Chapter 26 Montana
montana
. . .
The second Zuri looked at me as she sat on the kitchen island and we talked about that deadbeat, I knew she got me. She. Got. Me.
She needed to know I understood her too.
“Finish the story, Zuri,” I ordered, disappointed that she was afraid of some dude.
Big Country popped his knuckles in my head. Point him out. I’ma tag you back in when it’s time to write the obituary.
“Um … So, two years ago, we moved to New York.”
She trembled in my arms. Man, was I doing this? Forcing her to relive something she didn’t want to. “Why New York?”
“You don’t look at anybody. You don’t say anything to anybody.” She scoffed. “I learned not to even stare up at buildings.”
I hated that for her, a lack of fam.
“We’d been there a few months. A man snuck in. The bastard from the hospital. Must’ve used the fire escape. He tried to take Mal—Darius.”
My arms gave her waist a squeeze. Encouragement.
“I gave him one last warning. He had his back to me. I’d been real quiet and grabbed my handgun from beneath my pillow.
He spun on me.” I squeezed her tighter, wishing I could make this easier.
Big Country just seethed. “I told him to step back! Told him I’d shoot him in the ass.
I was so scared. But he didn’t stop. Reached for me.
So, I—” Zuri shuddered in my arms. “I pulled the trigger. It killed me to have his dead body in the trunk as I drove, Darius in the back, all innocent and confused.” Her palms rubbed anxiously over her thighs. “I left him in a landfill.”
Chest tight, I rasped, “Zuri, you sure you killed him?”
She blinked; head tilted like a what-do-you-think meme. “Even used some chemicals to eliminate any potential for DNA transfer.”
“Okay.” I roughed a hand over my beard. “This part stays between us.”
“All of it, Montana. Because I didn’t want to finish this story. I-I’m trying to keep you safe.” She started to breathe off-key.
“Zuri.” I placed my hand against her chest, imitating the right way to breathe. After she followed my lead, I had to snatch the Band-Aid off. Didn’t know when she’d open up again. “Why you so afraid?”
“Mr. … Mr. T-Touchy … Feely was cartel, Montana. I’ve treated a slew of men with the same tattoos. Gun wounds. Stab wounds. So don’t say anything!” She glared at me. “This is why I should’ve remained silent, Montana. I killed a guy from the Queso Kings.”
Damn, the Queso Kings were no joke once you got past the name.
But why hadn’t the cartel found her already?
Couldn’t ask that. She was already shaking in fear.
“Dead dude stays between us.” I wanted to throw a lie.
Say me and my brothers would scare her baby’s daddy.
Maybe mutter something wholesome like Wash would hit him with a restraining order.
Nah. She’d sniff that out, like a shrimp po’boy from The Triangle.
I embraced her tighter in my arms. “Lemme think on it. Whenever I bring it up to Wash—he’s still my attorney even if he don’t know it—you’ll be there.”
“Great. He can watch me drown in a puddle of embarrassment. Front row, popcorn, and Milk Duds optional.” She snorted a bitter laugh.
“Zur—”
“No! That’s not self-deprecation! You heard my story, Montana. I don’t pick just bad men. I pick men who come with warning labels. One code blued every time responsibility walked in. Another probably needed a psych eval.” She shook her head. “And the funny part?”
“Ain’t none of this funny, bébé. Dude is an idiot.” Dead.
“Mm-hmm. You probably thought I described multiple men. Wrong! That’s all Dr. Edwin Heine.
I wasted my first everything on a man with split personality—who was also old enough to provide the parental role I never had.
” Shame dipped her voice for half a breath, then Zuri smirked like she had to heal her own embarrassment personally.
“Just so you know, until we got to Paris, I would’ve diagnosed you and your alter ego the same way. Still … I’m an idiot.”
My hands framed her cheeks. “I’ma need you to do me a favor.”
She sighed, averting her gaze.
“Get up.” Done with this, I pulled Zuri to her feet.
We walked hand in hand to a massive mirror leaning against a wall in the living room. Thing was two stories high. It would get the job done. I placed Zuri in front of me, my arms wrapping around her.
Her back rested against my chest, the crown of her head beneath my chin. For a second, I stared at her—really stared at her—in the mirror.
Her skin, deep bronze kissed by Bondjè. The soft curve of her cheeks.
