Contents
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
DEDICATION
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
JAVA RIFT: SNEAK PEEK
A WORD FROM PARKER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
WORKS BY PARKER J COLE
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
Copyright © 2017 Parker J. Cole
Cover Art by Cover Design by George McVey
All rights reserved.
First Edition: October 2017
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the authors.
DEDICATION
To Angel and Deborah
I’d write a thousand stories for your eyes only
PROLOGUE
Five people occupied the dilapidated hut. Dust particles floated in the thin slices of sunlight allowed to penetrate the dark interior through breaks in the wood walls. Two of the occupants, a man and a woman, sat bound and gagged against the wall facing the closed entryway. The captive man sported swollen eyes and a cut lip. A long scar trailed the right side of the woman’s face, flecked by dried spots of blood.
The other three occupants, all male, stood before them. Two of the men, armed with spears decorated in bright yellow cloth, flanked the third.
The third squatted down. Dressed in a red shirt and white, immaculate pants with black shoes, he stood out in the small space. Around his neck rested a necklace of delicate finger bones, separated by rubies.
Pulling a long, bulging cigar from a pocket on his shirt, he sniffed it.
His yellowed eyes flickered back and forth between the bound couple.
“Do you remember when you gave this to me?” He coughed as soon as he finished the sentence, the sound harsh and dry like the dried tobacco leaves his cigar was made from. After the brief hacking spell, he retrieved a gold cigar cutter from the same pocket.
“It was a fine gift.” He saluted them with the cigar. “Thank you.”
The man in red spent an inordinate amount of time making a production of cutting the tip of the cigar and then lighting it. He inhaled for several seconds until the tip of the cigar glowed like a tiny sun. He exhaled the smoke into the faces of the man and the woman.
“Good flavor. Dry and sweet. Sort of like the both of you.”
He continued to smoke the cigar. With his free hand, he fingered the bones around his neck. His black, soulless eyes landed on the woman. Her eyes above the dark cloth shoved between her teeth widened in fear.
“After today, I won’t be asking you any more questions.” He knocked the ash on the floor. “This is the last chance because after today, you won’t ever have to lay eyes on me again.”
Smoke curled around them. The sweet smell of the cigar permeated the room. The bound man coughed behind his restraint and then groaned at the resultant pain.
“Sore ribs?” The man in red queried.
A baleful glare blazed from the prisoner’s eyes.
The man in red stood and gestured to the guard on his right. “Her.”
The guard took a knife from the belt around his waist and went over to the woman. A flash of silver and the cloth tied around her mouth fell away.
Her mouth opened but the man in red silenced her with a deadly look. “Be very careful what you say to me.” The threat in his voice chilled the air despite the heat of the day. “I only want to hear one thing from you and that is a location. If I don’t hear it, I will leave you.”
She looked over at the man to her side. Tears slid out of her eyes and down her cheeks. The man beside her gave an imperceptible nod and she turned back to the man in red.
“I paid for both of them. I want them now.” The cigar had almost burned down. “Are you going to tell me where they are?”
“Yes, I will tell you.” Her voice resonated with strength. “Heaven. They are in heaven.”
The man in red chewed on the end of the cigar. “I guess, you’ll be seeing them in a few moments then.”
He threw the cigar on the floor and ground it into the dirt with his well-shod foot. Then he nodded to the guards on either side.
“Kill them.”
CHAPTER ONE
“There’s my brother from another mother.”
Kwasi glanced up from perusing the new Java Cupid tea menu and his mouth lifted into a grin. “Jeb, my man. Wassup?”
Jeb sauntered over to where Kwasi stood and they fist bumped. “Dude, working like a slave up in here.” He shook his head in a mock, mournful fashion.
“Bro, you blacker than me,” Kwasi laughed.
“I know!” Jeb hooted along with him, the joke an old one between them. If anyone else had said that, Kwasi would have told them where they could go. Being a black albino with blond hair and light-colored eyes, Kwasi and his twin brother Kojo had dealt with more than their share of ridicule.
But with Jeb, it never meant anything.
The din of the Java Cupid cafe buzzed with the calling out of orders, the grind of coffee beans, and the clatter of dishes. The loud but pleasant cacophony of noise settled around Kwasi like a comfortable blanket of sound.
“All right, white boy,” Jeb sighed dramatically, “let me get on behind this here counter and get your brew together.”
Kwasi adjusted his sunglasses on his nose and rescanned the menu. “Let me see here. This new Java Blend tea. It says it has vanilla and essence of chocolate in it with coconut crème and cinnamon.”
“Aww, dude!” Jeb’s dark brown eyes widened like saucers. “That is off the chain! It’s the new one, too. I don’t even like tea but that one almost made me convert to Teaism.”
Kwasi spread his arms out and affected a mock, pleading look. “There’s still time, my son. It’s not too late for you.” They both chuckled and then Kwasi waved Jeb away. “Go ahead and whip me up this new blend.”
