CHAPTER 28: TEA WITH THE DEVIL

Chapter 28

RICO

Man, I knew something was up the second we left that hospital.

Luka had that look. The one he gets when he’s holding something heavy in his head and pretending he’s fine.

We were supposed to grab breakfast and head back. Simple plan. Food, clothes, peace.

But nothing’s ever simple when you hang around Marino people.

"Yo," I said, side-eyeing him while we walked down the street, cold air cutting through my hoodie. "You took your sweet time in there. What, y’all have a therapy session?"

He smirked a little, but it didn’t touch his eyes. "Julian needed someone to talk to."

"Yeah, I bet he did. Boy almost died, got heartbreak on top of it. Rough combo." I paused, then bumped him with my shoulder. "Still don’t mean you gotta be late, man. My stomach’s out here writing letters to God."

He laughed, finally, real one this time. "Sorry, bro. My bad."

"Mm-hm," I said, grinning. "You say that, but next time, I’m leavin’ you."

"Sure you will," he said, rolling his eyes.

"You doubtin’ me?"

"Completely."

I laughed, shaking my head. "You lucky you cute, otherwise I’d leave you for real."

He turned red instantly, and that just made me laugh harder. "See? Look at you, blushing like I just proposed."

"I’m not. Rico, shut up."

"Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, baby cheeks."

He sighed so loud I thought he was gonna walk into traffic just to escape me.

I loved doing that to him. Luka’s the easiest person to mess with. Kinda like a cat. All quiet, polite, acting chill, but poke him the right way and he turns into a flustered mess. And I live for that.

No hold on now. I’m the quiet and chill one and Luka is the loud one.

But now I’m the loud one and my accent is on full display. Something’s wrong.

Whenever my mind is restless, I tend to be loud.

We stopped by this little diner across the street. Greasy and loud, smelled like... Heaven, basically.

I ordered pancakes. He got eggs and toast, ’cause of course he did.

We sat there for maybe twenty minutes, mostly quiet except for my chewing and his judgment.

"You eat like you’re racing someone," Luka said, shaking his head.

"I am racing someone — the hunger inside me," I said, mouth full.

"Classy."

"You’re just mad I got flavor."

"Flavor of syrup and regret."

I pointed my fork at him. "Keep talkin’, I’ll start flirtin’ again."

He just smiled and sipped his coffee, and for a second, it felt like things were normal.

Like we weren’t living in some twisted movie where your best friend’s boyfriend’s family might have you shot for breathing wrong.

After breakfast, we grabbed a cab to the hotel. I leaned my head against the window, half-dozing while Luka scrolled on his phone.

City passed by. Same gray buildings, same traffic, same people not minding their business.

But something started itching in the back of my head.

Call it intuition, call it Black man survival instinct. But the air felt off.

Like when you walk into a room and someone been talking about you.

We got to the hotel, took the elevator up, and the second we stepped out into the hallway, I knew.

The silence was wrong. Hotels don’t get that quiet unless something’s waiting.

"Yo," I said, slowing down. "You feel that?"

Luka frowned. "Feel what?"

"The vibe, bro. The air got heavy. You don’t feel that?"

He gave me that confused European look he always does when I say something too cultural. "I think you’re just paranoid."

"Yeah, well, paranoia keep people like me alive, so maybe listen up."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. We got to our room. And I slid the keycard in. Light turned green. Door clicked.

And right when I pushed it open, I stopped dead.

There were people inside.

Three of them. Sitting like they owned the place.

What the actual hell is going on right now.

Luka froze behind me.

The one in the middle stood up. Older guy, suit too clean, smile too polite. You know that typa smile that says, I could ruin your life and sip espresso after.

The other two were younger, both wearing black. Not hotel security. Not randoms.

And just like that, my breakfast didn’t sit right anymore.

"Who the hell are you?" I asked, stepping halfway in. My tone wasn’t friendly.

Now. This is the reason I was loud.

The man in the suit smiled like he’d been waiting for that question. "You must be Rico."

I blinked. "Okay, so you know my name. That’s creepy as hell."

"And Luka," he continued, nodding to the side. "Mr. Marino’s expecting you both."

