Mozzi heard some rustling as the phone switched hands, and his brother’s voice struck the line.
“Aye, whatever you doing, just be safe, aight. Hit me if you need backup.”
“Nigga, you ain’t supposed to be encouraging that shit!” Brim snatched the phone back.
“Nah, fuck that. I heard them niggas over there running young girls and using them as they mules and shit,” Moose chimed in after Brim put Mozzi on speaker. “Lil bitch I was fucking with a couple of nights ago said her fourteen-year-old sister and some of her friends be rolling them pills through the high schools. Yates equipped a whole squad to start investigating the increase in overdoses of these kids, and the streets are getting hot. Nickel too fucking flashy.”
All that was information Mozzi wasn’t aware of as he peeped little mama on the side of the club pacing and yelling into her phone.
“I’m just on some recon shit,” Mozzi told them. “I’ll hit you back.”
Hanging up, Mozzi listened to baby going off not too far away. He didn’t know who she was talking to, but she was giving them the business. He needed her to take her ass inside so he could focus, though. Instead, her trek led her to him. He didn’t think she even realized she was doing it; she was just so fucking mad. Cursing under his breath, he glanced down at the screen of his phone glowing in his hand. It was almost 1:00 a.m., and she was on ten.
“How about you concentrate on getting patched up and stay the fuck off my line! You fucked around with the wrong one,Sipes. I’m not like the rest of these bitches around here. I don’t give a fuck who you are or what you got, nigga!” She yanked the phone off her ear and yelled that last part into it before her fiery eyes landed on Mozzi.
With his head down, he tried to act like he hadn’t heard all that, but she made it hard not to notice for several reasons. Hiding a smile, he listened to her hang up and sigh heavily. Finally, he lifted his head, and instantly, their eyes locked. The silver-plated name tag pinned to her jacket had the name Coast engraved on it in black letters. Although snippy from her conversation with her ex, she was thrown as her brown eyes roamed Mozzi.
He was handsome and muscular, even under his leather jacket as he sat with his bike between his legs. His jewelry wasn’t flashy, but she could tell by the way his diamond earring flickered off the streetlight that it was real. There was no smiling or flirting like he normally would with a woman, and this girl was fine. He instantly wondered why he hadn’t seen her around. Something outside his peripheral turned his attention back to the warehouse. There was movement as a big shipping truck pulled out from the back lot, and she was a distraction he didn’t need.
“Do you have a problem?” she demanded. “Or you just like standing around, looking weird in dark places?”
“Go back inside.” Mozzi’s attention went back to the men stepping out of the warehouse entrance across the street with two young girls behind them.
“Excuse me?” she sneered, hand resting on her hip.
“You’re loud… and right now in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Mozzi said flatly, sliding his phone into his pants pocket.
Scowling, Coast scoffed. “Whatever the fuck you got going on ain’t my fucking problem.”
“It’s about to be,” Mozzi replied, voice low, edged.
The air tightened around them, and her big, brown orbs burned into his. She clocked him as dangerous off her initial glance. It wasn’t loud or sloppy, more so the kind of danger that moved quietly and didn’t need permission. He skimmed her closely, catching the warm glow surrounding her, even though she was clearly agitated. She was having a bad night, and as much as she wanted to go off on him, she backed off instead. Although she didn’t seem to fear him, he found her defiance both annoying and sexy.
“I already committed one crime tonight. Let me get back to work.” She had a shift to finish, and something about him rattled every rational fiber in her being. “Stupid ass, weird ass niggas around this muhfucka,” she muttered, ducking back inside.
Mozzi clocked the car pulling off from the warehouse behind the truck. Nickel wouldn’t know what hit him when he was done with him, and he’d be in the red with his supplier. Two birds. One stone. Adjusting his helmet on his head, he revved the engine of his bike and hit the gas. The whole interaction with that girl had him keyed up, and he needed a release. He bypassed the car with Nickel’s men first, engine loud as he raised his pistol and shot at the tires of the shipping truck ahead of them. When it swerved off the road, Mozzi hit the corner in the opposite direction, glancing over his shoulder to watch the driver lose control. It swayed across the road before tipping over onto its side and sliding to the corner right through the intersection, where another vehicle slammed right into it. The back door went flying open, and Nickel’s product spilled all over the streets. Satisfied, Mozzi grinned and sped up so he could get away from the scene. He was sure they’d hear all about it later.
CHAPTER TWO
UNDERSTANDING
The next day…
“Welcome to the Snack Shack. What can I do for you today?” Ayla Jacobs spoke into her headset, placing items in their signature white paper bag for the customer waiting at the window.
It was Friday afternoon, and she was supposed to be off, but another co-worker called out. Since she needed the extra coin, she gladly accepted when the assistant manager called, begging for her to help her out. Ramona was probably the only other person she considered a friend aside from her sister, Inari. It was nearly 3:00 p.m., and her feet were aching. She had to leave in the next hour so she could pick her nephew up from school, too.
Although it was summer, he was taking extra classes and running drills with his basketball team. The laughing and giggling through the mic annoyed her because she hated when people didn’t know what the hell they wanted or acted like they weren’t holding some shit up. The menu didn’t change, and unless you were new to town, you already knew what you liked at the Shack, as everyone called it.
Usually, she was the cook. Ayla spent years burning herself out under fluorescent lights, flipping burgers and dropping fries in oil that smelled of resignation. While she loved food, the patience of a recipe coming together, and the way a good meal could provide comfort, she knew she was destined for more than the mundaneness of a fast-food kitchen. She was currently in culinary school three days a week, trying to get all the hours she could so she could graduate and hopefully find better employment. Working in hole in the wall spots like this over the years was sure to kill the passion she had.
“Hello,” she pried, sealing the bag for her current order and walking it over to the window.
“Oh, my bad.” A familiar voice chuckled.
Ayla was distracted, but she could have sworn she knew that voice as she waited for him to give his order.
“What you say you want, baby?” he asked before a female mumbled something in the background.
