Chapter Twenty-Three
Tyrone looked out over his village. It was quiet tonight. That was the way he liked it. His people doing their thing. No interference from the cops. Something to be said for free enterprise.
Fury tightened in his gut when he thought of that doctor bitch having the nerve to move back into his village.
Banks better get that taken care of fast or Tyrone was going to end this shit.
He did not tolerate disrespect. CJ Patterson was disrespecting him big-time, coming into his territory acting like she was all that. Like she was better than him.
Maybe he should remind her that she still had it coming for the last time she’d gotten in his way.
He touched the scar on his cheek, the one that reminded him just how annoying that bitch could be. Yeah. They had a history. One he’d bet his sweet ass she wouldn’t want to repeat. She’d gotten in that one swipe, but he’d put the fear of God in her.
A tap at his door hauled his attention from the window. The door opened just enough for his number one to stick his head in. “Widow’s here.”
Tyrone nodded. “You know what to do.”
The number one member of his unholy trinity hesitated like he had something else to say but didn’t want to spit it out.
“What?” Tyrone demanded. He didn’t want to hear no shit. He had plans for relaxing and enjoying the rest of this night.
Number one stepped into the room, closed the door behind him. “We got trouble.”
Tyrone’s survival instincts reared. “What trouble?”
“Celeste and a couple other foot soldiers said that doctor bitch was asking questions at the clinic today. Questions about you and what happened to Shelley. Some say Celeste spilled her guts. She says that doctor just kept drilling her, but she didn’t say nothing important.”
Rage pulsed in Tyrone’s belly. He shook his head. She just didn’t know when to walk away.
“She was asking about Banks too. Wanting to know if Banks worked for you. Lotta questions, Ty. Lotta questions. She been talking to Banks. She been over to his house. And I already told you about that bitch cop bringing him home. The fool was falling-down drunk. Then the cops picked him up again today. Something’s going on with that crazy bastard. ”
Tyrone digested all that his number one had said. “The Patterson bitch needs another lesson. You know what to do.” He puffed out his chest. He’d tried to do this the easy way and CJ just didn’t want to pay attention. Now she would be sorry. “This is on her.”
Number one gave a nod of understanding, then left the room to do his duty.
That was all any of Tyrone’s people had to do. And he took care of them. Roof over their head. Food in their bellies and clothes on their backs. Still, somebody had to go and get stupid.
Especially the bitches.
That was why women disgusted him. They didn’t think with their heads. And they assumed that pussy was the road to riches and glory.
Stupid hos. All of ’em.
The door opened again and Tyrone felt the burden of his position lift as Widow walked in.
The outfit was why his people called his visitor Widow. Long, sleek black dress. Black hat and veil. Like them fancy white fools over in Twickenham wore to a funeral. But the part he liked the best was the black stockings or maybe he liked the garter that held those stockings up the best.
The door closed and Widow leaned against it. “I was held up, but I’m here now. You look tense.”
Tyrone’s heart started that thump-thump-thumping. He licked his lips, moved nearer. “Damn straight I’m tense.”
“Why don’t you tell the Widow what’s making you so tense?”
The veil lifted and Ty’s gaze went directly to those full, glossy lips. “That bitch doctor,” he said, his mouth watering to taste those sweet lips. “And that screwup Ricky Banks.”
Widow made a sound of understanding as Ty moved closer and closer. “I’m here now.”
“That’s right.” Ty moved in the final step.
Reached out, released the buttons that held the dress secured at Widow’s waist. The dress fell open and Ty’s hands moved over smooth, taut skin.
He pushed the dress off Widow’s shoulders.
Let it fall to the floor. No panties. Just the lacy garter belt that held up those sleek black stockings.
He braced a hand on either side of the door, leaned in close, and tasted those cherry-flavored lips. He let his weight fall against hot, smooth skin. Kissed his way down that pale throat. Widow shivered. Ty drew back. “Turn around.”
Widow obeyed.
Ty couldn’t stop himself—for a moment he had to admire all that beautiful white flesh. Creamy and taut. And that ass. He loved that tight little ass and those long, muscled legs.
As long as Widow took care of the King, the King would take care of Widow. That was the way the world worked.
Ty leaned in, snuggled himself between those sweet, hot cheeks.
This right here was what he loved—a hot, firm male body.
Wasn’t no damned pussy good enough for the King.