Chapter Thirteen. #2
Preach stood in the VIP section at the back of his restaurant, a Glock hanging loosely from his right hand.
He had been pacing for the better part of an hour, moving from one end of the space to the other before turning around and doing it all over again.
He was trying to figure out how the fuck he was going to strike Crown again.
Nivéa remained at the top of his list. He knew she was Crown’s weakness from the way he had stormed into his warehouse over a month ago, ready to save and protect her against the situation involving Boe.
Preach had already had his people check her home and boutique.
Finding her wasn’t the problem. She was a regular citizen with a public life.
The issue was getting to her. Both locations had been watched by his men, and neither was occupied by her.
On top of that, Crown had Knights guarding both around the clock.
If Nivéa had been there, Preach wouldn’t have given a fuck.
He would’ve shot it out with whoever was standing between them and taken what he wanted.
That wasn’t new to him. But she wasn’t there.
So now he needed another way to get at Crown, and he was hoping the man sitting across from him had found one since his PI couldn’t seem to.
This nigga here had more pull…more access.
“I know you wanted an address on Crown, but unfortunately, I can’t locate it.
I searched everything I could access. My guess is he had the property purchased through a private holding company, so I checked the ownership records tied to the Blackwell Architecture information you gave me. Nothing led back to him personally.”
Before he came up missing, Gunner had given Preach the name of Crown’s firm that he and Nico had discovered, but that information was becoming useless. Preach’s eyes narrowed, and just as he looked ready to snap, the man continued.
“However, I did find two other residential addresses connected to people in his immediate circle. I thought they might be useful. I should warn you, though. You need to be careful with the one I circled. While the other one is in a secluded area, this one isn’t.
The neighborhood is busy and heavily secured.
There are cameras everywhere, and a constable patrols it.
If you strike his home and something goes wrong, police attention will come quickly, and you’ll have multiple witnesses and surveillance footage to deal with.
That could turn this into a much bigger situation than you want. ”
“Does it look like I give a fuck about witnesses? You trying to tell me how to run my operation?”
“No.” The man swallowed the lump forming in his throat.
“I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I’m just giving you my advice based on the facts.
My name is on the line here, Preach. Not to mention, you already have enough heat on you.
We must do what’s smart. I advise having him watched and then followed. From there, you do as you please.”
The man slid the folded piece of paper across the table. Preach picked it up and opened it, studying the names and addresses before folding it back up. He sighed in frustration, not the least bit interested. He wanted Crown or Nivéa.
“Speaking of that muthafucka’s firm, I went by there. It’s nonexistent. So, either Gunner lied, or Crown moved the business. And if that’s the case, the company name must’ve changed too, ’cause I can’t find a new location online. I need you to find it.”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
“Twenty-four hours.”
“Got it.”
The man reached for his folder and stood. When he noticed Preach hadn’t handed him his monthly payment, confusion crossed his face.
“Um…before I go, what about my payment?”
“You get paid when I get the address.” Preach lied. He was still trying to recover from the blow the Knights had dealt him at the stash house, and right now, he didn’t have the money.
“That’s not how we usually—”
The man’s words were caught in his throat when the few guards standing around the section raised their weapons. Preach chuckled evilly as the man slowly lifted his hands. He stepped forward until the barrel of his Glock rested beneath the man’s chin.
“Don’t let a room full of customers up front confuse you. I’ll still blow yo’ fuckin’ head off right here, right now. Venn kat èdtan.”
Without bothering to say anything else, Preach stormed farther down the restaurant. As he headed toward his office, he pulled out his burner and called Loki. While the phone rang, he racked his brain for more ways to hit Crown but still came up short.
Hitting the clubhouse had ended in a bloodbath.
He hated to admit it, but pulling up on that muthafucka had been like volunteering his men for an ambush, even with the plan to use the new soldiers as a distraction.
His next move had to be his best move. He couldn’t afford to lose any more men.
Preach knew what he needed. He had to find what the nigga loved, what he’d built outside the streets, and strike.
And since Nivéa wasn’t an option, he had to get his hands on something else.
“Boss,” Dimitri called.
“What the fuck is it?” Preach yelled just as Loki’s phone went to voicemail.
“You should look at this.”
As Dimitri turned up the volume on the television mounted high on the office wall, Preach glanced at the screen. The local news played.
“Police are searching for multiple motorcycle riders believed to be involved in this afternoon’s fatal shooting of Muhammad Loki Guerrier.
Surveillance footage from a nearby convenience store shows several motorcycles fleeing the area.
Investigators say the riders had flags tied around their faces, and the footage was too poor to provide clear identification.
Authorities are asking anyone with information about the shooting or the individuals involved to come forward.
Guerrier, who had long been suspected by authorities of having ties to organized crime, was pronounced dead at the scene. ”
The hairs on the back of Preach’s neck stood as he slowly lowered the phone from his ear…