“Of course it isn’t,” I chuckled dryly.
He turned the laptop toward me. “There was a garbage file of pictures. Probably Bruno’s insurance policy. It looks like it identifies the people who run the Order. These are people who’re supposed to be ghosts. They don’t exist. I couldn't even find this information on the dark web.”
“Now how the hell that slimy mothafucker got a hold of that?”
Fontaine shrugged. “No idea. But look at this.” He enlarged one of the pictures. I leaned in and scanned the image. About a dozen people in tailored suits and designer dresses mingled in what appeared to be a boardroom. With champagne flutes in hand, the picture screamed wealth and power. One face stopped me cold—a woman at the far end. She had light brown skin and thick, wavy dark hair. It was clear she was mixed, half-Asian, half-Black if I had to guess. But there was something about the shape of her nose, her cheekbones.
I looked up at Fontaine. “She looks like?—”
“Nairobi,” he finished.
“You think they’re related?” I asked.
“I think Sterling might’ve had another kid,” he said. “Andwhoever she is, she’s definitely a top dog within their organization.”
“You think she’s the one behind them coming for Nai?”
He nodded. “It’d make sense. If she’s blood, she might be trying to bring Nai in by force. Either way, there’s a resemblance that’s a little too close for comfort.”
I blew out a long breath. “Well, shit.”
“I haven’t told her yet,” Fontaine said as he rubbed a hand over his head. “But if I’m right, this thing goes way deeper than Sterling selling her out to work for them.”
Silence fell between us again and I glanced back at the photo.
“Yeah. This just got a whole lot messier.”
Fontaine and I chopped it up for another hour, with him promising to stop by to see Jasmine and Aspen before I headed out.
It was late afternoon by the time I pulled up to the Emerald Lounge. The sun was starting to dip low behind the buildings.
The lounge was mostly empty—still too early for the evening crowd. Monica’s “So Gone” played low through the speakers as the staff continued prepping for their shift.
I spotted Nairobi sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of red wine. She looked calm, but there was a heaviness in her eyes that suggested she hadn’t been sleeping much.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I said.
She turned to face me. “Your friend said you wanted to talk.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
She raised a brow. I could tell she still wasn’t feeling me.
“I was wrong for how I came at you,” Icontinued. “Like I told Fontaine, seeing Jasmine like that, everything happening at my mama’s house—I blacked out. I needed someone to blame, and you were the easiest target. That wasn’t fair.”
Nairobi’s lips pressed together as if she was having a flashback, but she didn’t interrupt me.
“I said some real foul shit, and then I hit Fontaine…I was spiraling. I couldn’t control anything and instead of stepping back, I lashed out on my friends.”
“I don’t fear much, but it’s been scaring the shit out of me that this might touch y’all. They’re pissed because I said yes, but hadn’t followed through yet. I guess they wanted to remind me that I’m not bigger than the program…” She trailed off, closing her eyes for a brief moment. “This shit is so exhausting, yo.”
She looked down at her glass, swirling the contents before taking another long sip. “I just needed you to trust that I’m doing what I can.”
“Heard,” I nodded. “Fontaine gave me a little more insight, and I’m in—whatever that looks like.”
“How does your wife feel about that?”
I chuckled. “Jasmine thinks she’s Boosie Bad Ass. She knows what life with me means. Told me you still owe her a shooting lesson because next time she wanna shoot back.”
