White Lines III (33 page)

Cheo sprang to his feet. Trotting after his uncle, he followed him into the bedroom. Elliot pointed the nozzle of the gun directly at Ethan's temple, but Cheo slapped his hand away just in the nick of time. A shot went off, the bullet lodging in the wall next to Ethan's head. The round woke him up with a start. Seeing the two men standing over him—one with a gun in his hand—Ethan began to cry instantly. He had never been more afraid in his life. The two men were arguing now. Ethan's body quaked with terror. He shrunk into the corner of the bed, which was pushed up against the wall and cried softly, trembling.

“Yo, Elliot, what the fuck! I respect you as my uncle. But you're bugging right now.”

Elliot still had the gun in his hand and he seemed none too pleased that Cheo was challenging him. Cheo perceived the glint in his eyes and changed his tone a bit.

“If you splatter shorty's brains in here, all of that DNA evidence gets spread throughout the whole room.” Cheo forced his voice to register lighter. Now more than ever, he could see that his ruthless uncle had gone off the deep end. “Just take him out tomorrow and do what you gotta do in the woods somewhere. Just don't do it in here.”

Elliot seemed to consider it for several long, tense moments. Finally, he nodded slowly, grinning. “You're right,” he said. “I watch
Forensic Files
, too. That DNA shit never completely disappears. He chuckled a little and, with the gun still in his hand, Elliot patted his nephew affectionately on the head.

Cheo cringed, but kept silent. Ethan continued crying softly in the corner. Elliot winked at Cheo. Finally, he tucked the gun back into his waistband. He looked at Ethan.

“Tomorrow, then.”

Elliot left the room.

Cheo watched his uncle leave and knew without question that he intended to kill the little boy. He wondered if Elliot might kill him, too, for good measure. Family or not, he was crazy. Cheo glanced at Ethan and felt sorry for him. Cheo had been around Ethan's age when his own father had died in Elliot's place. He cleared his throat.

“It's alright, Shorty. Ain't nothing gonna happen tonight. Go back to sleep.”

Cheo left the room, shutting the door behind him. Ethan stared at the closed door with his heart galloping full speed in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and prayed with all of his might.

 

19

HOMECOMING

Zion stepped off the elevator and walked the long corridor toward his attorney's office. He was relieved to be free. After weeks of hard work, Maury had gotten him another bail hearing. Once the media hype around the mass arrests began to die down in favor of more scandalous headlines, Maury brought Zion back before the judge, and he was granted bail under very strict conditions. The prosecution argued that Zion was a flight risk, so the judge forced him to surrender his passport. The DA was also concerned about Zion continuing to run the crew while out on bail. So the judge ordered that Zion wear an electronic ankle monitor and adhere to a curfew. The judge set bail high at one million dollars, and the DA still wasn't satisfied. He requested a bail-source hearing to ensure that the money used to bail Zion out did not come from illegal means. Gillian and Lamin had stepped up and put up their financial records as proof that the bail money hadn't come from a questionable source. Finally, after all of that, Zion was free to leave the madhouse that was Riker's Island. Maury had sent a car and driver to pick him up from the Queens jail and deliver him to his office in Lower Manhattan.

Zion strolled toward the office, wearing a simple white button-up and a pair of cargo pants from Old Navy—definitely not his usual attire. Maury's secretary had sent the outfit to Riker's so that Zion would have something decent to come home in. His clothes that he'd worn the night of his arrest were covered in blood and dirt as a result of his beating. Those clothes were now evidence in the case Maury was filing against the NYPD.

Zion couldn't wait to go home and take a hot shower—alone. The past few weeks in jail had been hellish. He intended to take full advantage of all of the luxuries he had once taken for granted.

As Zion neared the office, Maury stepped out and smiled warmly at him.

“Welcome back,” Maury said. He shook Zion's hand firmly.

“Thanks.” Zion's smile was thanks enough.

“Remember, stay home, stay out of trouble, stay out of the spotlight,” Maury said.

Zion nodded. “That's exactly what I plan to do.”

