“That’s temporary. We’ll climb out. Grind up. We ain’t making rash decisions that’ll cost us in the long run, bruh. I ain’t looking to die in this shit. Just get rich and get out. I got people to protect, man; it ain’t just about me now.”

“Like Mo?” Isa shot back.

Ahmeek hit the weed and held the smoke as Morgan and the twins ran through his mind. He pushed out a cloud of smoke as he choked out, “Mo don’t need me. She got it all figured out.” Pride forced those words from his lips, because all he really wanted to do was be the one she called on. She hadn’t, however. Not even a text from her had graced his phone, so in return, he hadn’t reached out either. Days had been long. Nights had been longer without hearing her voice. He missed the fuck out of Morgan Atkins but would never say it. “But you got a fiancé at home. We hit Hak, that’s her head in a bag on your doorstep. We want to move clean with this one. Just be patient. Once we back on track with Hak, the money gon’ triple. You got to trust me in this one.”

“You keeping that man breathing. He should be paying you for insurance,” Isa stated.

Ahmeek leaned back against the couch and kicked one boot up on the table as he lifted glazed eyes to the ceiling. The weed had taken him to another place, and he heard his heart slow as it beat in his ears. He swiped a hand over his mouth and groaned in conflict. A part of him wanted to move recklessly. The part that had some shit to get off his chest wanted to end niggas for no reason than just to make himself feel a little better, but he had outgrown that temperament. He had thought he had leveled up for a purpose … for a woman … but with her nowhere in sight, he questioned if caution was even necessary. She was his plan. His end goal. He never needed one before her, but once he got a taste of her, he realized it was a craving that had gone unfulfilled his entire life. Love. Ahmeek wanted the love of a woman to force him to get out, but he was learning there were no guarantees when it came to affairs of the heart. If he wanted to go legit, he would have to do it for himself.

Morgan’s phone rang, and she felt her heart skip a beat as Bash’s name popped up on her phone screen. His persistence was intimidating. Back to back, he had called her for hours. She hated it, and her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to answer. She shouldn’t have to. I just need some space, she thought.

Voice mail.