Chapter Ten. Asad #2
“I’m pretty sure it is,” Makeda cosigns with a nod.
A chorus of voices rise in agreement, and I shrug. “Okay, damn. It’s still appropriate. Just don’t do the shit literally. You were saying, Xavier?” I tilt my head. “We’re all listening.”
“You’re so sure of yourself, Prince. Think you’re fucking untouchable.
When the truth is you’re only where you are today thanks to your mother’s good back and friendly pussy.
You didn’t earn a damn thing. You’re not family.
Just a money-hungry, faithless bitch’s wayward cum who took advantage of a man desperate to have a son. ”
The sound of multiple guns cocking punches the air, but I hold up my hand, preventing them from sending their bullets flying and having Xavier’s bitch ass look like a cheese grater.
He doesn’t get to go that easy.
Softly chuckling, I tip my chin at Xavier. “Well, damn, from all of that, I can’t tell if you got a hard-on for my mother or Marcus. Maybe both.”
“Don’t fucking play with me, boy—”
“Nah, we ain’t doing that.” I don’t raise my voice, but all traces of humor flee.
“Now, you’re not walking up out of here, but disrespect me like that one more time and it’ll be in pieces.
Your sister and that niece you love so much, who’re sleeping so well in that pretty house you bought for them over in Brentwood?
DeAnn, right? Too bad about that congestive heart failure diagnosis.
Do you think waking up next to a suit of your skin will send her into a heart attack?
Stroke?” When Xavier’s mouth flattens into a grim line, I nod.
“Yeah, how ’bout if you keep family out of it, I will, too. ”
“They don’t have nothing to do with—”
“You fucking betrayed me, mu’fucka.” I cut him off again, seething.
“Betrayed this family when you tried to have me killed. The moment you sent members of my organization after me—yeah, mine, ho—you entered a murder-suicide pact. Their deaths are on you; you killed them. I’m just the bullet you aimed in their direction.
Shit, Xavier. As you pointed out, you’ve been in this longer than me.
So you know how this shit goes. You’re so fucking arrogant that you didn’t weigh the costs of failure.
Didn’t consider who would pay the debt along with you if your little plan to take me out didn’t work.
Well, you’re looking the consequences in the eye.
” I lean forward and smile. “If it’s any comfort to you, I’ll make it quick.
Call it a concession for your many years of service before you became a tender dick bitch incapable of taking a loss. ”
For a moment, his face sags with the weight of sadness and guilt.
Both flash in his dark eyes, turn down the corners of his mouth, and in mere seconds, he appears ten years older.
Even the proud carriage of his shoulders droops, and he’s broken.
But only for a moment. Anger—at me, himself, his failure, all three—mottles his light brown skin, and his eyes narrow on me.
He damn near vibrates with his rage, and I drag in a deep breath, swearing I can smell it. Fucking taste it.
And it’s gotdamn heady.
“Just get the shit over with, Prince,” he snaps, rising from his chair.
“Unh-unh.” Makeda waves her SIG at Xavier. “Sitcho ass back down.”
He glares at her, probably balking at either a woman talking to him like that or having to take an order from her. Don’t matter in the end. ’Cause he sits his ass back down.
“You came here for answers, right?” he continues, leaning forward on his elbows, his attention pinned on me. “That’s what you want to know. Why I sent those incompetent mu’fuckas after you?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Fuck, I wish they were alive so I could kill them myself.”
“You should’ve. But then again, if you had the balls to handle your own shit, you wouldn’t have been able to be sitting where I am.
Since the Cross organization doesn’t look too kindly on assassination or treason.
” I lower my leg, fury and impatience to watch his life drain from his eyes swell inside me, shoving against my sternum with increasing hunger.
“And let’s be honest. Whatever reason you give me—loyalty to the family, lifelong friendship to Marcus, protecting Cross, blah blah fucking blah—it all comes down to two things.
Greed and power. You want to rule, Xavier.
And you expected to when Marcus died. Or maybe…
” I drum my fingers against the arm of the chair.
“You got tired of waiting and decided to give him a helping hand to hell.”
He blinks, then scowls at me, mouth twisting.
“The fuck you talking about, Prince? You want honesty? Yes, you have no business leading Cross. You’re not blood.
