Lunchtime Chronicles: Carolina Reaper

by Keta Kendric

  Lunchtime Chronicles:

  Carolina Reaper

  By Keta Kendric

  Messy Mandy Presents:

  The Lunchtime Chronicles Season 3

  Carolina Reaper

  Copyright © 2020 by Keta Kendric

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission of the publisher and author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Cover art by Wicked Smart Designs

  Pexels cover photo by Ralph Rabago

  Editors: One More Glance, A.L. Barron and Tam Jernigan, publisherchick1@gmail.com

  ISBN: 978-1-7332914-2-2 / Carolina Reaper

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2020

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Author Siera London - Excerpt

  Acknowledgement

  Author’s Note

  Other Titles by Keta Kendric

  Connect on Social Media

  Dedication

  To my future Alphas. I hear you. I see you. It’s only a matter of time before I write your story.

  Welcome to Messy Mandy Presents:

  The Lunchtime Chronicles Season 3

  The Lunchtime Chronicles was launched by Author Siera London at the Interracial Author’s Expo in Daytona Beach in 2019 with the novella, Whipped. The erotic romance novellas are presented like a magazine issue, lunchtime themed, and released by a diverse group of authors each season. For the latest gossip and updates from your favorite Lunchtime Chronicles authors, please follow the Facebook page: Lunchtime Dish with Messy Mandy.

  Carolina Reaper Synopsis:

  Zyana: One phone call flipped my life so far out of order, I ended up in the hands of a dangerous motorcycle club gunman that went by the name, ‘Snake Eyes.’ The man dripped sex appeal, breathed danger, and lived outside the law, and I’d be damned if I didn’t want his fire to defrost my hidden desires.

  Israel: When my longtime friend asked me to protect the sister I never knew he had, I volunteered with no questions asked. I assumed the job would be easy, but you know what they say about assuming. Danger was a patch I wore on my cut with pride, but nothing within my lethal arsenal could help me extinguish the fire Zyana ignited in my soul.

  Warning: This novella is an interracial romance that contains strong violence, explicit sexual content, and is intended for adults.

  The Carolina Reaper is one of the hottest chili peppers in the world. Ingesting the reaper can leave a person in serious discomfort for a day or two as they process the capsaicin. Developed by: South Carolina breeder, Ed Currie. Origin: Fort Mill, South Carolina. Hybrid parentage: Ghost Pepper x Habanero. Scientific name: Capsicum chinense ‘Carolina Reaper.’

  Chapter One

  Zyana

  The voice of the man sitting across the table from me was nothing but a lingering echo of sound that buzzed like an irritating fly at my ear. He bragged about his extraordinary job in the medical field, his doctor mother, and judge father. The boastful words he spoke of his personal life were lost on me and just as endless as the chatter of the other diners in the restaurant we sat in.

  This was the fifth man I had plucked from the N2U dating app that boasted an eighty percent success rate of adequately assessing your compatibility. The app was rated one of the best on the market, so I was starting to accept that maybe I was the problem.

  My decision to jump back into the shark-infested waters of the dating pool had me attempting to figure out why I had been so fascinated with the rituals of dating in the first place. Where there was once excitement and anticipation, I could now sit through a date for hours as unenthused as if I were home watching mindless television.

  Dating was an unrehearsed performance. Show the other person your best behavior before you gradually let them see who you truly were. When your ex-boyfriend had attempted to pimp you out to a high-profile drug kingpin in an effort to gain a new supplier, you were more inclined to want to know your date’s intentions upfront.

  “So, Brandon, you say that you’re a physician’s assistant?” I asked, pleased that I had remembered his name. My question launched him into a monologue about his accomplishments, goals, and dreams. I’d shared mine with him in one sentence. “I’m an ambitious hairstylist who has plans to own my own salon within the next three years.”

  I sighed. Where the hell were the men who weren’t afraid to show you who they really were and left it up to you to decide if you wanted to deal with them?

  Candles flickered, and soft music whispered as my gaze roamed the dining area that set the stage for romance, a foreign concept because it no longer held the fiery appeal I once craved. Bored, I speared a piece of my crab-stuffed lobster tail with my fork and popped it into my mouth. I nodded, not at the sound of spoken words, but at the sight of Brandon’s raised eyebrows before sipping the too-sweet white wine.

  My phone vibrated, breaking into the feigned interest I’d cast in Brandon’s direction. A quick finger swipe showed that I had missed a call from my brother, Major. The phone came alive in my hand before I could return it to my purse, my brother calling me back.

  “Excuse me, Brandon,” I said, cutting into his rant about…something. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this call from my brother.”

  “Sure,” he replied, but his strained gaze said differently since I was apparently breaking into the conversation he’d been having with himself. I eased from our booth, my butt sliding across the leather before I headed towards the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.

