by Wahida Clark
Nyla got on all fours and spread her legs wide, arching her back. Nick ran the full length of his dick up in her and began to long stroke her hard. She threw that pussy back like a champ. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and slapped her ass, urging her on.
“Fuck! Fuck this pussy, baby! Ow! Yes!” Nyla screamed, clamping her pussy muscles around his long and hard magic stick.
Nick fought to hold back, but he couldn’t. He busted deep inside her, which sent Nyla over the edge, and she exploded right after him.
After they fucked again, Nyla lay with her head on his chest, playing with his nipple.
“A diva could get used to this,” she remarked.
“I’m tryin’ to spoil you for other niggas,” Nick joked.
“You already did that the first time,” she giggled.
“Then I’m doin’ my job.”
They laughed, and when it subsided, Nyla asked, “Now what? You pull another disappearing act on me? I missed you.”
“Naw, yo,” he assured her throwing his arm around her and squeezing her tit. “I ain’t gonna let that happen no more. Even if I’m outta town, I may just send for you and we can hang out.”
“Out of town, where?” she asked, her voice full of skepticism, but deep down, she was all ears.
“New York.”
“New York?” So that’s where he had the little bitch stashed away? Nyla’s conniving mind played that revelation over and over. “I never been to New York City befo’,” Nyla joked, sounding like a country girl.
Nick laughed.
“Stick wit’ me, li’l mama. I’ma show you a lot of shit you ain’t never seen before.”
Later for all that other shit. Just show me Shan.
• • •
Shan had just gotten out of the shower and was drying off when her phone rang. She was waiting for Nick to call because he was supposed to tell her where to meet him. Nick had been gone for a week, and she was anticipating meeting his connect, so she had some serious butterflies. The thought of being in a major position of power had her mind tripping. She was nervous and hoping she wouldn’t mess up. Still in all, she fantasized about what she would do with all the money. Even though Nick would be only a phone call away, she feared not being on point. Thinking of him, she couldn’t help but smile.
But when she answered the phone, it wasn’t Nick.
“What up, baby?” Briggen whispered, staying one step ahead of the police.
A smile spread over her whole body in spite of herself. “Hello, Briggen. How are you?”
“Better now. I tried to call a few minutes ago, but I ain’t get no answer.”
“I was in the shower.”
“Oh, really? Did you think about me?” he flirted.
She snickered. “No.”
“Not even for a second?”
“Briggen, don’t even go there.”
“Go where?” He feigned ignorance. “I’m just sayin’, but I got my answer. You thought about me. Thought about how when I used to slide in the shower with you and start at your neck and lick—”
“Briggen, stop!” she demanded, trying to sound firm. “Or I’ma hang up.” Her pussy twitched, but she pulled away from the memory.
“Okay, okay, I’ma chill. I’m just sayin’, you dressed?”
She sucked her teeth. “Bye, Briggen.”
He laughed. “That means no.”
She laughed.
“Damn, baby. You don’t know how bad I wish I could see that pretty brown body. Nigga could be locked up a hundred years and still remember your body head to toe,” he sweet talked her.
“What about remembering my mind?” she challenged.
“Is that made of chocolate too?” he joked with a Latin accent.
She laughed harder. “Please, Briggen. Lose the accent. You so silly.”
“Only for you, baby, only for you . . . I love you.”
The words caught Shan off guard like he knew they would. Now that he had her laughing, he knew her defenses were down. He wanted to get his bid in before they went back up.
“You heard me?”
“I-I heard you,” she stammered.
“Look at yourself in the mirror for me,” he instructed her.
She did, gazing at her own reflection in the full-length mirror.
“You see that? That’s what I go to sleep dreamin’ about. Fuck the money, the game, and the grind. What you lookin’ at right now, I’d give it all up for in an instant,” he gamed.
The ice melted.
“Briggen, I . . . have to go,” she protested weakly, her voice barely audible.
“I can see your nipples now . . . how they stand up when I run my tongue over them . . . pull them gently with my teeth. Remember how I used to do that?”
Her nipples must’ve had a memory of their own as they both hardened simultaneously. She let out a light, sweet grunt, hating how well Briggen knew her body and could command it with his voice.