Maury patted him encouragingly on the arm. “Go on in,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

Zion watched Maury walk away. Then he opened the office door, and stepped inside. He smiled at the sight of Gillian and Lamin seated before him. They returned the gesture, and Lamin stood up and greeted his friend with a firm handshake and a hug.

“Welcome home, Zion.” Lamin was beaming. He and Zion had been friends since they were teenagers. Although Lamin was aware of what was going on between Olivia and Zion, their friendship remained intact. Relationships had their ups and downs, and Lamin knew better than anybody that Olivia could be a lot to handle. Despite all of that, he was happy to see that Zion was once again a free man.

“Yo,” Zion said, shaking his head. “I feel like doing the moonwalk, I'm so happy! Thank you for everything you did to help me get out.”

Lamin nodded. “No doubt. But all I did was sign some paperwork and say the right things in a hearing.” He aimed his chin at Gillian. “That's who you should be thanking.”

Perched regally on her seat, with her legs crossed daintily, Gillian's eyes sparkled like the diamonds on her wrist when she smiled at Zion. He walked over toward her and she stood up to greet him. He hugged her tightly. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “Thank you for everything, Gillian. I mean that.”

Gillian pulled back and looked him in the eye. “You okay?” she asked, her voice full of sincere concern.

He nodded. “I'm fine,” he said. “But I think we have a problem.”

Gillian agreed. “We do. Have a seat.” She gestured toward the chair across from her. Zion sat. Gillian and Lamin followed suit.

Lamin spoke first. “Okay, so let me state the obvious. We're meeting here for a few reasons. First, it makes sense that you would go to your lawyer's office straight after your release. They'll be tracking your every move with that ankle monitor. So when this address comes up, it won't raise any red flags.”

Zion nodded. “Makes sense.”

“Second, any conversation between you and your lawyer is considered privileged and confidential. So you can speak freely here.”

“It's probably the only place where we can speak freely at this point,” Gillian agreed.

“The final reason,” Lamin said. “Is that it's not safe for you two to be seen together. For some reason, nobody has linked Gillian to the crew. The feds know all kinds of other shit about the family. But there's no spotlight on Gillian right now, and it's best to keep it that way.”

Zion nodded again. “Yeah, I've been wondering about that,” he said.

Gillian frowned slightly. “What?”

Lamin noticed Zion hesitate. Immediately, he understood where Zion was coming from.

Zion cleared his throat. He sat forward in his chair and looked Gillian in the eye. “I spent a lot of time thinking while I was locked down,” he said. “Basically, with the exception of like … maybe four or five people, the whole crew got swept up in raids that night. All of us got hit with big charges. Everybody but you, G.”

She stared back at him, but didn't respond.

“They got me down on paper as the kingpin of this family. And that's not how it is.”

Lamin smirked a little.

Zion continued. “At first I thought they were just trying to shake me up. All of us, really. Trying to see who would get scared and start telling. But then they started telling me what they already know. And they know a lot.”

“Like what?” Gillian asked.

Zion was old school. Law office or not, he was being careful. Much of what had gone down was common knowledge within the family. He didn't feel it necessary to get into specifics. He cleared his throat. “Like a lot of old shit. That guy on the jury that time. The situation with Danno. They know about the Russians. And Grant. About your Pops passing over Baron to pick somebody else to take over the crew when he died. I don't know why, but they think he chose me. They know too much for it to just be the result of an investigation. There's a snitch.”

Gillian stared back at him. Secretly, her heart was racing. Though composed outwardly, inside she was shaken. She remembered what her father taught her. As a little girl, she watched him closely, awestruck by the way that he made grown men tremble, men twice his size. He was powerful. He commanded respect. She had asked him once how he did it.

Doug Nobles, a strong and handsome man, had looked down at his daughter and smiled:
“Focus. No matter what is going on around you, no matter who's in the room. You have to watch them. You have to learn how to read people, how to sense their intent. You have to listen. And only speak when necessary. Then, when you do speak, everybody listens.”

Gillian stared at Zion. She saw the smirk on Lamin's face, subtle as it was. She tilted her head to the side and frowned a little. “Do you think it's me, Zion? You think I'm the snitch?”

Zion shook his head. “No. I don't believe you're built like that. You're your father's child.”