Jeb turned around to make his order. Kwasi leaned on the glass counter and let his eyes rove over the place. Java Cupid had to be the busiest coffee café in town. He’d never been in the place and it wasn’t jumping. Lately though, it had been gaining more notoriety. People were talking about the weird messages popping up on the coffee cups. Messages that had led to several people falling in love.
Kwasi shook his head. He was too practical to believe that nonsense.
Through his tinted glasses, he observed people enjoying the atmosphere. Small groups huddled together with laptops. A couple or two sipped on coffee and talked quietly. Business people dashed out of the café with capped cups in their hands.
He leaned further on the counter. There wasn’t anyone else in his line and he knew why. Jeb may be a wonderful barista but the boy took forever to do anything. Very few folks wanted to wait five or ten minutes for a one-minute brew. Kwasi didn’t care. Life was too short to hurry from one place to the next. Jeb could take as long as he liked.
The door opened up and his gaze traveled across the room to see the finest sister that ever walked the face of the earth come through.
Kwasi straightened from the counter. Even through his tinted shades, he could see the kind of sexy she wore. A dignified, look-but-don’t-touch air exuded from her. She had a long neck with a deeply grooved clavicle he imagined he could pour strawberry champag
ne into and lick it up.
He continued to eye her while she moved away from the door to answer her phone. The black licorice hue of her skin caught his attention more than anything. In the sunlight, it had a luminous sheen to it as if she were lit from within. That pure, satin smooth darkness made him aware of their differences.
Growing up as he and Kojo had, his thoughts about skin color had been pervasive ones. The fact he had no color had rubbed him the wrong way for a long time. Had he ever accepted it? Until this moment, he thought he had. After all, no one could live through their hellish childhood and not be screwed up in the head.
The phone call ended and she placed the phone into a purse strapped to her shoulder. The woman started strutting his way and a chill went through his body. Kwasi hadn’t felt this nervous since he had to sing the national anthem in high school.
A languid grace accompanied each sway of her hips, slicked by an off-white crinkly dress that skimmed several inches above her knees. The material hugged every curve and yet had a modest touch to it. It further solidified the queenly, cool attitude.
She came and stood behind him but her eyes didn’t look in his direction. Instead he saw her lean a little forward, eyes on the menu in the stand next to him.
He had to talk to her, say something. Anything!
“You need a menu?”
The instant he said those words, he wanted to slam his head onto the top of the glass counter. Really, that’s the best he could do?
She turned her gaze his direction and his heart almost thumped out of his chest. The shades’ tint concealed her eye color but the white of them against that dark skin gave her a doll-like expression.
“Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind?” She arched a silky, waxed eyebrow. Her voice had a cool, oh-so-very polite tone to it. Was she really as frigid as she put on?
“Sure, no problem.” He grabbed the menu and handed it to her.
Carefully, she took it from him with a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes and bent her head over it.
That really should have been the last of conversation. It was apparent she didn’t want to talk anymore. But the challenge she presented made him want to take her up on it.
“See anything you like?”
“No, not yet.” Again, she gave him a pleasant smile with a hint of coolness to it. He could tell from her body language—and what a language it was—she didn’t want his conversation.
It only whetted his appetite to see if he could get past her reserve. “I’m trying the new Java Blend tea myself. I don’t know how people can drink coffee.”
Kwasi again had the urge to slam his head into the glass counter. Jeez, coffee? Upping his game to ‘coffee’ conversation? Why not talk about the weather and bore her to death?
He expected this black beauty to leave, but a real smile came and stretched the corners of her mouth. The frigid demeanor melted away like ice on a window. “I don’t understand that either. Coffee is so bitter.”
Kwasi’s mouth almost dropped to the floor. The coffee line actually worked?
He hurried on before she discovered how lame he really was. “I know, right? I’ve tried it with every sweetener known to man and I still can’t abide the stuff.
“Tea has a stronger, milder flavor.” She toyed with the edge of the menu. “Especially a hot tea on a winter day. Glides down the throat just right.”
His eyes traced the long slim column of her neck. Two sharp nubs at her collar bone enhanced the deep grooves on either side. He imagined tasting the satiny smoothness of her skin. His tongue would lap at the rounded caps of her shoulders, and then he’d—
“Which one did you order?”
Kwasi jerked slightly. Helplessly locked in the fantasy he conjured up, he almost didn’t catch the question. “Java Blend. The new one. Vanilla cream and chocolate essence. Can’t beat that, can you?”
“Sounds interesting. I’ll have one, too.”
Kwasi bent his head back and hollered at Jeb. “Jeb, make two of those for me.”
“Gotcha covered!” came the reply.
Kwasi shook his head in mock sorrow. “That’ll be another fifteen minutes.”
The woman smiled. Its brilliance came through like a ray of sunshine. “Yeah, he does take a while but he’s a good barista. I’m in no rush.”
Transfixed by the brown ruby mouth with its full, plump lips and even, white teeth, Kwasi blurted out, “What’s your name, girl?”
