“I was just trying to make some extra cash.”
“A pussy like you could never be one of mine. I told Tommy not to vouch for your old ass. But here we are. Now fuck all that—I don’t want excuses. I want a name.”
I pulled the gun from behind my back and pressed it to his temple. Patience gone. Every second he stalled, I felt Coco slipping further away from trusting me.
“Name, nigga.”
He swallowed hard. “Look, look—Tommy been running his mouth about how you're doing business. About her. I'll tell you everything he said, just give me a chance to make it right.”
I looked at him for a second. Filed it.
“That can't save your life. I need a name.”
“Bones. It was Bones. Bones asked me and I?—”
Two shots cut him off. His body hit the floor, plea dying with him. I didn’t give a fuck about the reason for his betrayal. My shipments had been getting hit left and right, outsiders moving product in my backyard, and all of it tied back to men like him—weak links who thought they could eat off my table without paying the price.
“Clean this up,” I told Taiwan, stepping over the body.
“Already on it,” he said, motioning to the crew.
Outside, I lit a blunt, the smoke curling while I tried to center myself. This St. Louis run was supposed to be simple—remind these niggas who ran shit, handle the disrespect, get back to Coupeville by the weekend. Instead, I was standing here distracted, thinking about my wife and how long she’d wait before the silence started eating at her.
I dialed Pops.
“Yeah?”
“Business is almost wrapped. But before I leave, Tommy and I need a conversation. Since when the fuck did Bones start getting permission to move weight in my territory?”
“I can be there by dawn. Don’t jump to conclusions, Grim.”
“I’m not. But Raylin is dead, and Bones is next. And if Tommy’s fingerprints are anywhere on this, I’m burning that bridge. I ain’t showing no love. I aint showing no mercy either.”
“Son, what else is eating at you? I can hear it in your voice.”
I exhaled smoke. “I want to do something for Coco. A real wedding this time. Ceremony, honeymoon, the whole nine. Fly her people in, make it right.”
There was a pause. “You sure about this girl, son? Sounds like you’re moving fast.”
“Nah. I ain’t moving fast enough. She deserves more than signing papers in a restaurant. I want her to know she’s mine. All the way.”
“Alright. Where were you thinking?”
“Turks. I’ll handle the details and let you know.”
“And Karyn?”
“She can come. But if she so much as breathes wrong in Coco’s direction, she’ll find her own way the fuck home.”
We said our goodbyes and disconnected. I called Malice. I hadn’t spoken to Colecion since I left the wedding and felt fucked up about it, but I’d been trying to handle business and get my head straight about what I was feeling. Still, I made time to check on her every day.
“Boss,” his voice came through clear and professional.
“How’s she doing?” I asked without preamble.
There was a pause, and I could hear him choosing his words carefully. “Pissed. But she’s keeping busy. Real busy. Working a lot.”
“Working how?”