The subtle way her stance showed she was learning to take up space.
Her hair—a crown of locked coils and confidence—tumbled around her face, wild and glorious.
Not dolled up this morning. No makeup. Did she ever need any? Hell, nah.
But this? This was her truest self.
The reflection shifted focus. I saw deeper.
What drew me in from day one. The strength sitting behind her eyes that nearly cut me when she told me to hold her son.
The quiet resilience that used to tremble at any wrong look or noise but now stood tall.
The kindness that had survived betrayal.
The laughter she still gave the world, even when it had taken too much of her.
I dipped my head, resting my chin on her shoulder. Our eyes met in the mirror—hers uncertain, mine steady. “You forgot my entire monologue, Zuri? I got all intellectual and wise. Came up to your level, but you forgot?”
She smiled softly, eyes still on the glass. “You never talked so much, Montana. I was … listening. With my heart.”
“Nah. You didn’t listen. Now, I’ma make you stop making yourself the butt end of a joke.” I grabbed her ass. “You got these cakes. How could I forget?” I smiled, though I didn’t feel it. “You tear yourself down for a comedy routine again, I’ma take off my belt.”
“Montana,” she gasped.
“You survived Edwin alone. You did that, chère. But you ain’t alone anymore.”
I looked at her. Really looked. She tried to dodge it like my eyes were too heavy, my truth too deep for her to handle.
“Your past doesn’t make you weak. That makes you the type of momma like my momma—and nah, I don’t compare any ol’ girls to her.
Bébé, you proved that fire don’t always burn.
It forges. You? Impurities? I can’t see it.
You tell me you got them. Do I believe? Hell, nah. ”
Her mouth pulled at one side. Good. She didn’t have to hide behind jokes that cut her deeper than anyone else.
“You wonder what I see when I look at you, chère?”
“A mess …” She huffed, then rolled with it. “With good hair. See. I’ve been doing this for a lifetime. So work with me. Don’t spank me for it.”
I placed my lips at the crown of her extra-intelligent, 3X head. “I see a woman who should’ve broken ten different ways. Who carried the weight most dudes would’ve dropped years ago. I see the way you fight for your bébé. The way you laugh, even if you cut yourself in the process.”
She squirmed in my arms, as if she hated being seen. I claimed her tighter, fingers sliding beneath the hem of her thong.
“You the strongest damn woman I ever met. You picked me, didn’t you? That’s the one good choice in this whole damn story.” I turned her around.
“Oh? You’re the best decision I made?”
“Me and Lil’ Man are neck and neck.”
“Who’s got the 3X head now? Take a look at that ego, Big Country.”
I nodded toward the reflection. “Look. Look how you stand now. Shoulders up. Chin high. That’s power, Zuri. Grace with calluses.”
She shook her head, but her lips seemed to tremble between disbelief and gratitude. “Despite yourself, Montana, you always know what to say.” She chuckled softly.
Yanking her forward, I caught her laughter, her next exhale, and her moan in my mouth. I bit her bottom lip, a smile breaking through the heat of the moment.
“Bébé,” I whispered against her mouth, “that’s how you catch a beautiful woman’s sigh.”
Her lashes fluttered, eyes like I’d stolen something sacred.
“You’re ridiculous,” she breathed, but her fingers found my jaw, diving into my beard and holding on like she was mesmerized by tasting my mouth again.
After she kissed me deeply, she moaned against my lips.
“Almost forgot my last thought. You make me almost forget my mind, Montana, but yep. Still ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” I said, voice rough. “But you laughed about me bottling your hums. Now look at you, giving me another one.”
My phone vibrated somewhere, but we were too busy trading kisses to care. Until she glanced over her shoulder, toward the kitchen.
Zuri mumbled, “Okay, you know all about me. So, I’m gonna soak these cheeks in that gorgeous tub.”
“Be there in a minute to help you soak ‘em.” I grabbed my phone as she sauntered up the spiral staircase and answered. “Where y’at, Ten?”
“Alright,” Tennessee replied. “Just finished forcing Momma and Auntie Peaches to upgrade they alarm system.”
“Damn, they finally getting that done? You installed it?” I sat before my plate and wolfed a few bites.
