took off after Buck as another piercing scream echoed up the stairwell. “I won’t!” a woman shouted. “I will not. No way!” Another scream followed, fading right in on top of the words. A man spoke—roughly, and low enough that B.J. couldn’t make out what he said. The woman screamed again. “Now, settle down, Glory.” That was Chastity’s calm, level voice. “Bowie. Back off.” By then, Buck had cleared the stairs and was striding toward the living room. B.J., right behind him, glanced back and saw Lupe coming down after them. Lupe always wore about twenty silver bangle bracelets on each arm. They jingled together as she took the steps two at a time. “What’s going on?” she demanded, kohl-lined black eyes wide with surprise. As if B.J. knew. In the living room, they found Chastity in front of the fireplace, legs braced apart, fisted hands planted hard on her hips. Behind her crouched a petite, dark-eyed brunette. “No, Bowie,” the brunette cried. “No, no, no!”
