He sat up then, and I sat up with him. He was reaching for his clothes, but I could already feel myself wanting to cry and hating it because I didn’t want him leaving with that image of me.
So, I caught his hand before he could stand.
He looked back at me.
And with tears already crowding my eyes, I said, “Donotdie.”
His expression softened into a sympathetic gaze. “It took us too long to get it right for you to leave me now.” He turned back toward me fully and held my face in both hands. “I’m coming back to you.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
TARIQ “REEK” HORTON
By the time we crossed into Indiana, all the shit talking and joking had ceased.
The town was busy enough that we blended in, while riding in the Amazon trucks we’d borrowed from a chick we knew that ran the Amazon warehouse in the city. We were parked blocks away, spread through side streets and empty lots. Every truck was filled with the best Cartier and Street King soldiers we had.
Before anybody stepped out, Jamir made us go over the faces of our targets again. We had already studied them, but he wanted them fresh in our heads. Matías De La Cruz came first. Then the men closest to him; brothers, cousins, lieutenants, drivers, shooters, and every face that mattered to him. We passed the photos around until every man in that convoy had them locked in.
I held Matías’s picture in my hand a second longer. Then I handed it back and thought about Ava and Cairo. Thoughts of them kept me on point. I kept thinking of the woman that morning with tears in her eyes asking me not to die, of my son breathing against my chest while I fed him bottles in the middleof the night. Everything in me knew exactly who I was out there protecting and ensuring I made it back to.
Wise got out first once the last truck was in place. He stood there scanning the block, the church, the parked vehicles, and the spread of our own men like he was reading a chessboard the rest of us were only looking at. Then he pointed at one of the Street Kings’ SUVs and said, “Move that truck two storefronts down. If anybody comes out that left side door shooting or trying to run, your truck is going to be in our way instead of giving us room to move.”
The driver did it immediately.
That was the kind of time Wise was always on. He was the sort of man who corrected problems before they turned into dead men.
Vega glanced toward the church and said, “This looks like light work.”
Big A adjusted his strap and muttered, “That’s usually when it’s not.”
Prodigy looked up the block and said, “Looks like a small funeral. So, they think they’re safe.”
Lux and Lowe checked their weapons side by side, and I kept finding myself watching them because them niggas were interesting. Lowe was louder by nature. Lux was a quiet storm. He said less, but when he did speak, it was useful. They moved like they already knew what the other was thinking.
Legend and Icon stood off to the side going over the last angles with Jamir, while Saint had that wicked smile on his face that always meant he was about to get his rocks off with some violence.
Icon finally looked up and said, “We go in to do what we gotta do and get the fuck up outta there. Nobody freelances.”
We started closing distance in pieces. Nobody rushed. We started closing in on the church and taking control of the area around it.
The church looked so pure with its white stone and red doors and floral arrangements outside. Cars were lined up all along the curb. Men from the Crown were posted where we assumed they would be. Some stood near the side steps. Some watched the hearse. A couple posted up like grieving family when they were clearly security.
The first soldiers we sent ahead took care of the outside threats. Silencers did the work quietly. One man folded against the hearse before he could pull his piece. Another one near the side door caught a round and dropped into the bushes. A third took two steps like he refused to go out like this, then hit the pavement.
We were almost at the side entrance when two kids came through the church doors. A little boy and a girl stepped out in funeral clothes.
Vega got to them first. Watching him shift was something to see. One second, he was a walking, murdering beast. The next, he was crouched down in front of those kids with his voice soft enough to be convincing. “Hey, I saw an ice cream truck down the street. Want some ice cream.”
They both nodded quickly.
Vega reached into his pocket and handed them a few bills. “Here. Go down there and stay until your parents come get you, okay?”
They ran off, excited. Then Vega stood back up, and every bit of softness dropped off him so fast it almost didn’t look real. The charm was still there, but it hardened into something colder the second he turned back toward the church. That was what made him magnetic. He could be sweet one second and ready to spill blood the next.
Once the kids were clear, we went in. One of our men threw a smoke bomb through the front of the church right before we pushed in. It rolled across the floor between the pews, then started coughing out thick gray smoke so fast it swallowed the center aisle and blurred the mourners’ sightline. By the time the Crown realized what was happening, the air was already cloudy, and their visibility was gone.