Gillian nodded. So did Lamin.

“You think it's Baron?” she asked.

Zion didn't answer. Lamin stared at the drink in his hand. Silence descended like a plane coming in for a landing. Tension filled the room until finally Lamin cleared his throat and spoke.

“Let's tell the truth,” he said. “Baron didn't inherit his father's character, his work ethic, and sense of honor. But you did.” He looked Gillian in the eye. “You're the female version of your father.”

Gillian took that as the highest compliment.

“Baron is a different story,” Zion said.

Lamin sat back in his seat. “Somebody's been talking.”

Gillian's mind reeled. “And now all of the major players are locked up. Except me.”

“Okay, so let's start there. Why not you?” Lamin asked. “Who would snitch on everyone else but leave you out?”

“Baron,” Zion suggested softly.

Lamin winced a little. Although Gillian and Baron weren't close, they were still siblings. Lamin understood family loyalty all too well. In fact, it had been Doug Nobles' downfall. It was common knowledge that Baron was toxic, troublesome.

Gillian didn't even blink at the suggestion. She sat there for a moment, then slowly nodded.

“That's possible,” she said honestly. “Only problem is, why wouldn't he throw me to the wolves, too? It's not like I'm his favorite person. He could get rid of me for good if he gave them the information that he has.”

Zion nodded. “True.”

“How about Olivia?” she countered. Glancing at Lamin, apologetically, she shrugged. “Sorry, Lamin. I know she's your sister and you love her, but she is mean as hell.”

Lamin didn't respond, but he knew Gillian was right. Olivia was mean. Still, he didn't suspect her of turning on the family like that.

Gillian continued, addressing Zion. “You said she was nagging you to get out of the game. You've been screwing her so-called friend. Maybe she decided to get payback.”

Zion shook his head. “I mean … anything is possible. But I just can't see that. Olivia don't hate me. She's just a little mad right now. That's gonna pass.”

Lamin nodded. “Sister or not, I would bet my life on Olivia. She's not your snitch.”

“Anybody else?” Gillian asked. Ever since the crew had gotten locked up, she had been wracking her brain trying to understand how the hell it happened. If she thought about it enough, there were possible motives everywhere she looked.

Lamin seemed to agree. “I think it could be anybody else, and that's the problem. Is there enough to get everybody out, and see who does what?”

Gillian nodded. “Zion was the only one held without bail. Now that we got that out of the way, I'm ready to get the rest of them out.” She looked at Zion. “I wanted to talk to you first. And I couldn't get to you in there.”

Zion seemed to grasp the magnitude of what she was saying. But just to make it clear, she said, “I trust you, Zion.”

He nodded, gratefully. “It's mutual.”

“I feel like my father had a stronger team in the family's heyday. Dorian, Frankie, Born, Grant. And Zion, you were a part of that team, too. I feel like … out of everybody who's left in this shit, I trust you the most.”

Zion blushed a little. Gillian noticed.

“And it's not a sexual thing, either. 'Cuz you're fine as hell, but Olivia's crazy. I heard about how she did Jada's little sister dirty at the courthouse.”

They all shared a little laugh at Ava's expense.

“Anyway, your apartment is probably destroyed. Maury arranged for you to go home and box up what you can. We'll set you up in Fort Greene. Maury owns a brownstone there. Nice neighborhood. Quiet. You gotta keep a low profile.”

“No doubt.” Zion wanted nothing more than to get out of the public eye and blend in.

“Let's watch and see who does what and who goes where once we let the guys out.”

Lamin and Zion both agreed. The next few weeks would be crucial.

*   *   *

Born had risen long before the sun that morning. He was physically exhausted, but he was too wired to rest. Thoughts of his son filled him with worry and robbed him of the sleep that he so desperately needed.

Jada was still asleep on the couch. Born had covered her up with a blanket, and then he spent the rest of the night sitting in his favorite recliner, thinking. He thought about his son, afraid, away from home, in the clutches of a man who had threatened to end his life. Born wrestled with so many different emotions that by the time the sun rose he had laughed at the absurdity of the situation, cried in anguish, and gotten angry enough to hatch a plan.