Deep Deception 2
Tina Brooks McKinney
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER ONE - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER TWO - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER THREE - GREG CARTER
CHAPTER FOUR - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER FIVE - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER SIX - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER SEVEN - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER EIGHT - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER NINE - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER TEN - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER ELEVEN - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER TWELVE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER NINETEEN - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER TWENTY - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTY - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER FORTY - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN - CARLOS MENDOZA
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT - ROME WATSON
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER FIFTY - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - ROME WATSON
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE - GREG CARTER
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE - MOSES RAMSEY
CHAPTER SIXTY - ROME WATSON
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - GREG CARTER
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO - VICTÓRIA MENDOZA
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE - TILO ADAMS
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR - GREG CARTER
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE - VERÓNICA RAMSEY
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s been an incredible year and I have so many people to thank for it. First and foremost is God. I thank Him for giving me the talent and courage to pursue my dreams. Second, I must thank my family. My husband, William, for his undying support. I could not do anything without his strong arms around me. When I told him I wanted to quit work, he took a deep breath and told me it was okay. That’s love. If I had one wish, it would be that everyone so inclined could experience the love and support of a good man. He has enriched my life and I appreciate him. My parents, Ivor and Judy, my children, Shannan and Estrell, and my sister, Theresa, are also a part of my support system. Without their help, I wouldn’t be here today. My wonderful in-laws—Nana, Mac, Meredith, Barry, Chelsea, thanks for a great Xmas!
As I’ve said before, the road to writing is rough. It’s solitary and I miss my friends. Big shout out to my lifetime friends Angela Simpson, Valerie Chapman, Andrea Tanner. You ladies knew me FOREVER and even though we don’t talk every week, I know if I call you will be there to listen. My Keough crew—Launa, Tami, Wanda, Lessia, Lilly, Muriel, Marie, Lois, April, and Cheryl. Thanks for the memories and the fun.
My editor, Oasis, and Jay much love to both of you as well. Oasis, you’ve been my ride or die and I love you, boo.
My other brother from another mother, Ricardo Mosby. Thanks for believing in me and giving me your hand in friendship. Talisa Clark, my sister from another mother, who has more love in her pinky than most have in their entire body. Kelvin, I promised I’d never mention you in another book but what you did was low-down and dirty! Can’t believe I called you a friend, silly me. God protects idiots and fools so I suspect you and the dingbat will be all right. Maceo Haywood and Marvin Meadows—my knights in shining armor still standing and showing me love after all this time. Dee Ford, Kim Floyd (sis, you know I love you to death), Patrice Harlson, Muriel Broomfield Murray, Lynel, Shontel, Monique Brewer, Barbara Morgan, my cousins, Donna, Laura, Tarcia, Michael, David, Kevin, Stevie, Crystal, Kim & Candi, Brenda, Denise, and Earl. I love you all. Okay, I’ve got to end this.
My writer friends, Nane Quartay, Sydney Malore, Peron Long, M.T. Pope, Dwyanne Birch, Lee Hayes, Terra Little, Shelly Halima, Jaize Brown, VJ Alexander, Gregory Townes, Dwayne Joseph, Darrien Lee, all of you continue to touch my soul and I thank you because this life is tough and we’ve survived the true test.
My Urban family, thank you Carl, Natalie, Brenda, Karen, and everyone else I forgot to mention. Here’s to another successful year!
Last but certainly not least, the book clubs and some special presidents, Tina Hayes (Between Friends), Carla Walker (Queens Book Club), Sonya Ward, Books and Beignets BookClub, Rose Wright (Savvy Book Club), TC Royal and my RAWSISTAZ (special shout out to Tee for the love she’s given all of us), Press & Curl, BMore Readers, and Lawd if I didn’t name you, please charge it to my head and not my heart. I hope I can continue to entertain you. And to all the readers who e-mailed me and gave me the strength to continue. Thanks so much!
CHAPTER ONE
TILO ADAMS
I pointed my gun at Ramón, my lover’s brother. His head blew apart when I pulled the trigger. The gunshot seemed to reverberate throughout the house even though I used a silencer. I didn’t blink. It didn’t bother me that he was only seventeen and hadn’t had a chance to experience life. It didn’t bother me that he hadn’t even had a chance to experience busting a good nut let alone fish dive between some thighs. All that was irrelevant now. It didn’t even bother me that he never had a chance to experience love. He knew too much about me so he had to die. He didn’t even get the chance to question what was happening before I shot and killed him. Turning the gun on Victória, my lover, was harder than I thought it would be, but there was no way I could let her live. She knew too much.
