13. Fontaine Jackson
Fucking up Bruno’s arm really lit a fire under his ass.
Two days later, half a million landed in Cash’s account, and a ping from an anonymous email pulled me out of my sleep.
There was no subject, nothing in the body, just an encrypted zip file.
I stared at it then shifted my gaze to the beautiful woman lying next to me.
Nai stirred beside me but didn’t wake. Her leg was thrown across mine, lips slightly parted, with a look of peace on her face that I didn’t see often.
It’s not that she’d never stayed over in the past, but it was different now.
We were finally trying, and she wasn’t treating this like something that would get snatched away from her.
I carefully moved her leg. She let out a soft moan as I slipped out of bed. I grabbed my phone and made my way to the loft. The two monitors lit the enclave with a soft glow, and I sank into my chair with a yawn, half-awake.
I should’ve waited until Nai was awake. This was her father’s shit.
But I couldn’t. Not only because I didn’t know what I’d find, but because this thing between us was too new, too fragile, and I didn’t want to risk unraveling the peace it seemed we’d found.
She’d been running for so long, I wasn’t trying to trigger her back into flight mode.
The first few files were what I expected— a ledger from the Order’s high roller games, client debt, shell corps, and donation trails that led to politicians and big tech CEOs. These motherfuckers were involved in everything that moved.
One folder caught my eye: Active Accounts
I scrolled line by line and stopped when I saw the name.
Sterling Crawford.
I pursed my lips. His name showed up twice. Two six-figure wires tied to a firm in Tokyo. I let out a low whistle—I was already dreading telling Nai. She was still coming to terms with learning that her father had a gambling addiction, and this would only add to her resentment.
On another screen I spotted a folder labeled Pending Retainers. I was tempted to ignore it because it was probably junk, but I knew that most times labels were just cover for something else.
I was right.
Inside were images ranging from grainy to high-def of men and women in expensive suits toasting in boardrooms.
Each photo had names hovering above their heads. This had to be Bruno’s insurance policy if shit went left.
I didn’t recognize anyone, but one person caught my eye.
She was sitting at the head of the table, eyeing the room like she ran the place. She had light brown skin, high cheekbones, and jet-black hair that fell in soft waves around her face.
I zoomed in and peeped the black oleander tattoo on her wrist.
Something about her was familiar. The shape of her mouth, dark brown eyes with the same sharpness and intensity as Nai. She wasn’t Nai, but the resemblance was enough to make my chest tighten.
The name above her head read: Hana Furukawa.
I scribbled it down on a sticky note and sat back in my chair, staring at the screen.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
“What are you doing?”
I quickly closed the screens as Nairobi’s footsteps hit the stairs.
“You should be sleeping,” I said, spinning my chair around to look at her.
She rubbed her eyes and crawled into my lap. “I woke up and you were gone.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Just checking an email.”
“Something about Sterling?”
“A bunch of files Bruno sent over, I ain’t really get a good chance to look through it.” I picked her up bridal style. “Let’s go back to bed.”
No use in telling her now. Sterling’s fuckery could be held off for another day.
A big-ass white tent stretched across Ms. Sydney’s backyard, complete with heaters buzzing on low to fight off the fall chill.
Jasmine was sitting in one of those oversized wicker thrones under a blush and cream balloon arch, glowing like royalty in a dress that matched the decor around her.
She looked serene surrounded by her friends and family, sipping on sparkling cider.
If you would’ve told me two years ago that Cash “Money” Banks—the same nigga who ran Atlanta’s drug trade for over a decade—would end up somebody’s husband and soon-to-be-father, I would’ve called your bullshit.
Not ‘cause I didn’t think he had it in him…
but the fact that he did such a 180 over a woman he’d only known for a few short months?
This man chartered a private jet, stormed a New York City Councilman’s gala all to save this woman after her nut-ass ex kidnapped her. Then turned around, reversed his vasectomy, and married her. Wild fucking work.
Cash and Jas pulled out all the stops. A bar was set up with two bartenders keeping the drinks flowing, and tables were lined with food in chafing dishes with staff ready to serve guests.
Off to the side was a table stacked with gifts.
The Frankie Beverly & Maze mix that the DJ was playing had the function feeling like a summertime cookout instead of the middle of October.
Somebody’s uncle was line dancing with a plate in hand, unbothered, and very off-beat.
“I still can’t believe this nigga went and got a Burberry set,” Slim said, laughing low as he sipped his beer.