  I dialed while walking, then pressed the phone to my ear when it started to ring.

  “Zyana,” Major called into the phone after the second ring. The tension in his tone spelled trouble, causing my heart to double-time in my chest.

  “What’s wrong?” I stood near a table displaying a large floral arrangement right outside the door to the ladies’ room.

  “Your identity was leaked in a case I’m working. My cover’s been blown, and the leader of the group I infiltrated knows that you’re my sister. They just tried to come for me, so I can’t protect you without leading them to you.”

  A breathless, “What?” was all I managed to spit out. I knew my brother, and if someone had come for him, and he’d caught them, they were more than likely dead or waiting to be tortured.

  “Are you okay? Safe?” I asked, my leg jumping at a rapid pace as my eyes rocked in my head, scanning every direction.

  “I’m good,” he answered before an unnerving silence followed and urged me to check and make sure the call hadn’t dropped. The background static on his end sounded before his voice returned. “I’m going to ask you a question. Answer with a yes or no.”

  “Okay,” I replied, my voice already cracking as fear sliced through my belly.

  “Are you home?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. I’m going to track where your phon
e is pinging and send a friend to protect you until I clean up this mess. Don’t return to your house. Wait where you are, and he will meet you there. His name is Israel Sylas, and he is one of the few people I trust.”

  “Okay,” I answered, failing miserably at grasping a hold of the calm I attempted to summon.

  “I’ve got your location,” Major said with a triumphant spark in his tone. “Sis, when I hang up, I need you to power off your phone and remove the battery and SIM card. Flush the SIM down the nearest toilet and toss the phone and battery in the trash. I’ll get you a new one with all of your old settings.”

  Another long pause followed while I stood, breathing through my heart because it was in my mouth.

  “I love you, sis.” The caring conviction in his tone overrode my fear and melted my heart enough for it to fall back into my chest.

  “I love you too,” I replied before the deafening sound of the dial tone screamed in my ear. The phone became a weight in my trembling hand as my empty stare remained on the black screen, stunned by the blow my brother had just delivered.

  My brother’s job as an undercover cop was always my greatest source of stress. He had decided to go into law enforcement after our father was murdered ten years ago. When nothing was being done to solve our father’s homicide, Major decided he would do it himself.

  He had made detective in record time. His need to solve our father’s murder was his motivator, and criminal justice became his life. He’d dived into law enforcement after having graduated at the top of his class with a degree in engineering and landing a great six-figure job. However, once his heart was set on finding our father’s killer, nothing stood in his way. Not a degree, or job, or a woman.

  I flipped my phone in my hand and popped the back off. My nail slid under and picked at the small piece of plastic until I was able to slide the SIM card free of the metal housing that held it in place.

  I turned my shoulder into the bathroom door and shoved it open before stepping into one of the stalls and flushing the SIM. The metal trash bin filled with discarded paper towels swallowed my phone and battery after I shoved them deep inside.

  A glance in the mirror showed my eyes were already bloodshot, not with tears, but from the biting fear that turned my body into one big pounding heartbeat. Major was good at keeping the dangers of his job away from me as there had only previously been one other scare like this that he had taken care of within a few days. However, I got the impression that this time was different.

  The criminals he hunted were willing to use anything against him if his cover was blown, and I was the easiest target. Aside from my aunts, uncles, and cousins, who we visited on occasion throughout the year, it was just Major and me. He was thirty-two, older than me by six years, and he slung his authority around enough for me to see him as my brother and a father figure.

  Shit! Why hadn’t I thought to call my friends and leave a message on the answering service at work before I tossed my phone? If I missed my scheduled hair appointments, the salon would call, and if my friends didn’t hear from me, they would go to my apartment looking for me.

  Now, I had to go back out there and finish pretending to like Brandon with all this shit on my mind. Was Major going to be okay? Were the people he had gotten involved with already at my house?

  “Are you okay?” Brandon asked after I returned to the table and plopped down in my seat. The warmth on my cheeks told me they were flushed, but my pecan brown skin tone in the dim light of the restaurant would help to conceal my distress.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, inhaling deeply.

  Satisfied with my reply, Brandon continued where he had left off before I had stepped away from the table. His incessant rambling was exactly what I needed to pass the time, and the flash of fake interest I showed apparently pleased him.

  My attention was being drawn to the large darkly-tinted windows that gave me a dim view of the restaurant’s parking lot. Nothing appeared out of place, as people milled about, entering and exiting the place and climbing into and out of cars.

  My gaze locked on a big white guy, dressed head to toe in black, rolling through the parking lot on a black motorcycle. My first thought at the sight of him was: outlaw. Thankfully, he exited the parking lot, and although the man had nothing to do with my situation, I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You seem distracted. Would you like more wine?” Brandon asked, already topping off my glass. If he thought he was liquoring me up to take me home, he was better off getting the waitresses’ number.

