Java Blend (Java Cupid Series Book 8) Page 7

  “Gertie, let’s go.” Gretchen wrapped her fingers around the warm cup of tea and stood. Kwasi did the same. Their conversation was over…for now.

  Gertrude let out a sarcastic sounding, “Hallelujah!” She hooked her hand around Gretchen’s wrist and dragged her toward the door.

  Despite her inner voice telling her to keep focused on the glass door with its emblem of the cupid, she glanced behind her. Kwasi stared after her but even from across the café, the message was clear.

  This was only the beginning.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “What was all that?” Kojo demanded once the front door of the home they shared slammed behind them. “Are you frickin’ crazy?”

  “I don’t want to go there right now. I thought you’d have other things to worry about. Or rather, be happy about. Don signed the contract, didn’t he?”

  Don Bridges had arrived at Java Cupid seconds after Gretchen and her sister left. Kojo and he had been forced to set everything else aside in order to facilitate the meeting.

  “Screw the contract! I want to know what is going on in that brain of yours?”

  The incredulity on his brother’s face would have been comical if there had been any humor in the situation. Kwasi dropped the keys to his car on the kitchen table. “There’s nothing wrong. Let’s just drop it.”

  “I can’t just drop this, Kwasi. Those scars aren’t there for decoration. Gretchen is the one who put them there. How can you even want the woman, knowing that?”

  His brother’s anguish permeated the kitchen. Kwasi wished there was some way to make him understand. But how could he when he drifted on the current of instinct and gut prophecy?

  Having Gretchen back in his life, if that was indeed what this was, had to be a godsend. A second opportunity to be with the person who made him feel—

  “How can you not be listening to me?”

  “Apparently with ease.”

  Kojo frowned at his retort. “Bro, look at this logically for a moment. When were you so-called married, you were eleven years old. After the whole mark thing, Gretchen told the elders you had special powers. They sent hunters after us. We had to run for our lives. I’m not sure which part of this horror story you’re not remembering to make you act so crazy.”

  Kwasi didn’t want Kojo’s words to penetrate the light fog of bliss surrounding him since his encounter with Gretchen. Yet, with pricks of ice, they broke up the fog he so desperately wanted to keep wrapped around his common sense.

  “You almost died that night.” Kojo’s voice cracked the slightest.

  Kwasi’s head jerked to his brother. They’d never discussed that part of the nightmare and they sure weren’t about to do it now. “We’re not going there.”

  “Yes, we are!” Kojo scrapped his hand through his mohawk. “If you hadn’t pushed me out of the way, the tiger would have gotten both of us.”

  His throat worked up and down. “Kojo—” Why were they doing this?

  “I almost pissed myself I was so scared,” his twin admitted with a watery, weak laugh. “All that blood ran down your back. You screamed so loud even now, there are nights when I can hear it. Turns me to ice inside.”

  The pain searing his body that day had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced in his short life.

  “Then the next thing I heard was the big boom of Luke’s gun as he shot the tiger right between the eyes.”

  Kwasi heard it too. Felt the brush of the wind as the bullet brushed so close to his face. How Luke had aimed the gun so accurately was beyond him.

  “Then Luke grabbed us and we ran. You had passed out by that time but you saved my life, bro.”

  “I know you would have done the same for me, Kojo.”

  The refrigerator’s compressor turned on, filling the resultant hush from reliving those events with its nondescript sound.

  Kwasi never thought of the event as ‘saving his brother’s life’. As the younger twin but older sibling, according to the beliefs of his culture, all he’d wanted was to make sure Kojo didn’t get hurt. Had he to live his life all over again, with the knowledge of what he knew today, he’d still make the same choice.

  “You wouldn’t have gone through any of that if it hadn’t been for her.”

  Gretchen’s face took up residence in his mind.

  “She’s not worth it,” Kojo reiterated. “I don’t care what you think about your marriage.” He spat the words out, using his fingers as air quotes. “She’s the reason why everyone we love is dead.”