“Nah.” He yawned. “I made them pick the one that reaches the calvary, you feel me? In case they need me to roll up with sirens, lights. Some beads for effect.” He chuckled.
“Fighting fires?”
“Just finished putting out a flame in Congo Square.”
“Congo—”
“That’s what I said,” Tennessee replied. “Some fool set up a catfish fry inside Congo Square. Almost stepped out my turnout coat and whooped some ass. Like, bruh, this is history, not a tailgate party. Now I’m about to head to my shotgun.”
“Got a minute?”
“Got till I pull my Black ass into the driveway.”
“Good enough for me.” I pressed into the brother’s group and started up FaceTime. Tennessee appeared first, face and cornrows ashy from fighting fires. Then Washington popped on, bald head glistening in the afternoon sun.
“That’s the parachute,” I murmured, staring at his head.
“What?” they asked.
“Nothing.” I chuckled to myself as Texas answered, hoodie up, looking suspect. I brought them up to speed on Zuri’s past—everything except for the man she murdered in New York.
“The bébé was tied to the cartel? All this time?” Tennessee said, turning the wheel of his truck.
“Yeah. Darius’s trash-ass-daddy”—my jaw tightened as I stabbed a stack of shrimp onto my fork—“played her.”
Washington leaned in, smirking like a law professor in a comedy club. “Boy, we talking a whole buffet of felonies. Conspiracy to traffic opioids, fraud, extortion. Add his cartel connections … that’s racketeering, bribery, obstruction of justice.”
“Dude, you done?” Texas asked.
“He’s looking at a lifetime sentence with parole eligibility—”
“Eligibility?” I growled. “If they don’t cook him, I will!”
“What cartel, Montana?” Texas asked. “You ain’t tell us everything. I’ma infiltrate. See if they’re all after Zuri and our boy. Bring ‘em down from the inside and if not—coz it seems trash daddy had a side deal with the one guy—I’ll stay linked up.”
“Makes sense,” Washington said. “The side hustle part.”
“Thought that too,” I agreed. “The Queso Kings would’ve found her by now. Seems like it’s just the one.” I exhaled in relief. Leave it to my no-brain-cells-ever-connecting lil’ brotha to have a reverse lapse in judgment. Boy done tripped and fell straight into common sense.
“Stay linked?” Tennessee brought up what nobody wanted to hear—his twin’s foolishness. “Why? Are you tryna step your game up from them thugs you run with?”
I rubbed a hand over my face. Wasn’t here for this. But Texas was.
The bad twin grinned. “Man, I ain’t gonna lie. Cartel? Bruh, that’s diversification!”
I scooped up more grits, knowing this was just the beginning.
And nah, he wasn’t done. Texas leaned forward, shoved his hoodie back, giving Tennessee more reason to groan. “Who tightened your locs, Tex? How did you pay for that design?”
Texas smirked. “We’re still talking about me infiltrating the Queso Kings. I call that a portfolio move. I’d put it on my resume. Professional Organized Crime Consultant. Better networking. Benefits. Maybe a 401(k).”
Tennessee gritted out. “You’re evasive ass ain’t serious.”
By now, I started on the extra plate I made for Zuri.
Texas grinned. “Sounds better than you kicking me out, talking about I don’t pay rent. Now shuddup, young pup.”
“Young pup?” Tennessee shook his head, dragging himself into his apartment.
Washington typed on a laptop, and I still had a couple more bites left.
Tennessee sniffed and pulled his NOFD shirt over his head. “You treat life like a damn side hustle. You’ll end up in a back-alley, and Momma—”
“Don’t,” Texas growled, “bring up Momma. You act like you on Washington’s level.”
“I ain’t in this,” Wash murmured, typing paused.
“Well, you ain’t no Big Country, Tex,” Tennessee said.
“Rich coming from somebody who flipped crawfish tails on Jackson Square for charity. You and your firefighter friends, y’all’s the charity.”
Tennessee snarled, “We know how I make money. How you get that ride?”
“It’s a Charger.” Texas chuckled.
“Who you stay with?” his twin asked.
True. Tennessee was the only one keeping our brother in check. But right now? I had finished breakfast, so I wasn’t worried about the mess Texas was trying to get into. “Wash, you got a connect with the Feds?”
He nodded slowly.
“I want this handled.” Before I handled it my way.