“You tell me! What the hell popped off outside?”

“How should I know?” Kisa replied. “We been up here all night.”

“Well, some dude is outside with his head blown the fuck off, and the jakes is on their radios saying Sincere and Shawn are suspects.”

Kisa stood. “Say what? That’s impossible, Sin and Shawn was just here.” She went to her purse and pulled out her BlackBerry. She dialed Sincere’s number and waited for it to ring, but it didn’t. Instead, it went straight to his voice mail. She tried his number once more, only to get the same results. Instantly, she became afraid. This can’t be happening now. Just as much as she was fearful, she was frustrated. They’d just settled into their new brownstone, and Lena was due to arrive the next day with Kai and Christen.

“Mrs. Montega,” a male voice spoke.

“Yes,” Kisa looked up and saw a detective she was all too familiar with.

His name was Mike Santangelo. Years earlier, he had been one of the officers on Sincere’s payroll. Santangelo was accompanied by his new female partner, Detective Sorcosky, a white woman about medium height with a solid build, reddish-blond hair, and green eyes. The moment Sorcosky spotted Kennedy, she zeroed in on her and smiled at the thought of being able to finally send her to prison. “Ms. Sanchez, we meet again. It seems like whenever there’s ongoing criminal activity, you’re never far away.”

A couple of years had passed since Sorcosky, along with twenty federal agents, had burst into Kennedy’s album-release party and arrested her and Yatta. The charges were later dismissed, but Kennedy’s hatred for Sorcosky was still fresh. “Agent Sorcosky, it has been a while, and you still look … worn out.” Kennedy smiled. “This must be some serious shit for the FBI to be here.”

“I’m not FBI anymore. I’m NYPD. Homicide.”

“Congratulations on your promotion,” Kennedy said sarcastically. “Man, I can only imagine whose life you fucked up to get promoted from Federal Bureau of Investigations up to the New York City Police Department.”

Sorcosky would’ve liked nothing more than to smack the smirk off Kennedy’s face. “This must be the rest of your drug-dealing family. The only one missing is your sister Kenyatta.”

Kennedy, now eight weeks pregnant, was easily annoyed and feistier than usual. “I see that strap you wear at night still has a hard-on for me.” She smiled. “I’m outta here. Something about pigs just makes my skin crawl.”

“Mrs. Montega, I need to see you out here, now.” Santangelo said with authority. Then he said to Sorcosky, “Let me talk to her alone.”

Sorcosky eyed him suspiciously but complied.

When Kisa stepped into the hallway, Santangelo let the formalities go. “Kane, where the fuck is Sincere?”

“Santangelo, you ought to know me better than that. If I knew where my husband was at, I’d die before I’d tell you.”

“I’m trying to look out for him.”

“Yeah, right.” Kisa waved her hand and turned to walk away.