“I know that too. I’ll call her tomorrow. Tonight is about the casino. That’s it. Everything else can wait.”
They glanced at each other with looks that said pushing will make it worse. Prime nodded once. Justice adjusted his watch. The conversation was over without officially ending.
“Go check on your wife,” I told Prime. “Make sure Zainab’s straight.”
“She’s with Mehar. They’re fine.”
Hearing her name did something to me that I wasn’t ready to examine. She’d been at the hotel every night since the overlook, showing up without being asked, sitting in my silence without trying to fill it. That woman had spent her whole life running from men, and now she was running toward one who was giving her every reason to keep her distance.
I didn’t deserve her. But I wasn’t giving her back.
“Go mingle,” I said to my brothers. “This is our night. Let’s act like it.”
They dispersed. I took a sip of Banks Reserve cognac and scanned the room cataloging every face and every movement.
That’s when I saw them.
Two young niggas near the entrance who didn’t belong. Everything about them was wrong. Their energy was too tight for a celebration. Their eyes were moving too fast, scanning the room the way I was scanning it, but for different reasons. One of them was in a suit that didn’t fit right. It was too big in the shoulders, too short in the sleeves, borrowed or bought in a hurry. The other one had a hoodie under a blazer like he’d been told to dress up and compromised halfway. I noticed Viper tats on hands and necks.
I set my drink down. My hand moved toward my waistband where I kept the Glock, because Quest Banks didn’t attend events unarmed, not even his own. I started to signal the security team near the front.
Two seconds too late.
The one in the bad suit pulled a pistol from his waistband and fired into the ceiling. The sound cracked through the room like a thunderclap and every single person in the casino froze for half a second before the panic hit.
“THIS IS FOR DIMONTE!” he screamed, and then both of them opened fire.
Dimonte.I knew exactly who that was. And now I knew exactly what this was about. These little niggas were here for revenge over a body I’d already forgotten about. A body that needed dropping because that nigga was robbing my trucks. And now his boys had walked into my casino on the biggest night of my life to make a statement.
They were about to regret that statement.
The room exploded into chaos. Guests screaming, running, diving behind tables and overturned chairs. The DJ abandoned his booth. Champagne glasses shattering on the floor. The acting mayor’s security detail was already rushing her toward the back. My security team was moving, but they were spread across the floor and these two kids had started shooting before anybody could close the distance.
I had my Glock out and was moving toward them when I saw Zephyr go down.
He’d been near the bar when the shooting started. Took one in the shoulder and then one in the back and spun sideways, his drink flying out of his hand, his body hitting the floor hard. Mekhi was on him in a second, pressing his hand against the wound, screaming Zephyr’s name over the gunfire.
Something in me went cold. Colder than the Rashid news. Colder than Vivica’s letter. This was a different temperature, the one reserved for people who touched the people I loved. Zephyr had been with me since I was eighteen years old. He’d helped me save this company. He’d helped me build this casino. And now he was bleeding on the floor of opening night because two young niggas with a grudge and a dead friend had walked into my building and started shooting.
I raised the Glock and put two rounds into the one with the hoodie. Both hit center mass and he dropped. The other one turned toward me, the screamer in the bad suit, and I saw his face clearly for the first time. Young, maybe early twenties, with a square jaw and hard eyes and a viper tattoo crawling up the side of his neck.
That viper tattoo told me everything I needed to know. Black Vipers. The crew from Baltimore I’d been hunting for months. One of them was in my casino right now, bleeding on my floor, and the other was pointing a gun at me.
He fired and missed. I didn’t miss. Put one in his leg and he went down screaming, the gun clattering across the floor.
I wantedto walk over there and put the barrel against his forehead and ask him who sent him. Wanted to stand over him and empty the clip and let God sort out the logistics. But the room was full of witnesses, cameras were everywhere, the police sirens were already screaming outside, and I was standing in my own casino on opening night with the acting mayor’s security team twenty feet away.
I couldn’t finish it here. Not like this. Not with this many eyes.
So I made the harder choice. The strategic choice. The one that kept me out of handcuffs and kept the investigation alive and kept my family’s name attached to a casino instead of a crime scene.
I lowered the gun.
Justice had Rita. I could see him across the room with his body between her and the chaos, guiding her toward the VIP exit with one arm around her shoulders and his other hand on his piece. Rita was gripping her cane with white knuckles, but her face was calm because Rita had survived worse than a shooting.
Prime was already texting Zainab. I could see his phone in his hand while he moved through the room checking on people and directing security.
I holstered the Glock and went to Zephyr. Mekhi had his jacket pressed against the wound. Zephyr was conscious, but his face was gray and his breathing was shallow.
