Page 135

“Say you trust me,” I said, wiping her tears.

She got up and climbed into my lap. I held her as she lay her head against my chest. “I trust you,” she said. “I don’t trust myself yet. But I trust you.”

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s a start.”

1 Listen to Afraid by Xavier Omar

33 CARDEZ MONTAGUE

The easiest way to deal with Gideon would be to give him the money and send him the fuck on. But then he’d think he could play in my face, which was unacceptable. I toyed with the idea of beating his ass into a coma, but I wasn’t trying to hear his father’s mouth.

The only option left was to kill him.

Now, would I tell Belle or let her find out on her own? That was still up for debate.

Gideon Locke lived in a brownstone in Fort Greene that had been in his family for at least two generations. It was a cute neighborhood that had been gentrified by white millennial transplants who threw block parties that ended promptly at 8:00 p.m.

I thought about breaking into his place and catching him off guard, but I opted to call and tell him that we needed to discuss something man to man.

It was a crisp fall afternoon. Priest walked beside me up the steps of the brownstone. He’d disarmed Gideon’s doorbell camera in the car.

As I went to ring the bell, an older Black woman, holding a caddy full of cleaning supplies, opened the door.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, nearly walking into me.

“My apologies, ma’am.” I smiled warmly. “Didn’t mean to startle you. We’re here to see Gideon.”

She looked at us. “Is he expecting you?”

“Not that it’s any business of yours, but he is.” Priest scowled.

She turned her head but kept her eyes on us. “Mr. Locke, someone’s at the door for you.”

Gideon appeared at the top of the stairs, looking way too smug for a nigga that was about to die.

“Cardez,” he said as he started down the stairs. “Didn’t think you’d actually pull up.”

“Your daddy ain’t tell you I’m a man of my word?”

He glanced at Priest who was closing the door behind the housekeeper.

“Come on back,” he said, turning down the hallway.

We followed him through the house. It was well kept, with high ceilings, original crown molding, and framed photos of the Locke family going back generations along the hallway. There was a recent picture of the congressman and Gideon at the opening of some rec center, his hand resting on Gideon’s shoulder, wearing with the practiced smile of a man who’d spent a lifetime performing respectability.

Gideon brought us into his back office. It had a big oak desk, a few chairs, and bookshelves filled with books that looked like they were there more for decoration than reading. He had a big flat screen mounted on the wall with sports highlights on low volume. He sat behind his desk like he was about to conduct a meeting.

I took a seat across from him while Priest remained posted at the door.

“So,” Gideon said as he laced his fingers behind his head. “We talkin’ numbers, or you here to do something stupid?”

“Depends on what you consider stupid.”

He snorted. “You brought one of your goons here, so you might be thinking about putting hands on me.”

“I wanna know why you thought it was a good idea to try and shake down my fiancée?”

He blinked and bust out laughing. “Didn’t the bitch scam you too?”