Lunchtime Chronicles: Carolina Reaper

by Keta Kendric

  “How bad is it? Is he okay?” A long pause had me on the verge of choking on the breath I was holding. “Is he all right?” I asked, my voice cracking so badly, I wasn’t sure he understood the question.

  “He took a slug in his right side. The bullet’s still in him, and he’s lost a lot of blood.” The silence screamed during the long pause that followed.

  “Zyana,” Israel called into the phone, likely snatching the phone from Major.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him while running to the door when footsteps sounded on the porch. Instead of one medic appearing at the door, a three-person trauma team had shown up. An older graying man, dressed in their signature black on black clothes with their MC’s cut, a younger woman that I would have pegged for a gothic queen, and a male about my age with glasses, who resembled the older man enough that he must have been his son.

  “I’m fine,” Israel said. Those were the words I wanted to here. “I just need to get this bullet taken out.” His voice was too weak. He didn’t sound like the strong, rough-talking man I was sure I had fallen in love with, in less than two weeks.

  “You don’t sound okay. Don’t you go trying to kick-the-bucket on me.”

  “I won’t,” he choked out before he started coughing, and the hacking sound sent chills racing through me.

  “We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” Major said in rushed words. The idea that Israel could no longer speak said all I needed to know. He was hurt badly.

  The medical team had wheeled in a big, folded table and three suitcases large enough to carry bodies. When they began rearranging furniture and setting up their makeshift in-house medical center, I stood, stunned for a minute.

  The table was unfolded into a makeshift hospital bed, and the large suitcases contained every type of medical instrument and machine that the group was putting together and plugging in. They even had a small cooler with bags of o-positive blood on ice.

  All I was good for was pacing and praying, hoping and wishing until heavy footsteps sounded. I ran through the front door, along with the medical crew. The sight of Israel being carried between Major and his crazy cousin, Severe, had chills rippling through me so fiercely, my feet had cemented to the spot I was standing in, as I stared with my mouth wide open.

  Israel’s gaze barely lifted to mine, his head moving listlessly on his shoulders as he forced a weak smile. The young medical girl politely moved my stiff body to the side to allow them to get him into the house and onto the table. I limped back into the house, my legs refusing to work properly as my eyes were glued to Israel’s lifeless limbs swinging limply as they moved him.

  The medical team swarmed him once he was stretched out on the table, shouting instructions at each other, cutting him out of clothes, checking his vitals, and thoroughly checking his body.

  It took Major walking up to me and tucking me into a hug to wake me from the trance I was in. I slung my arms around my brother’s torso, but I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Israel. I didn’t know where Severe had gone, but he was no longer in the room.

  “Are you hurt?” I asked Major, mindful enough to pat at his chest and torso.

  “I’m fine, sis,” he replied, glancing down at me with a sad glint in his gaze that he tried to but couldn’t hide. He cared about Israel too, more than he would ever admit to me. But, he didn’t have to admit it because the tortured expression on his face spoke for him.

  “Who did this?” I asked Major. “Who was the asshole that blew your cover and exposed me?”

  “Your ex, Kevin. The motherfucker failed at pimping you out to Big Stan of the West End Crew, so he slithered his ass up to Kinx, the head of the Murda Mafia. He must have spotted me somewhere and snitched.”

  “Is he—?”

  “Yes,” Major answered, knowing the question on my mind. I had stopped Major from killing Kevin the first time he’d done me wrong, but this time Major hadn’t asked permission. I didn’t know if it was good or bad that I didn’t feel anything about his death.

  “So, how did you get Kinx to forget I existed and to stop trying to kill you for infiltrating his operation? He’s not someone that reasons with people.”

  The arrogant smirk on my brother’s face told me all I needed to know. Major had charmed his way into the heart of a monster, and as sure as my name was Zyana, I knew he and Israel had done it together with a high body count.

  “Let’s just say everyone can be reasoned with,” he said before letting a heavy silence fall between us.

