Blue Moon by Laurell K. Hamilton Read Free Book Online

tailored white pants with a very sharp cuff rolled at the end of the pants legs. Black suspenders graced his upper body and matched the highly polished black shoes. A white linen jacket was thrown over one shoulder. His dark skin gleamed against the whiteness of his clothes. His hair was nearly waist length in cornrows with white beads woven through the braids. Last time I’d seen him, the beads had been multicolored.
    Ed flicked a look back at Jamil. “If you say so,” he said. He went back to the main building, leaving us to ourselves. Probably just as well.
    â€œI didn’t know you were here, Jamil,” I said.
    â€œI’m Richard’s bodyguard. Where else would I be?”
    He had a point. “Where were you the night his body was supposedly attacking this woman?”
    â€œHer name is Betty Schaffer.”
    â€œHave you talked to her?”
    His eyes widened. “She’s already cried rape once on a fine, upstanding white boy. No, I haven’t talked to her.”
    â€œYou could try and blend in a little.”
    â€œI’m one of only two black men for about 50 miles,” he said. “There’s no way for me to blend in, Anita, so I don’t try.” There was an undercurrent of real anger there. I wondered if Jamil had been having trouble with the locals. It seemed likely. He wasn’t just African American. He was tall, handsome, and athletic looking. That alone would have gotten him on the redneck hit parade. The long cornrow hair and the killer fashion sense raised the question that he might violate the last white male bastion of homophobia. I knew that Jamil liked girls, but I was almost willing to bet some of the locals hadn’t believed that.
    â€œI assume that is the other African American guy.” I was careful not to point at Milo. He was watching us, face expressionless, but too intense. Muscle recognizes muscle, and he was probably wondering about Jamil just as we were wonderingabout him. What was professional muscle doing out here in the boonies?
    Jamil nodded. “Yeah, that’s the other one.”
    â€œHe doesn’t blend in, either,” I said. “Who is he?”
    â€œHis name is Milo Hart. He works for a guy named Frank Niley who is supposed to arrive today.”
    â€œYou and he sit down and have a talk?”
    â€œNo, but Ed is just full of news.”
    â€œWhy does Frank Niley need a bodyguard?”
    â€œHe’s rich,” Jamil said as if that explained it, and maybe it did. “He’s down here doing some land speculation.”
    â€œEd the plane mechanic tell you all this?”
    Jamil nodded. “He likes to talk, even to me.”
    â€œGee, and I thought you were just another pretty face.”
    Jamil smiled. “I’ll do my job when Richard lets me.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œIt means if he’d let me watch over him like a good Sköll is supposed to, this rape charge would never have happened. I’d have been a witness, and it wouldn’t be just her word against his.”
    â€œMaybe I should talk to Ms. Schaffer,” I said.
    â€œBabe, you just read my mind.”
    â€œYou know, Jamil, you’re the only person who ever calls me babe. There’s a reason for that.”
    His smile widened. “I’ll try to remember that.”
    â€œWhat happened to Richard, Jamil?”
    â€œYou mean did he do it?”
    I shook my head. “No, I know he didn’t do it.”
    â€œHe did date her,” Jamil said.
    I looked at him. “What are you saying?”
    â€œRichard’s been trying to find a replacement for you.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo, he’s been dating anything that moves.”
    â€œJust dating?” I asked.
    Jamil swirled his jacket from his shoulder to one arm, smoothing the cloth and not looking at me.
    â€œAnswer the question, Jamil.”
    He looked at me, almost smiling, then sighed.