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Our footsteps echo on the marble floors, but other than that, the place is quiet. Too quiet.

We pass a nurse in scrubs. She shrieks and drops her clipboard when she lays eyes on us. AJ signals for her to get down. His guy zip-ties her hands gently, whispering reassurances that we’re not here for her.

“Is anybody else in the house?” I demand.

In a shaky voice, she answers. “One other nurse. She’s in the room with Mr. Graves.”

I nod and we move along. Upstairs, the other nurse is walking down the hall in our direction, her face in her phone. As soon as she sees us, she drops it and moves to run.

“Aht, aht,” I say, pointing my gun at her head. “Get down on your knees, sweetheart. Make this easy.”

She complies and gets a pair of matching zip-tie cuffs for her trouble.

Dime’s room is at the end of the hall.

He’s slumped in a leather recliner next to the bed, oxygen tubes in his nose, a chenille throw blanket over his lap.

I wasn’t expecting him to look like this.

He was a legend. A lion in the concrete jungle. Now, he’s frail and weak, wrinkled like a raisin.

But I will give him one thing—he didn’t flinch when he saw us.

He just stares like he saw this coming.

I take my mask off. I wanna face him head on when I talk to him.

He squints, then lifts a shaky hand to point at me. “Who are you supposed to be?”

I lower my gun and lean against the dresser. “I did a job for you,” I say quietly. “Eight years ago. Demario Simmons.”

His lips contort, and I can’t tell if it’s a smile or a grimace. “Dash. Yeah. He had to go.” He shifts a little in his seat. “You got the wrong man, though. That was all Brett.”

I stare at him, waiting.

“He came to me,” Dime rasps. “Said he had a problem. I put up the money, yeah. He’s my son. But I stayed out of the details. It was cleaner that way. It was just business.”

“Bullshit,” I say, setting my gun on the dresser next to me. “Dash was sleeping with Brett’s wife. That shit was personal.”

Dime shrugs. “What do you want me to say? He didn’t wanna share.”

“You know he tried to have you killed,” I say. “Sent me after you because he was too pussy to do it himself.”

Dime nods slowly like none of this is a surprise to him. And I guess it isn’t. He knows what kind of man he raised. “I’d ask where my son is, but I’ve been in the game long enough to know not to ask those kinds of questions.

He turns his head to look out the window, but he can’t hide the tears glittering in his eyes. I give him a minute. It’s the least I can do.

Then, he speaks again.

“What is it that you want from me?”

“How’d you find me back then?”

He turns back to me, eyes clear and dry now. He lifts his chin and squares his shoulders. “I’m ex-military. I was in the right rooms when your name came up.”

“And Redd?”

That gets a laugh. It’s soft and short, but his amusement is clear.