“Fuck.”
“If you move too fast, he’ll know,” she said. “You don’t think he’s expecting retaliation? He killed your friend and the sister got caught up as collateral damage. He’s counting on you all to get emotional and sloppy.”
“Slow is smooth?—”
“And smooth is fast.” Hana finished the adage for me. “Sterling taught you well after all.”
25 /FONTAINE JACKSON
Drea had beenable to come home after a week in the hospital. Our mother basically moved in with her and Gunnar to help out while she recovered. I offered to hire a nurse and a nanny, but Mama shut it down immediately—told me nobody could take care of her baby like she could. So I gave them one of my credit cards for whatever they needed and chipped in when I could.
I didn’t think Drea was a target, but I wasn’t willing to take any chances. I had extra eyes around her place anyway. Everybody tightened up. Cash and Jelani made sure they did the same with Jasmine and Monica. Nairobi could handle herself, but I still found myself checking the tracker I reinstalled on her phone. After Slim, it felt like my nerves didn’t want to unclench.
Jelani asked me to come with him to New York to meet with CJ. I wasn’t too thrilled to see or talk to this nigga again, but what choice did I have? Holding that old shit over Nairobi’s head was childish, and our business with the Reapers wasn’t going anywhere. It was time to suck it up and get over myself.
We headed straight to Brooklyn once we touched down.The Reapers’ clubhouse was a spot called Black Mamba Social in Flatbush. A plain black awning hung out front, nothing flashy, except for the motorcycles and slingshots lined up along the curb.
A few Reapers were outside smoking, eyeing us because we weren’t in leathers and we weren’t familiar faces. It was a mild winter day, so I kept it simple—black Amiri sweatsuit, and a pair of Timbs. Inside was dimly lit with a long wooden bar, two pool tables were further back, and booths and tables spread out. A neon motorcycle sign glowed over the bottles.
I felt the shift in the room as we approached. CJ was leaning against the bar, drink in hand, donning his Reapers vest over a gray hoodie. Two men seemed to materialize from the shadows to flank him.
“‘Sup, Lani,” he said, stepping forward.
Jelani clasped his hand and pulled him into a hug. Then CJ’s attention moved to me.
“Fontaine.”
I gave him a nod. Cordial. I was on my best behavior today.
He motioned for us to follow him. We moved down a narrow hallway while the other two men fell in behind us without a word.
CJ’s office was minimalist—plain compared to Cash’s. A security monitor was on the wall, and a small safe was installed behind the desk. One of his guys posted outside while the other came in, settling into a corner where he could see all of us.
“I’m sorry to hear about Slim,” CJ said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “He was a good dude.”
Neither of us responded as we took the chairs across from him.
“You know Messiah was behind this,” Jelani said, getting right to it. “I’m sure you heard about his wife.”
CJ’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Messiah’s been off the chain for a minute. It’s starting to become bad for business.”
“So you understand the problem,” Jelani said.
“I understand. I’m just waiting to hear what you want.”
“A formal alliance.”
CJ’s eyes narrowed. “I thought helping y’all two years ago proved we already had one. Plus we do business.”
Jelani shook his head. “More than that. We’re offering the Gotham Reapers a seat on the Council.”
“And Cash is good with that?”
“Cash doesn’t run the crew anymore,” Jelani said. “I do. He respects my decision.”
“Hm.” CJ’s gaze settled on me. “And you?”
I shrugged. “I’m here for whatever is good for the crew.”
