Page 14 of Malachai
I stared at him for a long moment, then pulled out my phone and dialed Diamond.
“Midnight?” she answered immediately.
“You with Malik?”
“No, why?”
“Tell him to make sure he’s seen by people tonight. Go to public places. After tonight, the club's his. Dutch is retiring. Permanently.”
I hung up.
Dutch was staring at me like I was the devil.
“You can’t kill me,” he whispered. “You're a nice girl. A good girl. I've known you for two years. You're not a killer.”
I laughed.
“A minute ago you said I was very bad, like you. You wanna know what I am, Dutch? I’m somewhere in the middle. You remember about a year ago when you were throwing a fit over the kingpin in Miami who took all 100k of your shipment from the docks and you couldn’t do shit about it? Goa?”
Dutch froze.
“Goa is your daddy?”
“Yes. I can tell by the look on your face that what’s about to happen is dawning on you. My daddy raised his children to be very violent. I can very well kill you, and I will.”
After Sasha.
After losing my baby.
After running.
After pretending I could be something softer than what I was born into with Malachai.
I had made a decision.
I was done pretending I wasn’t my father’s daughter.
I straightened, rolling my shoulders.
“You know what your mistake was?” I asked.
Dutch shook his head, barely breathing.
“You thought I was just a dancer.”
Dutch’s face flickered—confusion, denial, then fear.
Real fear.
I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him forward. The chair legs screeched across the tile.
“What are you goi—”
I drove the knife into his thigh.
His scream ripped through the house.
“THAT’S FOR JASMINE.”
