Chapter Six. Eshe #5
That she would seek to do that to me when it was her fucking incompetence and carelessness that allowed me to be kidnapped in the first place nine years ago …
Ma had entrusted Abena with my detail, as the family’s security had fallen under my aunt’s responsibilities at the time.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have needed more than one or two guards, but since I was on my way to a concert, Ma ordered more security.
But Abena forgot to arrange it. And I, being an impatient teenager concerned only with shaking my ass in front of one of my favorite artists, left, giving my guards no choice but to follow me.
And I was taken as soon as I hit Boston city limits.
For two weeks, I was starved, beaten, tortured while my mother hunted my captors down.
Even as traumatized as I was after my rescue, I didn’t miss the coldness between Ma and Abena.
A part of me always wondered if one of the reasons Abena had my mother murdered was fear of Ma striking against her first because she blamed her sister’s neglect for my kidnapping.
In the end, the why doesn’t matter.
The only thing that does is my mother’s death and her blood that coats Abena’s hands.
“You do know your aunt’s going to come for you again, right? She’ll have to be sneakier about it since two attempts on your life so close together will be suspect as hell. But she’s not going to stop,” Penn points out.
“Penn’s right.” Tera picks up her glass again and squints at me.
“Listen, we’ve been moving in the shadows for the last two years, slowly and quietly bringing more people to our side, forming alliances.
And shit, truth be told, Abena has been doing most of the heavy lifting for us.
People are tired of her digging too deep in their pockets, taking a higher percentage of their shit.
She’s getting richer just sitting on her royal ass while everyone under her is doing all the actual work, taking all the risk.
But, shit, we could still argue that’s what you do for family.
But what you don’t do is fuck family over.
Promote those who kiss your ass, curry your favor, while stealing and doing dirty those who are earners, those who prove their loyalty.
Those who would lay down—and have laid down—their lives for blood before belief.
Those who get sent up, never turn, and when they come back out, don’t receive recognition for their sacrifice, much less a fucking penny for them or their families. ”
Tera surges to her feet, her glass still clutched in her hand.
She stalks across the floor toward the built-in bar, and with stiff, jerky movements unlike her usual fluid, menacing grace, she splashes more alcohol into the tumbler.
We silently watch her, not needing to peek into her head or those bottomless black eyes to comprehend she’s thinking about her own family.
Park Washington went away for first-degree murder when Tera was seventeen.
He’d been one of the most feared and prolific enforcers for the family, and Tera’s father, whom she loved with all the worship saved for superheroes and Prince.
This was a hit Park hadn’t committed, and the cops knew they didn’t have shit on him, but since Park wouldn’t turn, they sent him away for the murder anyway.
All he asked was that Abena take care of his wife and kids.
Of course, she assured him she would … and that promise lasted as long as it took for the gavel to land, pronouncing him guilty.
He’d been sentenced to life without parole, and all the income that should’ve been going to Tera’s mother and family laced Abena’s pockets.
In her words, there were no free rides. That’s when Tera jumped off the porch, following in her father’s footsteps.
We’d been best friends long before then, but to provide for her family, she came to work for me.
As her best friend, I know Tera once had dreams that didn’t include …
this. She’s fucking good at it. One of the best. But her father wanted more.
Hadn’t wanted blood on his baby girl’s hands.
At the time of her father’s trial, she held an early acceptance letter to Yale, where she intended to major in history education.
History education.
Abena had a lot of shit to answer for.
Family was the core of who we were. It made us more than an organization or a gang. It was everything. And Abena was fracturing us from the inside out.
“She’s going to pay, Tera,” I murmur, studying her stiff shoulders.
“Her attempt on me speeds up the timeline and places us in a better position. Abena is smart, but she’s also sloppy, arrogant.
She’s gotten comfortable and believes she’s above the law of her own family.
No one is. Doc, where are we with Richter and Moorehead?
” I ask, mentioning the two kapteni with territories in Buffalo, New York, and Niagara Falls.
