“Butch.” I nodded, feeling Tariq shift beside me. “Thanks for waiting.”
He glanced once at Tariq, something measured in the look, before giving a short nod. “This way.”
We followed him past rows of empty desks and closed doors. I’d been here before, but never at this hour. Never with Tariq in tow. Never for something that felt this close to tipping into something unreturnable.
We reached the office.
Eliaj Lewis, the man the underworld knew as Smoke, sat behind a massive desk, haloed in a cloud of cigar smoke that curled around his silver-haired head like a crown. The scent of spice and fire laced the air, pungent but not overwhelming. His eyes cut to mine first, then to Tariq, who hadn’t taken a seat yet.
“Sit,” Smoke said simply. “Ain’t got time to waste tonight.”
Tariq stayed standing for a beat too long before lowering himself into the chair beside me.
“Elijah,” I said softly.
He nodded once. “Sanaa.”
Then his eyes sharpened as they found Tariq again. “Thanks for coming. I know this ain’t exactly regulation.”
Tariq’s voice was level. “No, it’s not.”
“But necessary,” Elijah said. “That’s why you’re here. Not to risk your job. To save your life.”
That caught him. I saw it in the way his spine straightened.
Elijah leaned forward, cigar perched between two thick fingers. “I’ve recently learned I have enemies. The kind that don’t knock before they come for you. I plan to handle it—but in the meantime, I’m moving pieces. Sanaa here has worked with a few of my associates. They’ll trust her when she tells them to get their valuables out of their homes. That’s what I’m asking her to do.”
He looked at me, and I nodded, though I felt Tariq’s gaze on the side of my face.
Smoke turned back to him. “And you. You’ve been sniffing too close to things that don’t concern you. Let me be clear—I don’t need protection from the law. But you keep poking around these fires, and they’re gonna notice you. Mark you. I don’t want that for you.”
Tariq’s voice came slow. “You don’t want it for me?”
“No,” Elijah said. “Because I’ve been watching you with her.”
The air went still.
“She softens you,” he continued. “But you still walk like a man who’s ready to fight anybody who threatens her. You love this woman. I know it. Don’t bother denying it.”
Tariq didn’t hesitate. “I wouldn’t.”
My heart squeezed.
We didn’t look at each other right away. It was too much. Too raw. But I felt the weight of his words settle between us like a vow.
Elijah leaned back, exhaled a plume of smoke. “Good. I respect that.”
Then he smiled—dry, not unkind. “I once asked her to marry my son.”
Tariq’s nostrils flared.
I held up a hand, trying not to smile. “That was years ago.”
Elijah chuckled. “Don’t worry. My boy’s married now. Two kids. Whole other world. My point is, I liked her then. Still do. And I want her safe. I trust you do too.”
Tariq didn’t speak, but I saw the flicker in his eyes. The unspokenalways.
There was silence then. Butch shifted by the door, arms folded. The smoke thickened. Tariq’s fingers curled on his thigh like he was counting seconds, breaths, options. I touched his knee, light but certain, and his body calmed beneath the contact.
