CJ’s mouth twitched. “That’s not a yes.”
“It’s not a no either. We don’t need to be friends. But I respect you, and I respect the Reapers. That’s enough to move forward.”
That seemed to be good enough. CJ looked back at Jelani. “So why offer me a seat?”
“Because, if we’re going to take down Messiah, we need numbers in New York,” Jelani said. “Y’all matter up here.”
CJ gave a quick, humorless smile. “You think I’m about to help you out againandgive you access to my network because you asked nicely?”
“You and I both know what being on the Council could do for your business,” Jelani replied.
“I’m open to it,” CJ said. “But I’m not signing up to be y’all’s fucking lackeys.”
I felt my patience thinning. “We’re not you asking to be. Messiah killed his wife in front of us. Blew up our safe house. That nigga don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. That kind of chaos can only stay contained for so long.”
CJ stared at me for a long beat. I couldn’t tell if he wasweighing my warning or calculating how much he could get out of us.
“We’re trying to end a problem that’s starting to bleed into everybody’s business,” Jelani continued. “When Messiah’s gone, the whole landscape shifts. Think about the bigger picture.”
CJ rubbed his beard. “A seat on the Council is big. If I say yes, I’m tied to Atlanta the same way y’all want to be tied to New York.”
“Shared stakes,” Jelani said.
CJ nodded. “Alright. I’m down.”
Out the corner of my eye, Jelani’s shoulders relaxed a little.
“But,” CJ added, holding up a finger, “when y’all up here, you go through me. You want eyes, you get my eyes. You need to move, you tell me first.”
“Bet,” Jelani said. “That’s fair.”
“One more thing,” CJ’s expression didn’t change. “I want something else.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
Jelani raised a brow. “Name it.”
“The Reapers get first dibs on whatever opens up when Messiah dies.”
“Done.”
CJ offered Jelani his hand first, and they shook on it. Then he looked at me, hand still out.
Nairobi’s face flashed through my mind—their history, old tension. But at the end of the day, business came first.
I clasped his hand. “We good,” I said.
“We good,” CJ echoed.
Date night wasnon-negotiable.
It was easy to get caught up in the minutiae of our world, especially because the lines had been crossed, but one night a week, we put all of it away. Nairobi had spent too much of her life in fight mode and not enough of it being taken care of, so I was making it a point to woo her properly. Once a week, we did something. No work talk. No crew business. Just us.
Tonight was some spot she’d found on social media. It had weird little art on the walls, cocktails with gimmicky-ass names, and string lights everywhere like they were trying to set the mood. I wouldn’t have picked it, but she’d shown me the menu two days ago with this quiet kind of excitement she probably didn’t realize she was showing. That was enough for me.
She’d worn a short black slip dress, with gold heels that made her legs look endless. Her short hair was back to its silvery blonde that made her deep brown skin pop. She looked so damn beautiful I almost canceled our reservation.
The hostess sat us in a corner booth, which I appreciated. I liked having a wall at my back and a clear line to the door.
