12. Retirement Is Overrated
People always assumed violence belonged to emotional men. I’ve watched documentaries that claim the hotter-headed and louder a man is, the more reckless he is. While that might be true for a select few, the most dangerous men I ever met were calm as fuck.
Twenty years ago, I was flashy and needed folks to know my reputation, but now I enjoy moving like a thief in the middle of the night. That was the difference between boys in the streets and men who survived them long enough to build empires afterward.
Xavier stood across from me in Daniel Mercer’s living room, silent as hell, with our gloves on as we waited for him to come home. As soon as YaYa and my baby girls went to sleep, I called X. He was ready and at my house in fifteen minutes.
As we sat in the reporter's apartment, I looked around and noticed he was a bourbon collector. He had quite an expensive collection, way more pricey than a reporter should be able to afford.
Interesting.
I walked slowly around the room, studying the house carefully.
He had several framed journalism awards and stacks of newspaper articles about himself.
This motherfucka was a narcissist. There were no photos on the wall of a wife or kids.
Hell, not even evidence of a mom or Memaw.
From what I could gather, he just seemed obsessed with his job.
“You notice this?” X asked quietly from in front of Daniel’s coffee table.
I looked toward the coffee table. There were printed photographs spread across the surface that had images of Crown Logistics warehouses and various shots of Jared’s campaign volunteers leaving the headquarters, which is also my fuckin’ property.
There were images of Kenya leaving the dance studio and of the old alley crime scene.
My jaw tightened instantly. I knew this shit was all connected somehow.
This Nigga wasn’t digging into campaign finance rumors.
He was tracing blood. I slowly picked up one of the photos.
The timestamp in the corner immediately caught my attention.
“X man, this shows these photos are from federal archives.”
Xavier’s expression sharpened. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
“How the hell does a local reporter get federal alley photos?” X muttered.
Exactly. Daniel has the wrong kind of access.
After perusing around in the dark, my vision adjusted, and I found Daniel’s laptop. I handed it to X so that he could break through the password protection.
Thirty seconds later, X was inside.
I smirked slightly. “You still got it, Nigga.”
X chuckled. “Retirement gets a bit boring.”
Files loaded quickly across the screen. Daniel’s laptop contained several folders, photos, financial tracking, and call logs. One of the folders was labeled ‘PRICE,’ and that instantly made me perk up. Because this had to be Alan Price and Cameron Price.
X clicked it open. Emails flooded the screen instantly.
There were anonymous tips about Alan Price being a weapons smuggler, a heroin and a cocaine dealer in Crestwood.
That complicated shit further because what the fuck was that Nigga cosplaying as a professor for?
There were encrypted messages showing payoffs to keep him out of jail and a list of other players he turned in to keep the heat off him.
X leaned forward beside me quietly. “What the fuck—”
One attachment loaded slowly, but eventually it came through, showing an image of a girl that looked so much like Chanel it was fuckin’ scary.
“This must be their half- sister, Cameron.”
“Don’t let Channy ever hear you call that bitch their sister, but yeah, their fuckin’ Davis genes are strong as fuck.”
My eyes narrowed at the image. Cameron stood outside a federal building wearing dark slacks with an FBI badge clipped against her waistband.
Silence filled the room.
Then Xavier spoke first. “That bitch federal?”
“Fuck. She’s probably doing the payoffs to keep her dad’s name clean, and she’s cherry-picking this case from the inside to put us all away.”
Another file loaded and showed internal communication on a Jermaine Vaughn from the Crestwood Police Department signing off on a closed case being reopened.
And suddenly every piece started clicking together too damn fast. Jermaine Vaughn was Natalie’s uncle.
I remember X bitching about how Natalie was upset he ain’t wanna meet her uncle, who was like a father figure to her.
Natalie has been trying to set my fuckin’ brother up.
She asked her cousin, Charles, to hurt Channy while X was away to make her suffer.
Natalie teamed up with Cameron to blackmail Channy.
Nut ass Natalie jumped at the chance to try and hurt the girl who stole her Nigga, but that dumb hoe didn’t realize Cameron’s need for revenge ran deep.
She needed to make the siblings who grew up with their Mom pay.
