“A bitch you decided to keep?” I pulled my chin from his grip and grilled him. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to? I’m not the one you fuck with. I won’t let you talk to me that way.”
“What the fuck are you going to do?” he quickly wrapped his hands around my throat and squeezed. Quincy’s hand on me felt wrong on so many different levels. I’d just experienced Amethyst touching me this way, not even thirty minutes ago, and multiple times last night, and it felt amazing, but having Quincy touch me right now scared me. The look in his eyes and the way his hand felt against my throat had my heart slamming against my chest. “Who’s going to stop me from doing what the fuck I want to do? You?” He freely took me in with his eyes, then licked his lips. “If anything, I may enjoy the fucking fight you put up, but at the end of the day, you’ll still end up on your fucking knees where you belong.”
“Fuck you!”
“One day,” he said, chuckling. “Real fucking soon.”
“Quincy, let her go,” Luther finally said, and Quincy let me go.
I stepped back, coughing and grilled the fuck out of both of them. Never in the years that I’d dealt with the Kilmores had anyone ever put their hands on me or spoken to me in the way that Quincy did. My hands went to my throat, and I touched it, hating how tender it already was. I was going to be bruised; there was no doubt about that.
“Let’s go get some answers,” Luther dismissively said. I cut my eyes to him, and he gave me a look of disinterest. He didn’t give a damn about what Quincy said or did. “When you get back, you can check on Grant.”
Quincy pulled his keys from his pocket and dangled them in my face. “Let’s go,” he said, chuckling. “We won’t be long.”
**
“What do you know about our family business, Yale?” Luther asked as I sat in the back seat of Quincy’s car, and he drove.
“Nothing,” I answered truthfully. I never wanted to know anything, so I didn’t ask questions. I knew they all had legitimate jobs, but they also dabbled in other things. The only one that wasstraight was Grant, and at times, I wondered if that was even true. I looked out the window, watching as we moved through the city.
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s not my business,” I answered, and Luther grunted.
“You’re married to my son, and you don’t think it’s your business?” he chuckled. “I don’t believe that.”
“I’m sure you know the reason for my marriage to Grant,” I replied. “I’m not here for love.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Luther laughed.
We pulled into the hospital’s parking lot where Amethyst worked, and Quincy picked up his phone. I watched as he dialed a number, and seconds later, the sound of a phone ringing echoed through the car’s speakers.
Whoever he called answered, but never said a word. Quincy grunted, wiped his hand over his face, then nodded. “Third floor,” Quincy said, breaking the silence, then hung up. We parked in an empty spot and waited. Ten minutes later, the elevator door opened, and Amethyst stepped off, dressed in scrubs and a mug on his face. “You want her to go with me?”
“Nah,” Luther said, shaking his head. “She can stay here while you discuss business.” Quincy nodded, then got out of the car and approached Amethyst.
“You’re here because you love that nigga,” Luther said as I watched Quincy and Amethyst talk. “You stepped into the deal you did because of love.” Luther looked at me through the rear-view mirror. “Shit is about to change. Deals are being made, some are even being broken. You might love that nigga, but you are married to my son. Either fall in line, or I’ll make sure that you’re alive long enough to watch everyone you love die.” He shook his head. “We run everything,” he chuckled. “You’ll never know how far my reach goes. That nigga isn’t shit; he doesn’t runshit. He’s on my fucking payroll because I said so. Your deal with my son will be over without a second thought.” He licked his lips and smiled. “I’ll snatch that nigga’s life from your grasp and watch you mourn him with a smile on my face.” Luther laughed and shook his head. “There isn’t a war I can’t win, remember that, Yale.”
**
“How long has Amethyst been on your family’s payroll?” I asked Grant a few hours later once we were home. After Quincy and Amethyst finished talking, Amethyst returned to the hospital, and Luther took us back to their family home. Grant was long gone, so I had to take an Uber to our house. I expected him to be here, but he wasn’t. I’d been in my office working since I got here. A million thoughts were going through my mind, the main one was figuring out how deep Amethyst was into their shit.
“What?” He looked up from his phone with a twisted expression. “Who told you that Amethyst worked for my family?”
“The run your brother and father made me go on was to the hospital,” I said and crossed my arms. Grant’s attention went back to his phone, and it took everything in me not to snatch his phone from his hand. “Grant!”
“What, Yale?” he sighed and looked up at me. The closer I got to him, the stronger the smell of alcohol was. He was drunk! “What do you want?”
“Answer my question,” I replied. “How long has Amethyst worked for your family?”
“Years,” he chuckled and swayed a little. To make sure he didn’t fall over, Grant leaned against the wall to keep himself upright. “You know that.” He licked his dry lips and then gave me a lopsided smile.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Not as a racer, I’m talking about as a doctor. Past the racing shit.”
“Years,” he said again and nodded. “He’s been on the payroll for years.”
“What?” I laughed. “What do you mean by years?”
