Cold Hard Murder: A Briana Song FBI Crime Thriller by Jemma Stark

Author:Jemma Stark [Stark, Jemma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

RANDY'S ARENA

Chapter Eleven

One thing Ginger looked forward to whenever I got back from the office was our evening outings. As soon as I grabbed her leash and led her out of the apartment, she knew we were about to explore the city.

Sometimes, we walked all the way from Main Street down to the crowded park in the business district, enjoying the cool night breeze and watching the kids playfully fight among themselves about who was going next on the swing or the see-saw.

The park was also frequented by dog owners—young men and old ladies dressed in casual outfits after a hard day’s work, their fingers wrapped tightly around the leashes of their hounds, drinking chilled bottles of lemonade and chattering happily.

It was always the perfect treat for Ginger.

She liked spending time with the other dogs, racing them back and forth in the sandy arena of the park and playing with their rubber balls. It was never a dull moment for her or for me whenever I wanted to clear my head, something I needed so badly at the moment.

I picked up Ginger from Mrs. Peach’s apartment as soon as I got back from the Russo residence in Garden District.

As I fit her leash around her neck, she wagged her tail impatiently and barked so loudly that I had to stroke her a few times to calm her down. We were both excited, but I suppose Ginger was more elated about our outing because I hadn’t taken her out in weeks.

Dressed in a jacket, jogging pants, and a pair of sneakers, I grabbed my holster from the bedside drawer and checked my Glock to see if the safety was on before I led Ginger down the stairs and into the freezing night.

Main Street was far from empty as people arrived home from work. Only a few lights were on in houses that we walked past on the road approaching Canal Street. Cars zoomed by at breakneck speed, and horns blared as drivers eager to get home to their families cursed at each other angrily when the traffic was busier than usual.

Still, Ginger was mostly unbothered and was more concerned with sniffing everything she could find as we continued our walk. The park was still ahead, but a billboard mounted on the other side of the road, just before the entrance of Randy’s underground arena, caught my eye. I crouched down, picked Ginger up, and crossed to the sidewalk to get a better look at it.

The neon lights flickered, showing the words: FIGHT OF THE CENTURY! BIG JOE VS. THE ORLEANS GOLIATH. GET YOUR TICKETS NOW!

Months had gone by since I last saw Randy. My training was sporadic at best. I had texted him on his birthday and sent a box of chocolates and a greeting card. The next morning, he had responded with a text, which read:

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