Cameron and Miles met and married. His dumb ass was being used to flip about our current operations, which would explain the current questions about the legality of Crown Logistics. While the shit was clicking, what I still couldn’t figure out was how the alleyway was coming back to haunt us.
Natalie wasn’t at the skating rink that night.
Miles was only involved in our Cherry University pill operation and was later promoted to head of surveillance and private investigation.
That early-on-the-ground corner shit was just me, and X.
Cameron was getting intel about the early years from elsewhere.
X was able to recover more information from Daniel’s computer. Alan was being offered immunity for snitching on his competition, and the shit made sense why Cameron kept escaping consequences.
“Alan is a key informant,” X read quietly.
I leaned back slowly.
“Well, ain’t that a bitch.”
Because Cameron Price wasn’t just moving like a criminal, she was moving like somebody who knew the government needed her alive.
A car door slammed outside suddenly.
I put the laptop back, and X reached for his gun.
Daniel Mercer was right on time. He walked into his house humming.
Poor Nigga had no idea death was sitting in his living room.
I stayed quiet in the shadows near the hallway while Xavier moved toward the kitchen soundlessly.
Years in prison and years in the streets taught us both how to move without announcing ourselves.
Daniel tossed his keys onto the counter before loosening his tie. Then he stared at his laptop on his desk and froze. This fool was probably Type A and noticed it was half an inch different from how he left it.
Slowly, his shoulders tightened.
Smart man.
“Who’s in my house?” he called carefully.
I stepped into the doorway calmly.
“Depends on who you were expecting it to be.”
The color drained from his face instantly.
“Mr. King.”
“There you go using my government name again, comfortable like you know me. I heard you were harassing my wife today.”
Daniel’s eyes darted around the room, immediately calculating exits. Also smart, but unfortunately for him, Xavier already blocked off his exit.
“You wanna explain why you’re investigating my family?” I asked calmly.
Daniel swallowed hard.
“I’m a journalist.”
“Nah.” Xavier leaned against the kitchen entrance casually. “You a Nigga asking questions you ain’t built to survive answers to.”
Daniel’s breathing shifted slightly faster. He was very afraid.
I walked toward the coffee table, slowly picking up the alleyway photos again with my gloved hand.
“These are interesting. You have quite the theory, so please share it with the class.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed softly. Bad answer. Xavier moved first and was quick as hell. One second, Daniel stood near the counter. Next, X slammed him face-first into the dining room wall so hard that framed photos crashed onto the floor.
Daniel cried out instantly.
“Don’t fuckin’ lie to us,” X growled.
Daniel groaned, trying to catch his breath while Xavier held him pinned on the wall easily.
“Be honest, are you investigating where campaign finances are coming from?” I asked. “Or homicide?”
“I’m a journalist,” he repeated, shakier now.
I walked closer until we stood eye level. “You got federal photos from an alley crime scene.” I tilted my head slightly. “So either you’re working for the feds, or somebody is feeding you information.”
Daniel’s eyes flickered.
“Who is giving you files?” X demanded.
“I can’t reveal my source.”
Xavier punched him hard enough to split his lip instantly.
Blood hit the floor.
Daniel gasped.
“You absolutely can tonight,” X answered coldly.
I crouched in front of him afterward, calmer than Xavier because fear worked best when balanced against reason.
“Listen carefully,” I said quietly. “You already crossed lines journalists are not supposed to cross.” I held up the alley photos slowly.
“This right here?” I shook my head once. “This gets people killed.”
Daniel stared at me, breathing harder now. He finally understood this wasn't a political scandal. This was street business wearing expensive clothes.
“I got kids,” he whispered suddenly.
Interesting, I thought. There was no sign of a family anywhere, as if Daniel knew what he was looking into was dangerous as fuck.
“You should’ve thought about them before stalking mine,” Xavier snapped.
Daniel looked toward me desperately afterward. People always looked for the calmer monster, hoping he’d be merciful.
He had no clue; there was no calm King Brother anymore.
“Who gave you Alan and Cameron Price’s files?” I asked quietly.
Fear mixed with confusion took over his face at the realization that we already knew part of it.
“I never met the person who's feeding me information directly,” he admitted carefully.
My stomach tightened instantly.
“How?”
“They reached out to me anonymously first.”
Xavier cursed under his breath.