Page 27 of Collateral Love
“That trucking company your cousin runs?” I continued. “It’s a liability.”
His brow furrowed. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I pay attention,” I said. “And because family businesses get sloppy.”
He grunted. “True.”
“I already have access to two independent freight routes,” I went on. “Drivers who don’t ask questions because they don’t know enough to ask.”
Zayden whistled low. “You telling me you already got a cover set up?”
“Yes.”
“And distribution?”
I slid another page toward him.
“These runners,” I said. “They think they’re moving favors. Not product. They don’t know who supplies them. They don’t know where the money goes.”
He scanned the list, nodding slowly.
“You're insulated, I see,” he said.
“I prefer protected.”
He looked up at me then, gaze lingering longer than necessary.
“You always this thorough?”
“Only when it matters.”
We worked like that for hours.
Just two minds colliding, refining, adjusting. He challenged my assumptions. I poked holes in his instincts. We argued about percentages, timing, and exposure.
At some point, he pulled his shirt back off, heat settling in the room as the night deepened. Sweat traced down his chest when he leaned over the maps, and I had to force myself to keep my eyes on the paper instead of the way his body moved with purpose.
He caught me looking once.
He didn’t say anything but smiled in a cocky way to let me know he noticed me checking him out.
“The runner you have set up on campus,” he said. “You sure they solid?”
“No,” I replied. “Only one I trust is Miles, but even still, you can never be too sure about anyone, but I’m sure they’re useful.”
“That ain’t the same thing.”
“It doesn’t need to be.”
He chuckled. “You cold, Lil Mama.”
“I’m honest.”
That made him pause.
“You know,” he said slowly, “most women don’t talk to me like this.”
“I know.”