“They sent word while you were at the cottage. Off the strength of your mother, they’re with us.”
I nod, not tripping.
The two OGs have been around, ruling their areas, since Ma’s time.
Backing me out of respect for her name and memory is one of the highest forms of regard they could give me.
Though I’ve been pulling my weight for the Mwuaji, making my mark, once I’m oba, it will be up to me to prove they’ve made the right choice in indulging in something as dangerous and risky as treason.
I’ll live up to that faith.
Theirs and the same faith my mother placed in me.
“Bisa and Taraji are also in,” Tera says, turning around, setting her glass down on the bar behind her.
Her body loses some of her tension, and I bet it’s due to the slightly fanatical gleam in her dark eyes.
“Both of them came up under Dad, and they don’t give a fuck about ‘forgive and forget’ when it comes to him.
And Dad told me to tell you he got you.”
I nod again, but under my folded arms, my fingers fist so tight, my nails bite into the tender skin of my palms. Having the support of Bisa and Taraji is big as fuck.
Their influence reaches not just among the ranks of our soldiers but to other families as well, since they control the harbor and anything that comes through it—guns, drugs, art, animals.
Anything but people. We don’t do that fuck shit.
So yeah, having them at my back? It’s major.
But Park Washington? Knowing he’s “got me”?
Even from jail that mu’fucka got mad pull in the streets.
And when Abena betrayed him and, worse, abandoned his family and gave his li’l girl no choice but to become a killer like him instead of ending up a Yale graduate in somebody’s classroom, she earned herself an enemy nobody in their right mind would want.
Abena stoked the embers of her own downfall nine years ago when she killed her sister, my mother.
But she’s fanned them, flame by flame, by fucking over her own people year after year.
And now those chickens are coming home to roost in the form of a rebellion, and I’m leading the fucking charge.
“For now, we make her think we’re moving like normal,” I instruct them, shoving off the wall and returning across the room to the couch.
Sinking down to the cushion, I pick up my drink again and toss the rest of the Patrón back.
“So for now, we handle business like usual. Abena can suspect anything she wants, but she won’t get any evidence from us.
Treat that bitch like fucking Queen Romanda ‘n’ shit.
In the meantime, Nef”—I dip my chin in her direction—“I need you to send out encrypted, completely secure messages to Bisa, Taraji, Moorehead, and Richter to see when’s a good time for all of us to meet.
Let them know D-Day has been moved up and I want to strike in the next three weeks.
So, the sooner we can meet, the better.”
She’s already moving toward the door before I finish speaking, her head bent over her phone.
“Tera, can you contact Park and find out who else he has in mind about reaching out to? I’m not stepping on his toes or getting in the way of it. I trust him completely and am willing to let him do his thing. I’d just like to know who he’s thinking of.”
“Gotchu.”
“Kenya, Maura, I need you to return to the obodo and follow up on the list of names all of you compiled from earlier. Just feel them out, see if they’re receptive to you.
Also track the temperature there. Monitor any of the chatter.
Abena knows you’re mine, and her Mirror wouldn’t dare let anything slip, but those sheep she keeps around her aren’t as careful.
And of all of us, people tend to like you two the most.”
“It’s the freckles and the accent.” Kenya points to Maura first and then jabs a finger toward her chest.
“And the pussy, girl. Stop playing.” Penn snorts, flicking a hand.
“Did she just call my pussy ‘friendly’?” Kenya gasps, splaying her fingers wide over her abundant chest, that Southern drawl on full display.
The offense would’ve been almost believable if she didn’t ruin it by breaking out in a wide grin and giggle, kicking her feet.
“Listen, I can’t help it if the mens likes them some tits and ass. At least I send them out happy.”
Her li’l psycho ass is like a fucking praying mantis, killing men after she fucks them. Hey, who am I to judge? We all have our issues.
“Penn and Doc,” I say, raising my voice before Penn can issue her comeback, “you’ll keep up appearances at Elysian.
I don’t put it past Abena or any of her minions to do pop-ups outside of fight nights.
