Free Devilish Details by Lynn Emery Page A

own tough spot.
    “Can’t trust nobody,” Kyeisha blurted
out.
    “You got something to offer the DA., right?
Get a deal.” Jazz hoped her security guard would take a break and
show up. The desperation in Kyeisha’s voice worried her.
    “I grabbed a bag of cash from the place when
the shootin’ started. Been stayin’ in a motel across the river,”
Kyeisha muttered low as though talking more to herself than to
Jazz. “Ain’t safe being out here.”
    “Cleavon got any ideas on your next move?”
Jazz replied.
    “Let’s go in your apartment. You first.
Don’t yell or nothin’. I’m just sayin’ keep it quiet.” Kyeisha took
one step to the edge of the yellow light, enough to let Jazz see
she held a gun. She kept it pointed at the ground. Small
comfort.
    Jazz didn’t move. “Is Cleavon with you?”
    “Just get up,” Kyeisha snapped.
    “Okay, okay. Keep it cool,” Jazz replied
evenly. Her anxiety turned to anger, but she worked on controlling
her temper.
    She glanced at the rear entrance to the
club. The door had swung shut. Jazz tried sending psychic signals
to Tyretta or Byron, since it was his night to work security.
Surely one or both would come looking for her soon. She tried
walking slow, but Kyeisha hissed at her back.
    “Don’t try nothin’ cute, Jazz.”
    “I don’t know what you talkin’ about, Kee.
I’m doing what you asked. Damn,” Jazz replied in a casual way.
“I’ve got to get my key out and stuff. You need to relax.”
    “You try relaxin’ with cops and thugs on
your ass,” Kyeisha shot back. “Now move it.”
    “I’m movin’,” Jazz said.
    With Jazz in the lead, they climbed the
stairwell to Jazz’s apartment. Still none of her employees came
outside. The loud thumping beat of bass from speakers and muffled
raucous laughter told her they were busy. Kyeisha had picked the
perfect night to show up. No doubt she’d been keeping watch
somehow. Jazz didn’t believe her talk about having no friends.
Kyeisha had a cunning streak.
    When Jazz opened the two bolt locks and
pushed the door open, Kyeisha shoved her through. Kyeisha kicked
the door to shut it, but only succeeded in causing it to bounce
back hard. The sturdy fiberglass and steel door slapped against
Kyeisha back throwing her off balance. Jazz punched her in the face
twice with as much force as she could.
    “I’ma kill you,” Kyeisha huffed in rage as
she staggered to one side.
    Jazz concentrated on twisting the gun out of
Kyeisha’s right hand. They s they fought for control of the gun.
Jazz let out a string of profane threats. Adrenaline and anger
pushed her on. She managed to jam one knee into Kyeisha’s side. The
shout of pain sounded like sweet music. Then a shot from the
revolver exploded in the room. Kyeisha still held on cursing. She
braced the heels of her athletic shoes on the carpet to keep Jazz
from moving her. Forever seemed to go by until heavy steps sounded
on the stairs.
    “Get your ass off me,” Jazz managed to get
out, though breathless and not as loud as she wanted.
    “Hey, Jazz,” Byron yelled. “You okay?”
    “Hell no, she’s got a gun,” Jazz screamed.
As if to prove her point, another shot went off. “Damn it, Kyeisha.
The cops are on their way. Give it up.”
    “Bitch, I just wanted to talk to you. This
shit is all your fault,” Kyeisha wheezed.
    Jazz brought her head up and butted
Kyeisha’s chin hard. The squeal of agony gave her great
satisfaction. At the same time she managed to twist Kyeisha’s
wrist. The handgun fell to the floor. Then she landed a solid kick
in to Kyeisha’s left shin.
    “Ow, shit. Owwee.” Kyeisha went to her knees
then rolled onto her side holding her face.
    Just then Byron and another man stumbled
through the door. The lights switched on. The other guy, a rough
looking local from the neighborhood, held his own gun. Both men
looked around the room wildly.
    “Damn, how many of ‘em in here?” Byron burst
out.
    “I got this one,” the other man