“Yep,” Tech nodded.
I walked around Tech so I could look over his shoulder at the computer. “See, he is still using an Android, which makes it much easier to remotely access. I didn’t even have to get him to do anything to see all of this.”
The laptop screen looked like he was on an Android as he scrolled through texts in his deleted folder. There was a picture of Quincy blindfolded and laying on a bed in a room that was clear of any distinguishing features. The next text saidMoney sent. He clicked out of the deleted folder and skimmed through the text threads with the rest of his family members.
“It doesn’t look like anybody else knew what he was up to. They just been texting him asking where the fuck is Quinten, and he hasn’t been replying.”
Tech’s phone rang and he answered it on speaker.“You saw what I sent you?”
“You sure that shit is legit?”Quinten questioned.
“Don’t ask me no dumb ass shit like that. Do you think I would play around with my brother’s life? You might fuck around when it comes to your people, but I don’t!”He spat.
“Don’t pay them shit. I’m going to handle this.”Quinten ordered before ending the call.
“Fuck that bitch ass nigga. We gone pay the ransom. Ion put shit past none of them motha fuckas,” Tech grumbled, taking the blunt from Vez.
“Damn, ain’t that your pops?” I inquired.
“Only by blood.”
“Dad!” Amill shrieked, rushing down the stairs.
“What’s up, baby girl. You good?”
“Jameera just called me. She said Lil Q is in the hospital. He was shot last night. Marissa is putting on a shirt, and she told me to tell you.”
I quickly shook off the confusion because we had just assumed both of them were snatched up and headed inside.
“Y’all stay here in case they call again. I’m going to call some of my people in Miami to get eyes on Quinten’s father. Come hell or high waters, I’ll have answers,” I advised them.
“Fuck man. Call me as soon as y’all know something!” Tech called at my back.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Quinten Bentley Sr
For the duration of my trip back to Miami, I could barely keep my thoughts straight. The level of anger I was experiencing was enough to make me stroke out, but somehow I was still moving. My jaw was clenched so hard that I probably ruined the enamel on my teeth, and my foot was heavy on the gas. I was apoplectic after ending the call with Tech, and could not stomach the presence of anyone. I left my crew behind in Tampa and headed to Miami, ready to confront my biggest demon in the flesh.
I slowed down as I turned onto my parents’ street due to the torrential rain that the dark clouds released. Lightning lit up the sky, making it look like it was dusk rather than two o’clock in the afternoon. My parents’ manor came into view, and I pressed the button in my truck to open their wrought iron gates. They were tall and black, intricately designed with the words Bentley Manor welded in the center. The gates parted, slowly, granting me entry after a few moments. I sped through the gates before they were fully opened, almost losing my side view mirrors in the process.
As I got closer to the house, memories of all the bullshit I endured at the hands of my father replayed in my head. The day he knocked me in the jaw and put a gun to my head because he found out about Lavita was the first time he pulled his gun on me. But my face had become acquainted with his fists the first time my cousin Jerrod took my game and wouldn’t give it back, so I went into my room pouting. I was probably about eight and Jerrod was eleven. My dad punched me in the face for letting him punk me. My brown skin bruised easier than even he expected, so he forced me to lie to my mom about Jerrod giving me the black eye, and from that day forward, she didn’t really fuck with Jerrod being at our crib or me going to Uncle Montell’s house without her supervision. Those are just two of the most memorable because they were escalations of punishments that I didn’t see coming. After that, I didn’t think my dad could do anything else that would surprise me, but he truly took the cake with this stunt he pulled.
I eyed the exterior of the Mediterranean-style mansion with tall arched windows, terracotta roof tiles, and thick stone walls that made the house look like a fortress. A wrought-iron balcony curved around the left side of the house and wrapped around the back to overlook the pool. Everyone loved coming to my parents’ house because it was so beautiful, but I had a love hate relationship with the property. All of my memories here weren’t horrible, but God damn, the bad ones were strong.
Placing my truck in park, another flashback hit me. I was eleven or twelve when my dad made me strangle my mom’s four-month-old yorkie that he bought her for her birthday, simply because he never wanted the dog and was tired of it pissing in the house. Every time I stepped foot in that backyard, I could still hear the dog’s frantic whimpers as it writhed in my grasp, its tiny movements slowing until silence blanketed the space. Myfather’s voice echoed through the haze of that memory; he was calm and cold while puffing on his blunt.
“Good job, son. You caught your first body. Now when ya mama asks, we don’t know what the hell happened to the dog.”His words resounded in my head like we were back in that moment, with my knees buried in the damp grass as I stared at my trembling hands in disbelief.
Stepping out of my truck in the pouring rain, I noticed my dad’s Suburban was gone, but a light was on in their bedroom, and a figure appeared, then quickly backed away. My mom kept her big bush of natural curls on display until bedtime, so I knew it wasn’t her. Approaching the house, I allowed my emotions to lead me through the process of placing my thumbprint on the scanner, entering the house, and finding my father sitting in the adjustable bed. The clean citrus scent wafted through the room from my mom’s favorite candle while my father’s eyes were glued to the tv.
“Where is mom?” I questioned.
“She went to the spa with ya Aunt Velma,” he informed me, lifting the bed remote to raise his head before turning to face me. “What’s the matter, son? You good? You look flustered.”
“Where the fuck is Quincy?” I snapped, snatching the remote from him.
“Ahhh shit, they were never going to hurt him for real. But it worked, didn’t? That nigga released that hold on our offshore accounts, didn’t he? I just got the text that the money was wired, and Quincy has already been released. Call him,” he urged me while my eyes stayed locked on his face, unable to process the level of treachery that resided within him.
