Double Dipped: The Lunchtime Chronicles by Brooklyn Knight

Author:Brooklyn Knight [Knight, Brooklyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-30T04:00:00+00:00

Trigger

Three Days Later

I make a conscious decision to rent the same car I had last week, because when I bump into Candy, I don’t want there to be any qualms about who it is throwin’ her into the backseat. Anticipation has me quaking in my boots. It’s only been a few days since I seen her, but it feels like it’s been months and I can’t wait to touch her again – if she’ll let me. But before I can resign myself to these delightful reminisces, there’s something I gotta’ do.

After I coaxed Reba into handling the case, I realized I’d signed myself up for an impossible task. I needed to find evidence that Candy’s ex-husband was an abuser, but how the hell am I gonna’ do it? I’d left Reba’s office and gunned it back to the ranch. Colt was nowhere to be found, which meant I could use the database without the benefit of him hanging over my shoulder, askin’ questions or houndin’ me about that motherfucker, Sammy Hill.

I’d searched the entire internet for information on Alex Parker, but the only things to come up were all of his prestigious accolades and achievements. The asshole was clean – no history I could refer to. No records or files to pull.

Now, back in Atlanta, the only thing I can do is try and talk to Candy again, see if she has something. Of course, though, she ain’t talking to me – and when I go to Golden Girlz that night, she ain’t dancing. I waited for an entire hour and she never graced the stage.

Gottdamn, where you at, Sweetness?

I leave the establishment and sit in the Lexus, which I done parked in the same spot I’d sexed her in, just last week. Whipping out my cell phone, I call her cell number. She didn’t given it to me, but I’m a bounty hunter and the hell if she thinks I won’t have ways to track her down. I even know where she lives, and if she doesn’t answer this call, that’s gonna’ be my next move.

The phone trills and trills.

Candy never picks up.

I can’t even relish in the sound of her sweet voice coming through on a voicemail message. It’s only the generic one.

I smash my finger on the button to end the call and drop the cell onto the empty seat next to me.

I’m gonna’ have to go to her house. There’s no other option.

I plug her address into my GPS and head straight for her apartment. The place is in darkness when I get there, but maybe that’s a good thing. Had she been home, there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be distracted from my task. I have an entire to-do list. I need to gain access and scour the place. Not only that, I need to be strategic about it. With Candy near, the only evidence I’ll be getting is her soaked through panties.

I pull the Lexus up against the curb and sink down in the seat for ten minutes, just to make sure there’s no activity.

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