Page 114 of The Love of Priest

Priest licked his lips instinctively. "I was out of town when this happened," he informed her.

Detective Westbrook furrowed her perfectly arched brows. "Out of town? Last I heard, you aren't supposed to be out of the jurisdiction of New York," she said to him.

Priest let out a challenging chuckle. He found it funny that he was the talk of every precinct and bureau. "Not that it's any of your concern—" Priest’s dark orbs shifted from her brown ones and focused on her name plate to catch a refresher on her name before continuing. "Detective Westbrook, but if I'm not mistaken, Amagansett is still in the jurisdiction of New York. Maybe out ofyourjurisdiction, but still in mine." He shot her a smug smile.

Detective Westbrook took the dig he threw at her with a grain of salt and a nod of her head. "We'll have this place clear in less than an hour. In the meantime, how about you work on getting us that security footage."

Priest smirked. "My pleasure." After Priest successful handed over a copy of the footage on an empty drive, the officers cleared out in a timely manner like Detective Westbrook promised. Mirsad followed Priest to the back of the office where his mother usually lingered whenever she was handling maintenance requests, new tenants, and things of that nature. Because the bullets hadn’t stood a chance of traveling that far, the room had gone untouched. Priest pulled out the seat behind the desk so he could sit.

Mirsad was aware of what Priest was doing once he installed the drive on the computer. Clicking on a few things, Priest rotated the monitor to allow Mirsad to catch a view of the footage the cameras caught at various angles of the building’s exterior. "Sit down and watch," Priest ordered him.

Mirsad let out a dreadful sigh. "No point," he said. "I don't know who these niggas are.”

"You'll watch it until you figure it out," Priest stated as he tapped the space bar to play the video.

Alongside Mirsad, Priest watched the tapes over and over. The sight of the black-on-black Impala screeching past the building as niggas shot round after round through it was all that could be seen. Four seconds into the footage, a male could be seen hanging his head out the window. The vehicle’s position prevented one of the cameras from getting a view of the male from the front; however, another camera showed a rear view and a partial side view. The shoulder-length dreads that were stuffed inside of the black skully wasn't much of a giveaway either.

Mirsad let out another dreadful sigh. "I don't know these niggas, Priest." He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"Watch it again," Priest demanded, rewinding the footage to play it for the umpteenth time. This went on all night. Priest forced Mirsad to watch the footage over and over again until he connected some type of dots. Mirsad finally noticed a red bandanna that was tied around the wrist of one of the dudes that participated in the shooting. It sparked his mind, triggering him. He only knew one nigga who casually tied a bandanna around his wrist.

"That's Darius," Mirsad let out as if he had finally had a revelation.

"What's the word?" Priest raised a brow, awaiting an explanation from Mirsad about why Darius was sending bullets into his building.

Mirsad smacked his lips as he slouched back in his seat. "We hit a lick, and he ain't gimme my cut, so I handled that." He shrugged his shoulders carelessly. Priest leaned back in his seat just as Mirsad did. He eyed him with anger, not believing that something that could have been solved so easily had blown up and now had Nia and two innocent kids frightened for their lives.

"Handled it how, ‘Sad?"

"I robbed him and his baby mother's spot. Nigga had it coming, though." He shrugged his shoulders.

Darius and Mirsad never had a friendship. They kept shit neutral for the sake of business. They hit a few licks and split the profit between them and anyone else who joined in. Mirsad had taken it upon himself to run his mouth about not getting his cut on social media, which brewed more turmoil between the two when everything unfolded. Mirsad ended up pulling up at Darius' spot and wiping it clean of all the cash and valuables that were lying around. He came up on a whole pound of good weed just from that single lick on Darius alone. He flipped it and had it circulating throughout the hood, and word got back to Darius. The designer weed he had imported from the west coast was being sold out in the streets just when his shit ended up missing. Mirsad, who was far too flashy, made it obvious he had hit Darius' spot. With the constant subliminal posts hinting at the fact that he took a nigga's shit and they weren't gonna do anything about it, along with the fact that he was advertising weed that he was never going to touch again because he didn’t have the right connections, Mirsad made himself Darius' target.

"Yo, you almost costed ya mother her life over some fucking lick you ain't get no cut from?" Priest asked for clarification with his face screwed up in confusion.

Mirsad let out a heavy huff of air. "Stop tryna downplay it. You would be hot too," he argued.

Priest rose from his seat, grabbing his phone from the desk while shaking his head. "You on your fucking own. Fix this shit," Priest gritted at his little cousin as he dialed the number of his driver so he could leave.

"I can't fucking stay here, P," Mirsad reminded him. "Now that I know who it is, I know what type of fire I'm gonna be handling." He implored Priest as he trailed behind him.

Priest didn’t find his pleas moving, and he shook his head as he paid Mirsad no mind "You're not cut for this, Mirsad! I tell you this shit all the time! You on your own, man!" Priest fumed in annoyance. "Cleaning up your fucking mess is getting old."

"What about my mom’s? You can't just leave her high and dry like you're doing me right now," Mirsad pointed out.

Priest cut his eyes at Mirsad. "Now you give a fuck about Nia?" he scoffed. "Stay away from her until you get this shit straightened out. I can't risk you putting her in danger right now." Priest shook his head.

He continued out of the office and headed to the car. Behind him, he could hear Mirsad shout a final slur at him. "Fuck you, Priest!"

"Handle it!" Priest concluded before getting into the back seat of the SUV.

The SUV peeled off from the curb, driving away from the building. Priest knew he had left Mirsad feeling defeated, especially since he expected him to come to his defense. The shit was petty to Priest, though. Mirsad needed to fix shit himself. Priest knew eventually he was going to have to take matters into his own hands, especially since Mirsad was quite talented at making any and every situation worse for himself. In the meantime, Priest was going to observe how well Mirsad conducted himself through this shit. It was going to be another lesson learned for Mirsad once he was finished with him.

Priest's driver was aware that he was heading to Britain's apartment instead of going back to the penthouse. The rain had picked up a bit, which caused mild taps from the water droplets against the windows. He leaned back in his seat, resting his head on the headrest before letting out a tired sigh.

Making sure everyone's safety was ensured was a hassle, but someone had to do it. Priest texted Kaymen that he was free to head out since Jazzy was set to go back to the penthouse in a few hours.Luckily for all of them, Kaymen's presence was enough assurance for Nia to fall sound asleep.

Arriving at Britain's place, Priest thanked his driver before getting out in the rain. In the parking lot, Priest gestured a slight head nod toward Cyro who had been keeping a close eye on Britain while Priest was out. This gave Cyro permission to pull off and leave the scene.Priest rushed out of the rain and to Britain's door. Reaching up to the lining of the door, he retrieved the spare key that was concealed perfectly. Using the key, he opened the door and stepped inside. Glancing around, he noticed Britain at the window, peeking through the blinds.

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