Page 81 of A Don & His Doll

917-555-7243: Say less.

Undetected, Mike and Windel got out of the car, ducked low beside a few cars that aligned the curb, and without saying a word, they spread out just enough to give themselves a clear view of Pasquale Jones' front entrance. Promise stepped outside with a takeout bag dangling from her fingertips, completely oblivious of the danger that had been waiting on her arrival.

Cas' pulse kicked into overdrive the second he saw the unmarked car ease away from the curb. Their faces were covered with black ski masks, the windows were down, and they blasted their guns in her direction.

"Get down!" Cas roared.

Stimey and Cas both rose from the curb, but Cas lunged towards Promise in less than two seconds, covering her from the hollow tips that flew from the distance.

Bow…Bow…Bow…Bow!

Glass exploded, people were hysterical, but Promise froze for the briefest fraction of a second before Cas launched himself toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and driving her to the pavement with enough force to steal the breath from her lungs. Bullets flew over their heads, but for Promise everything moved in slow motion. Her life flashed before her eyes as a stray bullet ripped straight through her thigh.

Bow…Bow…Bow…Bow!

Gunfire erupted from both sides, echoing through the narrow street as parked cars instantly became shields as Windel, Mike, and Stimey continued with the gun war against the mysterious men who were gunning for Promise. Cas never loosened his grip on Promise, using his own body to cover hers.

“Let’s fuckin’ go!” Windel yelled as Stimey and Cas lifted Promise, and carried her to the car as police sirens neared in the distance.

“Yo’, she bleedin’,” Cas announced.

“Get her keys and take her to the hospital. We gotta get the fuck outta here,” Stimey said, surveying their surroundings.

“Here,” Promise cried, handing Cas her key fob, knowing he was sent to protect her.

“Make that call,” Stimey said before running to the car they came in.

Once Promise was secured, Cas hopped in the driver’s seat, skirted off, and called Mitch as soon as they got out of the way.

“Yo’,” Mitch answered his burner, knowing that if he was receiving a call on this line it had to be an emergency.

“She got shot in her thigh, but she’s still alive. I’m on my way to the hospital,” Cas informed Mitch, weaving through traffic, driving like a bat out of hell.

“No!” Mitch snapped. “It’s a fuckin’ set up, don’t take her there! I'm sending you the address to the family safe house now. I’ll meet you there,” he instructed, hanging up.

His mind was already moving three steps ahead, quickly reading through the bullshit, recognizing Macie’s name written all over it. It was the same scene, different day, and Mitch wasn’t having that shit on his watch. He shot Cas the address to take Promise to, then called the doctor who was on their payroll.

“Hello, this is Dr. McCall,” he answered, pouring himself a glass of water.

“Asa McCall, it’s been a minute. How you doin’?” Mich greeted, then took a shot.

“Mitch!” Asa chuckled. “What’s happenin’?” he excitedly replied, happy to hear from an old friend.

“I got an emergency. Need you at the safe house,” Mitch revealed, referring to the house that had been set up to treat The Black Families street soldiers with the highest level of care.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Asa confirmed.

“Can you make it there in ten?” Mitch pressed, needing to ensure Promise’s safety before doing anything else.

“I’ll be there,” Asa agreed, concluding the call.

Mitch let out a deep breath, scrolling to Monroe’s contact next.

“What’s good, Unc?” Monroe answered almost immediately.

“Nephew, you need to get yo’ ass on a flight ASAP! Promise has been shot,” Mitch revealed.

“Fuck you mean she’s been shot?!” Monroe snapped.