“Okay,”
“You cool with my mama still coming through? I can tell her we headed to bed if you ain’t all the way comfortable dealing with her by yourself yet.”
“No, don’t do that. It’s fine.”
“You sho?”
“I’m positive.”
“Aight, here, ma. Take this. Call me if you need me.” Crown pulled his business cell from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “I’ll be back, and I promise we gon’ have that talk.”
Nivéa hugged him, trusting him. He kissed her forehead without lingering because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t leave her side.
Crown pulled up to the warehouse around eight fifteen and swung off his bike, his size thirteen boots striking the concrete. Just like Smoky said, Pete stood near the entrance, another man with dirty blond hair posted at his side.
Crown’s hand went straight to his waist, gun raised and trained on the stranger’s head before a word left his mouth. “Who the fuck is this?” He barked.
The moment Crown moved, the prospect guarding the door reacted too, his gun snapping up and locking onto Pete. He didn’t give a fuck that Pete was a cop or why Crown had drawn his weapon. If Crown moved, the rest of them would follow, having his back.
Pete’s hands shot up. “Hold on. Guys, lower the weapons. I assure you he’s not a threat.”
“Must got a death wish, muthafucka. You brought a new face to my shit.” Crown replied, ignoring him.
“I tried calling to let you know I had important information and that we were coming, Crown. You did not answer.” Peteturned slightly toward the man beside him. “This is someone who can be very valuable to you.”
“I don’t do business with niggas I know nothin’ about.”
“I’m aware, and that’s why I’m standing here, vouching for him.”
Crown eyed Pete, searching his face for any signs of deception before glancing over at the man again.
“After all these years we’ve been doing business, why you want to add someone new now, old man?”
“You wanted the name of the snitch. Well, he’s the one who can give it to you. This is Lieutenant Spencer in Major Crimes. He’s also my brother-in-law. As I said, I vouch for him. He can be trusted.”
“My son is sick.” Lieutenant Spencer quickly interjected, making his intentions known.
“He’s developed a heart condition. I dropped him from my insurance when he went off to college, and he never picked up coverage of his own. Everything’s out of pocket. I need the money. Without treatment, he won’t survive.”
The space went silent. Crown studied him for a long moment, the gun still aimed. Then, slowly, he lowered it. The prospect followed suit just as Smoky stepped outside, quietly joining the scene.
“Talk,” Crown said.
“What about the money—”
“You get paid when you give me the name.”
The man hesitated, looking to his brother-in-law for guidance. Pete gave a slight nod, signaling that Crown was a man of his word.
“His name is Borris Thompson. Street name Boe.” Lieutenant Spencer revealed.
Crown’s expression didn’t change as he shrugged. “I don’t know a Boe. Shit doesn’t ring a bell.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know of you. He’s mentioned his leader doing business with the Knights, along with others. I want to make it clear that you all are not who we are after; his leader is. But if you cross paths with the target at the wrong time, you could get caught in the fallout, and you’ll be brought in right along with him.”
“And who the fuck is Boe’s leader?”
Crown wanted to know if they were after the weapons or the drugs, but Lieutenant Spencer went quiet on him. Long enough for him to understand he’d already given up what he was willing to share for free.
