I recognized my ex-husband Marcus the second he stepped out of room 1402 at the Grand Monarch Hotel, holding hands with his new fiancé.
The air in the auto repair shop in Englewood was thick with the smell of oil and burnt rubber. Devonne stood by a jacked-up sedan, pretending to inspect the undercarriage. He knew he was being watched. He’d felt it since he pulled in.
A figure emerged from the shadows between two racks of tires: Dre Barksdale, Duke’s stoic enforcer. Dre’s hand was on the grip of a weapon holstered at his side, but he didn’t draw it. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, held a different glint tonight.
“Carter,” Dre said, his voice low.
“Barksdale,” Devonne replied, his own hand inching towards his hip. The tension in the dusty garage was palpable.
Instead of drawing, Dre slowly lowered his hand from his weapon. He took a step closer, his gaze steady.
“My aunt, Sondra,” Dre began, his voice barely above a whisper. “She came to me. Told me everything.”
Devonne’s breath hitched. Sondra. Dre was Sondra’s nephew. A hidden connection, a family tie that Duke had never suspected.
“She wants to do right by Malik,” Dre continued, his eyes meeting Devonne’s. “Said he didn’t deserve what Duke did.”
Devonne kept his face neutral, but a wave of relief washed over him. An unexpected ally. An inside man.
“What’s your play, Barksdale?” Devonne asked, wary but hopeful.
“Commander Hollis,” Dre said, his voice clipped. “He just signed off on a high-risk warrant for Lisa. Felony murder. Duke wants a full sweep of the South Side tonight. They’re mobilizing now.”
My blood ran cold. A felony murder warrant. Hollis had moved fast.
“How much time do we have?” Devonne asked, his mind already racing.
“Five minutes,” Dre replied, pulling a small, black handheld radio from his jacket pocket. “Standard precinct frequency. They’re on their way to 79th Street. That safehouse.”
He tossed the radio to Devonne, who caught it with practiced ease. “This will give you a temporary tactical advantage. You’ll hear their movements, their orders.”
Devonne stared at the radio, then at Dre. “Why are you doing this?”
Dre’s face was impassive, but his eyes held a flicker of something close to pain. “Malik was a good kid. Too good for Duke’s world. And Sondra… she’s family. I won’t let Duke break her too.”
He nodded once, a brief, decisive gesture. Then, without another word, he melted back into the shadows of the garage, leaving Devonne alone with the hum of the radio and the weight of a precarious new alliance.
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