Page 50 of Love & Vendettas

“What?”

“Yeah. He said that her car wouldn’t start, so he had to give her a jump, follow her to get gas, and then follow her home.”

“We’re gonna have to talk. Man to man. That shit ain’t cool.”

“I told you.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. Look, I’m getting up out of here now. I’ll pick up Zaccai on my way home. He’s at Braylyn’s house.”

“Okay, thanks, babe. Anything in particular you want for dinner?” I ask.

I walk past Georgette’s desk and flick off all the lights in my shop.

“No. You head home and relax for the evening. Zaccai and I can grab some Caribbean from the new place that opened down the street from me on the way home.”

Walking to the security panel, I input the code to set the alarm system and step out of the shop, closing the door behind me.

“Oooh. I’ve been wanting to try that place,” I say, clicking the key fob to unlock my car.

“I know. Be safe, and I’ll see you when I get there. Shouldn’t be no more than forty minutes tops.”

“Okay, Z. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies before I end the call.

I shove my phone into my purse just as I hear clapping behind me.

I turn and look over my shoulder, spotting a man roughly six feet even walking up behind me. Three men are walking upbehind him, and for some reason, they all look familiar, at least the one clapping does.

Every nerve ending in my body vibrates and lights up with fire. Slowly, I reach my hand inside my purse, searching for my gun.

Before I can grab my gun or my cell phone, the man in front aims a gun at my forehead.

“Baby girl, I wouldn’t do that shit if I were you,” he advises.

Those cold, piercing black eyes look like they’re looking for a reason to shoot me. In fact, he looks like he’s begging me to.

“Pull your hand out of your purse right the fuck now,” he demands.

My hand isn’t in my purse yet, at least not all the way. I slowly remove my hand as he nods to the fellow to the right and slightly behind him.

The man steps forward and jerks my Hermès bag off my shoulder. Reaching inside, he removes my gun, my knife, and my pepper spray.

“Throw that shit back in there. She’s not getting that purse back,” the first man orders. He does as he says and gives my purse to another man.

Fuck!

If I play it cool, I still have the knife on the inside of my thigh that I can grab at just the right time.

“Who are you, and what the fuck do you want with me?” I ask, unable to cut the attitude out altogether.

“Details aren’t necessary, baby girl,” he states, accepting the phone from the other man’s hand.

“I’m not your baby, nor am I a girl,” I snap.

Snickering, he eyes me up and down slowly with an appreciative glance at my curves that has me vomiting in my mouth.

“Sassy mouth too. Yeah, I can see why he’s so taken with you,” he professes. “What’s your lock code?” he asks, waving the phone around.

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