Page 7 of Collateral Love
He leaned back, studying me as I’d finally stepped into the light.
“You planning to recruit?” he asked.
“I’m planning to structure,” I said. “Recruitment comes later. Nothing connects back to you.”
“And where do you fit in all this?” he asked.
There it was. The question men always asked once they realized a woman knew more than she should.
I closed my laptop.
“I fit in where I’m needed,” I said. “Right now, that’s making sure you don’t bring Crestwood heat into a college town that doesn’t know how to survive it.”
His eyes held mine, searching for something. Maybe he was looking for fear, greed, or ego, but he wouldn’t find any of that here.
“You don’t sound scared of me, and I’m not fuckin’ with that,” he said.
“I’m not,” I replied.
That earned me a slow nod.
“You got a lot of heart, Lil Mama,” he said. “Say I listen. What do you get?”
I folded my hands on the table.
“Control,” I said. “Distance. Clean money.”
He laughed quietly. “Everybody wants clean money.”
“Not everybody knows how to make it,” I shot back.
I opened my notebook and slid it toward him.
Inside were numbers and margins. I had calculated costs and risk percentages. The projections looked like engineering formulas in the event that anyone ever found these plans. It looked like no more than homework equations.
His brows drew together as he scanned the page.
“This is… detailed,” he said.
“I don’t do vague,” I replied.
He looked up at me slowly.
“Do you know what you’re looking at,” I asked?
“A Nigga ain’t dumb. It’s calculus.”
That made my panties wet. The ruthless Zayden King was smart.
“You from Crestwood,” he said again,
“No, I’m from North End.”
He laughed. “A suburban girl cosplaying like a Queen Pin.” But he looked me right in the eye, a sign of respect. “But I’m going to try this because you don’t move like anybody I know.”
That was the moment. The exact second something shifted.
Zayden King leaned forward, lowering his voice even though nobody was close enough to hear.
