Page 168 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 3

She lifted her head to look at me, half-shocked, half-amused despite everything going on. “Mama, you tased Amai. In your own house.”

“And I’d do it again,” I said without a flicker of shame, because I would. “That don’t mean he’s the dangerous one, baby. That means he’s the honest one. Amai’s what you see is what you get. Man’s dangerous, sure, ain’t no denying that, but he don’t hide it. He walks in a room, and you know exactly what you dealing with. I could see that the one time I met him, how he looked at you when you got loud with him. That’s a man who respects fire when he sees it.” I squeezed her shoulder. “That kind of man can be good for you, Truth. Long as you keep standing up for yourself. Long as you don’t let that same fire go quiet just ’cause he’s fine and got money.”

“I promise you I won’t.”

“Mm-hmm. We’ll see.”

She sat up a little straighter then, and I could tell there was more coming, something she’d been holding back.

“Mama, I’m staying at Amai’s house right now. Something happened.”

My whole body went rigid. “What kind of something?”

“Somebody left a package on my porch. At Mimosa Ct.” She hesitated, and that hesitation scared me more than anything she’d said all day. “It had body parts in it, Mama. A finger. An ear.”

“Aww, hell nah!” I jerked forward, both hands flying to my mouth. “Lord Jesus, Truth, why am I just now hearing about this?!”

“Because I didn’t want you to spiral before I was able to reassure you in person,” she said quickly. “But Amai’s taken every precaution. Full security detail, cameras, the whole nine. He moved me to his place in the Garden District so I’m not sitting out there alone while whatever’s happening with his family plays out.”

“His family is the threat, Truth! That’s Winston. That’s probably Kaisen, too, running around unstable the way you say he’s been. Them the ones sending body parts to your porch!” I was up off that couch, pacing my own living room, hands moving everywhere because I could not sit still with that kind of news sitting in my chest. “I don’t care how many guards that man’s got standing around your house. The Landrys are the danger here. All of ’em.”

“I know, Mama.” She stayed calm, let me pace it out the way she always did. “But I will say—when I watch Amai move through all this, I can see it. He’s been carrying that whole family on his back for a long time. All that weight, all that war, it’s aged him in ways he probably doesn’t even realize.”

“And Amai is tired,” she added softly.

“I don’t give a good got-damn about Amai being tired.” I spun to face her, pointing my finger, my voice sharp as a blade. “You know what I care about? You. My daughter. Staying alive. Staying safe. That man’s exhaustion ain’t my concern. Never will be. My concern starts and ends with you and them babies.”

I let that sit a second, because I wasn’t wrong, and there wasn’t a thing she could say to argue with a mother’s love that fierce.

I finally sat back down, breathing slower now, and cut my eyes at her.

“You bring him here Sunday,” I said. “Dinner. Both of y’all.”

“Bring—Mama, why?”

“Don’t worry about why.” I waved my hand, because the matter was already settled in my mind, no room for negotiation. “I’ll get everything I need to know just from him being in my presence. A man’s lips can tell you anything he wants you to believe, baby. Lies, half-truths, whatever’s convenient. But my discernment don’t care about none of that. My discernment will tell me the truth whether he opens his mouth or not.”

I reached over and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, the way I used to when she was small and scared of something she couldn’t name.

“Sunday,” I said again, softer this time, but just as final. “You bring him to me.”

Chapter 19

TRUTH

Imade it to my car before the tears came back, hot and fast, blurring the streetlights lining Mama’s block. I sat there a minute with my hands on the wheel, breathing through it, because I wasn’t about to fall apart in front of her house a second time. She’d worried herself sick enough for one day.

I pulled out my phone and called Amai.

He picked up on the second ring, his voice low, distracted, background noise crackling behind him like he was somewhere with concrete floors and bad reception. “Truth.”

“I need you to meet me at your house. Right now.”

“Can’t right now.” Just like that. A statement.

“Amai, it’s important.”

“So is what I’m doing.” A pause, something shifting in his tone—harder, focused. “I finally got what I need on this. Information that’s gonna bring this whole thing closer to being over. I can’t walk away from it right now.”