Cash stood off to the side of Jas in the classic check-print cargo pants and a tan half-zip sweater with the same print on the collar.
His fresh white Air Forces didn’t have a single crease.
He was in full hover mode around his wife—feeding her, keeping her cup full, and at one point, even tried wiping the corner of her mouth like she couldn’t do it herself.
She swatted his hand away with a hard look. “Money, if you don’t find some fucking business.”
Nigga was doing everything short of massaging her feet.
“You think you and Nairobi ever gon’ settle down and start a family?” Slim asked, his eyes were locked on my sister across the yard.
A family with Nai? Shit. My mind had never stretched that far.
I’d never pictured a white-picket fence life with anyone, not with the life we led.
I just wanted something that made sense for us.
Gunnar already felt like mine, and it would be the same with Cash and Jas’ little girl.
I didn’t need something perfect. Just her.
“Never really thought about it.” I shrugged. “But I see you watching Drea, nigga. Don’t spin the block unless you serious this time.”
He gave me a lazy ass grin, one that said he wasn’t about to argue, but also wasn’t denying the validity of what I said.
Nai’s hand slipped into mine, the smell of vanilla wafting from her. She leaned her head against my shoulder.
“Are all baby showers like this?” she asked.
“You know this nigga Cash extra as hell,” Slim laughed.
Across the yard, Monica caught her eye and waved, starting to make her way towards us.
“Heyyyy, Beatrix Kiddo,” she drawled as she pulled Nairobi into a hug.
I frowned and looked between them.
“Kill Bill? Hello?” Monica rolled her eyes at me.
“That’s what they have me saved as in the group chat,” Nairobi explained.
“Why?” I asked.
They both looked at me like I was the dumbest nigga on the planet.
“Because she’s a killer,” Slim said. “C’mon, man, you can’t be that dense.”
“I mean she was white in the movie,” I argued. Why wouldn’t y’all call her Vernita? Or Copperhead?”
Nairobi craned her neck and made a face. “Do I look like somebody named Vernita? And she died. Beatrix Kiddo is cool.”
“Whatever you say,” I muttered and took a sip of my beer.
Monica dragged Nairobi to where Jasmine and some of her friends were and I chopped it up with Slim and Jelani for a bit.
“Y’all good?” Cash said, walking over to us with a plate of food.
“Are you good?” Jelani said as he took a wing from him. “You keep bothering Jas, she's gonna pop your ass.”
Cash punched him in the arm. “I’m just making sure my wife is good. Speaking of which, when are you?—”
POP-POP-POP-POP!
Screams tore through the tent as a series of shots rang through the backyard. Chairs flipped as people ran to the house for cover.
Cash dropped his plate and ran for Jasmine. I ran behind him and saw that she was on the ground, Nairobi was standing in front of her, gun drawn, aimed at where the shots came from. Another pop and a hiss as two smoke bombs landed in the middle of the yard.
A blacked-out SUV peeled off as Slim and Nairobi let off a couple rounds.
I rushed over to Cash who crouched next to Jasmine. She clutched her stomach.
“Cash—” she gasped. “Something’s wrong.” She doubled over, moaning through clenched teeth.
“What?” he asked, wrapping an arm protectively around her.
“I’m cramping—bad,” she hissed. “It hurts. This doesn’t feel right.”
A sharp cry ripped out her throat.
“Fuck,” Cash breathed, catching her. “Jas, just breathe. Look at me, baby. Breathe.”
“It hurts so bad,” she whimpered. “Mama!”
Behind us, I heard Slim and Jelani shouting at everyone to clear the backyard.
Jas’ mom, Vera, rushed over, coughing. “I’m here, Jazzy. Sydney said the EMTs are on the way.”
Monica dashed toward the house to get Jasmine’s bag.
Cash cradled Jasmine in his arms, rocking slightly. “Hold on, baby. Help’s coming.”
Nairobi was in the passenger seat before I had the driver’s door fully open, both of us still running on adrenaline. I was glad I parked on the street—made it easier to pull out and fall in behind the ambulance.
Neither of us said anything for the first few minutes. I was breaking more than a few traffic laws trying to keep up.
“You okay?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road.
“No.” She let out a long breath. “This is so fucked up. Whoever that was, it’s clear they weren’t trying to kill anyone, but Jasmine…”
I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Giving birth was already a huge risk on its own. Add in the stress of what just happened, and there was no telling what we were gonna be dealing with at the hospital.
“She’s gonna be fine,” I said.
I was trying to convince both of us. The sinking feeling in my gut already told me the Order was behind this.