“And how I used to wrap your legs around my head . . . damn . . . and tongue kiss that cherry until you came all over my lips.”
Her breathing grew irregular, and her pussy grew moist. “Brig—”
“Touch it for me,” he demanded.
She imagined her hand was his, and she did. She moaned that sexy song he loved. He gripped his dick in one hand and the cell in the other.
“My dick hard as a rock imaginin’ you, ridin’ me, bitin’ your bottom lip every time I hit that spot.”
“Oh, Brig, I missed you,” she gasped, riding the fingers inside her pussy and massaging her clit with her thumb.
“You gonna make that pussy come for daddy, huh? Show daddy how much you missed him.”
She lay back on the bed and cocked her legs up, getting wetter and hornier with every caress.
“Whose pussy is it?” he uttered huskily.
“Yours,” she moaned. Even though it was a lie, but at that moment, it was true.
The emotions built up within her and consumed her mind and soul. She had never stopped loving Briggen. There was no use trying to hide it. As the climax broke to a crescendo, her phone beeped with another call.
Nick.
As she came all over her fingers, her thought was, Fuck the connect.
• • •
Finding Sharia’s second phone was the jackpot. She only used it to call and text two numbers. One Mo’Betta knew was Demetria, the other he didn’t know, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, was thirsty. He called at least four times a day and texted constantly.
Where U?
Answer the damn phone!
What the fuck are you doing?
Another gold mine was the fact that Sharia never erased her texts or e-mails to her Hotmail account. She had hundreds, and Mo’Betta went through every one. “Damn, this bitch scandalous,” he said. He chuckled and added, “I mean, was.”
It was clear that not only was she planning on making Demetria turn on Briggen, but whoever she was working with wanted to take over his drug spots and customers as well. Her and this mystery man. But the best part was when he got to the text that came from the mystery man.
Tell Demetria 1197 Myrtle Lane. Keys r under the mat. Stay safe.
He had provided the safe house for her to lay low in, but ironically, he had now provided the information that would cause her death.
“Bitch was dumb as fuck!” Mo’Betta spat, thinking of how careless Sharia was for not deleting her texts and e-mails. But then again, a lot of people don’t.
Mo’Betta arrived in Oak Ridge and used his GPS to find 1197 Myrtle Lane. He rode by the small yellow house once during the daytime. He parked up the block and watched the house for an hour. No movement. He went to the McDonald’s three blocks over and ate a number four in the parking lot. Then he drove back by the house. All the lights were still off. He got restless and drove around until he found a mall. He flirted and got two numbers. One of them was a white girl. The moment he realized it was dark he left. Back on Mrytle Street he
parked down the block and dug in. Mo’Betta wasn’t moving until the sun came up. It didn’t matter. The bitch was dead either way.
Three hours later, a black Benz E-Class pulled up in front of the house, and a dude got out. He limped to the door and knocked. Several moments later, the porch light popped on.
“Damn, she been home the whole time,” Mo’Betta remarked. “She hidin’ for real!”
But with the porch light on, he could see more than Demetria. He saw him. His eyes widened, and he laughed.
“Goddamn, cuz, you right on time!” Mo’Betta chuckled excitedly.
Rob went inside and the porch light went off. Mo’Betta frantically went through his contact list, looking for Rob’s number. He didn’t find one, but he found the next best thing. His baby mama, Renee. He hit her up.
“Yo, Renee, this Mo’ . . . Yeah, what up, though? Naw, I need Rob’s new number, ’cause I’m trying to get in contact wit’ him.”
She didn’t hesitate because she knew they were cousins. He plugged it into his phone, and then sent him a text.
Yo, cuz, this Mo’ . . . Shhh. I’m in Oak Ridge. I need to see you ASAP
A few moments later, his phone rang.
“Mo’?” Rob asked, obviously surprised.
“What up, big cuz? It’s me.”
“What the fuck—”
“Yo, don’t say nothin’. Trust me. When we talk, you’ll know why. Meet me at McDonald’s up the street ASAP!”
“Yo, li’l cuz, I’m about to get into somethin’.”
“Yeah, I know and that’s the problem.”
“Huh?”
