“Clear,” Smoky called out as he walked from the back.
All the Knights grabbed the gas cans a prospect had brought along. Danger dragged his leg as he moved, the pain sharper with every step, but he refused to slow down.
“You good, bro?” Smoky asked, clocking it immediately.
Crown had already made it clear. If Danger didn’t make it back, he didn’t need to bother coming back either. And Smoky wasn’t trying to test that line with his nigga.
“I’m straight.” Danger mumbled as he splashed fuel across the bar, along the walls, and over the stage, soaking framed photos and fallen bodies.
For a brief moment, Lil Mo’s laugh cut through his thoughts, clear as day, before he let the lighter fall. The fire caught immediately as they walked out. And by the time they pulled off, the clubhouse was fully engulfed in flames, and sirens could be heard in the distance. Danger leaned back in the seat. Blood seeped through the bandage on his leg, dark and heavy, but he didn’t give a fuck. For the first time in weeks, he could finally breathe.
Chapter Seven
On the other side of town, Crown stood beside a well-kept brick home, waiting and watching. Since he was already out, he figured he might as well handle some unfinished business. The neighborhood was quiet. Porch lights were off, curtains drawn, and neighbors were tucked away in their own worlds. Perfect. He remained still until the motion sensor flicked on, illuminating the driveway he lingered near.
Crown never put a nigga on his payroll without getting a copy of his ID that contained his home address first, and this was exactly why. In case he ever had to pull up and remind him who the fuck he was dealing with.
Slowly, Clint pulled in and shut off his BMW, stepping out without a care in the world. That was his mistake. He believed the good neighborhood and the camera mounted near his front door were enough to keep trouble away. Unfortunately for him, the worst menace of them all did not give a fuck about surveillance.
Dressed in all black with a ski mask pulled tight over his face, Crown moved fast, closing the distance before Clint even had time to register a presence. “Don’t say a muthafuckin’ word.” He barked as he pressed the barrel of his Glock againstthe side of Clint’s head. “You make a sound, and this turns into a whole different night.”
Clint's hands lifted in surrender as panic set in, his breath coming out in short, broken gasps. His wife was upstairs asleep, and the thought of her waking up to danger made him nod fast, desperate to comply.
“You thought that phone call was it? Nah. Consider this your warning, muthafucka. If something goes down at that address, you are to send someone out. I don’t give a fuck what protocol says. Do you understand?”
The man nodded again, fear flooding his body so hard it nearly took his legs out from under him.
“Good. ‘Cause the next time you won’t be so lucky. You could have ten alarms and a hundred cameras on this bitch, and it still won’t save you from what I got planned.” Crown released him and stepped back into the shadows.
On the side of the car, Clint closed his eyes, praising God he was still alive, his hands shaking as he struggled to breathe. And by the time he lifted his head, Crown was already gone, consumed by the darkness like he had never been there at all. The only evidence left of his presence was the sound of his Ducati, slicing through the night air.
When Crown finally made it home, the house was quiet. Nivéa and Nyla were both knocked out. Everything in him wanted a hot shower, but the sight of Nivéa pulled him in instead. He couldn’t help himself. He sat on the edge of the bed beside her and reached out, brushing his thumb over the dimple that showed even when her face was relaxed.
“Ahh!” She gasped, jolting upright at the unexpected touch.
“Shh,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing his forehead to hers. “It’s just me, ma. You safe.”
The fear eased the moment Nivéa caught his voice. The sound alone pulled her back, then the scent of his cologne drifting from his neck soothed her like no other.
“I’m sorry. My ass is so paranoid.”
“I know, and I hate that shit. I can’t wait ‘til the day you comfortable and unafraid ‘cause you know I’ll take a nigga’s head off ‘bout you.”
The ice broken.
Heat rushed to Nivéa’s cheeks as she smiled. She lifted her hand, resting it against the side of his face, her thumb moving slowly against his dark lips.
“I missed you, Ahmad. So much. I mean, not just while you were gone. The entire time we were apart.” She admitted.
“I missed you too. I wanted to call you…wanted to pull up on you. But I also wanted to respect your wishes.”
“Come here, please.” She begged, helping him remove his vest and shirt.
“You ain’t ever gotta beg me for shit.” Crown replied, snatching her robe open and taking her body completely out of it.
Without complaint, Nivéa leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. The moment his chest pressed against hers, warmth flooded through her despite the coldness of his VVS Cuban Link.
“Goodness,” she whispered, all in her feelings.
