Lady Luck
Page 105
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Ty felt his body shake with laughter as he said, “Sorry, baby, gonna have to give up on that dream.”
“Fuck,” she whispered, glaring down at her plate.
Ty studied his wife, grinning.
The woman was dead and Lexie was pissed that she didn’t get her chance to engage in a catfight before Misty bought it.
And, there it was. Lexie hated Misty more than he did.
Seeing that, he suddenly understood it and knew that emotion was for him, not that Misty had betrayed the sisterhood. Misty was his wife’s focus because, no matter what authority and power was around her, Misty was the one person in his nightmare who could end it. And she didn’t. And she didn’t just to get a ring on her finger and a shot at a big inheritance.
And that was not what Alexa Walker was about.
And Alexa Walker loved him and that love ran deep.
Ty had endured the consequences of Misty’s greed and he hated her because of it. But Lexie paid the price of Misty’s actions and that price was expensive. But she paid it twice and she’d do it again.
Knowing this, that gaping wound in his chest tightened and started to close.
Misty Keaton took five years of Ty’s life and six weeks of his wife’s.
And now the bitch was dead.
“Babe,” he called quietly and her angry eyes shot to his. “That toxic pu**y was found dumped by an access road, shot dead. It’s done for you, for me. Team Walker is movin’ on.”
He watched the anger seep out of her eyes but they grew thoughtful.
Then she asked, “Are both members of Team Walker moving on?”
At her question, his hand moved across the table to tag hers, his fingers curling around and holding tight and he leaned in.
“Vengeance is mine,” he whispered and her fingers convulsed in his then he went on. “And the way I’m seein’ to that is that my woman and the babies she gives me are gonna have a man and a Daddy who does not have this shit hangin’ over his head, whose name is clear so they are free to live wild and burn bright without this shit draggin’ them down. To do that, Team Walker celebrates each victory by livin’ wild and burnin’ bright without this shit draggin’ them down. Misty Keaton is dead. We… are… movin’… on.”
She held his eyes and asked, “After all this, Ty, is it that easy for you to let it go?”
“I’m not lettin’ shit go. I’m focused on clearin’ my name. But Misty’s gone, she cannot help with that. So I’m movin’ on from that part of it and I’m takin’ you with me.”
His woman stared at him. Then she squeezed his hand. Then her head dropped and her hand moved in his so his eyes went to their hands and he saw and felt her thumbing his wedding band.
When he did, two memories came back, strong and fierce, her fingering his wedding band at the breakfast table in Vegas and her explanation last night as to why she’d done it. He’d not forgotten in the weeks that would pass that she did that in Vegas and he’d often wonder about why she did it. Now he knew. And watching her touch their symbol that he wore, he felt the gape of his wound grow even smaller.
“You ever take this off?” she softly asked their hands.
“Never,” he answered just as soft.
“Never,” she repeated, this time a whisper. Then he watched her draw in a deep breath.
“Mama,” he called, not because he wanted to, she could study his ring while touching him for as long as she wanted but they had shit to talk about and he had four college tuitions to worry about so he eventually had to get back to work.
Her head came up and her eyes met his but her thumb kept moving on his wedding band.
“You with me?” he asked.
“Team Walker is a winner,” she said softly, he grinned at her and she stopped thumbing his ring, her hand gave his a squeeze then she let it go and went back to her food saying, “Now, you mentioned Crabtree when you were talking to Tate. What’s up with him?”
She nabbed a fry, pushed it deep into her enormous mound of ketchup and tossed it into her mouth then looked at him and he told her about Crabtree.
Then he told her about Frank.
Then he told her about Chace Keaton.
Then he told her about their plan.
Then he paid the bill, walked her back to the garage, made out with her standing by the Viper, let her go knowing she was heading to the grocery store and he watched her drive the Snake away.
* * * * *
Ty waited, hip against the side counter in the kitchen, for Julius to get back from delivering his wife’s cosmopolitan. They’d had dinner at The Rooster and were back at the condo for drinks and continued conversation and Ty was now an eye witness as to why Julius had three women who’d each put up with two other women having a claim to their man and it was not the gold that Anana was dripping. It was the cosmo she was sipping.
Julius Champion doted on his bitches with every look, touch, move, word and breath. Ty Walker was no woman but he had one who doted on him like that so he knew it felt good.
His eyes moved to his wife who was wearing a white sundress, another halter top, dress skimming her body to her h*ps then flaring out in a wide skirt that went down to just above her ankles, the silver, high-heeled sandals he bought her in Vegas on her feet, his diamonds at her ears, neck and wrist, her hair up in a mess at her back crown, tendrils escaping but the arrangement highlighted the bling. With her tan, the not-minimal cle**age she was showing, most of the skin of her back on display and the fabric skintight to her hips, she was, as usual, all that but a f**kuva lot more all that than normal.
Julius sauntered back, got close, grabbed his vodka rocks from where it was sitting on the island and leaned his hip on the island opposite Ty.
“I’m guessin’, since you didn’t find time to give me a brief before we went to dinner that all is good with your boy,” Ty said quietly.
He’d phoned Julius that afternoon after having lunch with Lexie and they’d had a very long conversation.
“We had a chat,” Julius replied. “He said there is no f**kin’ way they got wind he’s makin’ moves. I reminded him his job description does not include any of his movements blowing back on you and that you gave him a f**kload of cake to perform these duties to your satisfaction. He reminded me he is not a fan of any cop but that he’s had his own run in with the local boys, knows what was done to you, has got a skin tone where he gives a shit and he appreciates the pay but likes the work and would in no way f**k this for you. I don’t know him but for this job but the man who gave me his name is solid, I trust him, he knows why I need this and it would shock the piss outta me he steered me wrong.”
