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Jansen sighed on the other end, the sound of papers shuffling in the background. “Wish it was. Vote was supposed to happen next week, but word is…”

“They already unofficially made a decision.” Brooks finished for him, shaking his head, rage coiling hot and tight in his chest.

Jansen hesitated. “Nothing official yet, but it’s leaning in their favor. Someone up the chain wants them in and you out. The gala is when we find out. I didn’t want you caught off guard.”

A choppa ringing out always got a muthafucka’s mind right. Old habits were calling him from a past he’d thought he’d outgrown.

Brooks let out a humorless chuckle. Motherfuckers really thought they could play him. Premier Carry Towing was a garbage-ass company that had no business handling emergency calls in this city.

“I put in that bid six fuckin months ago,” Brooks said, his voice sharp enough to cut. “We checked every damn box. Spent the money. Did everything by the book. I already got the county contract. That’s how I know it’s some bullshit.”

Brooks flexed his fingers, watching the tendons dance beneath his skin as he tried to breathe through the anger riding up his spine. If he lost this contract,he’d be out a quarter million-dollar deal. That wasn’t just about money he had plenty of money. It was about the future and principle.

One day, he wanted to pass something down to somebody- nieces, nephews, maybe even his kids if life ever gave him that chance. This could set him up for life. And these corrupt motherfuckers thinking they could take it away without a fight had the game fucked up.

A loud knock hit the door, followed by Marco sticking his head in. “Aye, uh… You good?”

“Find me something,” Brooks said, his voice calm in a way that should’ve scared anybody who knew him. “I don’t care if it’s a conflict of interest, a missed signature. I need something to make this bid stick, or it’ll be a sheisty summer. Do you hear me?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“That ain’t gonna work, Jansen.” Brooks’ voice dropped lower, each word precise and deadly. “Find something or find me an address. What the fuck you mean you’ll see? I don’t pay you to see shit. I pay you to make things appear or disappear.”

Brooks hung up, tossing the phone onto his desk like it had personally offended him. He massaged his neck. He was wound up too tight and he wasn’t happy about coming back home to bullshit after the time he’d had with Taylor.

“We’re getting fucked over.”

“Shit.” Marco let out a low whistle, running a hand over his fresh fade. “What we doin’? What’s the move?”

Brooks cracked his neck, “Waiting on Jansen to find me an opening.”

Marco shifted again, but Brooks could see thetension in his stance, the way his right hand instinctively drifted toward his waistband, old habits never quite dying. “And if he don’t?”

Brooks flexed his fingers again, watching the tattoos ripple across his knuckles. “Then I’ll find my own way in and make an example out of whoever playing with me.”

His phone buzzed again against the polished mahogany of his desk. This time, it wasn’t Jansen.

Taylor.

He stared at her name, lighting up his screen, his thumb hovering over the decline button. He couldn’t be anything for anyone right now, not with rage clouding his vision and old instincts threatening to take over.

The city contract crisis had blindsided him, the first real threat to his business in years that he couldn’t immediately handle. The last thing he needed was to snap at her. She’d been through that enough. It was better to call her back when he had his head right, when he could be the man, she deserved rather than the one was ready to take it too far.

Taylor:DECLINEEE???

Brooks: Work shit. It ain’t personal.

Taylor:Ok and you can talk to me about it. TF

He turned, face tight, eyes sharp. He’d never declined her call. She was pushing him, and nobody pushed Brooks Bishop. Not like this. And she didn’t give a damn. She had earned the right to call him any time and she expected him to answer. Taylor had pulled a him on him and called him on FaceTime, forcing his hand.

Brooks exhaled and rubbed a hand over his beard slightly as he stared at her incoming call. For amoment, he considered letting it ring through. Then he remembered the way she’d looked at him in Denver, like she could see the parts he never said out loud.

He answered, his face filling the screen with a grin. “What you mean TF? We cussin now?”

Taylor had got a little dip on her chip, gotten sassy since they came back. It was cute until he wasn’t in the mood.

“Brooks, that doesn’t count.” Her voice was steady but too calm, a controlled counterpoint to the chaos inside him. It was exactly what he needed right now because he was everything but calm. Even through the screen, she cut through his bullshit. “What’s going on, handsome?”