Chapter 24
CASH “MONEY” BANKS
“Can you sit down?” Jelani asked, kicking his feet up on the coffee table in our suite at the Mark Hotel. The nigga was acting like we were on vacation. “All that pacing making me dizzy.”
“Then stop watching me,” I snapped. It’d been forty-eight hours since I last heard from Jasmine, and I was close to losing my shit.
Slim had come through and blown up one of Marcus’s major shipments, which put a huge dent in his operation.
Snatching the shit would’ve been too easy, and the city didn’t need any more of it on the street.
Jelani chuckled, tossing his phone on the couch. “My nigga, I know love got you acting out of sorts, but you’re the one who taught me—when you lose control of your emotions, you lose control in the game.”
“Love?” I scoffed, even though the tightness in my chest made it clear he’d hit a nerve. “Who said anything about love?”
He cocked his head with a smug grin. “Bruh, you gonna act slow now? We ain’t here because he’s moving in on our shit. We’re here because that nigga took your girl. It’s personal, if this ain’t love, I don’t know what is.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s the principle,” I muttered. “Niggas can’t just push their shit in my city and think that there won’t be consequences.”
“Yeah, aight. You keep telling yourself that,” Jelani laughed. “Meanwhile, I bet your nurse is giving that nigga the blues. Hopefully, Fontaine will have updates soon.”
Fontaine had been glued to his laptop since we touched down. Slim was out in Brooklyn with the Gotham Reapers, sorting out logistics and talking about checking in on some old work before heading back. Which meant, for now, it was just me and Lani.
Jelani clapped his hands, pulling me from my thoughts. “We should go out and get some food.”
“We can order room service,” I grumbled, sinking on the couch beside him.
“Money, my nigga, I love you, but you need some fresh air.” He gave me a rough slap on the back. “Sulking around not gonna bring Jas back any faster.”
He was right, but it felt wrong going out when Marcus had her locked up somewhere.
“C’mon, we’re in New York. Might as well make the most of it till it’s time to knock that nigga’s head off.” He stood and stretched. “I won’t even make you pay.”
“I wasn’t paying anyway. Your bougie ass got me paying for this suite like we’re on vacation,” I said.
Jelani tossed a pillow at me. “Shut yo’ grumpy ass up and get dressed.”
I hated feeling out of my element. I was used to being the one called for favors—not the person calling for one.
I’d hit up one of Pops’ old friends, Creed Dennis. OG Creed was the founder of the Gotham Reapers Motorcycle Club and was as thorough as they came. If anybody knew who had real motion out here, it was him. His son, Creed Jr., CJ, ran the crew now, but OG’s name still held weight.
When we arrived in New York, CJ met us at the hotel and gave us the rundown on Marcus.
Word was, he built his crew while he was locked up, recruiting dudes he used to hustle with, calling hits on the outside, and moving weight on the inside.
By the time his charges were thrown out, he had a whole operation waiting.
Now, he practically ran Queens and Brooklyn.
But with the Reapers having a presence in all five boroughs, both OG and CJ assured me they’d keep tabs on Marcus’s people while I focused on getting Jasmine back.
After a quick shower, I threw on black jeans and a black sweater. Jelani had already called a car service, and by the time I grabbed my phone and coat, it was pulling up outside.
I couldn’t focus—I barely noticed the traffic or the small talk Jelani tried to make.
My knee bounced the whole ride like my body was trying to channel the tension bottled up inside.
Weed wasn’t doing shit to mellow me out—I was a rubber band stretched to its limit.
On my mama, I was putting a bullet in the next person who even coughed wrong around me.
I should’ve done more.
Should’ve insisted that Hassan take her to and from work and tightened up security.
Maybe I should’ve told her what Marcus had done to that one dancer to spook her.
The nigga’s a certified nut, and I still let her brush it off because I didn’t want to be that guy.
I didn’t want to control her; I respected her boundaries and independence.
Because of that, she was gone.
Then the part I wouldn’t say aloud continued to wiggle its way into my mind—what comes after?
When this nigga is dead, and I get her back.
Her contract was almost up. Was she thinking about coming back to New York?
I wasn’t trying to do that long-distance shit.
Could I convince her to move in with me?
I let out a low chuckle and shook my head.
Damn. Maybe I did love her.
“What you over there daydreaming about?” Jelani asked.
I took a sip of water. “Tryna figure out how you managed to get us a table when they’re clearly booked out,” I said.
“Money talks. Plus, being a charming ass nigga don’t hurt either.”
I chuckled as our server came to take our orders.
“Welcome to Maxwell’s. I’m Emma. I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she said. Jelani and I rattled off our drink orders to her.
“Great, I’ll put those in for you now,” she said as Jelani’s phone buzzed on the table.
“Hello?” His face immediately tensed. “Yo, slow down, Mo—” He sat up straighter. “Send me a screenshot. Now.”
He placed the phone down with a frown.
I already felt the shift in his energy. “Everything good?”
“That was Monica. Jas’ home girl, Amber, hit her up on IG. She said she’s seen Jasmine… she’s safe.”
Amber… I’d heard that name before. That was Jasmine’s best friend. How the fuck did Amber see her? Shouldn’t she be doing more to help? Why wasn’t she hitting me up or sending us Jasmine’s location?
I opened my mouth to press Jelani for more when something in my peripheral caught my attention. My stomach dropped when I turned my head.
Jasmine.
My baby looked incredible—the champagne colored dress hugged her curves, and her curls were big and wild, the way she wore them when she couldn’t be bothered to fuss with them.
But her body language was way the fuck off.
There was no light in her eyes. Her shoulders were stiff, mouth in a tight line like she was holding back a scream.
And this nigga Marcus had his hand on the small of her back, steering her through the restaurant like she was his puppet.
“What are you looking at?” Jelani asked, following my line of sight. “Shit.”
My whole body tensed, blood roared in my ears—I was ready to dead this right here. Right now.
Jelani grabbed my arm. “Cash. We can’t do this here.”
“She’s right fucking there,” I gritted. I couldn’t look away. Jasmine slid into the booth next to Marcus but kept distance between them. He whispered something in her ear that made her scowl.
“This ain’t our city,” Jelani muttered, glancing around. “He probably got security, and it’s just the two of us.”
Jasmine turned, like she felt me watching. Her eyes widened when they landed on me. She looked away quickly, her fingers trembling as she reached for her glass of water.
I noticed the bruises on her neck—they were faint but clear as day.
The fuck did he do to her?
I pushed back from the table. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
“Sit your ass down,” Jelani hissed.
“I can’t sit here and pretend like I don’t see her.” My voice cracked as the pressure started to mount in my chest. My girl was right there. I could feel her pain from across the room, and all I wanted to do was make him pay for every second she’d had to spend with him.
“Then let’s leave,” Jelani said, peeling off two blue faces and tossing them on the table. “We do this the right way. We’re not making a scene here.”
I looked over one last time. Marcus was so consumed with her that he didn’t notice where her attention was.
His arm was slung over her shoulder as he kissed on her like they were this picture-perfect couple.
But her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I swear she flinched every time his lips touched her.
She shook her head, just the slightest. But I caught it.
Being that close to her and having to walk away almost broke me.
“Get me the fuck out of here.”
Turning my back on her felt like betrayal, but staying would’ve been worse for both of us.