  Kwasi shook his head. “Not everyone.”

  His brother snorted. “Oh, so Luke spending the rest of his golden years in an assisted living place for Alzheimer’s patients is a better alternative?”

  “At least he still remembers us, Kojo.” Kwasi replied as he mourned the man who had rescued and raised them as his own children. “Before he got sick, he never blamed us for anything that happened. Not even for Donna’s death.”

  He thought of the old man as he’d last seen him, flirting with an older woman afflicted by the same mental deterioration. “He can’t remember his wife is dead. He can’t remember his time in the village. But he still remembers us.”

  “Even if he was in his right mind, he wouldn’t have blamed us because it’s not our fault.”

  Weary of the back and forth, Kwasi reached for his Java Blend. The message from before was there again. My love is the purest form there is.

  The mysterious cupid. Who was putting these messages on the cups. Jeb? No. This message struck at the core of his being. It revealed a part of his psyche only Gretchen as a child could understand.

  “Do you know why I—what’s that on your mouth?”

  Kojo lifted his brow. “Huh?”

  “Dude, what’s that on your mouth? It looks like a brown stain.”

  Watching his brother swipe at his mouth, he saw his brother still again as he stared at his hand. “Oh, must be some dried coffee or something.”

  Why did Kojo look so nervous? And why wouldn’t he meet his eyes?

  Kwasi snapped his fingers as he remembered the altercation from the coffeehouse. “That’s another thing. Why did you go after Gretchen’s sister like that?”

  “Go at her how?” The words came out hoarsely. If Kwasi didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn Kojo’s skin had blanched to paper white. The man almost looked bloodless.

  “At Java Cupid. You grabbed her like you were about to hurt her.”

  Did a look of relief cross Kojo’s face? “I wasn’t going to do anything like that. She was just pissing me off with the way she was treating you.”

  Lies. Kojo was lying to him. Kwasi knew it as sure as he knew he was breathing. But lying about what?

  He wracked his brain, going over the conversation. Nothing on the surface leapt out at him like an ‘aha’ moment. But he knew his twin was lying. Perhaps it had to do with his personal life. Unlike himself, Kojo had women coming in and out of his life like stations had buses. He worked hard and played hard, as the saying went. Maybe he got into it with one of them.

  Kwasi shook his head. He’d only been involved with two women in his adult life, if involvement could be the term used. Neither of them remarkable enough to keep him interested.

  But Gretchen…

  His heart catapulted in his chest. Even when he didn’t recognize her, she’d piqued his interest and more. She’d always been able to do that.

  “Forget it!”

  Kwasi came out of his thoughts to see Kojo fling his hand up in the air and stalk away. He must have been saying something profound and insightful that he hadn’t heard.

  He wandered aimlessly into the living room and stared at the black screen of the TV. Despite the past and all of its hurts, he wanted Gretchen again. This time, for keeps.

  Fresh baked smells of bread and sweet pastries wafted to his nose as he sat parked outside of the coffee house. Java Cupid café was the common denominator. Twice both of them had shown up.

  The spi
rits were right. If he stayed here day after day, sooner or later, he’d have them both within his sights.

  Cigar smoke floated around in the interior of the old Cadillac car. The notoriety of Java Cupid had reached even his ears. News of messages leading people to their true loves had spread like wildfire. It was no small feat the café was able to accommodate the demand for their coffee. People bounced in and out of the coffee shop, gazing furiously at the cups for a message to appear.

  Intrigued by the idea, he picked up his own cup of joe, courtesy of the efficient, friendly staff, and scanned the surface to see if there were messages.

  None.

  But then, he wasn’t looking for love.

  He was looking for a set of albino bones.

  The glint of the sun on the opening of the door made him glance in that direction. He puffed on the cigar and then froze when he spied the man in the wheelchair coming out of the café.

