Chapter Twenty-One
The First to Know
Henny
I wasn’t much one for sitting around with my thoughts. I tried to stay busy, whether it was in the gym, at work, with the club, or my daughter. She was with her mother for a surprise spring break, or whatever Octavia had said when she called last night, so I figured it was as good a time as any, to throw down a few cold ones with Zig.
We were on our second one when he finally huffed, and that shell cracked. I knew it would eventually.
“What the fuck am I doin’, Henny? Goddamn. My daughter has the cancer, she’s starting over with nothing but the military under her belt… and shit, she can’t put that on no reference. Not now, right?”
I exhaled and smiled, giving him room to get to the thick of things. This business with Sammy wasn’t new. She’d been home for a few weeks now. Surely, he’d had time to swallow that one.
“And Sauce…” His fingers tapped the tabletop, index to pinkie. Once. Twice. “I didn’t want to sponsor him. I told him to take his fuckin’ ass to the military. The boy needed more discipline. He needed more structure than I–”
“Stop,” I advised, before he could say some stupid shit that he didn’t mean.
Sauce was a good kid. He was a young man, not a kid.
“You’re his father, and he just wants you to be proud of him, motherfucker.”
“Proud–” Zig deadpanned me, his eyes going dull. “He fucking got charged with coke.”
A groan strangled in my throat, and I ran a hand over it, summoning the bravery to insert myself into my president and best friend’s family affairs.
“Look. He ain’t no fuckin’ addict. He ain’t no hype.” I raised a shoulder, “Did you ask him?”
“Ask him? Yeah…. You’re goddamn right I talked about it. He told me he weren’t no child.” Zig waved his hand, exasperated, “That’s what the fuck he said to me.”
I laughed, unable to help it. I had sons, but they were in their first year of middle school, I hadn’t yet got a taste of the rebellious stage.
“Well… I mean. You’re not just his father. You’re his president. Just like you are to all of us.” I raised my shoulder again and shook my head, “Call him out on it. He ain’t no child, right? Let him answer for it as a man.”
Zig was quiet for a moment, then his lips parted like he was about to say something, but before he could make a sound my front door was kicked clean off lower hinges.
I sucked in a breath and scrambled for my gun.
“U.S. Marshalls and the fugitive task force, everybody down, now!” a voice barked.
“On the ground!”
“Now!”
“Get the fuck down!”
A chorus of voices erupted. Their tone and the blinding light convinced me to hit the ground, rather than the shelf I’d left the pistol on.
Zig landed beside me, and we were swarmed.
“Lennox Zade?” someone barked.
“Where is Lennox Zade.”
“He’s in the fuckin’ jail,” I answered, earning myself a wild kick to the ribs.
I groaned and doubled toward my side but never made it. Someone dropped onto me and forced me back into a normal, bellied position.
“Get down!”
“Don’t move!”
“Jesus. Fuck!” Zig barked back.
“Where is Lennox Zade?”
My good eye widened as reality set in. If they were here, he wasn’t there.
“He isn’t here. I haven’t seen him since the visit at the jail.” I managed, from beneath the weight on my shoulders.
“Is there a warrant?” Zig spoke up.
A paper was dropped between us. It had a pretty official looking court stamp on it, even if I didn’t take the time to strain my one good eye to read it in its entirety.
“House is clear,” someone announced.
“If he isn’t here, where would he be?”
I tried to see who was asking, but the lights were so bright. “Fuck off,” I grunted.
Pain exploded behind my right ear.
“Motherfucker!” Zig roared.
I heard the whoosh, of what I assumed was a boot and he was left groaning beside me.
“I am not playing with you boys. I have an escaped inmate and a dead correctional officer on my hands. I’m going to have answers. I’ll sweep this house from top to bottom. I’ll find something. And if I don’t… I’ll still find something. Do not play with me right now.”
“My brother killed someone?”
“Yeah. Two people now, apparently. Keefe Kilbride succumbed to his wounds in the hospital this morning. The correctional officer escorting your brother was found strangled about two miles from the intended destination, and he was nowhere to be found.”
My mind split into two different directions and raced so fast I couldn’t grasp a thought.
“Where is he? Where would he be if not here? We’re already searching Presley Zade’s house as well as his mother’s house.”
Did my brother kill a correctional officer? Did the mob do it and take him?
“Put an APB out on Malachi Nash.”
“What the fuck?” Ziggy snapped.
“Shut the fuck up.” Someone kicked him again, knocking the wind out of him.
“What the fuck did Malachi do? He’s just a kid…” I picked up where he left off on Sauce’s behalf.
“That kid was the last known visitor of Lennox Zade. If you two bastards ain’t got answers, I’m betting our messenger boy does. That was the deal, right? You two plan it out, young Malachi does the ferrying for the plans. We understand he's a prospect and not a fully patched member. They take on the most risks, hm?” a feminine voice began to shoot accusations and questions faster than I could keep up.
“Neither are at their club house,” a male voice informed her.
Zig growled low and his hands curled into fists as he battled for self-control.