Page 15 of All In

“I don’t harm women or children. She knows that.”

“You don’t,” Najee allowed, leaning forward. “But the wolves you threw that contract to?”

He held his gaze. “They might not move with the same moral compass.”

“They know not to touch the boy. Or any of his other children.” Cash’s tone was clipped.

Najee’s grin faded. “Maybe so,” he said quietly.

“But here’s what I know…”

His voice shifted, less teasing and more precise.

“I see Jackie Brown, and I respect her. Her resiliency. Her willingness to try. So if you’re not”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” Cash snapped. Najee didn’t flinch.

“You couldn’t… even if you wanted to.”

“You’ve been promised to Zambia.” Cash leaned forward slightly.

“What that mean?” The silence that followed was thick and loaded.

Najee rested his elbows on his knees, eyes locked on him. “So what is this really about, bro?” he asked. “You mad I’m talking to her… or mad she ain’t waiting for you?”

Cash didn’t answer. He just took a slow sip of water. Set the glass down.

“Be clear,” he said, voice even, eyes matching Najee’s intensity.

“You providing therapy, my nigga. Don’t get it twisted. You ain’t her type. Trust.”

Najee smirked. “Why? ’Cause I’m not a serial killer like you and Marcus?”

Cash didn’t blink. “Exactly.”

Najee laughed under his breath, before shaking his head. “See, that’s where you got me fucked up, baby cousin. I wasn’t even pressed for Jackie Brown like that. Technically, her son’s my patient. That creates an ethical barrier I actually respect.”

Cash’s eyes narrowed. “Ethics never stopped you before.”

Najee tilted his head, conceding. “Touché.” But for the record… I thought she was beautiful. That was it.” Najee stood, stepping closer. “But now?”

His voice dropped. “Now I might be interested after all.” He stopped just short of Cash. “’Cause the moment a nigga tell meI can’t…that’s the moment I decide I will.” Now they were toe to toe. No yelling. No posturing. The room stilled around them.

Leaving just the silence that came when two men, who knew exactly who the other was— and exactly what the other were capable of. That’s when the door opened. “My boys.” Cash’s Father’s voice filled the room, smooth as a blade being unsheathed. Both men straightened instinctively, like they were thirteen again. Najee picked up his glasses, slipping them on with a smile.

“As-salamu alaykum, Uncle.” Cash’s father’s eyes flicked toward him, and a small nod followed.

“Wa alaykumus salam wa Rahmatullah.” Cash only inclined his head, returned the greeting allowing the two men to talk. The weight of respect carried more in his silence than words.

Brother Amin closed the door behind him and stepped fully into the room, the smell of oud and power trailing with him. “What’s this I walked in on?”

“Just talkin’ shop,” Najee answered smoothly, his mask already back in place—but that lingering respect still in his tone. Cash’s father nodded, then fixed his gaze on Najee.

“How you settling back into the city son?”

“Adjusting,” Najee said. “It’s… different this time.”

“I imagine it is. Your presence at the school, it means something. Not just to your aunt, but to me as well. Those boys need someone like you pouring into them.”