At this stage, we can’t afford for anything to go wrong.
And, Sienna.” I refresh my glass. “There’s a shipment arriving at the port in three nights’ time.
” I grin. “Abena’s accepting guns from the Donatos, and they’ve paid her ten million to get them here safe, through customs, and delivered.
For something to happen to those guns … like, say, ending up at the bottom of the river?
Well, it wouldn’t be a good day for my auntie. ”
“Say less.” Sienna tilts her head. “And what’re you gonna be up to while we’re carrying out our assignments?”
I grin.
“Why, hunting a huntsman, of course.”
“This bitch crazy,” Kenya mutters.
I glare at her, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Don’t think compliments are going to make me forget your earlier blasphemy. We beefing over that Panthro shit.”
About an hour later, they’ve all left, and I survey my living room. For the most part, my girls cleaned up after themselves. But the couple of napkins and empty glasses have my ass itching. If I don’t clean up now, I’ll probably dream about the shit. Sometimes being a neat freak can be a killjoy.
Sighing, I set about straightening up. A half hour later, the dishes are washed, furniture returned to their proper places, curtains draped correctly, and carpet vacuumed.
I grab a damp dish towel and head to the coffee table.
Sinking down on the couch, I notice Tera’s necklace.
The gold and diamonds in the apple-shaped pendant wink under the recessed lights in the ceiling.
Wonder if she’s realized yet that she left it behind.
Her ass is going to be in a sling if Abena finds out since they were ordered to never remove them.
As if the thing will grow fangs and spit venom at me, I carefully pick it up.
It’s a beautiful piece, I can’t deny that.
Abena might be a soulless barracuda, but she got taste.
Still, generosity isn’t one of her virtues.
If anything, she’s much quicker to take from her own rather than spread the wealth.
As a matter of fact, I can’t remember a time where she ever spent the kind of money these necklaces must’ve cost on anyone except herself. The shit was suspect as fuck.
I frown.
Nah, something in the milk ain’t clean. That muthafucka stank as fuck.
Studying the jewelry with newer eyes, I slowly run my fingers along the chain, searching for …
I don’t know. Not finding any irregularities there, I turn my focus to the pendant.
I give it the same treatment. Nothing on the front.
Flipping it over, I begin my search over again.
Nothing. It could be exactly what it’s supposed to be—a harmless yet expensive token of appreciation.
But the niggling sense of foreboding won’t let up. It’s an itch on the back of my neck. And I’ve never ignored my version of a Spidey sense.
Taking another look, I trace the front and back once more. Noth—
“Hold up,” I murmur. “Hold up, hold up.”
Retracing the seam along the bottom of the piece, I smile.
Yeah, right there. I didn’t imagine it.
Lifting the gold-and-diamond apple up to the light, I see the slightly protruding bump.
My smile widens into a grin. I jerk up my pant leg and remove the dagger there.
Within seconds, I maneuver the tip under the bump and pry it out.
As soon as the piece is free, a small blinking object falls out, tumbling to my lap.
I set the necklace down on the coffee table and carefully pick up the minuscule thing that looks like the red pill from The Matrix.
A tracker.
Abena embedded a tracker in the necklaces.
That sneaky bitch.
Do all the necklaces have them? Or just the ones given to the Seven?
I’d bet Mirror’s left nut only my crew has ’em. How long had Penn said they had them? A few days?
Shit.
I close my eyes, picturing Tera when we met the informant. Had she been wearing the pendant at the time? Squeezing my eyes tighter, I picture her. Try to remember when we returned to our bikes, and she unzipped her jacket.
No. I release a pent-up breath. She hadn’t been wearing it. But shit. None of them knew their movements were being tracked. They will soon though.
Fucking Abena. I have to give it to her; that shit was crafty.
This, paired with the assassination attempt, solidifies that Abena suspects how the tide is starting to change.
She’s gunning for me, and maybe she’s figured out I’ve been coming for her all along.
This move though … This one I can turn around and use to my advantage.
And I plan on doing just that.