  Seething hatred swelled inside. It threatened to burn away a layer of his skin.

  Without finishing the cigar, he stabbed it mercilessly into the car’s ash tray, grinding until it disintegrated into nothing more than crumbled tobacco leaves and ash.

  Ripping the door open, he launched himself out of the car. Uncaring of traffic, he stomped across the street to the Java Cupid parking lot. The wheelchair-bound man glanced up and then stopped moving.

  Did his adversary see the flames of the netherworld bursting from his eyes? He really should have.

  The cigar man leaned down until they almost touched noses.

  “They belong to me,” he snarled without introduction.

  “I paid for them first. Those bones are mine.” The wheelchair man coughed. The cigar man barely had time to duck in order to avoid the spittle dotted on wheelchair man’s chin. His wheezing sound reminded the cigar man of a rattling labored breath of an old woman.

  He straightened up and squinted down. “How much did you pay the village elders for them?”

  A careless shrug. “Ten thousand.”

  Pursing his lips, the cigar man snorted. “Hmph. I also paid the same amount.”

  The wheelchair man rotated his chair backward. His wart-pocked face peered up into the thunderous visage of the cigar man. But he wasn’t afraid. He’d never been afraid of him. If the cigar man held a gun in his hand and pointed the barrel at his head, he still wouldn’t fear him.

  “I’ve waited twenty years for those two.” The wheelchair man picked his nose and then sniffed. “You’re not going to take what is rightfully mine.”

  Cigar man patted his pocket for a cigar and then remember he’d left the rest of them in the car. “Neither of us are stealing. After all, we paid for them, didn’t we?”

  Grudging agreement met this fact.

  “So,” the wheelchair man drawled, “Do you get one and I get one?”

  “We’re not children any more. We don’t have to share. No one does.”

  “Are you sure that’s what you want? I am being extremely generous, because we were both tricked by the elders of the village.”

  “The elders are dead.”

  Another look of grudging respect came over the wheelchair man. “You were able to do what I could not. So, again, I ask you, do you want to share?”

  The cigar man let out a massive belly rolling laugh. “Of course not! Which one of us gets one, gets the other.” He tutted. “Your generosity has always been your weakness. Remember that when you see me wearing their bones around my neck.”

  He withdrew the necklace of bones and rubies. “It’ll be longer soon.”

  A hungry, almost desperate expression fell on the wheelchair man’s face. “Let me have it. Give me the power to destroy these evil spirits wrapped around my legs.”

  Pleased to see the other man begging, he let the sun shine a bit longer on the bone and ruby necklace. The wheelchair man’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open as a longing deep-rooted and fierce took hold over him. The cigar man knew and relished in his pain.

  After a minute more, he tucked it away underneath his shirt. Mustn’t let those invisible spirits know he had such power. They would surely find a way to take it from him.

  “You already know the answer to that.”

  Defeat sagged the wheelchair man’s shoulders. “I do.” He gripped the wheels of the chair and backed further away. “Winner take all?”

  The cigar man pivoted on his foot and headed back toward his car. “Winner take all.”

  “How’s my favorite girl today?”

  Gretchen glanced up from staring into the beady eyes of the helper doll to see Lonnie in the doorway. “I’m fine, thank you.” Setting the doll to the side, she folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “What can I do for you today?”

  “Nothing at the moment. Wondering what were your lunch plans? Feel like going anywhere?”

  Java Cupid. It seemed the only place she longed to go was there.

  Gertie had been adamant about her staying away from that place. “You need to stop it. He’s going to make you believe you should apologize for living and then lord it over your head like some blackmailer. Forget about him.”

  She’d been unable to do as her sister begged her to do.

  Every moment of the day for the past week, she’d heard him. That rich, velvety voice which flowed warm milk over her senses, declaring he wanted to pick up where they left off. Whispering in a seductive tone of his need to discover more to their relationship than childhood bride and groom.

