by Kiki Swinson
Rat-ta-tat-tat-tat
The compound is under attack. Hope returns and surges through my veins, but then I quickly tamp it back. It could be anyone laying siege. I could easily exchange this cage for another one—or they’ll kill me along with everyone else in this place. But death no longer scares me.
I listen as the battle rages for almost an hour. I pace back and forth, anxious to know what’s going on. Finally, a boot kicks in my door.
I burrow myself into a corner until a miracle wheels through the door. “Papa!” I leap up and race into his arms. “You found me! You finally found me!”
“Cataleyna,” he chokes with emotion. “Is it you? Is it really you?”
“Yes, Papa! Yes. It’s really me.” I squeeze his neck even tighter. When I lean back, I note the change in his face. “What happened to you? Why are you in a wheelchair?”
“We can talk about that later. Let’s get you out of here. Nicco!”
“But—” then I remember. “Julian!” I jump out of papa’s lap. “We have to save Julian!”
“What? Wait. I don’t—”
“Please, papa. He’s in the dungeon. They’ve been torturing him this whole time.” I temple my hands and beg. “I love him, papa.”
He wars with his emotions. He clearly wants to tell me no.
“Nicco,” my father shouts.
“Yes, boss?”
“Help me down to this dungeon.”
A few minutes later, I lead my father and team of his men to the dungeon. But when we find Julian, my heart stops. “Julian!” I race to him, afraid for the worst, but then I find a faint pulse. “He’s alive! We have to get him out of here! Papa, please!”
My father stares at Julian, who has been reduced to a sack of bones “All right, Cataleyna. Anything for you.”
My father’s men quickly take hold of Julian and rush us through the compound’s battlefield to the waiting black vans.
“Did you find them?” My father shouts to another soldier.
“One of them, sir. We found Tomas dead in an office. We’re still searching for Carlos.”
Tomas is dead? I can hardly believe it. But if Carlos gets away I will never be safe.
The van door is slammed closed and I huddle next to Julian, whispering encouraging words the whole time. “We’re getting you out of here. You’re going to make it. We’re going to make it. You’ll see.”
Slowly, Julian lolls his head toward me, but his eyes are so swollen, I don’t know if he can even see me.
“Cat?” he whispers. “Is it really you?”
I gather his head into my lap. “I’m here, Julian. I’m always here for you.”
His busted and bloody lips curl into a faint smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I bow my head and then pray the whole way toward the hospital.
EPILOGUE
THE VILLAIN
Three years later . . .
There’s not a day, hour, or minute that I don’t think about Cataleyna Rosales-Arias. All the hell I went through to kidnap her, only to lose her and my memory, and then the very day I get her back, I lose her all over again.
She’s with him now: The real Julian. Somehow that sack of shit survived. It’s my fault for not snapping his damn neck when I had the chance.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look!”
I glance up at my little Cataleyna twirling in her new princess costume. “Ahhh. You look beautiful, baby girl.” I smile and stretch out my arms. “Come give Daddy a kiss.”
My little girl beams a smile up and races into my arms.
I smother her with kisses and she breaks out in giggles. She looks exactly like her mother: black hair, soulful brown eyes, and her angelic heart-shaped face.
“Guess who is the most beautiful girl in the whole wide world?”
Little Cat giggles. “I am.”
“That’s right. And Daddy loves you very much.” I place another kiss against her forehead and tell her, “Now go and play with your friends. They are here for your birthday.”
“Okay.” She pokes out her bottom lip, but then quickly joins the other children at the party.
Turns out, Maria and Ruthie didn’t kill Cataleyna’s baby like Tomas had ordered. Instead, they hid her in town. When I found out, I had them bring her to me. This way, I have a little of Cataleyna for myself. I’ll raise her alone—for now. One day, we will both be reunited with her mother.
Cataleyna thinks she’s safe in her new marriage to Julian Arias. Recently, they had their second child, but I’m watching. I’ll always be watching.
