Page 83 of All In

“You finished?” Koi laughed. “For now.” He pushed off the wall and headed toward the door.

“But I’ma be real with you. You need to convince her to seriously consider your offer. Whether it’s with you or somewhere else, bottom line is she can’t keep living here. And that’s real. It’s not safe.”

Najee let out a slow breath after the door closed behind him. The problem wasn’t Koi. The problem wasn’t the money. The problem wasJackie.Not because she was difficult.Butbecause she loved this house.And convincing Jackie Brown to walk away from something she’d fought for was going to be a hell of a lot harder than fixing it.

CHAPTER FIFTY- FOUR

NAJEE

Najee pulled the Porsche truck into a parking spot on Baltimore Avenue and killed the engine.

Golden hour had already slipped into that soft dusk glow, but his eyes still swept the block out of habit.He wasn't used to this shit. Not even a lil bit.An hour ago, they had been sitting sixty stories in the air at Jean-Georges, overlooking the city through floor-to-ceiling windows while a waiter explained a six-course tasting menu neither of them could pronounce. There was a Smart-casual dress code, white tablecloths and tiny portions arranged like artwork. Now they were parked in Spruce Hill on what Jackie swore was the "gentrified part" of Baltimore Avenue. Najee wasn't convinced.

"Jackie, why the hell are we down here?" he muttered, eyes still sweeping the street.

Jackie paused mid-lipstick application and cut him a look.“First, watch your mouth.” She snapped the cap back on her lipstick. “This neighborhood is actually safe. It ain’t nothing but a bunch of old yuppies and transplants living around here now. Besides, Booker’s is a vibe, baby. I promise.” She pouted at him, all glossy lips and pretty eyes, and Najee felt his resolve weaken. Still, he reached under the seat and grabbed his gun, tucking it into his waistband just in case. “Najee, you donotneed that,” Jackie said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t fucking tell,” he replied, still looking out the window, scoping the scene. “I can’t believeyou wanted to leave Center City to comehere.” Jackie smiled, playful.

“Bae, that spot was nice, don’t get me wrong. And I promise for our next date night, we can go back there,” she smirked. “But keep it real? That rabbit food wasn’t filling anybody up—especially not my greedy ass. We would’ve ended up at David’s or Sid Bookers later anyway.” Najee laughed despite himself. He couldn’t front, hearing Jackie call him “bae” so casually was doing something dangerous to him. They stepped inside Booker’s, and the vibe hit him immediately. Warm lighting, exposed brick, the low hum of laughter and soul music. There were no pretentious tasting menus. Just real food, real people, and that unmistakable smell of Southern comfort that made his stomach growl.

Najee ordered the jerked oxtail, red cabbage, and basmati rice. Jackie went with the spicy mango salmon, little neck clams, PEI mussels, and spicy saffron tomato sauce over pasta. But the star of the show was the cornbread with homemade strawberry butter. Najee demolished his plate so fast he was almost embarrassed. Jackie sat across from him eating slow, smirking the whole time.

Najee couldn’t lie, Booker’s was definitely amood.It wasn’t the 60th floor at the Four Seasons, but it was still a good choice. “Baby, this food so fucking good,” he said, wiping his mouth. “I low-key want to take a to-go plate for later.” “I’m cooking tomorrow so don’t do too much,” Jackie replied. “I promised Max some red snapper if he behaved for Kormia. And so far, he’s been on his best behavior.” That’s when Najee went quiet. He hadn’t told her what Koi said about the house. He’d started to earlier when she got back from shopping, but he changed the subject. Even now it was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t bring himself to ruin the moment. “Najee…” Jackie said, pulling him out of his head. “What’s the game plan for tomorrow wheneverything goes back to the way it was before?” She said it jokingly, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes. “Is that what you think is going to happen? Jackie shrugged and looked down at her plate. “I mean...we are a conflict of interest...after all.” Najee knew Jackie well enough by now to recognize fear when he heard it. Even when it showed up wearing sarcasm. He reached across the table and took her hand, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “We’re never going back to the way it was,” he said quietly. “Not after last night. It would be impossible. I meant what I said, Jackie. I’m all in.” She looked at him then, eyes soft but still guarded. “Yeah?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in.

“But I’m not gon’ lie…” He adjusted his glasses. “I have some bad news about your house.”

“I figured,” she said finally, looking up at him. “I saw it all over your face when I came in earlier.”

“My poker face that bad?” he joked.

“Boy, your poker face ain’t got shit on a woman’s intuition.”

The table fell silent. Najee opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Before he could speak, Jackie reached across the table and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

The gesture caught him completely off guard. "We got a long ride home," she said softly. “You can brief me on how fucked up my house is then." Her thumb brushed against his wrist. "But right now?" A small smile touched her lips. "I just wanna enjoy this." She squeezed his hand. "Enjoy you.”

Then she turned back toward the live band playing near the front of the restaurant. Najee watched her for a long moment. Longer than he probably should have. His feelings for Jackie had been strong for a while now. But this? This felt different. Najee hadn't allowed himself to feel something like this in years. Which made the conversation waiting for them outside feel a little heavier on his heart. Because for the first time, sincegetting the news about the house earlier. He wasn't worried about the condition of the house. He was more worried about the condition of her heart after he broke the news to her.

CHAPTER FIFTY- FIVE

JACKIE

The live band had been playing for the last twenty minutes… and Jackie didn’t want to leave.

They were supposed to be gone already—check paid, coats on—but the music was too good, the vibe too warm, and the corner booth felt like the only place in the city that wasn’t freezing. Daylight saving time had the sky looking like midnight even though it was barely eight o’clock. Late November in Philly was no joke. When Jackie last checked her phone, it was twenty-nine degrees. Now it was twenty-three. She was freezing. The black leather button-down mini dress she’d bought earlier looked cute as hell in the store. Short, fitted, expensive. She’d told herself stockings would be enough.

Now, sitting in the passenger seat of Najee’s truck with the heat on full blast, she was still shivering. The oversized leather motorcycle coat helped, but not enough. Her thighs were bare under the thin stockings, and every time the wind hit the truck it felt like ice sliding up her dress. Najee had parked a block away on purpose. All through dinner he’d been threatening to make her “sexy ass walk” back to the car. Jackie had laughed it off then. Now she was rethinking her life choices. He hadn’t let her walk, of course. Najee wasn’t one of them. But he’d made her wait in the warm restaurant while he pulled the truck up, and the whole time she’d sat there replaying the server incident in her head.

Midway through the meal the young guy had gotten a little too friendly smiling too hard, leaning in when he refilled her water, calling her “beautiful” like it was part of the script. It was Innocent enough in Jackie’s mind. Najee saw it different. “Ayo, my man, you good?” Najee had said, voice low and calm but sharp enough to cut. “Last time I checked her eyes was up here.” He’d taken his glasses off slow, like he was making sure the server really saw him, then reached across the table, took Jackie’s menu, and wrote both their orders down himself. Handed the slip back without another word. The server had damn near tripped over his own feet trying to get away. Jackie had leaned in after he left.

“Najee… that was mean.”

“No,” he’d said, voice even. “He was disrespectful. To me and you.”

She’d teased him about it the whole rest of the meal, but low-key? The way he shut it down so smoothly had done something to her thighs under the table. Now they were back in the truck, heat blasting, and Najee was quiet, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh like it belonged there. “You still cold?” he asked, glancing over. “Freezing,” she admitted, rubbing her arms.

“I should’ve known better than to wear this little ass dress in November.”