Chapter 4 #3
“What the fuck does my daughter have to do with anything? Nobody ever made a ransom demand. She’s just gone.
I searched her background. I know that she was doing some shit on the low to make some extra cash, but it was nothing life threatening.
She switched a few test scores and fudged some progress reports for people.
That was it. Hardly anything to get snatched up for,” I muttered, slamming the folder shut.
The frustration level I had was only growing.
“Walk me through that night, for you,” Ohan urged me, leaning forward and keeping his stare burning into mine.
“What?”
“You have looked at this from every angle. The one thing we never considered is that somehow you are the reason this happened,” Ohan articulated, finger pointed at the table.
“You saying my daughter was taken because of me?” I sneered at him and also sloped forward, lowering my tone.
“Law, I ain’t blaming you. But come on,” Ohan said, his brows knitting in a thoughtful frown. “Think about this shit. We’ve done a lot of shit,” he pointed out under his breath. “Some of that shit fucked up a lot of lives. Every now and then, somebody comes from the woodwork to draw us out.”
“And we’ve handled them so far. Most of them come for us… not those that we love,” I declared.
“Unless they aren’t built like that. We both know not everybody lives by the same code. That list is of every player living that might still want to come for us,” Ohan recited, falling back in his chair.
I bit down on the inner part of my jaw while thinking about his statement.
He made a few points. I had been a computer engineer since I was eighteen years old.
By the time I was twenty-four, I was working for the government and making more money than a nigga knew what to do with.
I stacked my bread, and when I met my first wife, I spoiled her.
We bought our first house in cash, and I was able to send my kids to the best schools when they arrived.
Life was fucking good. However, as always, with the good comes the bad.
On the surface, I was a white-collar type, and nobody would’ve ever thought that I came from the gutter.
I had gangsters, pimps, and murderers in my family and circle.
I was just the one that kept clean hands.
Working for the government, I was considered a white hat.
I used all of the powers I had for good deeds until the price changed.
How would you handle being offered five million to hack into a corporations database or security system?
Not to mention these weren’t the kind of people that you tell no.
Ohan and I both were very aware of how things like this tended to play out.
We had pissed plenty of people off. Inheritances had been robbed, databases wiped out, family-built businesses were destroyed.
We collected lump sums of money while their lives were devastated.
It wasn’t the most honorable way to make a living, but somehow, I took comfort in all the money we were raking in.
“I got a call that night. More of a message from Arrow,” I voiced, and both of Ohan’s brows lifted.
“And you didn’t think to mention that before now?” Ohan questioned, shaking his head.
“It didn’t seem important at the time,” I replied, pensive, as I replayed the rest of that night. “My daughter came home and told me what had happened, and it never occurred to me— “
“What did he say?” Ohan prodded.
“He said, ‘there are no secrets that time does not reveal’,” I recalled, shaking my head.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Ohan’s face scrunched up in confusion.
The wheels in my head spun. Getting involved with Arrow, there were plenty times where I wondered if I had sealed my own fate .
He was a monster but the kind that compensated well so that I didn’t even care.
He would make a simple request, and although it seemed harmless, it was often detrimental to other people.
“It means something we did for him turned into something else,” I said, fingers fisting my beard. “You still got that file where we keep all that shit?”
“Our insurance policy? Damn right.” Ohan nodded.
“I’m going to need to dig into that. I need to know everything about Arrow and how he ties into every fucking thing. They say everyone has a past, let’s find out his.”
FREQUENCY
It was early afternoon when I arrived outside of Looney’s Fish spot.
That mothafucka Ledge loved everything about the hood.
I was raised here too, but I wasn’t keen on coming around here like him.
He still fucked with bitches he never thought he could pull and used his money as his influence.
I was on a different scale. My father made sure that we never lived in that environment.
I didn’t come from the bottom, but I got my respect from the streets because I had to take it.
The blocks kept Ledge going. He thrived off that shit.
He and I had piggybacked off my father and made a name for ourselves, but mothafuckas didn’t actually know who we were.
The mystery that surrounded us was exactly how we wanted it.
