Page 93 of Omar

"The East New York location," Devon cut in. "Cameras?"

"Two that I saw. One on the fence gate, one inside above the storage area. They feed to a monitor in the front room but nobody watches it. It's mostly for recording."

Devon made a note. "I can disable those remotely if I can get the IP address."

"The monitor has a sticker on the side with the network info. Supreme's tech security was garbage. He relied on manpower instead of systems."

Kadeem and Devon exchanged a look. The amount of operational intelligence I was handing them was more than they'd expected. Years of sitting in rooms where men talked freely, years of a woman they'd underestimated memorizing every detail she could hold.

Portia moved through the kitchen while we worked. She made more coffee, put out food nobody asked for, wiped counters that were already clean. She didn't say a word about what was being discussed at her table. But when she passed behind my chair she put her hand on my shoulder and left it there for a second before moving on.

When we finished Kadeem gathered his notes and looked across the table at me.

"This everything?" he asked.

"Everything I got."

"You sure there ain't nothing else? Anything you might have forgotten or left out?"

I thought about it. Went through the three years in my head, room by room, conversation by conversation. "There's one more thing. Supreme kept a safe in the bedroom closet. Behind the suits on the left side. I never saw what was in it but he opened it every morning before he left and every night before bed. Whatever's in there, it mattered to him more than anything else in that apartment."

Kadeem looked at Devon. Devon made a note.

"That's good," Kadeem said. "That's real good, Asha."

He stood up, shook my hand across the table like I was a colleague instead of his brother's girlfriend, and left with Devon. I sat at Portia's table with my coffee and empty plate for a while.

I'd given them everything. Every piece of knowledge I'd gathered since Supreme took me of living with Supreme. Every name, every number, every schedule, every layout. The information that would take his empire apart.

Portia came to the table and sat down across from me. She didn't say anything for a long moment. Then she reached across and covered my hand with hers.

"You're a brave girl," she said quietly. "Your mama would be proud of you."

My eyes burned. I blinked hard. "You knew my mama?"

"Knew her face from the neighborhood. She was beautiful. Just like you." Portia squeezed my hand. "Now finish your coffee. You earned it."

I finished my coffee.

Then I went home to Omar's apartment where Nene was waiting with the TV on, ready to share every opinion she'd been holding in all day.

I sat down next to her on the couch and let her talk. About the apartment, about Omar's lack of decorating sense, about James being fine, about what we were going to do next. Normal conversation. Normal volume. No performance.

I was free and my best friend was next to me and the man I cared about was out there building a plan to finish what I'd started.

For the first time since all of this began, I let myself believe it was going to be okay.

Chapter 37

Omar

Ifound Rashid at his apartment in Williamsburg. Fourth floor, no elevator, a door that he'd painted matte black because he said it made the place look like a studio entrance. I knocked twice and he opened it in basketball shorts and no shirt, headphones around his neck, a beat playing from the speakers in his living room.

"O." He stepped back to let me in. "Wasn't expecting you tonight."

"We need to talk."

His face changed. He turned off the speakers, pulled the headphones from his neck, and sat down on the arm of his couch. "Aight. Talk."