Page 17 of Dima
“It’s not much I could talk about. I never got to meet her. She died giving birth to me.”
“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.”
I could tell his apology was genuine. I had been hearing those words all my life, and I could always tell when they were said as a formality. This wasn’t a formality for Dima, so I went on.
“Yeah, me too. I wish I could have met her. I wish I could have got to see the side of my father that I’ve heard about when he was with her. Everybody tells me what a wonderful man he was, a man of the people, of the community.
“Everyone loved him, they still do, and I have to think that it was my mama who brought that side out of him. Without her, it seems that love turned more into fear. The type of love that he was able to give when he had my mom is different than what he gives now.”
“Why you say that?”
“Take you, for instance. Would you ever have saved me from that club the other night if my father wasn’t Bishop Moore and you weren’t afraid of what he would do if you didn’t?”
“First of all, I’m not afraid of your pops. Not even in the slightest. But if your father wasn’t Bishop Moore, we probably would have never met. I don’t get out much, so I damn sure wouldn’t have been in a club to save anyone.
“But if for some reason we did meet outside of the clubhouse, outside of the compound, I like to think that I’d still have this magnetic pull to be wherever you are. And yes, I would save you in any lifetime.”
My heart danced in my chest at the thought of him saving me, no matter the situation. This was the first time Dima let me in on how he felt about me, and he spoke in such a finite way, like whatever was happening between us was destiny.
I knew everything he told me was not only real but unshakable. I wanted to deny it, but I understood the pull he felt. I felt it too.
As the daughter of Bishop Moore, I’d always felt protected, but I knew most of the men did it out of obligation to my father.Hearing Dima explicitly say he saved my life because it was what he wanted felt so good.
Dima’s openness made the conversation flow easily as we pushed further into traffic and headed to our destination.
“Do I have to remind you that you have a fucking mission to complete? Why are you spending more time with Bishop’s daughter than you spend trying to close this case?”
Fitz’s voice boomed through the other end of my phone. Was this motherfucker keeping tabs on me? It took everything in me not to cuss him out. He had some of the other young agents afraid of him because of how much pull he had, but I wasn’t one of them.
I never used my people’s name to throw around my own weight. That was why motherfuckers like Fitz forgot who the fuck I was related to. There was no amount of bitch in my blood. My dad didn’t raise me to fear anybody or anything.
Fitz never needed to remind me of my mission. I had been knee-deep in this assignment since I first heard about them needing a younger agent to infiltrate the Durty Boyz. There was no reason to question my loyalty to the dedication I had to bringing this mission to a close. Well, besides Maeve.
“Keep your eyes open for what’s going down tonight. That’s where your focus should be, not on me and who I spend time with. I’m the best at my job. I know my mission, and I don’t need your fucking input.”
I hung up the phone on him just as fast as I had answered. I was finally making moves in an organization many had deemed impossible to break into. One wrong move could mess up everything I had been building, and having this conversation with Fitz right now was the wrong move.
I had already briefed him on the play tonight. Bishop would be meeting with the head of the Jack-town JUs, his biggest rival in the city, for a drop. The Jack-town JUs hated the Durty Boyz, but they still depended on us to supply them with enough guns, drugs, and women to keep their operation running. The border meet tonight, where over twenty races had already been matched, was just a cover for that drop.
We had just made it to the border meet, and Maeve and I had gone our separate ways. She walked closer to the crowd, where dozens of cars and bikes gathered to race, and I’d walked in the opposite direction toward the wood line to look for a spot to piss. If Fitz had called even two minutes earlier, she would have been within earshot of that conversation.
I released the piss I’d been holding for the last hour, shook myself dry, then tucked my dick back in my pants. As soon as I zipped and turned around, I saw I had company. I didn’t know how long he had been standing there.
“Who was that on the phone?”
Tyrus must have walked up while my back was turned. He was a Durty Boy who was always trying to find something he could run and tell. That was the problem with most of the men in organizations like this one. They were always looking for something that would put them in a higher position, even if that meant snitching on, stealing from, or killing the next man.
“Mind your fucking business, my nigga. You don’t know me like that,” I snapped before bumping him out the way with my shoulder. Now wasn’t the time for me to falter. I couldn’t act like I’d been caught red-handed doing something I wasn’t supposed to.
Although I didn’t know how much Tyrus had heard, I didn’t say enough to put my cover at risk. I wouldn’t give him the impression that he could use me to make the other men fuck with him more than they already did. He would never get street credit off me.
He had no idea who I was on the phone with or what we talked about. The only way I could blow my cover right now was by saying more than I needed to. He was fishing, but I wouldn’t take the bait.
“Nah, I feel like you lying. I never trusted your ass.”
“Did I ask you about your fucking feelings, nigga? You shouldn’t be feeling a damn thing about me. And what you mean, you never trusted me? I’m not a bitch for you to be feeling or trusting me. The fuck I look like to you?”
“Answer the question. Who was that on the phone?”
