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Marcelo and Gunner exchanged glances.
Einstein pulled out a pencil from his pocket.
I quirked my brows.
Next, Einstein began circling something on his page and then flipped it. “And have you told Zuri of your intentions to harm Alonzo?”
“At this time, there’s no reason to harm Alonzo, if he steps aside.” Ready to get the fuck out of here, I glanced back at Anthony again.
His glass of eggnog was empty. Now, he was engaged in a light conversation with a cute waitress.
Marcelo grabbed my attention. “I had men in prison watching you.”
I snapped my view to him. “What?”
“I paid them good, but you didn’t need the protection. Everyone was really afraid of you in there. So instead, they delivered little intel here and there about you, nothing much ever came up.”
I scowled at him. “And what did you learn?”
“You didn’t open Zuri’s letters.” Marcelo gestured to the left. “Einstein figured you didn’t even know about Carmen.”
I frowned. “I didn’t.”
“I chose not to tell Zuri that.” Marcelo wagged his finger. “If she cracks, we all crumble.”
Einstein looked up from his book. “But somehow you figured that out today?”
“When I killed some of Crimson Mob. One begged for his life and told me.”
Gunner smirked. “The blood bath at the Blood Den?”
I nodded.
Einstein eyed me. “Thoughts on being a new father?”
“I plan to be the best I can be.”
Einstein nodded and returned to his book.
“I called Zuri, after you left her condo today,” Marcelo said. “She sounded happy and told me that you were there. Also, she mentioned the tea party you had with Carmen.”
Gunner snickered.
Einstein smiled and flipped to a new page.
I sneered. “Are we done yet?”
Marcelo’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Zuri’s scared that you’re outnumbered with Crimson Mob, and she doesn’t trust Viper Mob either. She asked for our help on the situation.”
Goddamn it, Zuri. I told you I had it.
Einstein made another mark inside his book. “She wants to keep you around, so that means, we want to keep you around.”
I leaned forward, my voice low but clear. “I don’t need Rowe Street Mob to get involved.”
“We’re not doing it on your behalf, so suck it up.” Marcelo gestured to seven guys at the table near us. They wore green clothes and talked among themselves. “They’re going to be hanging with you until you’re done with this whole revenge thing.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Also, we want Carmen to have a great Christmas this year. That means Daddy must be there with his arms, legs, and no bullets in his frame. So, we need to speed this whole revenge thing up.” Marcelo turned to Gunner. “Give him the address to Francesca’s new mansion.”
I blinked.
“She’s throwing a holiday party tonight. Last month, she invited all the top players in Shadow Heights and surrounding cities to come.”
Sighing, Gunner pulled out a piece of paper and pen. Then, he quickly jotted down the address.
Marcelo continued, “We decided not to attend once we heard about the mess in Shadow Heights. In fact, those that are well-acquainted with your work, are avoiding the party tonight.”
“The party started an hour ago.” Gunner slid the paper across the table to me. “We have a few men watching the place.”
I took the paper, my mind already racing with possibilities.
Francesca’s party could be the perfect opportunity for what I needed to do.
Granted, it would be risky as fuck, but I was confident I could do it.
Yawning, Einstein made another note in the book.
I tucked the paper in my pocket. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by keeping all of this away from Zuri and Carmen.” Marcelo scowled. “Don’t fuck with my business, Reaper, by making my Financial Director sad.”
“I don’t intend to.”
Just before I was about to leave, the audience began clapping and cheering.
What’s going on?
A new band walked onto the stage. It was a motley crew of musicians with instruments that had seen better days.
A woman jumped up from her seat and clapped. “There she is! We’re ready!”
I checked out the singer strolling onto the stage.
Even though the audience was going crazy with her appearance, she looked shy.
Still, I had to admit that her presence demanded quite the attention. Her afro was massive, a cloud of curls that seemed to capture the dim lights of the bar, and tucked within that big afro was a single rose, a striking contrast against the dark curls.
Some drunk man in the back yelled, “Take your time!”
Barely glancing at the crowd, she began doing sound checks with the band, and her voice was a smooth melody even in its simplicity.
I glanced back at Marcelo, who until now had been keeping a close eye on me.
Currently, his gaze remained fixed on the singer with an intensity that was hard to miss.
I could tell, just by the way he looked at her, that Marcelo was more than just interested. He was completely taken, mesmerized by her presence, her voice, her entire being.