DON’T MISS
Boss Divas by De’nesha Diamond
The most lethal ride-or-die women in Memphis now run their gangs and the streets. But the aftermath of an all-out war means merciless new enemies, time-bomb secrets . . . and one chance to take it all . . .
Available now wherever books and ebooks are sold.
CHAPTER 1
TA’SHARA
“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!”
Profit slams on the brakes while I bolt out of the passenger car door and race into the night toward my foster parents’ burning house.
“TRACEE! REGGIE!” They’re not in there. Please, God. Don’t let them be in there. “TRACEE! REGGIE!”
“Ta’Shara, wait up,” Profit yells. His long strides eat up the distance between us even as I shove my way through the city’s emergency responders. I’ve never seen flames stretch so high or felt such intense heat. Still, none of that shit stops me. In my delusional mind, there is still time to get them out of there.
“Hey, lady. You can’t go in there,” someone shouts and makes a grab for me.
As I draw closer to the front porch, Profit is able to wrap one of his powerful arms around my waist and lift me off my feet. “Baby, stop. You can’t go in there.”
“Let me go!” My legs pedal in the air as I stretch uselessly for the door. “TRACEE! REGGIE!” My screams rake my throat raw.
Profit drags me away from the growing flames.
Men in uniform rush over to us. I don’t know who they are and I don’t care. I just need to know one thing. “Where are my parents? Did they make it out?”
“Ma’am, calm down. Please tell me your name.”
“WHERE ARE THEY?”
“Ma’am—”
“ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!”
“C’mon, man,” Profit says. “Give my girl something.”
The fireman draws a deep breath and then drops a bomb that changes my life forever.
“The neighbors reported the fire. Right now, I’m not aware of anyone making it out of the house. I’m sorry.”
“NOOOOOOO!” I collapse in Profit’s arms. He hauls me up against his six-three frame and I lay my head on his broad chest. Before, I found comfort in his strong embrace, but not tonight. I sob uncontrollably as pain overwhelms me, but then I make out a familiar car down the street.
“Oh. My. God.”
Profit tenses. “What?”
My eyes aren’t deceiving me. Sitting behind the wheel of her burgundy Crown Victoria is LeShelle with a slow smile creeping across her face. She forms a gun with her hand and pretends to fire at us.
We’re next.
LeShelle tosses back her head and, despite the siren’s wail, the roaring fire, and the chaos around me, that bitch’s maniacal laugh rings in my ears.
How much more of this shit am I going to take? When will this fuckin’ bullshit end?
BOOM!
The crowd gasps when windows explode from the top floor of the house, but my gaze never waivers from LeShelle. My tears dry up as anger grips me.
She did this shit. I don’t need a jury to tell me that the bitch is guilty as hell. How long has she been threatening the Douglases’ lives? Why in the hell didn’t I believe that she would follow through?
LeShelle has proven her ruthlessness time after time. This fucking “Gangster Disciples versus the Vice Lords” shit ain’t a game to her. It’s a way of life. And she doesn’t
give a fuck who she hurts.
My blood boils and all at once everything burst out of me. I wrench away from Profit’s protective arms and take off toward LeShelle in a rage.
“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!”
“Ta’Shara, no!” Profit shouts.
I ignore him as I race toward LeShelle’s car. My hot tears burn tracks down my face.
LeShelle laughs in my face and then pulls off from the curb, but not before I’m able to pound my fist against the trunk.
Profit’s arms wrap back around my waist, but I kick out and connect with LeShelle’s taillight and shatter that muther-fucka. The small wave of satisfaction I get is quickly erased when her piece-of-shit car burps out a black cloud of exhaust in my face.
“NO! Don’t let her get away. No!”
“Ta’Shara, please. Not now. Let it go!”
Let it go? I round on Profit. “How the fuck can you say that shit?”
BOOM!
More windows explode, drawing my attention back to the only place that I’ve ever called home. My heart claws its way out of my chest as orange flames and black smoke lick the sky.
My legs give out and my knees kiss the concrete, and all the while Profit’s arms remain locked around me. I can’t hear what he’s saying because my sobs drown him out.
