Page 63 of The Prodigy

19

Jakari

“Wherethefuckyoubeen, man?”

Joe sighed on the other end of the phone. “You know I got legitimate clients, Knight. And I was waiting on my man at the precinct. He has to sneak around. It ain’t easy.”

“Alright, alright. What you got for me?”

“Okay. The good news first. Sliders has a gang of surveillance cameras outside, but none of ‘em were working that night.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “You just made my fucking day.”

“Hold on, now. I didn’t give you the bad news yet.”

“Go ahead, man.”

“Alright. Dead man’s name is Henry McDonald. Street name, Tank. That ring a bell?”

I racked my brain. “Nah. Not at all.”

“Well, my man pulled all the toll footage and looked through it. Whoever old boy is, he followed you out of Atlanta. Came through the toll a few minutes after you did.”

“Fuck.”

I already knew it wasn’t random, but the fact that I was followed out of Atlanta meant it was somebody who knew my moves. And that list was too small for my comfort.

Somebody betrayed me.

I rubbed a hand across my forehead. I could feel a headache coming on. “Alright, when can you get out here to the house?”

“When do you need me?”

“Let’s do tomorrow. I’ma get the family together.”

“I’ll see you then.”

I hung up and slammed my phone on the desk. After a long stretch of me staring into space, I stood and walked over to the bar cart, pouring myself enough bourbon to light this whole motherfucking house on fire.

How did my pops deal with this shit and not go crazy? My fucking head was spinning. Didn’t know who to trust, who to suspect. This shit wasn’t easy.

I now had a greater appreciation for how hard he worked to take care of us. And not just his wife and us kids. He took care of everybody on his payroll. They were all considered family, blood or not. And now, one of them was at me.

If I could go back to Atlanta tomorrow, I would.

I was halfway to the bottom of my class when I heard a voice behind me.

“Hey. You busy?”

I turned around and almost dropped my glass.

It was Malika. My wife. Looking bad asfuck.

My sister dressed her, I could tell that right off. But I wasn’t worried about the clothes. Her hair looked good. Makeup, too. Nails and toes on point. But that ain’t what made me stare with my mouth hanging open.

It was how at ease she looked. How relaxed and just…happy. Her face was glowing. She was standing straight up and proud, not hunched down like she’d been ever since I walked into her life. She was feeling herself, and it made her sexy as hell.

I was so distracted, I missed the fifty-leven shopping bags she was carrying.

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