ᴇᴍᴇʀᴀʟᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴋ.

XVII

"Talk to us about what?" London furrowed her eyebrows at Dreya while Tony, Bandit, and Alex came from around their respective desk. "I thought Nick's case was going cold since it's been a couple of weeks with no updates..."

"Ain't shit goin' cold." Dreya shook her head. "I read up on the reports this mornin' – somehow, the nigga on the scene last night forgot to tell me about the type of gun used to murk that nigga."

"'That nigga' was my goddamn dad; show some respect, lady..." Mari lowered her tone while speaking to Dreya, staring daggers into her vacant eyes.

"Nah, I'm with her on that." London agreed with Mari. "You don't really know where you are, Detective. There're some niggas in here that'll stick their neck out in Nick's name – don't stroll up in here spouting no bullshit."

"Aye, I ain't mean nothin' by it, aight?" Dreya held up her hands in a defensive manner. "Now, back to that gun. I already saw the bullet pieces back at the precinct; I know it's a Heckler & Koch USP 45 I'm lookin' for, so for real, if I can get my hands on that gun and trace it back to the suspect, this whole case'll wrap up hella quick."

"We already know a Heckler & Koch piece put our boss down." London asserted to the detective. "We've been had a copy of the autopsy – it ain't news."

"Well, you know where it could be?" Dreya raised an eyebrow.

"Not a clue," London halfway sneered at the woman. "Thought that was y'all's job to find out."

"Mind if I take a look around then?" Dreya stepped to London, prompting the girl to place her forearm across Dreya's chest.

"Got a warrant for that shit?" Despite the calmness in London's tone, Dreya could spot a visible vein popping out of the side of her neck, and she chuckled.

"You know what?" She swatted London's arm away, shaking her head. "I don't even know why I bothered tryin' in the first fuckin' place. Here's how we gon' do this now..."

Mari's eyes slowly scrunched into a squint. "Excuse me...?"

"Y'all want this case over and done with, y'all gon' have to pay a motherfucker." Dreya deadpanned the group in front of her, crossing her arms. "Simple as that."

"What the fuck?!" Tony scoffed out loud. "We not about to pay you to do some shit you signed up to do, nigga!"

"...Signed up?" Dreya scoffed back. "Nigga, I could give a fine-ass damn about this fuckin' case or ya boss – real talk. I got my own motives for takin' over this shit."

"And what fucking motives are those?" Alex inquired with a roll of her neck.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know, Miss Thang~?" Dreya curled her lips into a sly smirk to showcase Alex. "Not that it's y'all's business, but my dawgs and I are openin' up a casino on The Strip, and we strapped for cash."

"The fuck that gotta do with us?" London continued to stare Dreya down, her patience slowly but surely wearing thin.

"Just said it, Tomato-Top," Dreya snickered as she pulled a carton of cigarettes from her pocket. "Ain't nobody steppin' up in that house; ain't shit gettin' done on this case 'til I know for a fact I'm gettin' paid. Y'all want justice for ya lil' boss, right?"

After receiving a second or two of silence from the group, Dreya raised her voice. "Right?!"

"We do." Bandit finally answered her with a sigh. "How much are you looking to get?"

"Good question." Dreya lit up a cigarette before replying. "I'm thinkin' five-hunnit."

"Aw, nah!" Tony cackled. "You tryna get us to pay you a measly lil' five-hundred dollars to do some shit we could possibly get done ourselves? Man, fuck outta here-"