Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)(173)

"The offer is very kind, but no. I just couldn't. I like small places, and I like to have plenty of time to myself."

He swallowed another bite. "Well, it's your choice. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with."

"Again, thanks for the offer. It's very kind, but I just would prefer to  stay in the hotel, at least until the cops give me the clear and a  locksmith has a chance to look at the place."

"Say no more. I understand completely."

He put his mind into eating. She wondered how much of it he believed.  She had killed one of the boys responsible for the murders, and another  would be going in for his crimes any time now.

But she had told him that she wasn't involved in either-she hadn't seen  anyone in her apartment, hadn't even been awake. The other, she hadn't  been there in time to see. If he believed her, then he'd start thinking  someone else was going around, doing his dirty work for him.

A third person in the shadows might be enough to make him change his  plans, start adjusting. Then again, Craig might see right through her.  It was never easy to tell, and it was that much harder with Craig,  because he seemed so ready to lie himself that he must have been good at  it.

He pushed his plate back when she still had half a stack to eat, drank  down the last few mouthfuls of water. Jamelia poured out the last of the  syrup onto her plate, mopped some of it up with the next bite. The  place was pretty good. Once this was all over, she might come by again.  She almost imagined bringing Roy here before she realized that he  wouldn't be around for it.

She couldn't risk it before the case was cleared up. She didn't know  where Craig called home, but she knew he wouldn't call her out to  somewhere far away from home turf. Which meant this was a no-go before  their charade was over. When it was, he would be gone. She suddenly lost  her appetite. She pushed her plate back just a bit and set down her  fork.

"Too much food?"

"I don't know. Just don't feel good I guess."

"Do you mind-" He started to reach over before she answered, hesitating a little way to hear her answer.

"Go ahead."

Craig pulled her plate in front of him and started to eat again. She  drank down the rest of her coffee, just cool enough to take a deep  swallow of the last mouthful, and then started in on her water. The cool  so soon after the hot felt good.

"I'm going to be out of town the next couple days. Work stuff."

"So that's why you needed to meet today?"

"You caught me."

"I thought you were a mechanic?"

"Client needs me to do some work on his bike, and he needs it done  yesterday. I know the guy, and I know he's willing to pay, so I'm going  to be going down to Arizona. Call it a house-call. But I think it'll  take a couple days to get the bike in real good condition."         

     



 

"Okay."

She didn't need a lie detector test to know that he was hiding  something. He might be establishing an alibi for himself. If he  suspected that she was on to him, it would be smart to be out of town  for the third murder. That way, she wouldn't be able to accuse him of  doing it. After all-he was four hours away.

But if he wasn't, and he really had some business to take care of down  south, then what was it, and should she really be letting him go to take  care of it?

The answer came before she took even a minute to think about it. She  couldn't afford to tip her hand like that. She'd have to let him do  whatever he wanted, even if what he wanted was to run roughshod over the  law with abandon.

She had no other choice, not right now. So she'd keep her doubts to  herself and wait for the right opportunity to arise. Then she'd nail him  on whatever she could find.





Twenty-Nine



Jamelia put the phone to her ear and forced her voice to sound normal. "Russo."

"Hey, did everything go alright?"

"Everything's fine."

"Is this a bad time?"

She looked straight ahead, not letting the question get to her. "No, I have time. I can talk plenty. No problem."

"You sound strange. Are you sure that everything is alright?"

"I said it was fine, didn't I?"

"Sure. Sorry I asked."

"Thank you."

Jamelia laid back in the bed and waited to feel normal again. She'd been  waiting for a long time, and she suspected that she'd be waiting much  longer than the phone call was going to take.

"I was just worried about you. I know that things like this situation, the one with Hutchinson-it can go bad fast."

"Well, everything's fine. You pick up the blue-and-white truck?"

"Sure we did. Everything checks out with him. He's the one from Minnesota, just like you said."

"Well, that's what I figured. I didn't remember his face, not exactly,  but from the cap and the fact that I knew he was on that sheet, I  guessed."

"Well, it was a good guess."

She suppressed the pride at the compliment. No time for them, and no time to feel good about herself over nothing.

"Just get him dead to rights. Find Juanita Rodrigues, see if she recognizes him. She probably won't, but you never know."

"Maybe he had the window down, right?"

"Right."

The conversation wasn't going anywhere, and she wasn't sure that she wanted it to. Jamelia let out another breath.

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound kinda down in the dumps, Jamelia. Do you want to grab lunch?"

"No." She knew that she was doing a bad job of making herself sound  anything close to alright, but it was hard to put aside the knowledge  that no matter how much work she put into the relationship, it didn't  much God damned matter.

"Are you at the hotel?"

She didn't answer. She wasn't sure she wanted him knowing where she was.

"Say I was."

"Stay there. I'm coming over."

"Don't."

"Jamelia, I swear-"

"Stop worrying about me, Schafer. I can take care of myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Fuck you, that's my answer. Am I sure, fuck you."

"I'm sorry-did I do something to piss in your cheerios?"

"Honestly? I don't need this right now. Just-go do whatever you F.B.I. people do."

She hung up the phone.

She could hear it in her own voice. That inner bitch that she'd never  been able to shake. Why was it so easy to play the part with Craig, but  the minute that someone might have taken a legitimate interest in her-

She quieted that thought. He hadn't taken a legitimate interest in her.  She wasn't going to be with him, not long-term. There was no long-term  for them, not really. Regardless of what either one of them wanted. No  amount of trying hard was going to make up for a five-hour plane ride.

She wouldn't find the time to go to Virginia. Not the way she attacked  work. He wouldn't find the time to come to California, either. Not with  the short leash that the F.B.I. kept him on. Karen let out a breath.

It was smarter, and it would be easier, to just get it all out of her  system now. Stop worrying about any of it, Just get used to the idea  that she was going to have to get over him, and the sooner she could  manage it, the less painful it would be when it happened.

She took a deep breath again.

That was the right approach, and if she was smart, that was what she'd  keep in mind when he knocked on that door. She was a cop in California,  and he was an out-of-town, sticking-his-nose-in, F.B.I. cop.

There wasn't going to be any compromise, not in the end. They might try  for a while, waste a couple of years imagining that one day they'd spend  a little more time together, or they could be honest with themselves  now and admit that shit wasn't going to happen. Not in the long run. It  would be less painful if they just admitted it to themselves now.

Jamelia rolled herself over and closed her eyes. She was tired. She had  been for days now. The shooting had only made it that much worse, and  having to keep Roy at arm's length took a lot out of her. If not  physically, certainly emotionally.

She needed to get herself straightened out. That idea was a laugh. As if  she was going to do anything remotely like that. She might get a nap or  she might not, but the idea of being able to think straight for one god  damned minute before Craig Hutchinson sat in a courtroom and stood  trial for the murder of her sister, and whatever other myriad crimes she  knew he was guilty of-that wasn't going to happen.

Jamelia's eyes shot open when she heard the knock. She was out of the  bed like a shot, her first reflex to reach for the pistol. She stopped  herself. Nobody was going to knock before they shot her, and if they  did-maybe they would. She didn't know.

Maybe they would. She left the gun on the table regardless, a subtle  fuck-you to the instinct that told her to make sure that she always had  something ready just in case some crazy son of a bitch tried to attack  her.

She was in control of her life, and if she was going to get killed, she  was going to get killed. Nobody was pulling her strings. Not Craig, not  the fucker in the blue truck, not her father, and definitely not-she put  her eye to the peep hole.