Page 39 of Addicted

To the way she’d looked at me the last time I saw her. The way she’d come on my face, gushing all over me like she couldn’t control herself.

The way I’d fucked her on that kitchen island without a condom. Again. I’d broken my own rule twice now with her, and I didn’t even care. Not as much as I should.

That’s how fucked up I was over her.

I blew out a breath and pressed harder on the gas,the Bentley’s engine roaring. I needed to focus. Needed to handle this business.

But all I could think about was getting back to her.

***

When I pulled up to the warehouse, Kenzo, Antoine, Deacon, and Wes were already there, their cars parked outside. I killed the engine and got out, walking toward the entrance.

Inside, four of my soldiers were standing in the middle of the floor, looking nervous as fuck. These were the niggas who were supposed to be guarding the stash house on Crenshaw.

Kenzo was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching them with a cold expression.

I walked up to the soldiers, my hands in my pockets, my face blank.

“Explain,” I said.

One of them was a young nigga named Terrell. He stepped forward.

“Boss, we was posted up like always,” he said, his voice shaking. “Then outta nowhere, like six niggas ran up on us with choppers. We tried to hold them off, but—”

“But what?” I cut him off, my voice deadly calm.

Terrell swallowed hard.

“They got past us,” he said. “Took everything. The money, the product. All of it.”

I stared at him, my jaw tightening.

“How much?” I asked.

“About two hundred thousand worth of cash and work,” Terrell said.

I felt my blood pressure rising. Two hundred thousand of my money, my product. Gone.

“And y’all just let them walk in and take it?” I asked, my voice still calm.

Terrell looked down at the floor.

“We tried, boss. I swear—”

“Fuck you mean youtried?” I took a step closer to him.

He looked up at me, fear in his eyes. “Yeah, boss. We—”

“You tried,” I said again, my voice dropping even lower. “And you failed.”

Terrell opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, another one of the soldiers spoke up. A nigga named Devonte.

“Man, fuck this,” Devonte said, his voice loud and disrespectful. “We was outnumbered. Ain’t shit we could do. You want us to die over some product?”

The room went silent.

Everyone stared at Devonte like he’d just signed his own death warrant. I turned to him slowly, my face still blank.