“Fuck,” she whispered, glaring down at her plate.
Ty studied his wife, grinning.
The woman was dead and Lexie was pissed that she didn’t get her chance to engage in a catfight before Misty bought it.
And, there it was. Lexie hated Misty more than he did.
Seeing that, he suddenly understood it and knew that emotion was for him, not that Misty had betrayed the sisterhood. Misty was his wife’s focus because, no matter what authority and power was around her, Misty was the one person in his nightmare who could end it. And she didn’t. And she didn’t just to get a ring on her finger and a shot at a big inheritance.
And that was not what Alexa Walker was about.
And Alexa Walker loved him and that love ran deep.
Ty had endured the consequences of Misty’s greed and he hated her because of it. But Lexie paid the price of Misty’s actions and that price was expensive. But she paid it twice and she’d do it again.
Knowing this, that gaping wound in his chest tightened and started to close.
Misty Keaton took five years of Ty’s life and six weeks of his wife’s.
And now the bitch was dead.
“Babe,” he called quietly and her angry eyes shot to his. “That toxic pu**y was found dumped by an access road, shot dead. It’s done for you, for me. Team Walker is movin’ on.”
He watched the anger seep out of her eyes but they grew thoughtful.
Then she asked, “Are both members of Team Walker moving on?”
At her question, his hand moved across the table to tag hers, his fingers curling around and holding tight and he leaned in.
“Vengeance is mine,” he whispered and her fingers convulsed in his then he went on. “And the way I’m seein’ to that is that my woman and the babies she gives me are gonna have a man and a Daddy who does not have this shit hangin’ over his head, whose name is clear so they are free to live wild and burn bright without this shit draggin’ them down. To do that, Team Walker celebrates each victory by livin’ wild and burnin’ bright without this shit draggin’ them down. Misty Keaton is dead. We… are… movin’… on.”
She held his eyes and asked, “After all this, Ty, is it that easy for you to let it go?”
“I’m not lettin’ shit go. I’m focused on clearin’ my name. But Misty’s gone, she cannot help with that. So I’m movin’ on from that part of it and I’m takin’ you with me.”
His woman stared at him. Then she squeezed his hand. Then her head dropped and her hand moved in his so his eyes went to their hands and he saw and felt her thumbing his wedding band.
When he did, two memories came back, strong and fierce, her fingering his wedding band at the breakfast table in Vegas and her explanation last night as to why she’d done it. He’d not forgotten in the weeks that would pass that she did that in Vegas and he’d often wonder about why she did it. Now he knew. And watching her touch their symbol that he wore, he felt the gape of his wound grow even smaller.
“You ever take this off?” she softly asked their hands.
“Never,” he answered just as soft.
“Never,” she repeated, this time a whisper. Then he watched her draw in a deep breath.
“Mama,” he called, not because he wanted to, she could study his ring while touching him for as long as she wanted but they had shit to talk about and he had four college tuitions to worry about so he eventually had to get back to work.
Her head came up and her eyes met his but her thumb kept moving on his wedding band.
“You with me?” he asked.
“Team Walker is a winner,” she said softly, he grinned at her and she stopped thumbing his ring, her hand gave his a squeeze then she let it go and went back to her food saying, “Now, you mentioned Crabtree when you were talking to Tate. What’s up with him?”
She nabbed a fry, pushed it deep into her enormous mound of ketchup and tossed it into her mouth then looked at him and he told her about Crabtree.
Then he told her about Frank.
Then he told her about Chace Keaton.
Then he told her about their plan.
Then he paid the bill, walked her back to the garage, made out with her standing by the Viper, let her go knowing she was heading to the grocery store and he watched her drive the Snake away.
* * * * *
Ty waited, hip against the side counter in the kitchen, for Julius to get back from delivering his wife’s cosmopolitan. They’d had dinner at The Rooster and were back at the condo for drinks and continued conversation and Ty was now an eye witness as to why Julius had three women who’d each put up with two other women having a claim to their man and it was not the gold that Anana was dripping. It was the cosmo she was sipping.
Julius Champion doted on his bitches with every look, touch, move, word and breath. Ty Walker was no woman but he had one who doted on him like that so he knew it felt good.
His eyes moved to his wife who was wearing a white sundress, another halter top, dress skimming her body to her h*ps then flaring out in a wide skirt that went down to just above her ankles, the silver, high-heeled sandals he bought her in Vegas on her feet, his diamonds at her ears, neck and wrist, her hair up in a mess at her back crown, tendrils escaping but the arrangement highlighted the bling. With her tan, the not-minimal cle**age she was showing, most of the skin of her back on display and the fabric skintight to her hips, she was, as usual, all that but a f**kuva lot more all that than normal.
Julius sauntered back, got close, grabbed his vodka rocks from where it was sitting on the island and leaned his hip on the island opposite Ty.
“I’m guessin’, since you didn’t find time to give me a brief before we went to dinner that all is good with your boy,” Ty said quietly.
He’d phoned Julius that afternoon after having lunch with Lexie and they’d had a very long conversation.
“We had a chat,” Julius replied. “He said there is no f**kin’ way they got wind he’s makin’ moves. I reminded him his job description does not include any of his movements blowing back on you and that you gave him a f**kload of cake to perform these duties to your satisfaction. He reminded me he is not a fan of any cop but that he’s had his own run in with the local boys, knows what was done to you, has got a skin tone where he gives a shit and he appreciates the pay but likes the work and would in no way f**k this for you. I don’t know him but for this job but the man who gave me his name is solid, I trust him, he knows why I need this and it would shock the piss outta me he steered me wrong.”
