Out a Order by Evie Rhodes Read Free Book Online Page B

threat.
    Campbell stepped in. “You’ve got eight untraceable years, supposedly clean, Shannon. My advice to you is to keep it that way.”
    â€œWhen I want your advice I’ll be sure to run right down to get it, my man. Count on it.” Shannon stepped through the door, closing it behind him.
    â€œAny word on the street?” Campbell said to Lombardo.
    â€œNot yet.”
    â€œI want to know who killed Jasmine Davenport and why.”
    â€œYeah. It’s going to be a sad day if we find her father on the other side of the trigger.”
    â€œI guess we better start beating the rookie bushes,” Campbell said. “You never know what you might shake out of one.”
    They both grinned.

Chapter 10
    T awney sat behind her desk in the bank staring at the untouched game of solitaire. Her fingers played out a rhythmic tap dance against her mouse. Her concentration was nonexistent, a thing of the past.
    Her office was full of assorted flowers from her colleagues as well as her staff showing their sympathy. Just looking at them made her want to throw up. She practically gagged at the smell of them.
    But it would be rude to just throw them in the trash, which is what she felt like doing, while screaming at the top of her lungs. She had never been this edgy in her life.
    The loss of her daughter made her feel as though she were walking around in a nightmare. Waves of blackness covered her skin like a veil.
    It was hard to believe she would never hold Jazz again in her arms. Or nuzzle the warm spot in her neck. Or watch her run down the street. She wished she hadn’t gone there with that thought because it conjured up images of her child being gunned down like a dog in the street.
    Whatever.
    It was just inconceivable that Jazz was gone. Wrenched from her grasp, while she had been sitting in some damn office, having a normal day. Probably in some mundane meeting, while the life was being snuffed out of her child. It was a complete travesty.
    There was a light tap on her office door. She looked up to see Shonda Hunt, who was a member of her staff. Shonda looked at her timidly, “I’m really sorry to disturb you, Tawney. I just wanted . . .”
    Tawney waved her into the office. She was trying hard not to be the witch on wheels she was feeling like. She really wanted to tell Shonda to get the hell away from her door.
    But that was just not appropriate. Instead she said, “Come on in, Shonda,” her voice relaying a calm politeness she did not feel.
    Shonda perched on the edge of the chair in front of Tawney’s desk. She cleared her throat. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do . . .”
    â€œNo. There’s nothing. Thank you for offering.”
    Gazing at Tawney, Shonda wondered what the hell Shannon Davenport saw in this cardboard, wannabe fashion statement. So she was player hating. So what? She had met Shannon Davenport at last year’s office party and she couldn’t help but wonder. He was fine as wine.
    Tawney’s skin, while a carmel brown, was surrounded by a halo of blond hair that flowed past her shoulders. Cat-green eyes completed the picture in a face accented with high cheekbones, indicating a possible Indian heritage somewhere in her genes.
    Shonda wanted to throw something at this Oreo cookie, which was all black on the outside and white on the inside. Tawney was tall and slim with a shapely build. She gave off a picture of flawlessness.
    Shonda knew better.
    Tawney was in fact smooth, intellectual, and corporate with the hots for gangster-type men. Her image was a facade for corporate America, so she could get paid, but it didn’t fool Shonda one bit.
    Shonda would bet her bottom dollar that Tawney’s IQ test—and she was rumored to have an IQ that was extraordinary—hadn’t revealed her penchant for slumming in the hood.
    After an awkward moment Shonda said, “I know