Nyles “Nyce” Richards
Saturday | 3:15pm
I sat atthe glass desk in my office, tapping my fingers against it slowly and steadily. Each gold ring hit with a quiet clink. The room was dim, lit mostly by the fireplace in the corner. It was just me and my glass of D’Ussé that was halfway gone.
The clock behind me ticked loudly as my patience slipped by the minute. These niggas were late, which meant they were cleaning up a mess or walking in with one. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit.
Zeke Montgomery had been running his mouth too long. He owed me more money than most niggas ever would. I let it slide longer than I should’ve and gave him grace I didn’t extendto others. But he kept ducking and lying to me like I was some rookie off the corner. Like I wasn’t who I was. I downed my drink, jaw tight, thinking of our last convo with his fake humility and tired lines.
“I just need another week.”
“The money’s coming.”
“I’m working on it.”
Zeke wasn’t no regular-degular preacher. He was a hustler in a robe. A street nigga in disguise. And now he thought I was dumb enough to let him skate free. Nah. I took that shit personal. So I did what I had to and had his daughter snatched.
Once I had her, the game changed. Zeke could ignore my calls, send his deacons to stall, and hide behind Sunday service, but this hit home. Now I’d see how tight he’d clutch that Bible with his baby girl in my house, cuffed to a chair.
Just as I reached for my phone, there was a knock on my office door. “Yeah,” I said, leaning back in the velvet wingback chair. Then, the double doors opened, and Jermaine and Crook walked in.
“It’s done,” Jermaine said.
I stared for a second. “And?” I asked.
“She ain’t soft,” he said. “Put up a fight.”
Crook added, “Tried to kick Swank in the throat getting out the truck.”
That pulled a smirk outta me. “That so?”
“Yeah. She’s cuffed downstairs now.”
“Say less.” I stood up, straightened my sleeves, checked the AP on my wrist, and headed out of the room.
When I stepped into the basement, she was sitting in the cold metal chair. Ankles crossed, cuffs tight, back straight. The glasses on her face were big as fuck, but they didn’t hide how pretty she was. That isn’t what got my attention, though.
It was her stare. Princess wasn’t crying or begging. She just held my gaze from the second I walked in. Jermaine and Crook stood behind me while I stepped to her. She didn’t move, but I saw her body tense.
“I take it you’re the one in charge,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake.
I let out a dry laugh. “I’m Nyce.”
She squinted like she was unimpressed. “That name’s supposed to mean something to me?”
I tilted my head. “You don’t know who I am?” She didn’t answer. I nodded and continued. “I run half this city. The half your daddy owes millions to.” Her mouth parted, but she didn’t say shit. That pause told me everything. She might’ve known he was dirty, but she had no clue how far down he’d gone. “Now you know,” I said. “Congratulations.”
She blinked once. “You kidnapped me.”
“Nah. Icollectedyou. Collateral.” I crouched down in front of her, meeting her eyes directly. She was scared, but she hid it well. I respected that. “You know why you’re here?”
She didn’t flinch. “Obviously, my father pissed off the wrong man.”
I nodded once. “Smart girl.” I looked her over again. “Aside from those big ass glasses, you don’t look like a preacher’s daughter.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you don’t look like a man of God. More like a thug who will soon be facing kidnapping charges.”
Jermaine chuckled while Crook laughed outright. I ignored their asses. “You’re not here ‘cause you’re pretty,” I said flatly. “You’re here because your daddy ran outta time.”