“This is all my fault,” tumbles over my tongue. I conjure up an image of Tracee and Reggie—the last time I saw them. It’s a horrible memory. Everyone was angry and everyone said things that . . . can never be taken back.
Grief consumes me. I squeeze my eyes tight and cling to the ghosts inside of my head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Profit’s arms tighten. I melt in his arms even though I want to lash out. Isn’t it his fault my foster parents roasted in that house, too? When the question crosses my mind, I crumble from the weight of my shame.
I’m to blame. No one else.
A heap in the center of the street, I lay my head against Profit’s chest again and take in the horrific sight through a steady sheen of tears. The Douglases were good people. All they wanted was the best for me and for me to believe in myself. They would’ve done the same for LeShelle if she gave them the chance.
LeShelle fell in love with the streets and the make-believe power of being the head bitch of the Queen Gs. I didn’t want anything to do with any of that bullshit, but it didn’t matter. I’m viewed as GD property by blood, and the shit hit the fan when I fell in love with Profit—a Vice Lord by blood. Back then Profit wasn’t a soldier yet. But our being together was taken as a sign of disrespect. LeShelle couldn’t let it slide.
However, the harder I fight the streets’ politics, the deeper I’m dragged into her bullshit world of gangs and violence.
“I should have killed her when I had the chance.” If I had, Tracee and Reggie would still be alive. “She won’t get away with this,” I vow. “I’m going to kill her if it’s the last thing I do.”
DON’T MISS
Wife Extraordinaire Returns by Kiki Swinson
Trice Davis and her husband, Troy, only had prize money on their minds when they signed up for the reality show Trading Wives—a knock-off of Wife Swap. The fact that they were swapping with a couple they knew, Leon and Charlene, made it seem harmless. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth . . .
Available now wherever books and ebooks are sold.
CHAPTER 1
TRICE
“Leon! No! Please stop!” I screamed, feeling blood rushing to my face.
“Motherfucker! You thought I was gonna let you fuck my wife and take yours back and live happily ever after?!” Leon yelled as he waved the gun at Troy.
Troy looked like a man possessed. His eyes were bloodshot, and his fists were curled tightly.
“Fuck you, nigga! I didn’t fuck that skank Charlene! But you wasted no time fucking my wife!” Troy growled as he lunged at Leon. I ran to come between them. I didn’t want them to fight over me. Just as I came toward Troy, I stopped in my tracks.
BAM! BAM! I heard the shots so loudly I didn’t even feel any pain.
I could feel myself screaming, but amazingly, I couldn’t hear myself. Next, I felt a hot burning sensation envelope my body.
BAM! BAM! Two more shots and everything in my world went black.
I jumped out of my sleep covered in sweat. I swallowed hard and looked over at Troy. He was sleeping soundly as usual. I guess it was easy for him, since he wasn’t the one who’d almost died. I had been severely shot and almost died. The hospital staff saved my life when Troy thought the lifeless body covered with a white sheet belonged to me. He didn’t know it, but I had been taken out of that operating room long before the other person had been brought in. God rest her soul.
Luckily for me, two shots went straight through—one in my shoulder, the other in my arm. It was the third shot that had done me damage. As a result, I had my spleen removed. But what hurt most were the infidelities that transpired between all of us. I don’t remember much about that night, except that Troy had come over to the hotel I was hiding out in. Unfortunately, Leon came as well. Things escalated when Troy realized that during the spouse trade, Leon and I had had sex. As it turned out, it wasn’t my fault things with Leon and I had gone to that level.
Leon’s wife, Charlene, had convinced me that she had had sex with my husband first. She had said some very cruel things to me over the phone, and I was crushed to my core. When she told me Troy had just finished eating her out and that he was indisposed, as she put it, I was devastated beyond belief.
Out of revenge and hurt, I slept with Leon. I had no idea the feelings would grow into what we did. So, when he got sentenced to all that time, I was hurt.
It had been seven months since my husband, Troy, and I had participated in the hit reality show Trading Spouses. It had also been seven months since that fucking show ruined our lives and the lives of Troy’s best friend, Leon, and his wife, Charlene.
