Page 96 of When a Soul Cries

“I'm not scary. I enjoy being alive and employable.”

I laughed. “Just pull everything you can.”

“I already looked at the basic corporate filings.”

“And?”

Another pause.

This one felt different.

I sat straighter.

“What?”

Darius exhaled.

“You remember Desmond Vance?”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

The smile disappeared from my face.

I hadn't heard that name in years.

Didn't need to.

Some names didn't leave you.

They just went quiet.

“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I remember him.”

“Well, you might want to tell your brother the company trying to take that contract isn't as random as y'all thought.”

My jaw flexed.

“Vance owns it?”

“Not directly. Couple layers between him and the company, but yeah. It leads back to him.”

I stared through the windshield.

Well, ain't this some shit.

Back then, Desmond and his people had been competition. Same streets. Same money. Same hunger.

Different crew.

And enough bad blood to fill a fucking swimming pool.

Now everybody had apparently traded dope houses for office buildings.

Cute.

“Dig deeper,” I said.

“How deep?”