Not family. Me, Deacon—we’ve been here beside Marcus since he first stepped into power.
We know the workings of this family. We served it, sacrificed for it, bled for it.
What did you do? What have you done? Michelle understood Marcus’s disappointment that Kimberly couldn’t and didn’t give him a son.
So she preyed on that and gave him you. Her, you, your brother—you’re parasites who fed on his need, on this organization, and you’re still doing it even after his death.
As far as I’m concerned, I was just exterminating our pest problem. ”
I flick my hand, waving his insults off.
“Fuck all that. Is that supposed to move me? And let’s just lay the shit out on the table, Xavier.
This isn’t about blood, about family. Because you knew of Ember’s existence all along, the only one person who carries the name Cross now, and it never occurred to you to protect her, bring her into your confidence, to revere her?
Nah. This is about greed, power. About you being one bitter-ass bitch because your boy didn’t leave you shit but a pat on the head and a wet ass.
What the old saints say? Favor ain’t favor.
Answer my question. Did you kill Marcus so you could finally get your shot at the top? ”
Again, he mugs me as if being a fucking Judas doesn’t offend him, but being called a murderer crosses the line.
“What? No! Fuck no. Marcus was murdered? I heard the rumor, but I thought it was just that—rumor.” He starts to stand, but after a quick glance in Makeda’s direction, he aborts the motion, frustration and rage crowding into his face.
“No,” he stresses, unflinchingly meeting my gaze.
“I didn’t have anything to do with Marcus’s death.
He was my friend. My best friend. I wouldn’t have killed him. I swear that on my sister’s life.”
I believe him. I trust him as much as I do a cop on a traffic stop, but yeah, I believe he didn’t have anything to do with killing Marcus. He still gon’ die though.
I straighten in the chair, then prop my elbows on my thighs.
“But the fact remains, you took a shot at the king, and you missed. You not making it out of here alive, but how you go is on you. I already know Deacon is in on this with you. Tell me who else you’re working with, and I’ll make it quick.
Make me work for the information, and it’s gon’ be a long night.
For you, not me. Because I’ma enjoy the shit. ”
A grin spreads across Xavier’s face, and though I catch a flicker of fear in the older man’s eyes, he’s not afraid to die. Nothing like a person who’s down for the cause and willing to make themselves a martyr.
Course, they’re all stoic until that first slice.
“You think I’m going to make this easy for you?
The fuck?” He laughs, tipping his head back as if Dave Chappelle is sitting in this mu’fucka instead of me.
“You want me to hold your dick for you, too? I waited here for you, remember? Gave you easy access to my house and me. You haven’t done shit I didn’t invite you to do.
Including getting this shit over with. Go ’head, Prince.
’Cause I’m not telling you a fucking thing.
We all gotta die, and my family’s always known what it is to be in this shit.
You’ll find out soon enough everything you want to know.
” That low, raspy chuckle again. “No, hold on. I’ve changed my mind.
I’ll give you something. What was it you said?
How ’bout I keep family out of it? A little too late for that shit. ”
The words, uttered with a grimy, irreverent glee, sink into me like claws, injecting shock, suspicion, and a bone-chilling rage. The noxious mixture seeps into my blood, marrow, my fucking DNA. The implication …
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I growl, slowly straightening, my narrowed gaze pinned on him. “You tryin’ to say my family’s working with you? That they had something to do with that hit?”
My heart swings at my chest with wild haymakers, the pounding reverberating in my body, echoing in my head. It’s so loud, his answer is damn near lost under the primitive rhythm.
Almost.
“Did I say that?” he asks, looking like a wide-mouth-ass bass wearing that fucking grin on his face. “It’d be a shame though if they were. I mean, if you can’t trust the ones who’re supposed to have your back, then you’re fucked. You should—”
I jump to my feet and round the desk, not hearing shit else he has to say. Not even seeing a gotdamn thing but that thick-ass, lyin’ tongue.
My hand shoots out, gripping his face tight and squeezing his cheeks together.
Ignoring his squawk of surprise and outrage, I swipe my Bugout knife from my pocket.
With a quick press of a button on the hilt, the short black blade appears, silent and deadly.
In seconds, Xavier’s fury morphs to terror, all that shit-talking bravado dying a quick death. Unlike him.