  When she closed her eyes, she pictured him standing in the café with his smooth, pearly muscles and golden hair. Her mouth watered for a taste of his plump, grapefruit lips. Her body stirred at night with the insatiable craving to feel his long, broad fingers caress her like a bow.

  The guilt warred with her longings. Kojo’s fierce anger often shattered her recollections of their brief time together. Plus, Gertie’s own pain had her second guessing the wisdom of allowing Kwasi to step back into her life again.

  Weren’t they better apart?

  No! her heart shouted out in defiance to the cool logic of her brain.

  “You didn’t even know I was there,” Gertie’s agonized voice haunted her after they came back from Java Cupid. “You’ve always been able to sense me, and I, you. In the space of two days, he’s broken our bond.”

  “Our bond’s not broken, Gertie,” she tried to say.

  “Don’t lie to me, Gretchen,” Gertie had said with a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Please don’t.”

  “What about the Java Cupid?”

  Lonnie’s voice took her away from the painful sight of her sister’s tears to the eager gaze of her co-worker. Her heart skipped at beat at his suggestion.

  “Java Cupid?” Oh, how sweet the words tasted on her tongue. Like the Java Blend concoction she’d come to crave more each day she had gone without it.

  “Yeah!” Lonnie’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea. Maybe I can get a message on my cup this time.”

  Was there a chance Kwasi would be there? She’d missed him in the week that had gone by. Although her brain argued it was ridiculous to miss a man one thought was dead not too long ago.

  “Don’t go there anymore,” Gertie pleaded. She’d knelt down next to Gretchen. “He’ll come between us.”

  Gretchen sighed. She couldn’t disappoint her twin. Hours had passed before Gertie had sufficiently calmed down. The fright of losing their twin connection, the inexplicable bond of two souls sharing one heart, had put her in a high state of agitation.

  It was a special thing she had with her sister. No man was worth coming between them.

  But wasn’t what she once shared with Kwasi just as divine? Their own unique relationship, different from her twin bond but just as dear.

  Didn’t she owe it to him to recapture it?

  Didn’t she owe it to herself to refine it?

  Didn’t Gertie deserve her trust?

  “Ah, I’m sorry, Lonnie. I won’t be able to join you. I’ll take a
rain check though.”

  It killed her to say those words, but she had to think of Gertie. Something was going on with her sister, something she was keeping to herself but Gretchen couldn’t pinpoint it. Her sister didn’t have a love life, preferring computers and local strong woman competitions to men. Lately though, she sensed a murkiness to her sister’s moods.

  What could be wrong?

  “Well, walk with me anyway. I parked in public parking today so I’m in the front.” Lonnie gestured for her to get up.

  “Sure.” She rose and stretched. “I need to get up anyway.”

  They traversed down the hall, making the appropriate turns more out of habit than needing to know the direction.

  Lonnie rattled his keys as they walked. “Find any leads on the tribe you were researching?”

  “Not yet. I’ve tracked down a professor at one of the universities. He’s well versed in the number of uncontacted tribes there. Perhaps he’ll be able to assist me.”

  “Would you go down there for first contact?”

  Gretchen shrugged. “I don’t know. Those kinds of situations are extremely complex and dangerous. Language barriers, cultural mystiques, and the fear of the unknown. It’s a powder keg waiting to explode.”

  “I definitely wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of a spear during that.”

  They had attained the lobby. Gleaming marble floors reflected the sunlight spilling through the windows. The scuff of rubber soles along with the click-clack of heels filled the room, echoing off the walls. Guards attended the metal detectors at the front door while a herd of school children raced through the revolving doors with a flustered chaperone calling out, “Be quiet!”

  “It’s dangerous, for sure. But the rewards of integrating an isolated society into the modern world is crucial for the good of—”

  A stray glance toward the front door and her breath lodged in her throat.

  Kwasi stood on the other side of the visitor’s rope. Although too far away to tell, she felt his gaze on her as potently as a touch.