole affair. What do you think, Troy?”

“About what, man?”

“Should Jasmine go off to be guarded by Sherman or stay here with me?” Benny asked.

“You mean with me,” Chase corrected.

“This isn’t your decision, little boy.” Benny continued to watch me. “This is Troy’s.”

Jazz walked over to Chase right as he headed for Benny. What Chase would’ve done when he got there was beyond me. Either way, it was good that Jazz kept him where he stood.

Probably get his ass beat. Benny is no Gabe. There won’t be any tumbling between you too. Shit. That’s why I’m sitting in my seat.