“Just trust me. Meet me ASAP.”
Short pause.
“A’iight, I’m on my way.”
They hung up. Mo’Betta watched Rob come out, jump in the Benz, and pull off. He then did the same. He pulled up next to Rob’s Benz, got out of his rental, and got in with Rob.
“Li’l cuz, fuck you doin’ in Oak Ridge?” Rob said, happily giving him a pound.
“Handlin’ some business. What up with the limp?”
Rob sucked his teeth and got animated. “Fuckin’ bitch-ass niggas tried to take me out, cuz!”
“Who!” Mo’Betta questioned, ready to set it off right on the spot.
Rob explained the whole situation, then ended by saying, “Muhfucka tried to kill me, and I end up goin’ to jail for fuckin’ shootin’ in an occupied dwellin—my own crib!”
Mo’Betta shook his head. “Jumped in the pool, cuz? Get the fuck outta here! But yo, I don’t know Dark. I heard of him. Mac and Mook. I’ll take care of them. They dead. But cuz, I’m on a lick right now that we can both come up on.”
“Shit, put me down!”
“You know that nigga Briggen?”
“Yeah, muhfucka a heavy hitter.”
“Exactly. But he cased up on the word of a bitch. We dead her, he walk, and he ready to break bread,” Mo’Betta explained.
“Sheeit, say no mo’! Who the dead bitch?”
“The broad whose house you was just at.” Mo’Betta smiled, loving the expression that spread across Rob’s face.
“Get the fuck outta here!” Rob laughed, not believing what he just heard.
They dapped over how small the world was.
“Yeah, the bitch got popped and snitched my nigga out. So, without her, the Feds got nothin’. I’m tellin’ you, cuz, the nigga eatin’,” Mo’Betta emphasized.
“Then it’s a done deal,” Rob replied, thought for a minute, then pointed at Mo’Betta’s car. “That’s a rental?”
“Yeah.”
“Get out and follow me.”
Rob led him a few streets over where he parked his Benz in the parking lot of a closed dental office. He then got in the car with Mo’Betta, and they pulled off.
“Gimme the gun,” Rob requested.
Mo’Betta reached under the seat and pulled out the taped up .38 snub. It looked like a well used murder weapon.
“You want me to come wit’ you?” Mo’Betta offered.
Rob looked at him as if to say, For what? “Nigga, we family. I remember when you used to piss the bed and try to blame it on me! I know if you bring me a lick, it’s legit. Let big cuz handle the rest. Remember, I’m the one who taught you everything you know!”
“Say no more.” Mo’Betta laughed.
“Let me out here,” Rob instructed when they got to the corner of Demetria’s block.
Mo’Betta stopped.
“Go around the block. If I ain’t waitin’, go around again. Go slow. By then I’ll be ready.”
Mo’Betta nodded, and Rob went down the street. He drove off, keeping the radio down and his ears open. By the time he rounded the corner he heard a muffled. Blap! Blap! It wasn’t loud, but the sound was unmistakable.
“Goddamn! Cuz ain’t bullshittin’.” Mo’Betta laughed, wishing he could’ve been the one to put in the work. He would’ve made the bitch suffer.
He came back around and saw no signs of Rob, so he kept going. By the time he came around the second time, Rob popped out of the bushes and half limped, half ran to the car. Mo’Betta glanced at the house as they pulled off.
“Why you turn the lights on?”
Rob laughed. “Them ain’t lights.”
Glancing in his rearview, Mo’Betta could see that it was actually a fire just getting started. He imagined it sizzling the skin of Demetria’s corpse. Then he wondered if she was still alive. He started to say something to Rob, but he was interrupted by the ring of Sharia’s second phone. He hadn’t answered it before, but he had wanted to. Yet he didn’t want to alert whoever it was that there was a problem. But now, it didn’t matter. He answered.
As soon as he did, he heard, “Bitch, where the fuck have you been?”
The voice had a nasal quality to it and didn’t sound like the average hood dude. Mo’Betta didn’t say anything.
“Hello? Sh—” The caller hung up abruptly.
Mo’Betta thought about the voice but filed it away as he pulled out his own second phone and sent Briggen a text.