  Time dragged on like a second hand while I stood in my brother’s arms watching the team work their asses off, shoving needles here and there, hooking up machines to various parts of Israel’s body, and cleaning the sight of where the bullet had entered his side. They had put him to sleep, and seeing him that way sank me deeper into despair.

  A machine produced a grainy image that showed them where the bullet was located. The trajectory indicated that the hot lead had traveled halfway through his body before an internal organ had stopped it.

  When they started slicing his side open, I closed my eyes, and it took deep, desperate breaths to keep from throwing up. Major dragged me to the couch and tucked me into his side as the sound of the beeping machines and packages of whatever medical supplies they were using were ripped open.

  My head lay planted against Major’s arm while I prayed, putting my eyes back on Israel’s unmoving body. “Z,” Major said, receiving my low grunt as a reply. “Is there something you need to tell me about you and Israel?” he asked in an authoritative tone. He still hadn’t accepted that the tone had no effect on me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were acting like a stressed girlfriend.”

  “I have nothing to tell you, just like you had nothing to tell me for the ten years you’d known him,” I stated, with so much attitude punctuating my words, Major bent so his face was in front of mine to obstruct my view of Israel.

  “Are you two a couple?” he questioned.

  Straightening myself, I stared straight into his eyes. “What if we are?” I replied with a question of my own. No one I dated was good enough in my brother’s eyes. A few of the assholes he’d been right about, but still.

  His body tensed, and his lips drew into a tight knot. “I’m killing him when he wakes up.”

  “So, let me get this straight. He’s good enough to be your friend, but not good enough to date me?”

  “Nope,” he said, and gave me the eye like I should have known better. Once he was done staring me down, he stared back and forth between me and Israel like he couldn’t make the connection.

  “I’m killing him,” Major decided before he tugged me back into his embrace.

  I returned the caress, but mouthed, “No. You’re not.” Against his thick shoulder. “You said you wanted me to find someone who makes me happy. He does. I know what kind of world he’s from, and have no damn idea how we are going to make this work, but seeing him like that, and knowing that he was helping you and fighting to keep me safe, is all the motivation I need to at least try.”

  Major stared like he didn’t know me, his brows pinched tight, his eyes squinted into slits. “I’m still killing him. I picked him to protect you because I knew he was the best, but I was also sure you weren’t his type, and he wasn’t yours either.”

  “So, let me get this straight, again. You picked who would protect me based on what you thought my type was? You’re as crazy as him,” I pointed out.

  “I don’t want you associated with anyone I know, sis. I might work within the scope of the law, but a lot of my friends live outside it, and I don’t want you dragged into more shit because of me.”

  I leaned up and placed a quick peck on his cheek. “You are a great big brother. The best. But, you can’t protect me from everything. Besides, I’ve seen Israel in action, and I don’t think I have too much to worry about where it concerns my safety.”

  Major didn’t render a reply, but the mean-mugg
ing look he was throwing Israel’s way was his final word.

  Chapter Eleven

  Israel

  The struggle to peel my eyes apart shouldn’t have been this damn difficult. My consciousness was returning in a haze. Shot. Side. Returned fire. I had taken out three before an explosion of pain tried to overcome me, but thoughts of Zyana had kept me going. She was so beautiful. So feisty. Sweet. Sexy. Spicy. And she was mine.

  “That’s it, open those beautiful green eyes.” The voice of an angel was coaxing me to open, and I damn sure was going to listen. Zyana. She was my heaven on earth, and I would fight the devil and all his disciples to get back to her.

  My hand tightened around hers before the soft press of her lips brushed my forehead. “That’s it. Let me see you,” she whispered. I sprang the locks holding my lids together, and there she was. It felt like a fucking team of bears had mauled my side and snatched all the skin and tissue clean from my bones, but the sight of her eased my biting pain. I lay there with a silly smile while she sprinkled kisses all over my face.

