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“What the hell? Who are you?” An obese man grumbles as we push the door to his office open.

“Pull up your security footage. Now!” I bark, walking around behind his desk and towering over him.

“You don’t tell me what the fuck to do. Get out of here now,” he demands.

“I’m not going anywhere until I get the answers I came here for,” I reply firmly.

“I don’t know anything about anything.

Now get out before I call the cops.”

“I don’t give a shit what you don’t know. I don’t give a shit about you calling the cops. Run that fuckin’ tape back,” I snarl at the obese man sitting behind the desk.

We walked back to the owner’s office, to the chagrin of the customer service staff out front a minute ago. We didn’t bother to ask to see him or be let in, because I didn’t have time for games.

I didn’t go to Essence Hamilton right away because I have to tread lightly where she is concerned. There’s too much danger in that approach, and while I really don’t give a fuck when it comes to Bayleigh, I also know that I have to make sure that I get my answers without tipping my hand.

Telling anyone that she’s missing who doesn’t already know it could be like signing her death certificate. So, I’ll get whatever information that I can, in any way that I can, before I go to Essence.

Cameron Ryland is a disgrace to any and everything. His office smells like someone took a dump in here. There are grease stains on his yellowed, white shirt and flecks of food in his beard. The crotch of his white pants is saturated with the red juice he’d been drinking when we barged in.

File folders litter every surface, and books are stacked haphazardly on the two lone chairs.

“I’m gonna tell you one last time, if you don’t have a warrant, and you don’t because you damn sure ain’t no cop, then you can get the fuck out of here with that,” he replies.

I punch the obese man in his jaw, knocking him over in his chair. His face instantly splits in the crease between his nose and cheekbone.

“Zaire,” Janel warns behind me.

I ignore her in exchange for pounding the shit out of his face. I’m instantly pulled back.

“Let us handle this, G,” Ghalen states.

“Not when it comes to her,” I say, shaking my head and glaring at the piece of shit who’s trying to pick his bulk up from the ground.

“Listen, dude. I suggest that you give us access to your video cameras if you don’t want a bullet in the center of your forehead.

A bitch is tired and hungry. I don’t have time to beat your fat ass, and my boy ain’t really interested in that.

This big ass nigga behind me gon’ do the same thing that I am gonna do, except that he might torture you first,” Janel warns.

Cameron wipes his lips with the back of his hand and looks up at the three of us in confusion.

“It’s on my computer,” he answers, pointing at the old, outdated system.

I walk over to the computer and find that it’s not locked. I push a couple of keys on the keyboard and then scan for the security system.

“Flight Time. It’s that app,” he states.

I push the one that he indicates and jab a finger at it. “I need to see your footage from yesterday when the man rented the car.”

Cameron runs the video back to the requested date and time for us to review. I recognize the man. He’s one of the men from the club the night we celebrated Hakeem’s birthday.

I also recall seeing him on TV a few years back as a member of Essence’s security detail.

After reviewing the records that he left as a mailing address and job, I ask, “The fuck kind of business are you running here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cameron grumbles, rolling his eyes at me.

“At what point did you or your staff realize that one-two-three Candyland Lane wasn’t a real address? Or Parker Brothers on one-one-one Monopoly Way wasn’t a legit job address?”

“The fuck.” Janel snickers.

“You’re lucky I don’t have your business shut the fuck down. Ghalen, let’s bug. This was a waste of time.”

“All right, Bossman.”

“Janel, stay on this muthafucka,” I order, glaring at Cameron Ryland. “Ghalen and I have a very special visit to make.”

“Gotcha, Bossman,” she replies, smirking at Cameron.

He has no idea his ass is in hot water.

The drive to Essence’s office takes less than twenty minutes with the way Ghalen floors it. We pull up to the small firm that Essence has been working from since she left the DA’s office.

Her car is the only one parked in the lot, surprisingly. When we step inside, I don’t even see anyone at the receptionist’s desk.

I don’t have time for niceties or etiquette. I shove the inner door open, leading into her office, and find her on the phone.

Essence spins around and smirks at me.

“Hey, TC, I have to go, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

I walk further into her office and stop just inches in front of her.

“Well, well, well. It’s been a while, Zaire Knight. I was wondering what took you so long.”

“Where the fuck is she?”

“Who?” she asks with confusion etched across her face.

“Don’t fucking play games with me, Essence. I thought after you broke our family down by sending my father to prison that you’d be done with us. Are you intimidated? Threatened by our presence?”

Essence walks around me and heads to her desk, sitting down.

“Don’t you dare push a button or make a call,” I say, walking around her desk and spinning her chair around.

She frowns at me and then replies. “You may run the underground element here in Chicora Falls, Zaire, but you do not run me.”

“I’m not interested in running you. I want answers, and I know that you have them.”

She replies with a shrug. “If you say so.”

“Your former bodyguard, Theron James, was involved in an assault and kidnapping today.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she replies, laughing at my comment.

“I don’t give a fuck if you believe it or not. I’m telling you what happened, and I want some answers.”

“What answers do you think you’re deserving of, and who did he supposedly assault and kidnap?”

“I didn’t come here to answer your questions, Essence, but to get answers.”

“I suggest that you visit your local police department. I have nothing to do with anything. After all, that’s what our taxpayer dollars are for. To get them to protect and to serve. Unless, of course, you have something to hide, and you’re worried about them finding out,” she teases.

I don’t believe in hitting women, but I swear the smirk on her lips makes me want to smack her lips off.

“I’m going to ask you this question and nothing else,” I say.

Ghalen grunts behind me, warning me that I’d better tread carefully. There’s only so much that I can do to Essence with her in the public eye right now.

When I do make my move, it has to be stealthy and timed to perfection.

“Where can I find Theron James?”

Essence laughs and waves her hand. “Oh, that’s easy. You can find him at the corners of Old Wabash Avenue and Kingston Street.”

Frowning, I say, “There’s nothing there but a cemetery.”

“Exactly. He died of kidney failure last year.”

“Then who the fuck is walking around looking like him?”

“His twin brother, Terran.”

“And where would he be?”

“Not that I give a damn why you’re asking and not that I owe you anything but considering that I did fuck your dad over and never had a chance to fuck you, which I would have loved to do,” she confesses, dropping her gaze to my crotch as she licks her lips.

“I owe you. He works over at Ocean Town Studios on Piedmont Boulevard.”

I turn and glance at Ghalen, who instantly moves to the door.

“Zaire?”

I turn back and glare at her.

“Consider my debt paid. Everything else is open season.”

“Game on,” I snarl, turning to follow Ghalen out the door.