“Yeah.”
“He don’t let nobody touch it.”
“But you brought me here.”
That smile had spread across her face slowly.
“Mm-hmm.”
I should’ve known then I was done for.
When I came back to Louisiana to ask for her hand, I had the Chevy quietly transported to a mechanic in the DMV nicknamed Rogue. Maxim trusted her with impossible restorations and expensive toys.
Theory still didn’t know.
Her grandfather damn near cried cussing everybody out when the truck hauled it off the property. Now the empty space where the Chevy used to sit held Kemp’s bleeding ass instead.
I shrugged. Life be funny like that.
He sat on the concrete with his hands zip-tied behind his back and sweat rolling down his face. Prime’s people had picked him up less than an hour ago outside some apartment complex near the edge of town. Apparently, he had spent the entire ride expressing shock that we'd grabbed him. I drew down on this nigga the first day I met him behind my wife, and hestilldidn't get it.
Now, he kept glancing around the shed trying to look tougher than he was. That shit wasn't working. Juvie sat in a folding chair eating the Millers' Farm-grown pecans out of a paper bag, and Mikhail stood beside him, eyes sweeping the room. Ajani sat in an old rolling chair near the wall while his partners Braeden and Prime occupied the doorway looking like very expensive, very deadly security. Kemp swallowed hard as he looked at all of us.
“So, this... what?” he snapped finally. “Y’all just kidnapping niggas in broad daylight now?”
“Nah,” Juvie replied immediately. “This an intervention.”
Braeden nodded seriously. “You definitely need help.”
Prime folded his arms. “Unfortunately, you resisting our generous support.”
Kemp looked irritated instead of scared at first, which may have impressed me a little. Then I punched him in his mouth… I did say a little.
His head snapped sideways hard enough to spray blood across concrete. The shed went quiet except for Kemp's low groan. I flexed my hand once.
“You approached my wife.”
He spit blood near my shoes and laughed weakly. “Nigga, I talked to her. Dang, she too good to even?—”
I hit him again. Juvie let out a low whistle.
“Damn. You just said fuck de-escalation or calm interrogation, huh?”
Ajani smiled. “Note to us: donotsend Targen to diplomatic meetings.”
“His father tried that once,” Mikhail offered. “It did not go very well.”
Kemp fell over onto one elbow, breathing hard.
“Crazy ass Russian niggas really think y’all untouchable,” he hissed.
“Wait. I'm only part Russian,” Juvie corrected politely.
Mikhail raised a brow. “Which part is that?”
Juvie mugged him. “So, you gon' get in front of people and act like you didn't just tell me, ‘You are incredible brother, Julien Reed.’”
Mikhail shook his head. “I said to you, ‘You are incrediblebother, Julien Reed.’”