  My eyes bucked, staring at that parking lot with a string of horrific scenes playing out in my mind. I’d already slipped my purse around my body in case I had to run. My gaze fell on Brandon, hoping he had good enough sense to follow if he saw me running.

  Needing something to take the edge off, I picked up the glass of wine and sipped. Where the hell was this friend my brother was sending?

  Chapter Two

  Israel

  After circling the parking lot of the restaurant that Major had informed me his sister would be, I finally spotted her gray Nissan Maxima parked in a dark corner along the side of the building. Night had descended fast, and although the parking lot remained busy with customers coming and going, the dangerous crew that Major had gotten mixed up with was the kind that didn’t care about collateral damage.

  Zyana Mckee was a secret Major had kept well. The fact that she was right here in Charleston proved how serious he was about protecting her identity. I’d known the man for ten years and never knew he even had a sister until he called in this favor an hour ago.

  He had requested that I take her with me if necessary. A request like that from Major meant that he had already separated someone’s soul from their body. I memorized the photo he sent me to identify his sister before deleting it as he had requested.

  Based on the picture, she was cute, and her prize-winning smile hinted at a nice, inviting personality, the opposite of her brother’s. Major had the characteristics of a diamondback rattlesnake, and like me, he was meaner than a motherfucker, which was why we got along.

  After I parked my Harley in the parking lot of the Lavish Comforts Hotel, I hiked next door and marched into the Elite Feast Restaurant like I owned the place. My appearance and menacing stare guaranteed funny looks, so there was no reason for me to be all happy-go-lucky.

  The scruff on my face, the ominous glare I wore with honor, and the black leather cut of my motorcycle club draped on my back made me a suspect in most eyes. Finishing off the look with a long-sleeved black shirt, jeans, and boots ensured that the only people who considered me normal were members of my MC.

  My mind was set on finding Zyana and getting the fuck out of this restaurant before trouble came knocking. Body coiled and ready to strike, and my gaze fixed with hell’s fury shining in its fiery depths—this restaurant’s untimely demise was on the horizon if anyone stepped to me.

  “Sir! Sir! You need to check-in to be seated,” the pansy-ass host called out before bringing a walkie up to his mouth. There was no need for him to call security because I’d already tied up the two guards, with their snoozing-on-the-job asses and left them hanging out in the dumpster with the rats. I marched past the host, fully capable of seating myself wherever the fuck I wanted.

  The moment my gaze connected with Zyana, I was stopped in my determined tracks. What the fuck? This was a breathtaking first. She possessed that it thing that some women spent major money attempting to achieve.

  Three spaces down and across the aisle, I stood behind a booth, facing her. Her picture was nothing but a dull replica to the true depth of the live version. She was a living intoxication that had me instantly drunk.

  Instead of approaching right away, I took her in, allowing my gaze to fall over her smooth skin tone that glowed like dark honey despite the dim lighting. Her eyes were opaque brown or maybe even black from what I could tell, but they shone with a brightness that put them in competition wi
th the sparkle on her vibrant skin.

  Her hair was styled in a layered bob that brushed her shoulders and held that fashionable quality that was worthy of a magazine cover. My observation paused on her mouth because the sight of those lips, so lush and sensual, had my dick taking the lead on my thinking.

  The table hid most of her body, but there was no need to see the rest of her to know that this woman was trouble. The kind of complicated trouble that would have me tying my dick in a knot and putting a muzzle on my mouth to keep my tongue out of her pussy. Fuck it, I may have to handcuff myself to my motorcycle and swallow the key because she had every part of me itching for a taste, a touch, a sniff.

  Stamping down the raging need that had surfaced, it was time to introduce myself before the waitress heading my way stopped to ask me to place an order. I strolled up to Zyana and her date’s table and nudged the talking bastard with a hard shoulder shove before sliding into the booth next to him.

  “Who the hell are you? You have the wrong table, pal,” he stated, turning in the seat to look upside my head. Dollars to doughnuts, he wasn’t going to do shit but run his mouth.

  Focusing on Zyana, I reached a hand across the table, preparing to introduce myself. She jerked back and sat blinking at my offered hand like it was the wide-open mouth of a snake.

  “Excuse me. You need to leave. Waitress!” the talker next to me shouted, cutting off my introduction. Though reluctant, I dragged my gaze away from Zyana and glared at her date.

  “Get out of our—” A quick upward jab, delivered to his weak ass jaw, shut him the fuck up while Zyana released a scream that was muffled by her hands cupping her wide mouth. Her date slumped in my direction, and my hard shove sent his sleeping ass against the wall of the booth before he tumbled head-first into his plate of food.