T. Lynn Ocean - Jersey Barnes 01 - Southern Fatality Read Free Page B

keeps pestering me to settle down and marry him.”
    “Retiring to get married? No way, not you, Jersey Barnes. You’re the only person I know who enjoys this business more than Ido.”
    “It’s true, Pete. The letter already went out to my clients. I want to travel and relax and live a normal life. Might even decide to adopt a kid and do the mom thing.”
    “But …”
    “My partner, Rita, is taking over for me, and she’ll bring someone else on board as soon as we find the right woman. I’ll still be around to put in a word or two when needed.”
    I really didn’t plan to be around much at all but it sounded reassuring, especially to clients who hadn’t yet established a relationship with Rita. Besides, I would be available by telephone. Sometimes.
    “Rita isn’t as good as you,” he complained.
    “Yes, she is,” I said without hesitation.
    “Ah, well,” Pete said, rebounding in the quick manner of a successful businessman. “Gotta do what you gotta do. But don’t rush into the marriage thing. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

TWO
    The Barter’s Block was in full swing when I arrived home from the airport. The Block, as everyone calls it, is a grill and pub that serves huge deli sandwiches, sweet potato fries, locally caught seafood, and iced-down bottled beer. Its name comes from the fact that it had been a trading center in the early eighteen hundreds, when the town of Wilmington first began. Because it borders the Cape Fear River, the Block was a perfect location for manufactured goods coming in by riverboat to be traded for locally made wares. The historic building had been witness to Civil War struggles and during World War II it housed families of workers who built ships. Eventually, the Barter’s Block became a shoe shop and later a brothel, where casual entertaining was done on the lower level and the real entertainment took place in the upstairs bedrooms. Finally, it was renovated and leased to retail merchantsand, like a hound on a scent, the name Barter’s Block had stuck with the building through its eventful past.
    When I bought it four years ago with plans to put in a pub downstairs and live upstairs, changing the name was not an option. It didn’t occur to me until after I’d signed the closing papers that I had absolutely no idea how to run a bar. Not to mention the fact that I was running my own security agency and had no time to run another business. But I’d always wanted to own a pub and when I stumbled upon the building with a breathtaking view of the river that could double as my home, I put in an offer the next day. The Block became a mostly peaceful, occasionally boisterous joint that attracted longtime locals like an old oak tree’s shade on a sweltering summer day.
    Sandwiched between the Atlantic Ocean and Cape Fear River, the city of Wilmington is basically a peninsula with a magnetic atmosphere. I first visited during my stint with the government and knew immediately that I’d make it my home someday. While the action and danger that came with my government job was addictive, I’d decided to fold my hand and get out of the game while I still had a big pile of chips on the table. I relocated to North Carolina and used some of those chips to open the Barnes Agency, a private security firm specializing in all security issues that affect public safety. What I never imagined is that I’d end up with two men I thought I’d lost forever: my father and my best friend from high school. Duke Oxendine appeared first and, after I talked him into becoming my partner in the Block, I knew I’d made the right decision in buying the property.
    It is always fun to travel for an exciting job and it is always wonderful to be back home afterward, I thought, strolling through the Block and smiling at the regulars.
    Ox grinned at me from behind the bar, where he poured draughtbeers from a tap, holding four mugs in one large hand. “I think your father is trying to cook again.