Chapter 11
Dax
The woman sitting across from me can’t be more than five feet tall, and she looks haggard and unassuming. She has a bit of a hump on her back, and her stomach protrudes like she’s nine months pregnant. But I’m pretty sure she’s over fifty.
“You’re not planning on doing anything to that girl, are you? I won’t work for you if you’re gonna hurt her.” She holds both hands up. “I’m not that type of woman.”
“I don’t hurt women,” I say. She glares into my eyes, and after a moment, she nods.
“What is the assignment?”
“I need her followed. I want to know where she is at all times.”
“Then you don’t need me. Put a tracker on her car.”
“That will only tell me where she is, not who she’s with or what she’s doing.” Giselle’s nostrils flare. I don’t think she likes my words.
“And why do you need to know that?” she practically snaps.
“Because I need to know. I’m not paying you to question me. If you can’t do the job, I’ll find someone else.” I stand, ready to dismiss her and move on to another person. I don’t have the time or the patience to be questioned by someone I’m paying to do a fucking job.
“I can do it,” she says. “As long as I have your word you won’t hurt her.”
“You have my word.”
Me: I’ll be by later
Cori: That’s what you think, MF
Me: I’ll be by later
She doesn’t reply anymore, but I’ve already made up my mind that Finch and I will be going to her place tonight.
I reluctantly put Cori out of my mind and make a phone call I don’t want to make to a former acquaintance.
I take one of my burner phones and dial the number.
“Steel.” His voice is clipped, and I sigh. The only good thing about dealing with him and his family is that our calls never last long. They get to the point and hang up.
“It’s Dax.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
“I told you I don’t deal with drug traffickers anymore.” I rub the bridge of my nose. I know what he wants, but I’m not the one who will give it to him.
“Aren’t you fucking high and mighty. I made you. Show some gratitude.”
“You didn’t make shit, Steel. And I thought you were going legit?
” I knew it was bullshit when he said it years ago.
It’s been over a decade, and they’re still smuggling drugs from Mexico and are one of the biggest distributors.
Only a select few know, but I believe their luck will eventually run out, and I don’t want to get caught in the crosshairs.
“We are. This is the end of it, but we need to make this money legal. You’ll be well compensated. I don’t trust anyone else.”
I know why he doesn’t. It’s hard to do what he does on a good day. It’s damn near impossible when you’re Black. There’s a certain trust between us, and I don’t think he can easily find that elsewhere.
“Let’s meet. You’ll be so fucking rich after this, you can retire and focus on all your legit businesses.”
Now that piques my interest.
“I’m already rich, and I’m already going legit. There’s nothing you can offer me.”
“You can always be richer.” Steel is fucking right about that. “Richer without having to do the hustle. I’ll send you a time and place to meet. Come alone.”
I’ll meet, but I’m not going alone.