Tempo Jabbar
I was at the dining table with my laptop open and papers spread out in front of me.
One stack was a contract for a South Shore three-flat I was consulting on for a couple trying to buy their first investment property.
Another stack was rent projections and repair estimates, with notes in the margins where I’d already caught two line items that didn’t make sense.
Though I’d stepped back from cartel decisions to keep peace between my brothers and my husband, I refused to be a kept wife. These deals and these numbers were mine. They were my independence. I’d been getting my own money since I was a teenager. A ring didn’t change that.
I was deep in a spreadsheet when I felt him before I saw him.
Big A posted up in the doorway with his shoulder against the frame, watching me work like he didn’t want to interrupt but couldn’t help himself.
I had my glasses on, hair pulled back, and I was talking to myself under my breath about a roof estimate that looked like somebody was trying to get over.
He tossed the Impala keys up and caught them. The soft jingle snapped me out of it.
“Shut that laptop,” he softly ordered. “Come take a ride with me.”
“I’m working, baby. I need to finish running comps for South Shore—”
“Tempo.” The way he said my name made me stop. He didn’t get loud, but I could hear in his tone that he wasn’t asking twice.
The old Tempo would’ve fought to finish every task first. Married Tempo was learning you could honor your grind and still let your man steal you for a few hours.
I exhaled, hit save, closed the laptop, and stacked my papers into neat piles. I still felt that hustler reflex trying to push me back into the work, but I chose him anyway.
Big A’s mouth curved into a smile when he saw me stand. “That’s my wife.”
I approached him, smirking. “Don’t get cocky.”
He smacked my ass and then led me to the garage.
In the garage, the ’67 cherry-red Impala gleamed under the light.
We climbed in and when he turned the key, the engine came alive.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a nice day,” he said as we pulled out. “I just wanted to take a ride with my baby.”
We drove through the city, and I watched blocks I knew like I knew my own hands. I tracked vacant lots religiously. I’d just helped a client buy a building a few blocks over.
I couldn’t help slipping into shop talk. “I’m helping this couple buy a three-flat. They almost got scammed by a broker who kept trying to slide in extra fees.”
Big A glanced over. “You fixed that shit?”
“I did more than fix it. I made sure they don’t lose the building in a year because they trusted the wrong person.”
He looked over at me with lust in his eyes as he devilishly bit his bottom lip.
He’d always known I was smart. But he loved seeing me make legit plays that didn’t involve guns or re-ups.
I could feel it in the way he looked at me when I spoke, like my brain turned him on just as much as my body did.
His phone vibrated, and he checked it at a red light, sighed, then typed a response with his thumbs moving fast.
“What happened?”
Big A kept his eyes on the road. “Minor situation.”
I stared at him, not letting it go. He chuckled because he knew I wouldn’t.
He unlocked his phone and handed it to me. “Read it.”
I looked down at the messages.
One of the crew had texted: Money short with the runner. Dude acting slick. He claiming he paid. He didn’t.
Big A had replied: Pull the runner back. Don’t touch him yet. Get in the car and leave. Tomorrow, we’ll handle it.
I looked up from the screen. “Which spot is this?”
“One of our handoff spots on sixty-seventh.”
He kept driving like he wasn’t tempted to go handle it himself.
“That corner sits right off a neighborhood I’ve been tracking.
It’s the kind of area where one messy incident can drop values overnight.
If conflict starts over there, it spills into the blocks people are finally trying to rebuild, and it makes it harder for me to move buyers into those properties without them feeling scared. ”
Big A glanced at me, chuckling. “And this is why I don’t want you knowing every street detail.”
I slightly rolled my eyes, but I understood it. He wasn’t shutting me out to be disrespectful. He was trying to keep my work legal, and I hated that he was right.
I seethed for half a second. I hated being excluded and being outside the war room. I missed that shit. Then I remembered why I had taken a step back. He wasn’t shutting me out. He was protecting the boundaries we’d set for our marriage.
He drove a little farther, then pulled into a quiet spot near the water, where the streets were empty and the noise didn’t reach.
Music played softly as his hand went to my thigh.
“How you been feeling?”
I stared out the windshield for a moment before I answered. “Better than I thought I would.”
“In what way?”
“I was scared stepping back would make me feel powerless. But it didn’t. It made me feel bigger.”
Big A’s eyes stayed on me. “Talk your shit.”
“These deals are mine and yours. These clients hire me for my brain. Not my last name. Not who my brothers are. They hire me because I’m good.”
He nodded once. “I like hearing you say that.”
The tension between him and my brothers had eased as time passed. The awkward moments didn’t linger anymore. Everybody moved like grown men. Even Sincere kept it cool.
I still felt like I was walking a tightrope sometimes. I was Cartier by blood and cartel-adjacent by love. I was determined not to be the reason my husband and my brothers ever went at each other again.
Big A squeezed my thigh. “Seeing you handle your business like this makes it easier for me. Because I know if all this street shit ever collapse, you still got something. And if I ever gotta fully walk away, you’re building a road with space for both of us.
I hear you on the phone talking about, ‘My consulting fee is…’ That do something to me.
I like when you don’t need anybody. Even me. ”
“I watched women depend on men growing up. Men who could snatch everything away from their wives and children whenever they wanted to, or when they were killed or locked up. I promised myself I would never be in a position where I had to stay somewhere because I couldn’t afford to leave.”
“I get it.”
“I’m not planning on leaving you, but having my own LLC, my own checks, my own deals makes me feel safe.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “And I want you to always have your own. Even while I make sure you never worry about a bill as long as I’m breathing.”
I turned toward him, grabbed his face, and kissed him slow. He pulled me in closer, into his seat, forcing me to straddle him.
When I pulled back, I smiled. “If you keep kidnapping me from my work like this, I’m going to start invoicing you as a client.”
Big A’s eyes held mine. “Send whatever invoice you want, Mrs. Jabbar.”
His voice dropped to a low growl that sent heat rushing through me.
Before I could respond, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back hard to expose the full length of my neck.
The pull stung, making my pulse hammer in my throat.
He leaned in close, and then his mouth crashed against my neck in a deep French kiss.
His tongue swirled and sucked, tracing wet circles along my pulse point.
His teeth grazed just enough to make me gasp.
As he devoured my neck, his free hand fumbled with his zipper, pulling out his thick dick, already hard and throbbing in his grip.
I felt the air cool against the wetness he left on my skin, but there was no time to catch my breath.
With a rough tug, he ripped a hole right through my leggings at my pussy.
The cool air hit my bare folds, as he gripped my hips and lifted me effortlessly before slamming me down onto his dick.
He buried himself deep in one brutal thrust, stretching my pussy wide around his girth, filling me completely as I cried out from the sudden invasion.
His hands clamped on my ass, holding me impaled on him, rocking me slowly at first to let me adjust to the burn, but I could feel the violence building in his grip, promising more.