Page 12 of A Hood Wife And A Rich Goon

“You know your brother. Mr. Keep-A-Bitch-On-Deck.” Oracle cackled. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Since you left, Bronx been doing his own thing. Braxton got some other niggas to fill our roles. I didn’t too much deal with him until this recent job. Braxton hits us up and says he needs the crew. When he told me what the payout was, I was locked in, and so was everybody else.”

“So, what happened? How the fuck you and Eazy end up in the hospital and Bronx and Niva are dead?” Bull folded his thick arms over his puffed-out chest.

“Good fucking question.” Oracle rested his elbows on the arm of the wheelchair and steepled his fingertips together. “Everything went according to plan. Down to the letter. We drop Eazy and Niva off and roll out. Two minutes later, they shoot into the van. The back is suddenly on fire, and me and Jewel are fishtailing all over the road. We flipped a couple of times; it ejected me from it, and during all that, we heard the gunfire around the corner. At the time, I wasn’t even thinking it had anything to do with us.”

“What happened to Jewel?” Bull pried.

“He ended up with a concussion. A few broken ribs. He’s fine, though.” Oracle conveyed, his greenish-brown eyes practically on fire. “Whoever did this knew where to find Bronx and had some kind of inside information about the paintings. As far as his bitch, I got every reason to believe she knew exactly what was going down. Shit too clean cut. Bronx gets murked, but they let her live? A witness?” Oracle shook his head. “As far as I’m concerned, she had everything to do with it unless I find out otherwise.”

“I’ll be around. So, whatever I find out, I’ll make sure the crew knows,” Bull assured him.

“You do that.” A flicker of something shadowy flitted through his eyes. “Let’s go, Stace,” he instructed his baby mama over his shoulder.

Allowing them to pass, Bull watched as they neared the elevator doors, mind spiraling. All roads led to this Antonia chick. He knew he had to find her before anyone else did. If she was the reason Bronx was dead, she would be handled accordingly. For some reason, he couldn’t buy into that shit like Oracle or his father. Like Oracle said, shit was too clean. Something else was going on here, setting off his sixth sense.

CHAPTER 4

FAVOR

An ominous bank of clouds loomed outside Chester’s Chicken in Stonebridge, Kansas. The growling of thunder from an oncoming storm cannonaded over Toni’s head as she counted her tips at the counter. The rumbling matched the nervous pit that turned in her stomach over the last couple of hours. Still rattled from her encounter with Fancy, she tried to keep busy but remained on edge, looking up at the door every time someone came in. Between orders, she was in the bathroom heaving at the thought of having to go back to Onika and Urso. She wasn’t going to give up her baby. If she had to go down swinging with everything she had, they weren’t taking her child.

Preoccupied was one way to describe her current state, counting the little tips she’d made already and adding them to the money she swiped from Bronx’s place. Even with that, she only had about five racks. In this world today, that wasn’t shit. She could get her a small place but would be scraping by with this job trying to maintain bills and take care of a baby. Nervously nibbling on her bottom lip, she tucked the money into the apron pocket of her red and gray uniform. Then, she snatched her pen and order pad, preparing herself for another table as a group of four stumbled in laughing and smelling like a brewery. It was almost midnight, and it was already starting. Tired, irritated, and hungry, Toni pulled herself together and let them get settled before approaching the table. Before she could greet them, Marcie, one of the other waitresses, slid up and leaned close to her ear.

“I got them. You take table six. He asked for you specifically and slid me a fifty.” She nudged Toni toward the back of the restaurant, where a very poised man sat patiently.

From less than ten steps away, her feet suddenly had anvils planted in them. He barely budged, and his dark, keen eyes fixated on her. A well-groomed beard and goatee added to his handsome diamond facial structure. Although he was in a black suit with a red silk shirt and matching pocket square, his shoulder length locs draping against his shoulders eased some of her tension. He didn’t look mean, per se. To her, he seemed sad, which piqued her interest even more. There was something so familiar about him that she couldn’t put a finger on.

“Welcome to Chester’s Chicken.” She finally found her voice, pausing a couple of feet from where he sat.

Suddenly she was self-conscious as hell. Between Chester’s dingy uniform, her beat up ass Nikes, and the bags under her eyes, she imagined she was a vision.

“What can I get you?” She tried to keep her attention on her pad instead of on him as she waited for him to give the order.

Canvassing her stoically, he tipped his head, both eyes narrowing intrusively on her.

“I only came here for answers. Have a seat.”

His tone was low. Even. Dangerous. A quickening shot into her lower region and stomach that she couldn’t control. She just knew he had the type of energy to turn any woman into a mindless little slut on command. The minute the thought entered her head, she felt guilty because she remembered that Bronx was gone. Her mind was a trip, though, because in the same minute, she realized that he’d also been cheating on her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know you. Are you wanting to place an order or what?”

Instead of responding verbally, he went into his waistband and set the .45 on the table. He didn’t aim it at her or even threaten her, but she got the message. Intertwining his fingers, he shot a calm gaze in her direction. Taking a deep gulp, Toni drank in his confident, unbothered demeanor. Every instinct she had screamed at her that this was about Bronx. Looking around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them, she slowly eased into the booth across from him. Eyes glued to the gun on the table, she trembled. Bull drank her in carefully. The entire interaction took him off guard. He wasn’t there to harm her. He meant that. Instead, everything in him screamed to protect her against any and everything forged against her, and he had no idea where it came from.

“What do you want to know?” Her somber stare landed on the table.

“Tell me what happened to Bronx,” Bull instructed.

With tears flickering behind her troubled stare, she sucked in a deep breath and released it with a quivering lip.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for. I can tell you what I told Braxton. He didn’t tell me about his business. It was something we didn’t talk about. The only reason they got access to the money was I figured he was going to kill me anyway, and I thought it would make them leave. They already knew what they were there for. It wasn’t until after they shot him that they realized I was even there.”

Bull listened, absorbing the information and allowing it to register. When her misting eyes latched onto his, a switch flipped inside him. He believed her. Or something in him wanted to. Swiping his goatee, he continued to canvass her carefully while she fidgeted with her hands. Shorty was bad, but green as fuck. He knew the type. Given what his mother told him, she had to fend for herself. Bronx was probably one of the only people that ever truly gave a damn about her.

“So, I know Braxton or Brenda sent you. What are you going to do to me? That bitch Fancy already tried to send me off to glory⁠—”

“Go get your shit. Let them know this is your last day of work, and meet me out back in five minutes,” Bull carefully advised.

“What? I don’t even know you⁠—”