Chapter 8 #2
I started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot, my mind racing. I was speeding through the streets, weaving through traffic, my hands gripping the steering wheel tight.
Another fuckin’ robbery.
That made three in the past month.
Somebody in my organization was leaking information. Somebody was telling rival crews where my stash houses were, when shipments were coming in, how much product we had.
First, I was gonna find out who. Then I was gonna kill them. Slowly.
But even as I thought about the traitor, about the robberies, about the money I was losing…my mind kept drifting back to Indie.
To the way she’d looked at me the last time I saw her. The way she’d come on my face, gushing all over me like she couldn’t control herself.
The way I’d fucked her on that kitchen island without a condom. Again. I’d broken my own rule twice now with her, and I didn’t even care. Not as much as I should.
That’s how fucked up I was over her.
I blew out a breath and pressed harder on the gas, the Bentley’s engine roaring. I needed to focus. Needed to handle this business.
But all I could think about was getting back to her.
***
When I pulled up to the warehouse, Kenzo, Antoine, Deacon, and Wes were already there, their cars parked outside. I killed the engine and got out, walking toward the entrance.
Inside, four of my soldiers were standing in the middle of the floor, looking nervous as fuck. These were the niggas who were supposed to be guarding the stash house on Crenshaw.
Kenzo was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with a cold expression.
I walked up to the soldiers, my hands in my pockets, my face blank.
“Explain,” I said.
One of them was a young nigga named Terrell. He stepped forward.
“Boss, we was posted up like always,” he said, his voice shaking. “Then outta nowhere, like six niggas ran up on us with choppers. We tried to hold them off, but—”
“But what?” I cut him off, my voice deadly calm.
Terrell swallowed hard.
“They got past us,” he said. “Took everything. The money, the product. All of it.”
I stared at him, my jaw tightening.
“How much?” I asked.
“About two hundred thousand worth of cash and work,” Terrell said.
I felt my blood pressure rising. Two hundred thousand of my money, my product. Gone.
“And y’all just let them walk in and take it?” I asked, my voice still calm.
Terrell looked down at the floor.
“We tried, boss. I swear—”
“Fuck you mean you tried?” I took a step closer to him.
He looked up at me, fear in his eyes. “Yeah, boss. We—”
“You tried,” I said again, my voice dropping even lower. “And you failed.”
Terrell opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, another one of the soldiers spoke up. A nigga named Devonte.
“Man, fuck this,” Devonte said, his voice loud and disrespectful. “We was outnumbered. Ain’t shit we could do. You want us to die over some product?”
The room went silent.
Everyone stared at Devonte like he’d just signed his own death warrant. I turned to him slowly, my face still blank.
“What you just say?” I asked.
Devonte puffed out his chest, trying to look tough.
“I said we was outnumbered,” he repeated. “Ain’t our fault—”
I pulled my gun from my waistband and shot him in the head before he could finish the sentence.
The sound of the gunshot echoed through the warehouse.
Devonte’s body dropped to the floor, blood pooling around his head.
I stood over him and put two more bullets in him.
The other soldiers flinched, their eyes wide with terror.
I stared down at Devonte’s body, then looked at the remaining soldiers.
“That’s how y’all feel too?” I asked, my voice calm.
They all shook their heads quickly.
“No, boss.”
“Nah, we good.”
I holstered my gun and looked at Kenzo.
“Get this shit cleaned up,” I said. “And find out who the fuck is leaking information.”
Kenzo nodded, pulling out his phone.
I turned back to the soldiers.
“Y’all got one job,” I said. “Protect my shit. And y’all couldn’t even do that. So now y’all gon’ work double shifts ‘til I say so. No days off. I don’t even care if yo’ baby mama call, my nigga. I want my shit back. Am I fuckin’ clear?”
They all nodded nervously.
“Yes, boss.”
“We got you, boss.”
“Good,” I said. “Now get the fuck out.”
They scrambled toward the exit, leaving Devonte’s body on the floor.
After they left, the clean-up crew came and got rid of the body. Then it was just me, Kenzo, Antoine, Deacon, and Wes. Kenzo walked over to me, his expression serious.
“You good?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
My mind was racing. Three robberies in a month. A traitor in my organization. Soldiers getting sloppy. And on top of all that, I had Indie locked up at the crash pad, driving me fuckin’ crazy.
I needed to get my head right. I needed to focus on business. But all I could think about was her.
“I’m good,” I said finally, even though that was a lie.
Kenzo didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it.
“We gon’ figure this shit out,” he said in a low tone, so only I could hear. “I got eyes on Wes. If it’s him, we’ll know soon.”
I nodded.
“Aight,” I said, turning to the others. “Y’all can go. I’ll hit y’all up tomorrow.”
They all dapped us up and left. Kenzo stayed behind.
“You sure you good?” he asked again.
“I said I’m good, Zo.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Cool,” he said. “But if you need to talk—”
“I don’t,” I cut him off.
Kenzo raised his hands and backed off.
“Aight, bruh. I’m out.”
I stood there in the silence, staring at the now cleaned up space on the floor where Devonte’s body was.
I should’ve felt something. Guilt, maybe. Regret. But I didn’t. I’d killed plenty of niggas before. One more didn’t make a difference. Fuck him.
I pulled out my phone and checked the time. 1:47 AM. I should go back to the hotel and get some sleep, clear my head. But even as I thought that, I knew I wasn’t going to. Because I needed to see her. Needed to see Indie.
I’d been trying to stay away, trying to create distance, trying to convince myself I didn’t need her. But that shit wasn’t working. I was drawn to her like a magnet. Like she had some kind of hold on me I couldn’t break. And I was tired of fighting it.
I walked out of the warehouse, climbed into my Bentley, and started the engine. I wasn’t going back to the hotel.
I was going to the crash pad.
To her.