Page 9

I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face. Watching somebody else catch Yara's attitude was always entertaining, especially when that somebody was Malachi.

“Y'all sound like a married couple,” I commented.

“Shut the fuck up, Ezra,” they said almost simultaneously.

I sat back, genuinely offended.

“See, this the disrespect I'm talking about. Both of y'all employed by me, but somehow I'm the one getting cussed out in my own fucking office.”

“Then stop giving me reasons to cuss you out,” Yara replied without missing a beat. “I'll be there tomorrow morning, and I expect both of you to act like grown-ass men for once.”

The call ended a few minutes later with her threatening to supervise the entire operation herself if she received one more complaint. I tossed my phone onto the desk and shook my head while Malachi stood from the couch, still laughing.

“Billionaire getting babysat,” he said, straightening his hoodie.

“I'll shoot your other foot.”

“You ain't even shot the first one yet.”

“Keep fucking around.”

He laughed again, but the humor slowly faded as his attention moved toward the glass overlooking VICE. For a moment, he stood there quietly, studying the unfinished space below us.

“You really trying to leave the game?” he asked.

Something about the question made me look up.

There wasn't any judgment in his voice, but I knew why he was asking. The streets had given us everything we'd once thought we wanted. Money, power, respect, and enough fear attached to our names that most problems disappeared before they reached us.

At twenty-two, I'd mistaken all of that for freedom.

At forty-one, I knew better.

“I ain't trying to be fifty still cleaning up shit like Tone,” I answered, following his gaze toward the construction below.

Malachi nodded slowly, but I could tell he was thinking about more than Tone. Getting out wasn't going to happen overnight. Too much money moved through too many hands, and too many people depended on the organization we'd spent years building. We couldn't simply wake up one morning, announce we were finished, and expect everything to disappear.

But I wasn't stupid enough to believe we could keep doing the same shit forever either.

VICE was a start.

So were the properties, investments, and businesses I'd spent the last several years putting together. I wanted money that kept coming whether I stepped outside my house or not. Money that didn't require Malachi to chase down grown men who couldn't account for what belonged to us.

“I know we got a lot of shit to straighten out,” I continued, watching a couple of workers carry equipment across the floor below. “But I'm not spending the rest of my fucking life babysitting niggas who can't follow simple instructions. We built this shit to live better, Chi. Not to stay stuck doing the same thing until somebody kills us or the feds come knocking.”

Malachi rubbed his beard, considering my words before giving another nod. He'd never been the type to run from the streets, but he wasn't foolish enough to pretend they loved him either.

“I hear you, E,” he said quietly. “We just gotta make sure everything's handled the right way.”

“It will be.”

He looked at me for another moment, then turned toward the door. I watched him reach for the handle before calling his name.

“Chi.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

I motioned toward the club below, making sure he understood exactly what I was saying.