  When she eased back, a dark cloud loomed behind her. My vision focused, and the tall figure filled my view. Major. His arms were folded over his big broad chest, and his eyes were two brown fireballs in his head.

  “Welcome back, motherfucker,” he spit out, his face so serious, I expected to see him snatch his pistol and aim it at me. Zyana had undoubtedly told him about us.

  She reached back blindly and smacked him across the leg. “Stop it. You were the one who called him into this mess, so stop being a dick,” she barked back at her brother with a crooked smile.

  He and I locked eyes for a long moment before he let a tiny sliver of a smile skate across his lips. He pointed and shook a stiff finger at me. “You son of a bitch. You hurt my sister, and I’m taking your dead, stinking body to the secret garden.”

  I gave a nod, acknowledging that I understood. The secret garden was in these swamps, a graveyard for all the worthless fucks we’d killed and had yet to kill.

  Zyana playfully tapped her brother’s arm at his comment, clueless, that friend or not, if I did anything to hurt her, Major would find a way to kill my ass, even if it meant him coming with me.

  Casting aside death and mayhem at my friend’s hands, I concentrated on the woman who’d sparked a fire in my otherwise dull life. She cast a long stare at my bandaged side before she leaned down to my ear.

  “How long before we could get some alone time again?” I turned my face into her hair, “As soon as we can get the medical team back in here so that they can surgically remove your brother’s deadly stare from my face.”

  We grinned, staring into each other’s eyes, the depth of our attraction casting all other matters away. Did she know that I would kill anyone that even thought about coming between us? My smile deepened when the answer popped into my head. I wholeheartedly believed Zyana had a good idea of what it meant to be loved by a Reaper.

  ***End of Carolina Reaper***

  **Please stay tuned for an excerpt from Author Siera London**

  Author Siera London - Excerpt

  Red Velvet

  Lunchtime Chronicles Book 20

  By Siera London w/a S. London

  Coming November 4, 2020

  Mī Fantajī -Siah

  My back hits the palatial windows overlooking the Sicilian countryside, and for a second, I’m an excited tourist visualizing the jaw-dropping street view of Knox’s hands gripping my ass. Despite the sunny spring morning, the glass feels cool and dry against my skin. I expect the chill to spread through my limbs, but his body cocoons me in warmth. Like the air trapped in my lungs, he holds my orgasm hostage, stretching the minutes to mind-bending hours. Thanks to Knox, my vaginal vacation is officially women’s history. I knew he would be a fantastic lover, but I never imagined—

  “Oh, damn that’s my spot,” I pant, digging my heels into his firm ass for leverage. He grunts in response, angling me a fraction lower on his sculpted forearms.

  “It’s mine now, Siah,” he chuckles, as if I have revealed more of my secrets.

  Anticipation mounts as he flexes powerful legs, working me up and down with practiced precision. Toned muscles cap his shoulders. My mouth waters as they grow slick from exertion.

  “Yeah, do that again,” I demand, locking my fingers around his neck. “Harder,” I say, the word blunt and harsh, as I bounce my ass faster than a seasoned jockey on a thoroughbred in the final stretch.

  And guess what? He doesn’t leave me hanging.

  The feel of his large hands holding me open as he thrusts deeper inside, drives me wild. Frantic and wet slapping sounds of my hips slamming down on his steely cock ricochet all around us.

  “I could get loss in you forever, Siah akai,” he rasps in my ear, the graveled sound of his voice heightening my senses.

  He called me, my love. My breath hitches as my pulse quickens. A flush of heat spreads through my chest. I feel beads of perspiration forming in the valley between my breasts. The urge to give him more than my body grips me, but I clamp my lips tight.

  This is a game, a voice warns. A reminder that even Dorothy had to leave Oz.

  “You know this word, akai?”

