“Price?” Crown asked.
After Lieutenant Spencer confirmed the amount, Crown glanced over at Smoky. “Go get the money.” He instructed.
In minutes, Smoky returned with a duffel bag stuffed with cash. He passed it to Lieutenant Spencer without hesitation. That money wasn’t shit to Crown. He could wipe his ass with every bill in that bag, and his accounts wouldn’t even feel the dent.
“What’s the name?” Crown asked.
“Pierre Guerrier, known as Preach. The Dessalinés Mob's current leader.”
Crown and Smoky exchanged a look, everything clicking at once. They now understood why Preach’s shipments were suddenly getting seized. He had a snitch in his camp.
Crown stepped closer to Lieutenant Spencer, close enough to make the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “How old is your son, Spencer?” he asked, his gaze dropping briefly to the wedding band on the man’s finger.
Lieutenant Spencer cleared his throat, scared out of his mind. “He just made twenty.”
Crown nodded slowly. “If you lying to me, if any of this info is wrong…I’ll cut his fuckin’ heart out myself and have itdelivered to your wife. You understand? I don’t give a fuck about that badge.”
Lieutenant Spencer swallowed hard as he said,
“I understand.”
He knew the second he set foot on the Knight’s property that he’d crossed a line he could never uncross, and part of him regretted the move. Unlike Pete, he’d spent his entire adult life doing things the right way. He’d worked his ass off through college, clawed his way up the department, and built a reputation by following procedure and staying clean. Years of discipline. Years of restraint. And now one bad decision had the power to burn it all down. But the other side of him felt none of that mattered anymore. Not the badge, the career, or the rules he’d lived by. He would do anything to save his son’s life, anything. He was a father first.
“Also,” Crown added, lifting his gun and pointing it at the camera mounted high in the corner of the warehouse.
“You are being recorded. That means I got dirt on you, muthafucka. So, anytime the Knights come up, I expect to know about it. Get the fuck outta here.”
Crown didn’t wait to see them leave. He turned and headed back inside, confident Smoky would clear the area. As he walked through the warehouse, he nodded at each Knight he passed, his eyes scanning for Danger. He searched and searched until he finally found him in the back, talking to the road captain, Black.
“Everybody move around.” Crown instructed, and the energy shifted instantly at the sight of his large build.
Out of respect, conversations halted, and one by one, the members cleared out, leaving the space open.
“What you doing here, bro?”
“Fuck it look like? I’m ‘bout to ride out.” Danger shot back, adjusting his bulletproof vest.
“No you not. I gave you a direct order to fall the fuck back until you healed.”
“I ain’t never gon’ be healed. Fuck you talking ‘bout, nigga?”
Crown took a deep breath and nodded, trying to be understanding. “I get it, bro. You hurtin’. You pissed. But this ain’t the way. You gotta heal first.”
“Nah, sittin’ at home ain’t the way. Mo’s lying in the dirt, and you expect me to wait until my leg closes up to go after these niggas? Hell nah, I’m ridin’.”
“You limpin’! You slow. If you get caught slippin’ like that, you get hit, and you dead.” Crown corrected him, not sparing his feelings.
Danger let out a sharp, jagged laugh as he raised his gun, the hammer clicking back loudly in the silence. He tucked it into his waistband and sniffed hard.
“The only one who needs to go home is you. Worry about yo’ bitch. She’s the one who needs saving. I’m good.”
Crown’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer. “Fuck did you just say to me?”
“You heard me.”
Crown nearly swung. And if it had been anybody else, he would have. Immediately. But this was his brother, and he forced himself to stay still. He knew that wasn’t the real Danger. The brother he knew would never disrespect him like that. So instead of reacting, he studied him. That’s when he saw it. The pain first, then the high. The glassy stare, pupils dilated, and a red, wet nose as if he’d been wiping it all night.
“You back doing coke, bro?” Crown came right on out and asked. He’d been in the streets long enough to spot a cokehead, especially since his own brother had once dabbled in the poison.
