“How is she?” Tatti asked.
She went quiet. Really quiet. The kind of quiet that had weight behind it. Whatever the answer was on the other end she took it in and held it and said nothing for a few seconds.
“Okay,” she said finally. Low. “Okay. Tell her I said I love her and I’ll be there soon.” She cleared her throat. “Don’t call my regular number for a while. I’ll reach out when I can something came up and I’ll be out of town indisposed.” She paused again. “I said I’m fine. Stop asking me that.” Her voice had that tight control back in it now, the version of her that didn’t let people see past the surface. “I’ll be in touch. Bye.”
She hung up.
Sat with the phone in her lap and looked back out the window and didn’t say a single word.
I let the silence sit for a minute. Watched the compound roads move under the truck. Waited to see if she was going to offer anything.
She didn’t.
“You got somebody you needed to check on,” I said. Not a question.
“I said it was family,” she said. Flat. Closed. The door shutting before I could get a foot in.
“Mm.” I responded.
“The next call, I’ll wait to make it once we are out the car. You can have your people listen, but I would rather you not be the one to listen to that call.”
“Is it top secret? What the hell you hiding?” I asked with a raised brow.
“Well! I did have a life before I was forced into this. So people are looking for me and wondering where I’m at.” She snapped. I automatically knew she was talking about a nigga. I’d let her have that call, as long as she knew better than to try anything crazy. My men knew to keep a good eye and ear on her call.
When we pulled up to the house, I made sure to let her know all the rest of her calls needed to be on speaker. I got out the car and left her with two of my guards while giving instructions for her to immediately come back into the house once she was done. My men knew to power her phone off and put it away once she was done.
But whoever she’d called first, whatever that “how is she” meant something. I just didn’t know what yet. Maybe it was a close family member like a grandmother or aunt that she was really concerned about and checked in on often. She had a heart for someone. That was the first thing that Tattiana Taylor had let slip since I’d put her in this truck yesterday.
And I didn’t miss it.
—
I was in my office going over numbers when my radio went off.
Not the phone. The radio. Which meant something was happening on the property that my men needed everybodyaware of immediately. This shit had immediately made me jump up to see what the hell was up.
I was on my feet before the voice finished the sentence.
“Vehicle at the north gate. Nobody called it in or announced the arrival. Driver on foot headed away from the property.” My guard said loud and clear. Now I was confused as hell. A car was at the gate, but the driver got out and walked off on foot? What?
I was already moving down the hall. By the time I hit the front door two of my men were flanking me and three more were already at the gate with weapons out, the kind of lockdown that happened automatically when something came through that wasn’t supposed to. This compound didn’t get surprise visitors. Every car, every person, every delivery that came through those gates was called in advance and cleared. That was the rule and everybody connected to this operation knew it. My family didn’t play that shit, and it was impossible to get in this muthafucka if you weren’t allowed inside by one of us.
I walked through the front door and the first thing I saw was Tatti standing outside where I’d left her with my men, phone still in her hand, watching the commotion at the gate with wide eyes. My guard Mars was already moving toward her to get her inside. She ended her call immediately and handed the phone over without having to be told. The look on her face showed me that she was nervous about what was going on around her. Hell, I still had no clue. I needed to keep an eye on her. This shit was happening at a mighty convenient time, and a nigga like me ain’t trust nothing, or nobody.
“Don’t touch her,” I said without stopping. “Keep her where she is.”
I kept walking. Past my house and out towards the gate.
The car was a dark blue sedan, civilian plates, engine still running. My men had it surrounded by the time I got there. One of them looked back at me and shook his head once — slow — and that one shake told me everything I needed to know before I even got close enough to see through the window.
I looked inside anyway.
Darius.
He’d been moving product for our operation out of the south end for over three years. Never missed a drop. Never came up short. Never gave us one single reason to question him. He was the kind of worker you built an operation on — quiet, reliable, didn’t talk too much, showed up and handled his business every single time. He was loyal and stood on business when it came to making sure everyone stayed in check out there and that business ran smoothly.
He was slumped over the steering wheel with two in the back of his head. Professional. Clean. This was a message, not a mistake.
