“Sterling owed the Order money,” she said,looking at me. “That part was real. I just made sure the debt was collected after he died so you’d have to come looking.” She shrugged like she was explaining a minor inconvenience. “I needed you invested. If your mother’s lifestyle wasn’t at stake, you would’ve buried that man and disappeared again.”
“Why’d you shoot at Fontaine’s truck that day?” I asked.
“Because he was nosy,” Hana said, looking at Fontaine. “And we knew the car was reinforced. Just wanted to shake him up a bit.” She smiled at him deviously.
“If you believe the Order sanctioned that attack, you don’t understand us as well as you think,” Jack said. “But if someone used our name, they’ll answer to Hana.”
Hana stretched as if this was all boring to her. “Believe what you want, Mr. Banks. Someone was either desperate or reckless to get to you. Either way, it wasn’t sanctioned. If it was, someone would’ve died.”
I studied her face, looking for any tic that would prove she was lying. But she didn’t flinch.
“She’s not lying,” I said. “We’ll figure that shit out later.”
Hana stood. “Right. Well, if we’re all settled here, I’ll have your new handler reach?—”
“Aht!” I raised a hand to cut her off. “So that’s it? You’ve concluded your business and now I just work for you like some pawn? You’re no better than Sterling.”
Hana laughed. “Sister, I’m much better than our father. You’re acting like you don’t enjoy this work. You and I both know working for The Order is an upgrade. Were my methods a little…unconventional? Yes. But you still would’ve come to work for us. Plus, I’m sure our connections can benefit your friends here.”
Jelani scoffed. “We don’t need your fucking help.”
“Don’t you want to know who shot up your brother’s baby shower?” Hana asked. “We can help with that.”
“Fontaine can handle that shit,” Cash said.
“If you say so.”
“I want something,” I said.
Hana cocked her head. “Go on.”
“Parker. My handler from The Agency. Bring her to me. I want her head.”
Fontaine shifted beside me.
Hana’s eyes flicked between me and him. “Oh, I like you. You’re ruthless.” She nodded. “Done. We’ll be in touch.”
* Standard Japanese greeting when using the phone
* Japanese word for “yes”
18 /CARMELO “SLIM” HAWKINS
“You thinkmy brother would be pissed if he knew you were here?” Drea asked as I stepped inside.
“You’re grown, Sweetness. Why you care what he thinks?” I grinned. “Unless the only reason you keep me around is to fuck with him.”
She rolled her eyes, but I peeped the smile she was trying to fight. She closed the door behind me and breezed into the living room, already reaching for the bottle of wine. We’d been in this holding pattern for months—late-night texts, silly memes, any half-assed excuse to check in. But every time we did link up, it was like no time had passed at all. It was always too easy with her.
This woman kept trying to convince herself that she didn’t want a nigga like me— someone who moved in the same world as her brother. Her baby daddy had fucked her up, and when he put hands on her, it was me she called. Not her brother. Even after Fontaine found out, I was still the one who cut his brakes. It didn’t matter though, the damage had been done and Drea had been side-eyeing every man with street ties since.
She dropped down on the couch, tucked a leg underneath her, and looked over her shoulder at me. I lingered in the foyerfor a moment, taking her in—the freckles scattered across her face, her sandy brown hair pulled up into a messy bun. Something about her looking all soft and comfortable made me wish I could have her like this every day.
From the first night we met at Fontaine’s party in our twenties, I knew she was finna be a problem. Her smile was like sunshine after rain, and her sense of humor hooked me early. I kept it respectful, kept my distance—she was my boy’s sister—but it didn’t matter. We started texting after Fontaine asked me to give her a ride home, connecting over our love of martial arts and action movies. Then she got with her baby daddy, and I had to watch from a distance while he broke her down piece by piece.
After the dust settled with that, we’d circle each other every few months–close enough to touch, never close enough to keep.
I took off my shoes and settled on the couch beside her. She shifted over and draped her feet across my lap.
