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I grabbed my coat.

Jones looked up at me.

“Mr. Lawless.”

I stopped.

“Your brother had a lot going on during the final weeks of his life.”

“No shit.”

“Financial problems. Family problems. Problems with you.”

I stared at him.

“Xay spent thirty-four years creating problems.”

Jones didn’t react.

“Eventually we’re going to figure out which one followed him to Newark.”

I looked at him for a second.

Then nodded.

“I hope you do.”

And I meant that shit.

Because as fucked up as things had gotten between me and Xay, I hadn’t wanted him dead.

I wanted him to know I knew.

I wanted him to sit with what he’d done.

Maybe part of me even wanted him to hurt.

But dead?

Nah.

That was different.

I walked out of the building and pulled my phone from my pocket.

One missed call.

Sam.

I stared at her name.

Things between us were weird.

There wasn’t really another word for it.

Before Xay died, she was still pissed at me.

Rightfully so.