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He nodded.

“Get out.”

Deonte fumbled for the handle and stumbled out onto the sidewalk. I pulled the door shut and drove off.

I flexed my hands and called Marco.

“Yo,” he said.

“You know where my guns went?” I asked as I merged back onto the Sprain.

“Yeah, they’re in Flatbush.”

I’d learned a long time ago that nobody was completely trustworthy, so I’d made it a point to put trackers on all my guns.

“Get them back, then deal with the niggas who took them.”

“I’m already knowin’,” he said with a wry laugh.

4 LA’BELLE EVANS

Jody hit me up Saturday while I was getting ready for work.

“So this nigga Cardez…”

“Took you long enough,” I said, adjusting my shirt in the mirror. “I was beginning to think you lost your touch. Either that or you forgot about me.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “He’s into some heavy shit, Lala. Drugs. Guns. And not no small time stuff either. You never heard of the Montague Crime Family?”

“Nope. Enlighten me.”

Jody sighed. “I’m surprised your thievin’ ass hasn’t. His people are one of the few Black organizations to really get in with the mafia. Been around for decades. He’s third generation, from what I can tell.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Montague Holdings is a private equity firm that’s tied to a bunch of shell companies. He also does some import-export out of the Bronx, real estate, and a few other fronts I’m still digging through.”

I sat on the edge of my bed, taking it all in.

I’d never really dealt with street niggas like that. My mother made sure of it, telling me that they were too risky because they came with the kind of liability that could cost you your freedom… or your life.

But a crime family? That was an empire. Legacy. The wheels started turning in my head.

“You still there?” Jody asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s all I got right now. I can keep looking if you want.”

“Find out his exact net worth.”

“Belle…” she sounded weary. “It's clearly in the hundreds of millions.”

“I don’t care. I want the number.”

She sucked her teeth and grumbled under her breath, something about me being crazy or doing too much.

I eyed Cardez’s card on my nightstand after Jody and I got off the phone. My targets were always wealthy and careless. Niggas who didn’t notice or care when numbers shifted slightly. Cardez had criminal ties and a digital footprint he kept vague on purpose. That was not the type of nigga you played games with.