The smile dropped from her face as if it had been wiped off. In a single instant, her coolness returned.
She placed the menu back on the counter. “It certainly isn’t ‘girl’.”
“Aww, c’mon, boo.” Could he make her smile come back? “I’m just trying to get your name, that’s all.”
“Nor is my name ‘boo.’” She folded her arms. If that didn’t scream ‘don’t talk to me’, he didn’t know what did.
“Well, it certainly isn’t ‘ugly’ so I’ll have to keep on guessing until you tell me.”
The woman blinked. “You’re going to guess my name?”
Intrigued by the whole idea of getting past this sister’s reserve, Kwasi gave her a slow smile. “Yeah. It’ll pass the time while we’re waiting on our tea.”
A myriad of emotions passed over her face. He waited. Patience was something he never had a problem with.
“Okay. If you guess my name, I’ll pay for our teas.”
Kwasi scoffed. “Oh no. If I guess your name, I’ll need something more rewarding than a cup of tea.”
She stiffened. “Rewarding such as what?” Her voice rose an octave in disbelief. “If you’re thinking—”
“Calm down,” he said softly, laughing at the outraged look in her face. “All I meant was I’d like the pleasure of your company if I do guess your name. Just join me for a few minutes.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Sure. Well, go ahead. Guess.”
He threw his head back in merriment. This woman was a study of contradiction. Standoffish and shy with an allure made all the more enticing by this surprising sass. “You gotta give me a couple of clues. What’s the first letter of your name?”
“G.”
“Gorgeous! Yep! I win.”
She giggled then. The husky laugh traveled along his back. If she sounded like that when she giggled, how would she sound when she moaned in his arms? Kwasi didn’t know when or how but eventually, he was going to find out.
All he had to do was wait.
Gretchen couldn’t stop ogling this albino hottie’s mouth. It reminded her of a spear of grapefruit. Large with a deep, pinkish hue. His upper lip full and pouty. His lower lip rounded and a tad wider than its counterpart. When he darted out a long pink tongue and dragged it across his mouth, his lips glistened with wetness.
She never understood where her fetish for men with big, juicy lips, as her twin would say, originated from but here before her was the best specimen of big and juicy lip-tide.
He’d caught her eye the moment she walked through Java Cupid. Blond, neatly cropped afro thick with curly hair topped his head. His pale, pearlescent skin stretched over bulging muscles corded with prominent veins. A gunmetal tank T-shirt accentuated his trim waist and black jeans hugged his legs, detailing powerful thighs.
Yeah, he was hot. Hot enough to melt ice cream.
Despite his attractiveness, blatant as blinding light, some strange tendril of panic snaked along the lining of her stomach, twisting the muscles. Where the source of the sensation came from, she couldn’t tell.
Or perhaps she didn’t want to delve too deeply.
Despite her misgivings, she schooled her features to reveal none of her thoughts. After all, he might think of her as a dirty black skank, easy for the taking. She’d lived with enough of that for a lifetime.
Then he ruined it all when he called her ‘girl’. Ugh, she hated games like that. Well, she didn’t have much experience with ‘game’ to form a frame of reference.
After all, she’d never had
much success with men. Very little in fact. She was too dark for most men and too skinny for some. When her appearance and weight weren’t the issues, she was too smart to act dumb and too independent to act helpless.
She should have been jumping up and down for joy when any man showed a hint of interest in her!
But really, ‘girl’? ‘Girl’ indicated she was another woman in a long line of them. He couldn’t remember all their names so he gave her a generic moniker meant to flutter the heart of some stupid, born yesterday woman.
With his looks though, it wasn’t hard to imagine a line of woman standing for their turn to take a sip at this tall drink of a vanilla milkshake. Not to mention those big, kissable lips reminding her of the proverbial cherry on top.
“Gwen?”
She shook his head. He’d never guess it. Part of her hoped he would, though. Jeb would take about another five minutes so she had time.
“Glenda?”
The memory of a pretty and cruel light-skinned face jeering while Gretchen fought to avoid the blows coming left and right rose up in her mind.
“Never, ever call me that again.”
Bitterness soured her voice. Her would-be suitor’s eyes enlarged behind his tinted glasses. Her reaction surprised not just him but her, too. Ten years had passed but it might as well have been yesterday.
The hottie in front of her held up his hands. “Okay,” he drew out the word. “Looks like I hit a nerve.”
Hit a nerve? More likely he slugged a sledgehammer on top of a land mine. “You did.” The fun of the moment bled away. She sighed in resignation. “Look—”
“Oh no,” he wagged his finger. “I still get a chance to guess.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Oh no, this is fun.”
Gretchen blinked. He looked as if he were having fun. His eyes gleamed with amusement. Way too much fun. Was it at her expense? She’d been the brunt of the joke before but she wouldn’t put up with it as she had years ago.
“Well, I’m not going to stand here all day for you to guess.”
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