Page 98 of Pregnant By A Rich Demon 2

“About Amai Landry,” I replied. “And how we’re both tired of him breathing our air.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

I could hear the calculation happening on the other end of the line.

“I’m listening,” Rahsaan said finally.

“Not over the phone.” I kept my voice even. Professional. “Your territory. Your choice of location. I’ll come to you.”

That would surprise him.

Victor Baptiste didn’t go to anyone.

But this wasn’t about pride.

This was about survival.

And survival required flexibility.

“When?” Rahsaan asked.

“Tonight. Nine o’clock.”

“That’s fast.”

“The situation’s changed,” I said. “And I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

Silence.

Then, “Warehouse district. Off Tchoupitoulas. I’ll text you the address.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Victor?” Rahsaan’s voice shifted. “You coming alone?”

“Just me,” I said. “This conversation doesn’t need an audience.”

“Good.” He paused. “Because if this is some kind of setup?—”

“It’s not,” I interrupted. “I’m done with the Landrys. And I think it’s time we had a conversation about what comes next.”

Another pause.

“Nine o’clock,” Rahsaan said.

“Nine o’clock.”

The line went dead.

I set the phone down and poured myself another bourbon.

Drained it in one swallow.

The alliance I’d spent thirty years building was officially fractured.

And I was about to rebuild it with the man I’d spent the last decade treating as an enemy.