entertainment last week, he couldn’t muster a lot of sympathy for the pathetic strippers who would rather get free drugs than cold cash.
Sabar stood at the glass window that overlooked the main room of Athena’s. He wore a gray suit and black collarless dress shirt. His dreads had been pulled back from his face to fall like limp snakes down his back. His stance said he was pissed off without him even speaking.
“Sales are up,” he said with a low growl afterward.
“They died here in the club. Yandy found them when she went to get them to go out on stage,” he finished.
Sabar kept staring down at the floor. “Production’s still on schedule,” he said. “The warehouse is full of product that’s ready to go.”
“Did you hear what I said?” Darel asked, raising his voice slightly. He didn’t want an altercation right here, right now, with Sabar, but damn if he was going to keep his mouth shut this time. Especially not with all the leverage he now had against his so-called leader.
“I don’t give a damn about some fucking strippers. So they snorted too much and died. Fuck them! You need to get your mind off that petty stuff and start planning the expansion. I want to have locales like this in every state by the end of the year. You can start interviewing for the managers but I get the last say. I want to know who’s working with the money at all times.”
Sabar hadn’t even turned to look at Darel as he talked. He was only the second-in-command, no need to give him any goddamn respect. Exactly the type of treatment Darel had grown sick of.
“Cops are all over the place now,” he continued. “They’re coming back with a search warrant because one of those dick-ass detectives found some blood out back. I’m telling you, this enhanced drug is bringing on too much attention. I think we should scale back and just peddle the normal shit for a while.”
Sabar did turn around then, in enough time to get right in Darel’s face.
“I don’t pay you to think. I tell you what to do and you do it!” he yelled, then took a step back, rubbing a hand over his face.
If Darel weren’t so pissed off and tired of bullshit he would have noticed that Sabar’s eyes looked a little red-rimmed and his shoulders slumped a bit.
“Everybody wants to be the boss. Bianca’s right about one thing: I’ve got to get a handle on you guys. Keep everyone in line all the time.”
Her name caught Darel’s attention and he opened his mouth to say something. What? Was he really going to tell Sabar that he’d fucked Bianca? No. Not yet. He’d tried to warn him but he hadn’t listened. Bianca wasn’t worth the time it took to say her name. She was a pretty good fuck, but nothing to write home about. Another fact that confused him about Sabar’s obsession with the conniving bitch.
Darel had a plan for her, though it wasn’t time to implement it yet. She was meeting him later tonight; he was sure for another round of what she considered her mind-blowing sex. Or maybe he should say
“We’re getting a big shipment on Friday. I need you and those two clowns out front there to go with me. I don’t want too many so that these suits get scared right off the bat. But I want to be covered and covered good by someone I trust.”
If Darel had feelings he might feel guilty for planning what he was and hearing Sabar say he trusted him.
“Where and what time?”
“I’ll text you later. Ears in here may not all be on our side. Like you said, there are cops every goddamn where.”
He was looking out the window once more. “That one’s FBI,” he said, pointing.
Darel went to the window and looked down at the African American man who had just taken a seat at one of the back tables. He was clean-shaven, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt. He looked out of place here even though he was trying to fit in.
“I’ve seen him here before,” Darel said. “Like four or five times this week.”
Sabar nodded. “Put one of your shifters on him. Find out why he’s become a return customer.”
“Sure thing,” Darel said. Then because he just couldn’t resist he asked, “Where’s Bianca tonight?”
Sabar’s neck could have snapped for how fast he turned to glare at Darel. “I told you not to even utter her name.”
Darel shrugged. “Just looking out for you. Fine woman like Bianca can get herself in a mess of trouble if she’s not kept on a tight leash.”
The sting of Sabar’s fist crashing into his jaw wasn’t a surprise. The fact that he held his stance, only allowing his head to jerk back slightly, fists at his sides, ready but not jumping just yet, was.
“That’s your last warning,” Sabar said, his sharp teeth cutting into his bottom lip as he stared at Darel for another second before walking out of the room.
“Likewise,” Darel said, rubbing along his jaw with one clawed hand. “That was your last warning, boss.”
X walked into Nick’s office with a ready frown. The message on his phone when he’d stepped out of the shower in Caprise’s room was not the kind of news a man wanted to hear after a night of phenomenal sex.
What it did was offer him a quick route out of Caprise’s room, before she could expound on the weird-ass scent that still lingered in there and the way said scent was making X feel. He’d left her a quick note since she was still in the bathroom and made a getaway in the style he hadn’t employed in ages.
Now he was in downtown DC about to visit his lawyer and most likely that jackass Dorian Wilson from the DEA.
Nick’s assistant was an attractive enough middle-aged woman with enough photos and plants on her desk to make the small space before Nick’s office look more like a person’s living room than an office.
“Hi, Kerry,” he said with a smile. “Nick’s expecting me.”
She nodded, her eyes alight with the sincere smile she offered in return. “I know, Mr. Markland. Go right in.”
He did and wasn’t surprised to see Nick wasn’t alone.
“Good afternoon,” he muttered as he closed the door behind him because by the time he’d made it to his place to change clothes, then downtown, it was well after noon.
Following a nod from Nick, X sat in the guest chair closest to Nick’s side of the desk while Wilson and another man he hadn’t met yet sat across from them. X figured the new guy for a cop, probably local and most likely homicide since Wilson really had nothing to do with Diamond’s murder.
Nick made the official introduction: “This is Detective Eric McCoy. Detective McCoy, this is my client Xavier Santos-Markland.”
“Where were you two nights ago between the hours of midnight and five AM?” Detective McCoy asked immediately.
Nick looked at X and nodded again.
“In Sedona,” he said simply.
“Doing what?” Agent Wilson asked.
“Was anyone with you?” McCoy asked simultaneously.
“His alibi is Sedona and we’ll provide you with a list of corroborating witnesses,” Nick interjected. “Is that all, gentleman?”
“No,” Wilson stated. “When was the last time you visited Athena’s?”
“Last week” was X’s reply.
Wilson didn’t believe him. X didn’t give a rat’s ass. McCoy looked like he had more questions, but when he went to speak again Nick held up a hand.
“As I already stated, if you don’t have a warrant for my client’s arrest, we don’t have anything to talk about,” Nick told them.
“So are you saying your client doesn’t plan to be cooperative in this investigation?” Wilson asked.
