Page 23 of Crown: Phase 4

The cash created an even bigger problem. Part of it had been collected from their clubs, gambling spots, and other operations, while the rest came from product they had already moved. That money was meant to fund the next shipment, pay his soldiers, support the families of fallen men, keep officials in his pocket, and cover the organization’s daily expenses. Crown had taken all of it, leaving Preach exposed in ways bullets never could.

This was the second major loss Preach had suffered after authorities seized one of his shipments months earlier. His connect had already started questioning whether the Dessalinés Mob still controlled its operation. Returning with another explanation for why he couldn’t pay for the next shipment would make him look careless, unstable, and weak.

If nothing else could humble Preach’s ego, that did. His connect could cut him off completely, stripping away the power and reputation Preach’s family had spent years building. Worse, they could decide the mob had become a liability and send men to erase the problem before law enforcement reached them. Preach would no longer be fighting only the Knights. He would have enemies coming from both sides while his organization bled money in the middle.

“Madichon,” Preach mumbled, throwing Dimitri aside like a rag doll.

Preach wanted to put a bullet through Crown’s head, but he also had beef with his big brother and Gunner. Loki was the one who had pushed this war into motion with the Ravens when he had repeatedly warned him to stand down.

Loki’s need for revenge had now cost them men, product, millions of dollars, and possibly their connection to the organization that kept them supplied. The situation had gotten deep too fast, and Preach knew there was no legal business, street operation, or hidden reserve that could replace all that money in time to reup.

“M ap touye malpwòp sa. Get ready. We takin’ a ride to the Ravens’ clubhouse.”

Dimitri nodded, then turned toward the door to prepare the car. As he stepped out, Preach gripped the hem of his soaked wife-beater and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the floor. One of his guards stepped forward with a towel, and Preach wiped the sweat from his chest, neck, and face before throwing it back into the man’s hands. The other guard then held open a bulletproof vest next, helping him secure it tightly around his torso before passing him a clean black shirt to cover it.

Preach slid his arms through the sleeves and tugged the fabric into place, changing from a man finishing a workout into one preparing to go handle business.

∞∞∞

As planned, Preach’s first destination had been the Ravens’ new clubhouse, but the building was empty when he arrived. There were no members or bikes in sight, leaving the place looking less like a clubhouse and more like a building its occupants had abandoned in a hurry. That had told Preach all he needed to know. Gunner was running instead of facing him like a man, and the thought made his blood boil.

Preach couldn’t stand bitch-made niggas. Play pussy, get fucked had always been his motto, and he was more than ready to fuck Gunner up. In fact, he was the first nigga on his hit list. Preach’s instincts had warned him not to do business with him from the beginning. He should have trusted that feeling instead of allowing Loki to convince him otherwise. But that was fine. Preach knew he’d track Gunner down with the addresses he’d got from a PI on his payroll.

First stop was Gunner’s mother’s house. She swore she hadn’t seen her son, even after Preach gave her multiple chances to change her story. Her boyfriend fucked up by reaching for a gun, and by the time Preach and his men walked out, neither of them was still breathing.

Next up was Gunner’s grandmother. She spat near Preach’s shoes and called him every devil in the book, trying to defend the grandson who had brought violence to her doorstep. Preach didn’t give a fuck. He sent a bullet through her head, too.

Then there was Gunner’s sister, Abby. She tried to bolt out the back when Preach and his men showed up. They caught her and managed to squeeze out some info that nobody else had given him. But in the end, Preach didn’t let her walk away either.

Now, Preach stood outside the home of a woman Gunner had been seeing for nearly two years, according to Abby. The small house was on the quieter side of the Hills, nestled in a neighborhood where Gunner probably figured his street troubles wouldn’t reach him. Like many men in his world, he had found a good woman to retreat to when things got too heavy outside. But now, his choices were about to shatter her life.

Dimitri stood on one side of Preach while Kervens waited on the other, both men in black gloves with their guns in their hands. Preach glanced around the backyard again before scrutinizing the back door. The wood around the lock was cracked, and one side of the frame was pushed inward. That told him someone had already forced their way inside long before he got there.

He raised two fingers, signaling his men to tread carefully. None of them knew what awaited them on the other side. Kervens stepped forward and eased the damaged door open. Preach followed closely behind, gun raised, scanning the interior while Dimitri covered the opposite angle.

The place was a wreck. The glass coffee table lay on its side, a wide crack splitting through the center. One of the dining chairs was toppled near the hallway, its legs shattered, and the curtains hung limply, half-pulled from the wall. A dark smear of blood stained the carpet near the kitchen, with smaller drops leading toward the back door they had just come into.

Preach moved deeper inside, nudging a broken lamp out of his way with his shoe. It was clear a struggle had taken place. His first thought was that the Knights had beaten him to Gunner.

A sudden noise came from the bedroom. A slight movement of Preach’s gun signaled to Kervens to check it out. He went first, with Dimitri trailing behind. A woman screamed moments later, and Preach rushed into the bedroom. He found Gunner’s girlfriend on her knees beside an open suitcase.

Clothes, cash, toiletries, and several pairs of shoes were scattered across the bed. Her passport and car keys rested next to a pile of folded money, revealing that she had been preparing to leave in a hurry, just as Gunner had warned her to. Kervens had one hand twisted into the back of her shirt while Dimitri searched the attached bathroom and closet.

“Ain’t nobody else here, sir.” He confirmed.

The woman looked up at Preach and immediately stopped fighting as fear spread across her face. With a gun hanging from his hand and dried blood staining one sleeve, he looked like the devil had walked into her bedroom to collect a debt. Her attention dropped to his weapon before darting toward the doorway as she calculated whether she could make it past three armed men. Gunner had warned her just hours before about his troubles, but neither had the time to make a move before he was snatched up.

Preach saw the thought form before she could move. “Try it, and m ap touye w.” He warned.

Kervens pulled her to her feet by the back of her shirt. She stumbled over the clothing scattered across the floor, but he didn’t slow down. When she reached toward the bed to steady herself, he caught her wrist and forced her arm behind her back. She cried out as he pushed her onto the edge of the mattress.

“Please,” she gasped.

Preach approached her slowly. After searching all night, he no longer had the energy to waste on yelling. His rage had transformed into something deeper, growing colder with every door he forced open and every lie he encountered. He pulled the chair from beneath her desk, positioned it directly in front of her, and sat down.

Dimitri picked up the woman’s cell phone from the floor and handed it to Preach. He turned it over in his hand, examining the cracks radiating from one corner of the screen. Given the state of the apartment, it was likely that the phone had been dropped in fear or knocked from her grip during the earlier struggle.

“Where’s Gunner?” He asked.