“And where does Kandace live?” I asked.
“Hell if I know,” she replied. “But her ass works at that strip club Dreams over in Hunts Point.”
“Okay, then. Lemme leave you folks to your misery and go pay her a visit.” I turned to leave, feeling redeemed and confident. “Believe it or not, I like strip clubs.”
KD
26
“KD, this is some of the best fried chicken I’ve ever had,” Patrick mumbled with a mouthful of food. “And the fried okra puts my momma’s to shame.”
“That ain’t shit, boy. Did you taste the catfish yet?” I shoved a forkful in my mouth, savoring the flavor of the well-seasoned fish. He shook his head, and I handed him a packet of hot sauce. “Put a little of this on it and give your taste buds a treat.”
He popped a piece of the fried fish in his mouth.
“Good, ain’t it?” I glanced over at him from my seat in the passenger side of the truck, but he didn’t say a word. The boy was too busy grinning like he was getting his dick sucked. I couldn’t help but laugh, reaching for another forkful of fish to stuff my face.
As good as that food was, I still kept one eye on the restaurant we were parked across the street from, in case Sheriff Derrick Hughes and his merry band of nigger-loving sheriffs decided to come out. We’d used Tyler’s friends in the highway patrol as our eyes and ears and finally caught up to Hughes right outside of Dallas. They’d stopped at Geraldine’s Café, one of the best soul food restaurants in Texas. The tiny place was a popular spot for highway travelers who came from all over for the soul food and homemade pies. After watching the four lawmen be seated, I had sent Patrick in to pick us up some supper.
By the time we finished our peach cobbler, it was dark, and I was stuffed. Hughes and his men were walking out of Geraldine’s around that same time. When they reached their vehicles, Hughes stuck his hand out and shook the hands of the two officers from the car with the Arkansas plates. Then they climbed into their vehicle and exited the parking lot.
Hughes, who had another twelve-hour drive, stretched his long body then opened the door of his sedan and got behind the wheel. The other sheriff slipped into the passenger’s seat. We watched them pull out and head in the opposite direction of their colleagues, prompting me to send a text.
I waited a good ten minutes before we followed, taking the same road as Hughes. There was only one road that made any sense to travel if you were headed to Georgia, so we took our time. Twenty-five minutes later, on an isolated strip of highway, we saw the flashing red-and-blue lights of the highway patrol. We pulled up behind the patrol cars, staying in the truck until Steven and Peter Wildman approached us on the passenger’s side. I rolled down my window.
“They give you boys any problems?” I asked.
“They weren’t happy about us pulling them over, but once Steve explained to them that they were in Texas and had no jurisdiction, they surrendered their weapons and let us take them into custody.” Peter chucked, and so did his brother.
“I bet that Barry White–sounding motherfucker was about bust a damn gasket when you told him he was under arrest for impersonating an officer,” I said, joining in on their laughter. “I’m surprised he didn’t resist.”
“Oh, he thought it about. Until I pulled out my weapon and made it clear I was about to make him a statistic,” Steve snickered. “That’s when his partner started talking about lawsuits and how they were gonna own Texas.”
“All the while handing over his weapon,” Peter said. “I almost felt sorry for them. You know, them being law enforcement and all.”
“Where are they?”
“Handcuffed in the back of their car. You wanna see them?”
“Oh, I sure as hell do,” I told them in no uncertain terms. I had to make sure that the Wildman boys had done the job because this was the first time I’d ever had them do anything on my behalf without Tyler being involved. He didn’t like it, but I’d made my son stay behind in the El Paso area to write tickets so he had a rock-solid alibi. “I wanna make sure that damn nigger knows who’s behind this shit.”
Steven opened the door for me to get out. I left Patrick in the truck, and we walked around to the passenger’s side of the Fulton County Sherriff’s car. I opened the door, and Hughes let me have it with that deep-ass voice of his.
“Shrugs, you son of a bitch, I hope you liked prison, ’cause when I’m finished with—”
“Boy, you ain’t gonna do shit!” He couldn’t finish his sentence because I pulled out my pistol and shot his ass in the chest two times.
Seeing what I did, Steve opened the rear driver’s side door and pumped two into his associate. I closed the car door with a satisfied smirk.
“Collect their cell phones and make sure they’re dead,” I told Pete as I walked to the back of the car.
I waved at the flatbed truck that was approaching with its flashing yellow lights. It pulled up next to me. Johnny Brooks was behind the wheel.
“I need that car on this flatbed in the next five minutes, Johnny. Can you do that without fucking it up?” I asked.
He turned and looked at the car, then back to me. “Yes, sir. No problem.”
“Well, hurry the hell up then. Let’s go.”
He lowered the ramp, and Pete slowly drove the car onto the bed of the truck.
Once it was loaded on and chained down, Johnny looked at me and smiled wide enough that I could count his gold teeth. “Was that fast enough, KD? I told you it wasn’t gonna be a problem.”
“Well,
