Page 22
T he sound of children’s laughter echoed through the showroom of my car dealership, mixing with the faint hum of conversation and the clicking of high heels against the tile floor. I leaned against a sleek black Mercedes-Benz, watching my three kids run circles around a new Porsche we’d just added to the lot. They were loud and wild, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My wife, Chanel, was standing behind the glass counter, her phone pressed to her ear as she spoke to a client. She was the real boss here, though she’d never admit it. When I set up this dealership years ago, I made her the manager. It wasn’t just because she was good at it but because I wanted her to have something solid if anything ever happened to me. This life I lived wasn’t guaranteed, and I had to make sure my family was taken care of, no matter what.
“Uh-huh, yes, Mr. Carter,” Chanel said into the phone, her voice smooth and professional. She scribbled something on a notepad, nodding even though the man on the other end couldn’t see her. “We’ll have the car detailed and ready for you by tomorrow. Thank you for choosing us.” She hung up and turned to me, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“We need a vacation,” she said, walking toward me and leaning on the car next to me. Her voice dropped lower. “And I need my husband.”
I raised an eyebrow, amused. “You got me every night, don’t you?”
“Not like I want,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “The kids are running around like they don’t have home training, and I’m drowning in work while you’re out here saving the world with Damier and King. I’m sexually frustrated, Ezekiel. You’re lucky I love you because another woman would’ve packed her bags by now.”
I chuckled, pulling her closer by the waist. “I hear you, babe. We’ll go somewhere soon. But tonight, I’ll take care of you. Promise.”
She rolled her eyes, pouting. “How about a quickie right now?”
I shook my head, laughing. “You know your good pussy makes me lazy. I still got work to do.”
She playfully slapped my chest, but her smile told me she wasn’t too mad. “Fine. But don’t keep me waiting too long, Ezekiel.”
I kissed her forehead and glanced over at the kids, who were now arguing over who got to sit in the driver’s seat of the Porsche. Chanel went to corral them, and I turned back to the black Benz I’d been inspecting earlier.
I was about to head to my office when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw the name “Nino” flashing on the screen. One of my lieutenants.
“What’s good?” I said, answering the call.
“Boss, we got a problem,” Nino said, his voice tight with urgency. “Caught some boys lurking around the spot. Said they were scouting for Troy, and they mentioned Damian. But they don’t know where he is.”
I felt my jaw clench. Damian. Troy. Those names were becoming a bigger problem by the day. “Y’all got them locked down?”
“Yeah, we got ’em. But they’re just kids, Hocus. I don’t think they know shit. Just some runners Troy sent to stir the pot.”
I nodded, thinking. “Keep them there, and I will be there later tonight. Don’t touch them yet. I’ll let King decide what to do. You don’t make a move without my word, a’ight?”
“Got it, boss.”
I hung up, shoving the phone back in my pocket. My mind was already spinning with possibilities. Damian and Troy were getting sloppy, sending kids to do their dirty work. But sloppy or not, he was still dangerous.
An hour later, I pulled up to one of our quieter safe houses, a nondescript bungalow tucked away in the outskirts of the city. Uncle King’s car was already out front, and as I stepped inside, the faint smell of cigar smoke greeted me.
King sat at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in hand and a smirk on his face. His presence always commanded respect, not because he demanded it but because he didn’t have to.
“What’s good, nephew?” King said, leaning back in his chair as I walked in.
“Got some shit to discuss,” I said, sitting across from him.
“You always do,” he said with a chuckle, pouring me a glass of whiskey without asking. “Let me guess—Damian? The Troy nigga?”
“Both.” I took the glass and leaned back, sighing. “Nino caught some kids scouting the spot. Said they were working for Troy, and they mentioned Damian, but they don’t know where he is. That bitch Kita disappeared too. They moving sloppy, but it’s still a problem.”
King nodded, his expression serious. “I don’t know this Troy cat like that, but Damian has been a problem since day one. We’ve let him live because he’s blood. Damier’s been tied up with his love life, so I’ve let him handle shit his way. But it’s time we bring Damian back to the States and deal with this shit head-on.”
I nodded. “I’m with you. When do we leave?”
“Few days,” King said, swirling his glass. “And you’re coming with us. I need someone who can keep everything tight. You’ve always been that man, Hocus. Damier’s good, but he’s distracted. Too much on his plate. We need you.”
I didn’t respond right away. King had a way of saying things that stuck with you, whether you wanted them to or not.
“Did Damier ever tell you about his great-uncle Michael?” King asked, suddenly breaking the silence.
I nodded. Damier had told me about him on some drunk shit.
“Michael was Damian before Damian. Thought he was untouchable. Thought the family rules didn’t apply to him. You know where he ended up?”
“Dead,” I said simply.
“Locked in the basement until he starved,” King corrected. “Because that’s what happens when family crosses family. Damian thinks he’s untouchable. It’s time we remind him who the fuck we are.”
Before I could respond, the back door creaked open, and one of our men who worked this location stepped inside, his expression tense.
“Yo, Hocus, I’m glad you’re here,” he started, glancing at me nervously. “You think Damier’s really got this? With all due respect, he’s been... distracted.”
The room went silent. I stared at him, annoyed.
“You questioning the boss?” I asked, my voice calm but sharp.
“I’m just saying, Troy’s out there running wild, and Damier’s caught up living the billionaire lifestyle. It don’t look good.”
I stood up, stepping closer to him. “Listen, don’t let the calm fool you. Damier built this empire, and he’s the reason you’re still breathing. You don’t like how shit’s run, there’s the door. But you spread doubt like that again, and I’ll handle you myself. Got it?”
The man nodded quickly, backing down. “Well, Nino had me bring the niggas here to y'all. What you wanna do with them?”
“Murk them niggas, and we will be handling Troy ourselves.”
The boy walked out and closed the door.
King chuckled, shaking his head. “Nephew, you’ve got a fire I’ve always admired.”
$$$$$
When I finally made it home, the house was quiet. Chanel was putting the kids to bed, her voice soft as she read them a bedtime story. I stood in the doorway, watching for a moment before heading to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.
A few minutes later, Chanel joined me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Long day?” she asked, her voice muffled against my chest.
“You don’t know the half of it,” I said, kissing her forehead.
She smiled up at me. “Well, I’m glad you’re home. Now, about that promise...”
I chuckled, letting her pull me toward the bedroom. For now, I could let the chaos wait. But I knew that in a few days, it would be time to face these niggas—and nothing about that was going to be easy.