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Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(29)

Author:Robert Bailey

“Heading out already?”

“No time like the present.” Jason scratched his neck and gazed back at his condo. “Besides, that place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I think I’m gonna sell it.”

“And go where?” Harry asked. His voice was gravelly, scarred from years of smoking. At five feet nine inches tall, he was a couple inches shorter than Jason, but his arms were taut with lean muscle, and his hands were as rough as sandpaper.

“I don’t know.”

Harry took a pack of Marlboros out of his back pocket. He lit another one and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. “Want one?”

“No thanks.”

“I thought everyone that went to rehab ended up addicted to cigarettes.”

“Not this cowboy.”

“You got that right.”

Jason cocked his head. “What?”

“You’re a cowboy, all right. Never tried a damn jury trial in your life, fresh out of rehab, and going to Marshall County to take on a capital murder case.” He exhaled a ring of smoke. “That would make damn Roy Rogers proud.”

“Yippee-ki-yay,” Jason said. He threw his duffel into the convertible and shook his head. “You and Izzy sure do jump to some conclusions. I haven’t said I was taking the case yet. All I’m going to do is talk with my sister.”

“Right,” Harry said.

“If you came here to harass me, I’ll be on my way,” Jason said, walking around the front of the car and opening the driver’s side door.

“I came to drop off the Explorer, and I wanted a word with you.”

“Well, you’ve had several words, and I have a long trip ahead of me. Is there anything else? I’m fine by the way. Rehab was great. Feeling awesome. In case you were wondering.”

“Bullshit. You look like you could fall off the wagon any second. Hell, it’s fifty-fifty whether you make it to Guntersville without having a drink. There’re a lot of convenience and liquor stores between here and the Marshall County line.”

“What do you want, Harry? You’re starting to piss me off.”

“I want you to go back upstairs. Tell your crazy sister to fuck off and take this thing slow.”

“What thing?”

“The rest of your life, amigo. I’m your friend, remember? Good ole Harry. I’ve saved your ass more than a few times, and I’ve been wiping it for the last couple of years while you’ve wallowed around feeling sorry for yourself.” He took a step closer, poking his finger hard into Jason’s chest. “Going to Guntersville is too much, too fast, too soon. You’re gonna get hurt, brother.”

Despite his irritation, Jason smiled. He’d met Harry at Sammy’s exotic dance club in Birmingham. Jason had been interviewing one of the dancers, an eyewitness to a car wreck involving Jason’s client, when a few of the patrons had taken exception to his monopolizing the young woman’s time. Harry Davenport was the bouncer at Sammy’s and ceased the impending fight before Jason got roughed up. As they walked out of the place, Harry had given Jason his card, saying he did private investigating as his main business and was a cooler on the side. Jason had hired him on the spot, and he’d become the firm’s strongest asset outside of Izzy. He knew Harry, like Izzy, was just watching out for him.

“Look, Harry, I’m a lawyer. My sister has been charged with capital murder. Her daughters have lost their father. They need me. And besides, Guntersville is my home.”

“You haven’t been around in a few years. They’ll manage.” Harry’s face tightened. His jaw was set, his eyes grave. “And don’t give me any of this homecoming crap. I thought you hated your childhood.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t and shouldn’t try.” Jason cocked his head at the investigator. “What’s the deal, Harry? I mean, I know you and Izzy don’t want me to take this case, but aren’t you being a little over the top? I mean, I have to at least go to the funeral.”

“Why? Have either of them been there for you when you needed help? Did either of them write to you in rehab? Or call you after you split with Lakin?”

“She’s still my sister, and her daughters are my nieces. I have to go.” Jason slapped his hands together. “I can’t run from my problems, and there’s never going to be a perfect time to break back into practicing or to visit my sister.”

“It’s a shitstorm up there,” Harry said, his voice lower.

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