I slid into the chair across from my ace once I was inside, and I could see he was already in the middle of smashing a couple of platters. His phone sat in front of him on the table, and he scrolled through it. Snatching a few fries from his plate, I stuffed them into my mouth.
“What’s good?” I greeted him, pressing my back against my chair.
Ledge brought his eyes up from his phone.
“Check it, Chevy on the bullshit, but… I got other resources. Kitana got this shit popping with the real estate company. She mentioned that with the kind of paper we talking, might as well just fund our own agency. We talking six-figure properties and up, bro. We can wash all this shit and have a large front to cover it all. I don’t know how we didn’t think of this shit before.
” Ledge laughed a little and chewed his food before he grabbed his juice and sipped.
“Because it requires a face.” I ran my hands down my beard and watched this nigga continue to eat.
He stuffed his mouth and licked his fingers like he had a couple of bitches pregnant somewhere.
My mama knew when Ivana was pregnant with Ivy because she had picked up on my appetite.
A nigga ate good regularly, but it was like I had a tapeworm when she was carrying my seed.
Nothing filled me up. Pausing, Ledge glanced across the table at me.
“Damn, that’s right. Well, we can use Chevelle. I’ll get her to act right—”
“No.” I cut him off quickly before he even got ahead of himself.
I didn’t want my business in the hands of a temperamental woman like that.
One bad move from Ledge, and that bitch would blow up my entire operation.
Murder for hire was our specialty. That was how we made our bread and butter.
The world didn’t know that, and they didn’t need to.
But it was what it was, and we were good at that shit.
If I could do nothing else, I always hit my mothafucking mark.
Frowning up, Ledge’s jaws continued to move as he pondered what I said—food for thought for real.
“Why? I mean, she’s bad as hell. She’s smart. I trust her,” he argued.
“I don’t.” I kept it real with him. “Her emotions depend on you. You unpredictable as fuck, Ledge, and I don’t like that shit. We ain’t got time for it.” I shook my head.
Staring off, I started turning the wheels heavily while trying to figure out a solution to our problem.
At this point, a nigga was tired of even trying to find other ways to flush the cash.
I needed results ASAP. Who ever thought having too much fucking money would be a problem?
We did need a woman for that particular position.
There weren’t many that I even trusted to hold such a position of power.
My sister, Kara, was born an airhead. She could barely do her damn times tables.
Lyra was leaving a bad taste in my mouth with all of her fucking demands.
That didn’t leave a lot of women other than my mother and Celine that I even fucked with like that.
And suddenly, like a fucking light bulb had gone off, I considered Harbor.
As fast as the thought was in my head, that shit flew right out, but then it came back again.
“What you thinking?” Ledge queried, a peculiar look on his face.
He could pretty much see my wheels turning. I tried to let go of the notion, but the shit only tugged harder on my brain cells the more her face flashed in my head.
“I know that look, Free. The fuck you thinking ’bout?” Ledge’s brows bent above his troubled orbs, and he sloped forward a little more.
“I had a brief idea, but… nah. Never mind.” Again, I tried to shake that shit off.
“Nigga, just speak ya fucking mind. Don’t leave me hanging, G.” Ledge prodded me.
I stared off to the side for a second, calling myself all kinds of crazy while thinking how perfect it all sounded. Harbor was exactly what we needed. Too bad she was a hostage.
“I was thinking about using my… houseguest,” I relayed to him.
Clearing my throat, I fell back in my chair and observed Ledge.
He stuffed his face with more fries and fried shrimp while chewing slowly and squinting at me.
I watched that nigga lick his fingers, then reach for his cup to sip his soda through a straw.
Ledge snatched up a napkin and wiped his hands, resting them on the table in front of him.
“You know how crazy that shit sound, bruh?” A frown creased his forehead when he peered back at me.
“About as crazy as it is to have her flipping over a quarter million into ten within a year.” I volunteered, motioning with my hands. “She’s smart.”
“Clearly.” Ledge scoffed and rolled his eyes off to the side. “She’s so fucking smart the minute you give her some room, she’s going to run singing to the fucking cops or FBI.”
“And say what, Ledge? Hmm. She don’t know shit,” I reminded him.