“A’ight. Go straight to security when you get downstairs. Don’t go outside.”
“I know.”
“I’m just making sure.”
“I said I know, Vice.”
I shook my head. She was scared as hell and still had an attitude.
Normally, I would’ve said something slick back, but I let it go. She was dealing with enough, apparently, because of me. My cousin was dead, and now there was a target on her back. Whether I liked it or not, she was paying for a mess she never asked to be a part of.
“You downstairs?”
“Yes. I’m with security.”
“Put ‘em on the phone.”
“Why?”
“Milan.”
“I can tell them what happened.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. Put one of them on the phone.”
I heard her mumble something under her breath before another voice came through.
“Hello?”
“Who am I speaking to?” I asked.
“Marcus. I’m the overnight security supervisor.”
“Marcus, somebody got inside one of your apartments and I’m trying to understand how that happened when identifications are supposed to be shown to even get on an elevator.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but who is this?”
“Vice Blackwell.”
The silence that followed told me he knew exactly who I was.
“Mr. Blackwell, we’re already contacting the police.”
“Good. Until they get there, she stays with you. Nobody goes upstairs, and nobody touches that apartment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Put Milan back on the phone.”
A few seconds later, her voice came through again. “You done taking over?”
“No.”
“I figured.”
I almost smiled, but there wasn’t shit funny about the reason she was on my line. The fact that somebody had gotten into her apartment had my jaw tight. Every second she was standing outside that building, I kept picturing whoever had been inside deciding to come back.
“I’m on my way.”