  On occasion I’ve heard him speak Japanese with his friends during a basketball game or in frustration, but this is the first time he’s directed an endearment in his native language at me. Am I doing that thing when a one-night stand makes a moment into a marriage proposal? Nope. Not going there, not phoning there, not even sending a mother fucking text to that kind of trouble. Knox and I are friends.

  Fucking friends.

  He quiets, his ragged breathing evens as he waits for my answer. I can’t. Then I remember my cautious inner self has had my vagina on a dusty shelf for half a decade. My performance deserves this man’s praise. I know it’s my pussy he loves, but it’s been a minute since a man gave me something other than the brush off.

  “I do,” is all I say, and the simple phrase strikes a resounding cord. Drake and Deja’s wedding brought us to Italy, but for me— this feels like a honeymoon.

  I see this man-intense, tanned, inky strands damp with perspiration. I smell this man-dark, warm, spiced. I want this man, now and forever. I’d be a fool to surrender more than I have, so I tighten my legs around his waist, urging him on. He not only watches me with those midnight feline eyes, he listens. My moans, my sighs, my pauses—like a secret agent he decodes my body’s language revealing my unspoken truth. Does my touch belie the years I’ve yearned for his possession? Can he hear the words my lips will never tell?

  “Watashi no ai,” he whispers before I hear, “forever.”

  This one I don’t know the English translation, but the affection in his tone strokes across my heart with a lightness of a feather.

  “What did say,” I ask. As the hours have fallen away, the banter between us ebbs and flows from flirtatious to futuristic. This is the first time he’s said forever. Two firsts in one night. Can I trust this love and the future he speaks? I want to believe so bad that my heart aches.

  Knox slows his movements, yet he’s reached deeper inside me. Our bodies are inseparable, fire and flame, burning as one.

  “Feel my translation,” his whispers.

  And, I do. My heart wants to hold onto this soaring above the clouds feeling of being loved, writing a happy ending to our short story. Friends who touch one another with love, but can never be lovers. We have no future beyond these walls.

  Right?

  “I know you want to,” I state boldly, relishing the ripple in the muscles across his broad back.

  “Damn right,” Knox growls as he tunnels deeper into my sex.

  “That feels good,” My inner thighs began to tremble; working to maintain a grip on his bucking hips.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Siah.”

  He sounds so sure. Yet, certainty is the one thing I can not give. Either way, his words spur me on. I tighten my mu
scles, clamping my sex down on his pulsing rod. I hear the hitch in his breathing. I’ve got him in the palm of my hand.

  He grips me harder, slamming that thick meat into my hungry center again and again. My breath comes in fragments and I swear spots cloud my vision. Maybe, I spoke too soon.

  “Knox,” I moan. The one word an admission that he has me too.

  We’re edging closer to oblivion, both of us grinding, grunting, straining sweaty limbs for another tumble into ecstasy.

  I close my eyes, allowing each thrust of his rigid cock to ripple through me, the force is a seismic wave of vibration blurring every touch, every thought, every image until nothing exist beyond me…and this man. I coming, my velvet pussy—his description, not mine—milking his rod.

  “Stay with me,” he grunts, head flung back in a shuddering release.

  “Yes,” I whisper, in the heat of the moment.

  My name is Siah Kent. The woman who lives her life through romantic heroines, book boyfriends, and my sex journal. Knox Ueno is mī fantajī, my fantasy wrapped in lean, hard muscle.

  I should have stayed away because two days later I had to leave him.

  ***End of Red Velvet Excerpt***

  Acknowledgement

  I’d like to say an extra special thank you to Author Siera London for extending a warm invite into the Lunchtime Chronicle’s world. I humbly appreciate her and the writing platform she has built and hope that it continues to spread joy to readers and inspiration to writers.

  Thank you to my beta readers who dedicated their time to reading this book and providing top notch feedback. Afrikka Brooks Ennis, Zanthia Shaw-Matthews, and Lashonda Royal. You ladies are amazing. I cannot say thank you enough for your time and invaluable advice.