CAIRO: Out handling a few things, Little T.
LITTLE T: I need you here.
Shit.
With all the things happening and that have happened, and with Torin doing whatever the fuck, she’s calling for help and not going off and doing what she wants to do.
That, in itself, is fucking something.
CAIRO: Hang tight.
LITTLE T: You’re killin’ me here, smalls.
CAIRO: You’re a big girl.
LITTLE T: I said I need you, and you’re telling me to ‘hang tight’ while your boy is off his shit again.
CAIRO: Where are you?
LITTLE T: Driving around. He told me to leave.
CAIRO: Good girl. Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be at the house.
LITTLE T: Marine Boulevard.
My lips heave into the first authentic smile of the night.
It’s the street where Torin and I caught her running through The Landings. The one where I know she had drugs in that van.
CAIRO: I’ll see you there.
TWENTY-FIVE
bay
I’m irkedout and mentally in shambles.
I don’t have a phone number for Levi, but I did call Hot Rod to tell him what happened in Emilio’s office less than an hour ago. He said he’dpass it on,but it did nothing to bring down my anxiety level.
I don’t know what Torin did, if he truly took out the man who helped bring me into this world, but in retrospect, I didn’t hang out and wait in the driveway.
Pretty Boy told me to leave, and when I found Ozzy in the foyer, he only had to jerk his head to prompt my departure.
There was no room for argument. Not even a little.
Surprised me too, honestly.
Something about Ozzy demands my submission, but it didn’t stop the fact I wanted to ask him how he was and if there was anything I could do.
However, that fell flat the moment my makeshift husband began forward for Emilio’s office without giving me that chance, and I heard gunshots from outside.
A headlight proceeds toward me, the only thing on the street on a Tuesday night when folks are turning in for the night for work the next day. It pulls up behind Torin’s SUV, and I know it’s Cairo.
Opening the door, I slide out and find him yanking his black helmet off, perched on a crotch rocket as his jet-black hair goes in disarray.
He extends his arm and encourages me to take it. “Hop on, Little T.”
My face lifts. “For what?”