Jasmine’s cries echoed down the hall as her gurney was wheeled into a room.
The waiting area was tense as fuck—quiet in a way you could tell that everyone was barely holding their shit together.
Cash sat forward, elbows on his knees, with Ms. Sydney and Jasmine’s mother on either side of him.
Both women’s mouths moved silently in prayer while Jasmine’s father paced the hall with clenched fists and a hard expression on his face.
Monica texted that Drea and the rest were clearing the house. Slim also stayed behind with some of our guys to make sure no one was finna double back. A few folks had scrapes and bruises, but miraculously nobody was hurt and there wasn’t too much damage to the house.
A doctor finally came out. “She’s stable,” she said as she pulled her mask down. “The stress triggered early labor. We tried slowing it down, but she’s already four centimeters. It looks like the baby’s coming tonight. We’re moving her to Labor and Delivery.”
Cash nodded and stood. “Y’all head up. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Ms. Sydney gave his shoulder a squeeze before she headed towards the elevators with Jasmine’s parents.
Cash turned to Jelani once the elevator doors closed.
“Stolen plates,” Jelani said. “Cameras ain’t show shit. It’s like they disappeared into thin air.”
Cash nodded like Jelani wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. He rubbed his beard, eyes shifting until they landed on Nairobi.
“Figured as much,” he said quietly. “What I don’t know is why.”
Nairobi’s brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why the fuck would the Order hit my family?”
“We don’t know if it was them,” she said, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than him.
“Bullshit!” Cash snapped. “You know damn well ain’t nobody else got the reach—or the fucking nerve—to move like that on me.”
“Yo, Cash,” I interjected. “This ain’t the time.”
“Fuck you mean this ain’t the time?” he barked, getting in my face. “You told me you were helping her handle her shit. So how the fuck they make it to my mama’s house?”
“I’m still working through what Bruno sent. I’m sifting through thousands of gigabytes of info?—”
“I don’t give a fuck!” he roared. “Jasmine’s back there going through early labor. My baby girl wasn’t supposed to come into the world like this.”
“I didn’t know they would do this,” Nairobi said. Her voice cracked, but she held his stare. “You know me better than that. If I’d known some shit was up, or that security should’ve been tighter, I would’ve said something.”
He let out a cold laugh. “Nah, you been too busy pussyfooting and laying up under this nigga.”
“Cash—” I warned again, heat rising in my chest.
He spun toward me. “You saying my name like that’s supposed to mean something, nigga.” His eyes were wild. “You defending her while my wife is in a hospital bed, crying through contractions, and you expect me to be calm?”
I saw his anger, but beneath it was something clearer—fear. It was choking him from the inside out. He wasn’t thinking straight.
“Bruh, I know you’re scared,” I said, hands up, trying to diffuse the situation. “We’re all worried about her. But this ain’t what you wanna do. We’re not the enemy.”
He shoved me hard in the chest. “You busy protecting her like my mama’s house wasn’t just shot the fuck up!”
This nigga was trying my patience. I felt my chest get tight. “Money, you need to chill.”
Sharp pain hit me as his fist connected with my jaw.
I stumbled back, momentarily stunned. But I came back swinging. Chairs scattered as I slammed him against the wall, my forearm pressed against his throat.
“Yo!” Jelani jumped, grabbing Cash from under me and dragging him back. “We not doing this shit here!”
Cash was still lunging, trying to break free like a rabid dog. His eyes were wild. “If anything happens to my wife or my baby behind this Order shit, I’m coming for both of y’all!”
“I’ll fix it,” Nairobi said, voice smaller than I’d ever heard before. “I’m sorry, Cash. I’ll sort this shit with them.”
He froze—nostrils flared as he turned his gaze on her.
“Your ass should’ve never come back.”
He ripped out of Jelani’s grip and stormed off toward the elevators without another word.
The silence left behind was louder than the fight that just happened.
Nairobi’s eyes were glassy, but she didn’t cry. She just stood there frozen, her lips parted like she wanted to speak but couldn’t get the words out.
I flexed my jaw, still aching from the hit, and stared at the floor. My heart pounded as adrenaline still pumped through me.
“Give him a minute,” Jelani said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You know he ain’t got no sense when it comes to Jas. It’s like her pregnancy hormones rubbed off on him. Nigga been extra sensitive and shit.”
I let out a dry laugh, but my chest still felt heavy. I hated that it felt like I was going to have to choose between Nairobi and BC.