Vegarro “Vega” Moretti
Legend, Saint, and Icon were in the back office of their warehouse when I walked in.
I set the duffel on the table, unzipped it, and stepped back so Saint could see the bundles of cash stacked inside.
He didn’t count it in front of me. The Cartiers had stopped doing that once they learned we could be trusted.
A money counter would confirm the amount later, but nobody in that room questioned whether every dollar was there.
“That’s everything we owe for the product Roman’s people burned when they hit South Holland.”
Icon’s eyes moved to the duffel, then back to me. “Y’all didn’t have to run this back this soon.”
Legend nodded in agreement. “Not after the hit y’all just took.”
Saint leaned back in his chair. “We knew Roman hit y’all. We weren’t pressing for this today.”
“I know. But we don’t like owing people,” I replied. “The Street Kings are good money-wise. Roman burned product, not our pockets. We’ll recover just fine.”
Legend gave me a short nod. “Respect.”
Saint leaned back in his chair. “Since you here, where y’all at with Roman?”
“Still looking for that nigga,” I replied with a scoff.
“We heard the war getting ugly,” Legend said. “Three bodies in Harvey. Two more in Dolton. One of Roman’s stash spots got lit up in Cicero. Bellamys lost a shooter in Chatham last night.”
“And Roman still alive,” I scoffed. “Bellamys got him under pressure, but they ain’t touched him yet either.
They’ve hit people around him, spots connected to him, money routes, all that.
But Roman himself is still breathing. That nigga is a roach that knows every crack in this city he can hide in. ”
“And as long as he’s breathing, your girl ain’t safe,” Icon added.
“That’s why finding Roman is our priority. I need Jamir to find the location to lead me directly to Roman. I’m tired of shooting blind. Roman dies, and Sonnet gets to live without wondering when somebody is coming through a door for her.”
Icon sat back, grinning. “You attached.”
I stared at the money because it was easier than staring at men who were reading emotions that were new to me. “I am. I’ve never felt this way about a woman. I kept her because I couldn’t hand her over to die. But somewhere in all that madness, she got under my skin.”
I noticed Legend watching me closely, but he stayed quiet.
“I’m trying to do it right. That’s the part fucking me up. I know how to take. I know how to own. I know how to make somebody fear what happens if they cross me. But with her, I’m trying to be careful.”
Reek nodded once. “That’s when it gets worse.”
I let out a hard breath, remembering the feeling of that perfect pussy hugging my dick. Now that I’d felt it, there wasn’t an option for her to be anyone else’s but mine.
“I can’t even imagine not having that woman for the rest of my life.” I knew I was gone when I was okay with admitting that to a room full of killers.
I watched their expressions. Most were understanding. Some were humorous, as if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.
“That sound crazy?” I asked.
“No,” Icon said. “It sounds familiar.”
I dragged a hand over my beard. “How is a man supposed to remain rational when the thought of losing her makes me want to erase everybody attached to this?”
Saint gave a dry laugh. “You’re asking the wrong men.”
Reek pointed at him. “Exactly.”
“Every Cartier in this room has wanted to burn down the city over his woman. Some of us damn near did.”
Icon pushed the duffel aside and rested his elbows on the table. “You want Roman dead because that feels final. I get it. But there’s another way to hit him harder.”
My brow rose. “How?”
“His wife. Tell her the truth. Show her the proof. Let her know Roman killed Donovan himself and blamed the Bellamys. Once she knows, Sonnet isn’t the only person that knows the truth anymore, and she’s no longer a threat to Roman.”
Saint nodded. “Truth gets out, Roman loses control of the story.”
I stared at the table, thinking through it.
My head was consumed with thoughts of Sonnet; the way she slept beside me now as if she were molded to me, the way she changed the rhythm of my heartbeat.
“I hear y’all, but I want him dead. I don’t want Sonnet safe only because Roman is busy doing damage control.
I want her safe because the man hunting her is in the ground.