"Expecting?" Luka repeated, voice tight. "We didn’t schedule anything."

"Of course you didn’t," the man said, like it was obvious. "But he’d like to have a conversation. Over tea."

"Tea," I repeated flatly. "Man, who even drinks tea in this country?"

"Mr. Marino does."

I glanced at Luka, who looked pale. His jaw tightened just enough to tell me he knew this wasn’t optional.

I turned back to the guy. "And if we say no?"

He gave me that same calm, patient smile. "Then we’d be forced to insist."

The two other men behind him shifted slightly, not threatening, just enough to remind us that they could be.

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Man, I knew I should’ve stayed at the diner."

"Rico—" Luka said quietly, warning in his tone.

The roles are reversed now he’s the one shushing me.

"Relax," I muttered. "Ain’t like we got options anyway."

We stepped inside, and the man gestured for us to sit. The hotel room suddenly felt too small. The curtains were drawn, the air still. One of the guys by the window had his hand resting near his jacket pocket. gun, probably.

The main man sat across from us, crossing one leg over the other.

He looked at me first. "You’re quite loyal to your friend."

"Which one?" I said, leaning back in the chair. "I got a few."

I was brought up in a home that I was taught not to fear no goddam human.

"Julian."

I didn’t answer. Just stared at him. His eyes didn’t blink.

Then he smiled again. "Mr. Marino appreciates loyalty. He values those who protect the ones they care about."

Luka spoke before I could. "Then why are we here?"

"Because," the man said, leaning forward, "your presence has become... inconvenient."

"Inconvenient?" I repeated. "We’re his friends, not his bodyguards."

He tilted his head. "Exactly."

There was something in the way he said it. Like being Julian’s friend was somehow the problem. Like we’d stepped into a game we didn’t even know was being played.

"Mr. Marino simply wishes to talk," he continued. "He insists his son return home immediately, and he’d like to ensure that all... attachments don’t interfere."

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. "So what, he’s holding us hostage ’til Jace shows up?"

"Hostage is a strong word."

"It’s the right one."

He looked at me calmly. "Then consider yourselves... guests. You’ll be safe. Fed. Comfortable."

"Man, that’s what kidnappers always say."

The guy behind him took one step forward. Luka reached out, grabbing my wrist before I could mouth off more.

"Rico," he said under his breath, eyes darting toward me. "Don’t."

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to breathe slow. "Fine. But I’m keepin’ count, just so y’all know."

The man in the suit stood. "We’ll leave shortly. Mr. Marino’s expecting us at the estate."

Luka blinked. "Estate?"

"Yes. He prefers privacy."

"Of course he does," I muttered. "Rich folks always do."

The guy actually chuckled. "You’ll find Mr. Marino... persuasive."

Yeah, that’s one word for it.

He left us with the two guards while he made a call by the window. Luka leaned in close. "We can’t just go."

"You see guns in this room, right?" I whispered. "Ain’t like we got Uber escape as an option."

He swallowed hard. "Julian—"

"I know," I said, cutting him off. "We’ll figure it out. Just play along for now."

He nodded, and I could tell he was shaking under that calm face.

That’s the thing about Luka. He’s loud, but when shit gets serious, he gets quiet. Dangerous kind of quiet.

And then I get loud.

The main guy hung up the call and turned back to us. "Everything’s ready. Shall we?"

I forced a grin. "Man, if this tea ain’t the best damn tea I ever had, I’m writing a bad Yelp review."

No one laughed.

Figures.

We followed them out of the room, down the hall, into the elevator. I watched the numbers drop, heart beating faster with each floor.

Outside, a black car waited by the curb. Of course it was black. Always is.

Luka slid in first, then me.

Doors shut. Windows tinted. No way to see out.

As the car pulled away, I looked at Luka. His leg bounced under the seat, nervous tick.

I reached over and tapped his knee. "Hey. Breathe."

He looked up at me, eyes wide, scared. "You think they’ll hurt us?"

"Nah," I said, half lying. "They need us alive for whatever stunt they pull next."

I leaned back, trying to sound chill. "But don’t worry, man. I got you."

He nodded, small, like that was enough to hang on to.

I will be damned if I let anything happen to him.