Free Sister's Revenge: Action Adventure Assassin Pulp Thriller Book #1 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Assassin) by Lori Jean Grace, S. Jay Jackson

settled down with another woman, even though he was a good-looking, stable, old-school gentleman. He treated the ladies right, so one of them always stuck close, trying to show him the error of his single ways.
    “What did Baby-Sister say?” she asked.
    “That junkie named Lil Rich was the lookout for Lewis. He works part-time doing cleanup at Brown’s shoe store. You know who Lil Rich is?”
    “Yeah, I know him. He went to school with me. A rooty-poot wannabe who was always in the mix. Basically, a shit-talking coward who got into drugs.”
    “Baby-Sister said she remembered Lil Rich telling Lewis he wanted to get paid for doing good, said he kept Lewis outta the shit when everything came down that day. Something about him being a witness, telling the police he saw two White guys on motorcycles leave your house.”
    “That means he was part of the crew,” Michelle said. “And now he has to pay.”
    This time, Michelle’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Ten: Lil Rich, Little Fish

    “H EY, LIL RICH. Thought I might bump into you here behind the shoe store.” Michelle stood a few feet away, in the back alley, dressed in worn, comfortable jeans and an old, faded black hoodie with the hood pushed back, showing her face. One hand clutched a Big Gulp drink. The other was tucked in her pocket.
    “Hey, girl,” Lil Rich said.
    Clearly, he didn’t recognize her.
    “It’s me, Michelle Angelique. We went to school together over at Carver.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Remember when me, Deja, and Nikky got you into that party where Billy Johnson got shot? He was sitting right next to you when it happened.”
    Lil Rich’s expression changed.
    “Ah, I see you remember me now. Do you also remember my brother, Michael?”
    At the mention of the name, Lil Rich’s eyes narrowed as if he was trying to figure things out, when recognition registered on his face.
    “I see you remember Michael.”
    “Yeah, sure, I remember you and Deja and Nikky from school. How you been?”
    “And my brother, Michael. You remember him, too?”
    “Sure, sure. He was older. I didn’t know him too good.”
    Michelle stepped in close. “Good. I’m glad you remember him. Do you also remember being Lewis’s snitch that day when Michael and Gabe Jr. got killed? What about watching the street from outside my house? Telling the cops a bunch of bullshit about things that didn’t happen? Do you remember helping Lewis get away with murdering my brother?”
    Lil Rich’s eyes darted past Michelle down the alley. “No, no, Michelle, it didn’t happen that way.” He stepped to the side.
    Michelle matched his move, blocking his path, and pushed him against the wall. “How about getting paid by Lewis for being a witness and saying he wasn’t there? Do you remember that, you scummy muthafucka?”
    Michelle pointed her silenced 9mm at him. Lil Rich’s eyes flew big and round. He jerked back, slamming against the wall. She pulled the trigger.
    Puhffiitt!
    “That’s for Gabe Jr.”
    Lil Rich stumbled forward, hunched over, and groaned, looking down at his stomach, then up at Michelle like he couldn’t believe she’d shot him.
    “Please,” he said. “I didn’t do nothing.”
    Puhffiitt!
    “That’s for Michael.”
    Lil Rich stumbled backwards from the neck shot, a stupid look of surprise plastered on his face. He collapsed to the ground and leaned against the trash cans, blood running down and mixing with the mud. He’d bleed out in less than a minute.
    Squatting down, Michelle got into his face. “You’re dead for what you did. I want you to know who killed you, you piece of shit.” Then she picked up the two bullet casings, pulled off the surgical glove from her shooting hand, and dropped the glove and the casings into her Big Gulp. With the straw, she pushed everything under the ice and put the lid back on.
    She took off the black hoodie, leaving her in a loose-fitting, denim work shirt. A black, canvas computer bag she used as a purse hung on