I want her to walk into a bookstore, a museum, a coffee shop, wherever the hell her nerdy ass wants to go, and not feel hunted.
I want her to sleep through the night without jumping at sounds.
I want her to know I ended the reason she’s scared.
And she won’t truly feel like that until he’s dead. ”
Saint nodded slowly. “Understood.”
“Jamir can start tonight,” Icon told me. “Don’t get so hungry for Roman that you get reckless. Because if revenge makes you lose control and that girl gets hurt behind it, you’ll hate yourself for it.”
“That won’t happen,” I replied.
But I knew it already had.
I had only stopped by Crown After Dark to handle business. Two bottle girls were arguing over section money, and one of the managers had texted me about liquor inventory not matching what had been sold.
I sat behind the desk in my office, going over numbers on the tablet while the music from the main floor thumped through the walls, when the door opened without a knock.
I looked up and Elana walked in wearing a black fishnet dress, heels, and a smile she had used on me too many times before.
I leaned back in my chair. “You lost?”
She closed the door behind her, saying, “No.”
“Then you forgot how to knock?”
“I figured you’d want to see me.”
“You figured wrong.”
I noticed the flinch that she tried to hide as she kept walking toward the desk.
“I’m working.”
“You used to work me too.”
I stared at her as she came around the side of the desk without me telling her she could. Her perfume hit first, sweet and familiar, but it didn’t pull anything out of me except irritation.
“Elana, stop.”
But she didn’t. She stepped between me and the desk, then placed her hand on my shoulder. She bent closer, trying to put her face near mine. “You know you don’t have to act brand new with me just because you have a lil’ girlfriend.”
I caught her wrist before her hand could slide along my neck. “Move around.”
She laughed softly, as if I were being silly, and continued to caress my neck. “Vega, you know you miss this pussy as much as it misses you.”
“I said move.”
Instead of listening, she tried to lower herself onto my lap.
My hand went to her throat before she could. I stood so fast the chair rolled back behind me, and I pushed her against the side wall of my office. Her eyes widened, and both hands grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t ever try that shit again,” I growled through gritted teeth.
Her lips parted, but she couldn’t get the words out.
I kept my face close enough for her to hear me over the music. “I told you I was done. I told you to keep your hands off me. I told you to keep Sonnet’s name out your mouth. You keep acting like I’m something you can play with.”
Her breathing came out shallow under my hand. Her eyes began to water, but I didn’t have any softness left for women who mistook access for ownership.
“You touched what belongs to another woman,” I said.
She frowned with disgust. “You belong to her now?”
“Yeah,” I said without hesitation. “As much as she belongs to me.”
That truth came out easy. Sonnet had me in ways Elana never could. She had me because every part of me had chosen her, and once I chose, I didn’t keep pieces of myself available for anybody else.
Elana stared at me, humiliated and angry. “You sound like a wimp.”
“No. I sound taken.”
She swallowed against my hand.
I released her with a push and stepped back.
She touched her neck, glaring at me. “You think she can handle you? A girl like that? You think she’s built for a nigga like you?”
“She doesn’t have to be. I’ll conform to her. That’s what a man does when he chooses a woman.”
That shut her up. She looked like she’d swallowed her own shit.
I pointed toward the door. “Get out. Don’t make me kick you out of the club too.”
Her jaw worked, as she fought for the courage to undermine me and keep talking shit.
“And hear me clearly,” I said. “You come at Sonnet again, you don’t get another warning. I don’t care what we used to do. I don’t care how long you’ve been around this club. You speak on her, touch me, or try to disrespect what’s mine again, and I’m gonna make sure you regret breathing, bitch.”
Elana stood there for a few seconds, breathing hard, pride fighting common sense.
Common sense finally won. She snatched the door open and walked out.
There wasn’t a woman in that club, in that city, or in my past who could pull me away from Sonnet.
I was hers, and I didn’t want to be anything else.