The guys had been childhood buddies and best friends almost all of their lives. They had done everything together growing up, but all of that changed. When we’d agreed to trade spouses for one week for ten thousand dollars, none of us knew it wouldn’t be worth it in the end. Because Charlene disconnected the cameras in our house, we were sanctioned and no was paid one red cent. The TV execs did pay for my medical bills, but aside from that, we didn’t get shit.
Troy and I tried to repair our marriage in the aftermath of it all. But in my eyes, it was over. When I found out I was pregnant, I decided it would probably be best for me to hold on to someone for the baby’s sake . . . rather than becoming a statistic.
Troy was the closest thing.
I looked around my bedroom, and a cold feeling came over me just thinking about the shit that had happened. I touched my very pregnant belly and felt my baby move inside of me. I closed my eyes and sighed. Baby was the operative word . . . because the father was an issue. Although Troy believed it was his baby, I thought for sure I knew differently.
“Trice? You okay, baby?” Troy asked, rousing from his sleep. I kept my back to him and closed my eyes.
“I’m fine. Just another nightmare,” I said without looking at him.
Troy reached out and rubbed his hands over my back. His touch made me feel dirty and partly guilty. I had been thinking about Leon in that moment.
“How’s my little bun in the oven doing?” Troy asked, still rubbing my back.
“Fine. The baby is fine,” I replied, a little annoyed. I stood up swiftly and grabbed my robe from the end of our bed. I rolled my eyes as I left the room. I shuddered at Troy being all mushy and loving. He had been nothing but good to me since the entire incident with Leon. But I couldn’t get my feelings to change toward him for anything. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I blamed Troy for everything that had happened.
I was still convinced he’d slept with Charlene. The producers of the show couldn’t help me disprove it. And since that dumb bitch Charlene had disconnected the camera w
ires, that didn’t do shit for my suspicions. Why else would she have disconnected the cameras if they weren’t fucking?
I knew all about how grimy Charlene was from Leon. He told me how she was a lazy hood rat that barely took care of their son, and she never did any of the cleaning around the house. She was uneducated, and all she did was hustle the welfare system to make extra money. In other words, Charlene was a bum bitch.
Leon had assured me repeatedly that I had way more class than Charlene. He had also aired Troy’s dirty laundry by telling me that Troy had thought about cheating on me once. Troy had gotten so close that he and the girl were naked before he backed out of it. Leon also told me that Troy complained that I didn’t fuck him enough or suck his dick at all. Wasn’t that some bullshit?
It was just like Troy to tell half the fucking story. I knew Leon wasn’t making shit up because it was true. I refused to suck Troy’s dick, and I also rationed out the pussy. I loved Troy for how good he was as a provider and person, but his dick game was whack. His dick was so skinny and short that most times I couldn’t even feel it. It was like getting fucked by a baby.
When Troy and I dated, I tried to ignore the horrible sex by keeping my eye on the prize. The prize was having a house, nice car, nice things, and of course, security. I thought I could just look past the fact that his sex was horrendous and fall in love with everything else, like Troy’s personality. He had the ability to provide the fairy-tale life we had.
Well, after we got married, I just couldn’t do it. I tried and tried. Troy would beg for sex, and sometimes I would just give in for argument’s sake. Most times, I would lie there praying for it to be over . . . all five minutes of it. I mean, he even had the nerve to be a fucking two-minute brother with a small dick.
I tried buying sex toys and that worked for a while, but sometimes I longed for some good ol’ righteous hard dick. I wanted and needed some real skin-to-skin contact, not that plastic feeling from my toys. I wanted a man to use his God-given gift to dig my back out. Unfortunately for Troy, during the spouse trade, that’s exactly what happened. Leon’s dick was huge and oh so good. And during our lovemaking, I had an orgasm for the first time in ten years. Leon had fucked me in several different positions that I never dared to try with Troy. It was frustrating as hell to always have Troy’s little dick fall out of my pussy. I couldn’t imagine how frustrated I would get trying anything other than our traditional missionary position. Hell, even when we did the doggie position, his little dick would constantly slip out.