Shock and fear paralyzed Victória but none of it mattered. Sadly, her fate was sealed the day she had met me. What she believed to be a chance meeting was actually contrived and part of a plan to get close to her family’s fortune. Her feet appeared to be rooted to the floor as fear infused her body. I was good until I gazed into her eyes. These were the same eyes that looked at me as we lay naked in bed, face to face. Our lips locked in a passionate kiss. I pulled the trigger again. One bullet. Point-blank range. Her body folded onto the floor. Warm droplets of blood sprinkled my face, searing my skin, and pierced my h
eart with finality. I could not bear to look so I averted my eyes and stepped over her. Part of me died when I did it—not because of love—but because this was the most heinous thing I’d ever done, and somehow I knew I’d never be the same as a result of it.
“Sorry, babe,” I whispered. I felt like shit as I prepared to leave the house. Victória was the only person I’d allowed close to my heart. Part of me wanted to sneak down to the basement and take care of Moses, but I wasn’t willing to risk it. The potential for it to backfire on me could ruin all of my carefully laid out plans. I would have to deal with Moses on an entirely different level. He would be on the lookout for me and wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger if he saw me coming. I’d originally planned on splitting the money with him, but he showed me that he wasn’t trustworthy and wasn’t worth the risk.
Tucking the gun back into the waistband of my jeans, I quickly gathered the money-stuffed envelopes Ramón and Victória had been holding. My fingers shook as I pulled them free, and I felt like I was about to be sick. I was almost out the front door before I realized I hadn’t wiped the place clean of my fingerprints. Inwardly, I wished things could have ended differently. But as I’ve always said: two tears in a bucket, fuck it. After thoroughly wiping everything I had touched, I quietly closed the door behind me.
Victória and Ramón had known where I lived and I wasn’t sure if they’d shared this with Moses. Every time I met with him, I’d always meet him at his office or in his home. So it was essential to take them out of the equation before I could move on to the next step, which was getting far, far away. Deception had a way of unraveling at the most unlikely times.
CHAPTER TWO
TILO ADAMS
I looked back once more at the carnage I’d created then casually walked to my car. Fortunately for me, I didn’t see anyone lurking on the street or peering out the window as I backed my car out into the street. Something, however, was wrong. The car was driving like a piece of shit.
“Fuck.” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel in frustration. I pushed the car as far as I could and got out at a corner to take a look.
My front tire was flat. Not in need of a little air; it was flat as if someone had slashed it. “Ain’t this a bitch,” I groaned. The car was not drivable. Even if I tried to drive it, it would draw too much attention because it made this loud thumping sound every time the tire buckled. I looked around to see if anyone was watching me. Conspiracy theories bounced around in my head because I didn’t believe the tire could have magically gone flat on its own. Moses, I knew he wasn’t to be trusted.
I looked around again. If anyone was there, they were well hidden. I started sweating. I needed to get as far away from my car as possible.
“Think, bitch.” I was mad because I hadn’t thought about a contingency plan. “Fuck. What the hell am I gonna do?” I kept staring at the tire like it was going to fix itself. I looked back down the street to the Mendoza house for any signs of life. Time was not on my side. I had to get moving before Moses came out with Mr. Mendoza. My heart was racing. I ran back down the street and tossed the gun I took from Moses’ office on the front lawn, under the bushes. I turned and raced back to my car.
I opened the car door and retrieved the envelopes and my duffel bag. I left my purse on the front seat and the keys in the ignition. I pulled out my switchblade, cut my palm, and smeared blood throughout the car. If everyone thought I was dead, they wouldn’t put so much effort into finding me. I lowered the window all the way down and left the door open. I walked away from the car without looking back. Fleeing a crime scene on foot was not in my plans but I didn’t have a choice. I stuffed the envelopes in my bag then pulled out a disposable phone.
“You’ve reached Nine-one-one, please hold.”
