Page 5 of The Deals We Make

And I know Niro sees Avery as a do-over for his little sister who was murdered. One very drunken night, I overheard him telling Bates that he wonders why hanging out with his sister when she was young was such a chore, because having Avery in his life is such a blessing. And he’s angry that Bates has, in Niro’s words, one point seven babies and Niro has none. The man is so fucking in love with his wife that he’s putting what he wants on hold so she can have what she wants: Freedom. A crack at becoming a brother. Something more than being an old lady. But that man needs babies of his own someday like a biker needs the road. Through the crack in the door, I saw Bates hug the shit out of his best friend.

Observing is what I do.

Through the security feeds to everyone’s home and the trackers on their phones and vehicles, I keep watch.

It’s how I keep everyone safe.

I flip my screen to the cameras around my folks’ place. The lights of a flickering TV tell me they stayed up to watch the ball drop. No sign of a party, though.

But there is a strange car lingering outside their neighbor Mrs. Moray’s drive.

I zoom in on the plate, my heart skipping a beat as I think through the possibilities.

Mrs. Moray only has one child.

A daughter.

Calista.

And once upon a time, she was my best friend.

We met when I was seven and moved in next door to her. She barged her way into my life before I’d even stepped foot inside my new home. Heck, I’d not even gotten out of the car before she climbed in to see what I was reading. All braces on her teeth and hair the texture of straw. We ended up in the same class and used to hang out on the front porch at night. Neither of us were considered “the cool kids”. Mom used to say what we lacked in common sense we made up for in brains. As we grew older, we’d hack shit together. We watched an old school movie about hackers. It seemed easy enough, although the reality was a little harder. But we were both smart kids, and we learned. Started small. Once, we hacked our high school and changed our grades. Then, we started stealing small amounts from big companies. Nobody paid attention. Two hundred bucks here. Five hundred bucks there. Suddenly, we had some cash in our pockets.

Until she wanted more money and risk, yet failed to understand that if we got caught, a Black man would never be treated the same way as a white girl in the justice system.

And while I was trying to figure out how to rein her in, she started to fuck with the kind of people youreallydon’t fuck with.

She planned to hack the Outlaws.

She’d heard they made good money and was intent on taking a piece.

I might not have been able to protect her from the rest of the world, or even from herself, but I knew I could protect her from the MC. So, at eighteen years of age, I made a deal with Camelot, the then president, that even though it was the best choice at the time, is a decision I’ve regretted for fifteen years.

I’d protect the club, to protect her. I’d secure their cyber-defenses. If she never stole from them, they wouldn’t need to kill her for fucking them over.

Didn’t know I’d find loyal friends and a home here—more than I expected as a Black man surrounded by white men.

Nor did I expect that she’d hack me and steal all my money to teach me a fucking lesson. To show me how furious she was with me.

The last time I saw her fifteen years ago, she told me she’d kill me if she ever saw me again.

I run the plate. It’s registered as a fleet vehicle for a company that does private rides from the airport. But just as I’m about to follow the trail to see where it leads, a tall woman dressed in black and wearing a long ponytail steps out of the rear passenger door of the car. She stands there for no more than a few seconds before she climbs back inside, then is driven away.

And even in the shadows of night, Calista Moray has never looked better.

I think back to what Sophia just told me.

About the Italians and how they’re being hacked.

“Fuck, Calista,” I mutter as I slip my glasses off. “If that’s you, I don’t know how the hell I’m gonna save you this time.”

2

CALISTA

Ilook up at the New York head office for a banking client I serve and catch sight of my reflection in the mirrored exterior. My custom Hugo Boss suit fits to perfection. My almost-floor-length black Burberry overcoat is as soft as butter and warmer than ten layers of cashmere. And my red-soled shoes may have a four-inch heel, but I can still sprint in them.

I might need to after what I’m about to do.