Welcome Home!
Chapter Seven
Yo, I fucked up! He got away.”
Those were the last words Mook wanted to hear as he drove down Broad Street. But there they were, and all he could do is ask, “What the fuck you mean?”
Mac was pacing in the white girl’s spot, using her phone so he could talk more freely.
“Yo, the muhfucka knew I was bringin’ him a move, and the nigga jumped out of the goddamn window . . . literally!” Mac explained.
“What?”
“Twenty flights up and landed in the pool, yo!” He exaggerated. Fuck could I do? But he got arrested. I seen it wit’ my own eyes. Now all I gotta do is find out his court date and his lawyer of record. My nigga, if I gotta hit him in the goddamn courtroom—”
Mook cut him off. “Whoa, maine! We on the phone!”
“My bad, but you know what I’m sayin’! I’ma handle it!”
You said that last time, Mook thought angrily, and Mac picked up on it.
“Yo, I know I said that before, but I slept on the nigga. He ain’t no slow leak. But I promise you, shit gonna get handled,” Mac vowed.
Mac paced the floor nervously. If he had been a smoker, he would’ve been chain-smoking because he knew he was in a bind. Quiet and as simple, he had killed all his friends, and now he was surrounded by enemies. Because Rob got away, Dark wouldn’t trust him. And because he had tried to kill Rob, now he had to be on point. Rob was just as dangerous, and he had proven himself to be a worthy opponent. It wasn’t that Mac was scared; far from it. He just knew the deck was stacked against him. He couldn’t afford to lose Mook, too.
But Mook was in the small boat. He had vouched for Mac, so Mac’s fuckup was on his head. He couldn’t tell Dark, but he knew sooner or later, Dark would find out, and then . . .
“Look!” Mook sighed in frustration. “Do whateva you gotta do, ASAP! Shit ain’t no game, yo!”
&nb
sp; “I already know. I got it!”
“Yeah. Whatever.” Mook hung up and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. He made up his mind. If Mac couldn’t catch Rob, Mook was damn sure going to catch Mac.
• • •
Dark was out on Belle Isle waiting for Mook. He liked to go out there to get away from the city and think. He had come a long way in a short time. It showed the power of initiative, focus, and determination. He had been on the offensive since the day he murdered Forever, and he hadn’t looked back yet. Now, he had the daughter of the top spot eating out of his hand, and he was primed to be Detroit’s next kingpin.
He sat on the bench looking out at the water. A few minutes later, a rumpled clothes wearing, fat white man came and sat on the bench on the opposite end.
He smelled like and looked like a cop. The man pulled out a bag of bread and began feeding the seagulls. He glanced over at Dark.
“How you doin’?”
Dark didn’t respond.
“You know who I am?”
“No.”
“You wanna know who I am?”
“No,” Dark repeated.
“I know who you are. You’s the man, homie.” Sherman, mocked, using slang.
Dark peered at him coldly. “Man, get the fuck outta here. I’m sitting here minding my own business. Chillin’.”
“Good. I just thought we could talk about Cisco and ‘The List’ before things get out of hand,” Sherman suggested.
Cisco? ‘The List?’ Damn. What else does he know? Who is this cat? From his tone of voice, Dark felt it would be in his best interest to see what the cracker had to say.
When Sherman saw Dark refrain from getting up, he chuckled. “Smart man. Of course, you don’t get to where you are and not be smart, huh, Dark? The guy on the verge of taking over the city? Because you see, I’m like . . . the pope of these streets. I bless ’em. But without my blessin’, things become real hard for the unblessed. Especially ones with murder charges hangin’ over their heads,” Sherman insinuated.
Dark looked at him. “How much you want? Just get to the point.”
Sherman chuckled as he tossed out a handful of bread crumbs. “No, Dark. You may tell your goons what to do, but I tell you what and how you’re going to do it. You know why? Because you don’t want to be on my bad side. Because when you’re on my bad side, I use everything in my power to make your life a living hell. I’ll go so far as settin’ you up for Cisco’s murder. Oh, I know the body’s never been found, but you see, that works both ways. ’Cause without a body I get to make stuff up!” Sherman fell out in a fit of laughter.