Weirdo. Too many in this neighborhood. He retrieved Uncle Jace's gasoline container and matches from the car trunk that he borrowed from him before work. He gave them up as he mouthed off about his nephew 'asking for a favor all the time but doesn't return one'. Creeping along the side of Nachine's tree, he realized the day got worst, the added chaotic traffic and Jason. The rifle neighbor's place was locked down with his steel bars on his window and quiet.
He doused Nachine's house with gas on the side where a bedroom's reading lamp ran. Inside the room, Zetta dog ear a page and exchanged the book for a danish and grabbed a coffee in the other hand. He planned to set fire near the room, she would call for the fire department. He soaked the bush. Then lit it, smiling as the blaze crackled and sparked.
"Kid shot dead in the street yesterday," Qadira's mother put her hand up to the fire. "It's good and hot. You can't burn the demons who kill him."
"I'm not burning anything Mrs. Anderson," Brice said hurrying his words. Pulling her and himself out of sight from the window. Zetta wrinkled her nose. The blaze grew as Brice crawled away with Mrs. Anderson behind him.
One Death At A Time novel blog: http://wwsone.weebly.com/
One Death At A Time novel Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/One-Death-At-A-Time/757986894232119