I expected to be put on hold so it did not upset me when I heard that awful music most organizations used. People were so stupid, they dialed 911 for directions or because their cat was up a tree and wondered why they couldn’t get a real person on the phone when they really needed it. I thought the music was chosen simply to irritate the fuck out of folks so they’d hang up and save their resources. I used the time to get farther away from the house and to get my story straight. Once I cleared a few more blocks, I stopped walking so I wouldn’t be winded when the phone was finally answered.
“Nine-one-one. Is this an emergency?”
“I heard shots being fired. It sounded like it was right next door. Please hurry ... Someone may have been hurt.” My voice was shaky and my shoulder hurt like hell from carrying the heavy duffel bag, but I hoped it added credibility to my call.
“Your name and address?” The dispatcher sounded as if she was reading from a script.
“Do I have to give my name? I don’t want to get involved.”
“Address?”
It was a trick question but it didn’t matter. I gave them the address of the house next door to the Men-dozas.
“Good luck with that,” I said to myself after I ended the call and flipped the phone in the gutter. Even if I hadn’t thrown the phone into the gutter, there was no way it could have been traced back to me unless I fucked up and got caught holding it. Whoever invented the disposable phone was a genius. Every crook in the country should’ve been on their knees thanking them.
“Adios, motherfucker!” I was about to get ghost.
CHAPTER THREE
GREG CARTER
Two Atlanta police officers stood outside of a Tudor house with their Glocks drawn.
“What are you waiting for? Kick the bitch in.” Rome Watson was eager to get into some shit.
I said, “I’m waiting for the shift commander to give the okay.”
“Fuck that. The call said shots were fired. Do you want a death on your hands?”
Rome could tell I was getting antsy, but I liked to err on the side of caution. He had no idea what was on the other side of the door waiting for us.
“Let’s wait for backup,” I nervously replied.
“While you’re playing with your dick, I’m going in.” Rome took two steps back and kicked the wooden door squarely in the middle.
“Son of a bitch,” I mumbled. His actions left me no choice but to crouch down in a defensive posture and hope for the best. “Shit!” I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. I was convinced that Rome was one crazy motherfucker as I followed him into the darkened foyer.
“Police,” Rome yelled.
“You’re supposed to yell ‘police’ before you kick in the fucking door, you dickhead.” We were committing all types of violations in protocol as we proceeded through the house; however, we were in now and had no choice but to proceed. “You better be right, nigga, ’cause if you’re wrong, I’m singing like Jaheim on your ass.”
“Aren’t you sick of being the little puppy that sits on the porch? Come on out and play with the big dogs, nigga!” Rome laughed.
He was riding on an adrenaline high, but I did not share his rush. I was scared as all outdoors and wanted nothing more than to get in my squad car and wait for backup. I followed Rome while sweeping the room with my keen eyes for signs of danger. Anticipation caused my heart to beat faster. We cleared the small foyer and Rome motioned for me to go upstairs while he entered the living room.
Upstairs? Why the hell did I have to go upstairs? Shit! I didn’t want to be in the damn house in the first place, so I damn sure didn’t want to check out the upstairs. Part of me resented the fact that he took the lead, but the other half of me was relieved. I was a stickler for rules; we were breaking all of them. We should have been back at the station clocking out but Rome wanted to play super cop.
We were rookies, straight out of the police academy and ill prepared to be handling anything other than routine traffic stops, but Rome was eager to get his feet wet and my dumb ass was following him. I took the stairs slowly, dreading each step.
“Focus, Greg,” Rome hissed and pointed at me as I mounted the stairs. He was right; my mind was all over the place. T
hat could put both of us in jeopardy. We were knee-deep in shit and there was no turning back. I crouched down even lower as I edged my way up the stairs, constantly looking back. Rome had entered the living room and was soon out of sight.
Rome’s deep voice said, “Get on your knees and make like you’re touching the ceiling with your hands.”
I had no clue who he was talking to. I was tempted to rush back down the stairs but that could also prove to be dangerous since I had no clue what I was going to find in the bedrooms above. My senses were heightened as I stepped onto the landing. Moving as quickly as I could under the circumstances, I was relieved to find the landing empty. I desperately wanted to call for backup, but I was afraid to take my attention away from the bedrooms. I searched each of the three rooms and was happy to find them empty.
“Clear,” I shouted as I made my way down the stairs. I waited to hear Rome give the all clear shout but it never came. I moved a tad bit faster just to make sure he didn’t need any assistance. I stepped over the dead body of a teenage boy, and a beautiful woman lay beside him. They were both covered in blood.
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