This is Book III in the Guilty series. This is a scene taken from Chapter 2, concerning Cheney's surrogate grandmother shooting their father.
Dr. Rainey Reynolds didn’t understand his twin sister, Cheney Reynolds Jamieson. She was sleeping with the enemy—not in bed, but she was guilty by association. He was seconds away from demanding to know where her family allegiance lay as they engaged in a fierce stare-down duel.
They were outside their parents’ palatial home, which was tucked behind a tree-lined block on Westmoreland Avenue in the Central West End, an affluent area within St. Louis city. The fifteen-room, three-story stone-and-brick mansion was daunting. Once a person entered, the feeling of being swallowed up wasn’t an exaggeration.
Rainey hovered four inches over Cheney, but that didn’t intimidate her. Not much of anything did. Naturally beautiful, people wouldn’t believe she was as tough and stubborn as she was.
“Remember the family pact?” He blinked, losing the battle.
Frowning, Cheney squinted. “Nope.” She jutted her chin higher and folded her arms, indicating she had time for an explanation.
“The unspoken rule,” he stated, hissing. “If somebody talks about your mama, it’s fighting words, or if someone jumps your sister or brother, we all fight.”
“We’re thirty-three years old. I’ve long ago put away childish things.” Cheney turned to terminate their conversation. As she began to step down the brick-covered circular steps, he reached out and stopped her, causing Cheney to teeter on the edge.
Glancing over his shoulder, Rainey double-checked their privacy. He wanted to make sure their bickering hadn’t summoned their parents’ housekeeper, Miss Mattie, to investigate the disturbance.
“It’s the same concept, twin. We should stick together in this crisis.” He interlocked his hands. “Traitor,” he bit out with venom then added a few profane words, which forced Cheney to blink. Tilting his head, Rainey gave her a look that was mean enough for a burglar to think twice about breaking and entering. “You don’t get it, do you? If my so-called friend hurt one of my family members, it would be over, and my cut would be clean.”
Cheney sighed and offered a strained smile. “Ever heard of forgiveness?”
“No.” Rainey wanted to shake his sister until her dead brain cells came alive or fell out. She saw nothing wrong with befriending a woman who wanted their father dead.
He didn’t care that Cheney had moved next door to Mrs. Beacon, who fabricated a lie that their upstanding father was a hit and run driver who mowed down her husband. Who knew that Mrs. Beacon would take it a step further and try to harm their father? Now, their father had to go on trial for an alleged hit and run fatal accident, which was ridiculous. It was mind boggling that Cheney still maintained a friendship with the lady.
“Not when it comes to my enemies, Cheney. I happen to be selective about extending amnesty.” Rainey tried to control his temper and non-existent high blood pressure, a condition that would surely surface once the trial portraying his father as a murderer was over.
“God’s trying to get someone’s attention. No, make that a whole lot of folks’ attention.” She waved her hand in the air, stepping closer.
“Well, the Lord’s got it, because every media outlet in the area is probably enjoying this.” When she reached out to touch him, he moved back, disturbing a pillar of flowers.
“Rainey, this is not about you.”
He grunted in disgust, jiggling keys to his black metallic BMW. The jiggling was a habit that annoyed others; still, he allowed the nuisance to fester when he was irritated.
“That’s where you’re wrong, twin. This is about the Reynolds family, our reputation, and integrity. I will not believe our father intentionally ran over Mrs. Beacon’s husband with his car and then cowardly left a man to die. Not only can he lose his medical license, he can go to prison for something he didn’t do. It’s a good thing that bullet grazed his shoulder, or he would’ve been dead.”
Dr. Rainey Reynolds didn’t understand his twin sister, Cheney Reynolds Jamieson. She was sleeping with the enemy—not in bed, but she was guilty by association. He was seconds away from demanding to know where her family allegiance lay as they engaged in a fierce stare-down duel.
They were outside their parents’ palatial home, which was tucked behind a tree-lined block on Westmoreland Avenue in the Central West End, an affluent area within St. Louis city. The fifteen-room, three-story stone-and-brick mansion was daunting. Once a person entered, the feeling of being swallowed up wasn’t an exaggeration.
Rainey hovered four inches over Cheney, but that didn’t intimidate her. Not much of anything did. Naturally beautiful, people wouldn’t believe she was as tough and stubborn as she was.
“Remember the family pact?” He blinked, losing the battle.
Frowning, Cheney squinted. “Nope.” She jutted her chin higher and folded her arms, indicating she had time for an explanation.
“The unspoken rule,” he stated, hissing. “If somebody talks about your mama, it’s fighting words, or if someone jumps your sister or brother, we all fight.”
“We’re thirty-three years old. I’ve long ago put away childish things.” Cheney turned to terminate their conversation. As she began to step down the brick-covered circular steps, he reached out and stopped her, causing Cheney to teeter on the edge.
Glancing over his shoulder, Rainey double-checked their privacy. He wanted to make sure their bickering hadn’t summoned their parents’ housekeeper, Miss Mattie, to investigate the disturbance.
“It’s the same concept, twin. We should stick together in this crisis.” He interlocked his hands. “Traitor,” he bit out with venom then added a few profane words, which forced Cheney to blink. Tilting his head, Rainey gave her a look that was mean enough for a burglar to think twice about breaking and entering. “You don’t get it, do you? If my so-called friend hurt one of my family members, it would be over, and my cut would be clean.”
Cheney sighed and offered a strained smile. “Ever heard of forgiveness?”
“No.” Rainey wanted to shake his sister until her dead brain cells came alive or fell out. She saw nothing wrong with befriending a woman who wanted their father dead.
He didn’t care that Cheney had moved next door to Mrs. Beacon, who fabricated a lie that their upstanding father was a hit and run driver who mowed down her husband. Who knew that Mrs. Beacon would take it a step further and try to harm their father? Now, their father had to go on trial for an alleged hit and run fatal accident, which was ridiculous. It was mind boggling that Cheney still maintained a friendship with the lady.
“Not when it comes to my enemies, Cheney. I happen to be selective about extending amnesty.” Rainey tried to control his temper and non-existent high blood pressure, a condition that would surely surface once the trial portraying his father as a murderer was over.
“God’s trying to get someone’s attention. No, make that a whole lot of folks’ attention.” She waved her hand in the air, stepping closer.
“Well, the Lord’s got it, because every media outlet in the area is probably enjoying this.” When she reached out to touch him, he moved back, disturbing a pillar of flowers.
“Rainey, this is not about you.”
He grunted in disgust, jiggling keys to his black metallic BMW. The jiggling was a habit that annoyed others; still, he allowed the nuisance to fester when he was irritated.
“That’s where you’re wrong, twin. This is about the Reynolds family, our reputation, and integrity. I will not believe our father intentionally ran over Mrs. Beacon’s husband with his car and then cowardly left a man to die. Not only can he lose his medical license, he can go to prison for something he didn’t do. It’s a good thing that bullet grazed his shoulder, or he would’ve been dead.”
