by A'zayler
Also by A’zayler
Passion of the Streets
No Loyalty (with De’nesha Diamond)
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
In Love with my Enemy
A’zayler
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
1 - Who would have known?
2 - Words are “our” thing . . .
3 - Mama’s baby, sister’s maybe?
4 - Because you’re all I need
5 - Games well played
6 - I want to talk to you
7 - I can be the help you need
8 - I just want to say you’re mine
9 - I’ll never leave
10 - I never want to say how it used to be
11 - Ain’t no lovin’ like the one I’ve got
12 - Never question my loyalty
13 - How bad could it be?
14 - Real love, I’m searching for a real love
15 - That’s what friends are for
16 - I may be young but I’m ready
17 - When it all falls down
18 - I promise
19 - Now or never
20 - The hood’s finest hour
21 - The truth behind your lies
22 - I should have known better
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by A’zayler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Dafina and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1808-2
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1814-3 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1814-3 (ebook)
First Kensington Electronic Edition: September 2019
Prologue
“Hey, Free, make sure you be checking your phone,” Echo warned.
“Come on, now. You know me. I don’t fuck around when it comes to business.”
Echo chuckled. “A’ight, bet. I’m set. I’ll meet you at the drop in a few.”
“Cool. This it, my nigga. Let’s eat.”
Echo’s laughter filled the phone. “Already,” he told him before ending the call.
Jalil Donquez Free—Free to the streets and Don to himself—was a hidden loner with a constant intent to kill and no time for the pleasures of a simple life. With his hood covering his head, he took a deep breath and made his way into the club. It was game time. Since he’d gone through the side exit, he was in his seat and chilling within minutes.
Flashing red and white lights flickered across the room as smoke and music filled the dark atmosphere. Heat radiated from one wall to the other as the floor shook from the bass of the music. Men were everywhere, with a barely dressed woman strewed here and there.
Liquor bottles, red cups, and marijuana-filled blunts that were louder than the music rotated from the mouth of one person to the next as the partygoers interacted vibrantly with one another. Pool tables decorated one corner of the room, while sofas, bar speakers, and a homemade bar occupied the rest.
A parade of nudity filled the gleeful eyes of the many men that enjoyed that type of thing, but not Don. That wasn’t something that moved him. The naked women were such an irritant for him that they might as well have been flies circling his food at a barbeque. Unwanted, and just in the fucking way. He liked his women a little more respectable and a lot less social. Hood girls that knew their status without hanging out at every party to let the streets verify it.
Since he hadn’t wanted to be there from the beginning, Don sat in a large chair in the corner of the room minding his business, simply observing his surroundings and chilling. Too many people in one room with too much going on wasn’t his scene, but for money he’d do what he had to do.
“Why you always looking so mean? You’re too handsome for that,” an around-the-way girl known as Mocha whispered into his ear as she leaned over the back of the chair he was seated in.
Don looked over his shoulder with an annoyed expression on his face. His brows were furrowed while his mouth held a small frown. He was in no mood to be bothered, and he’d made that very clear from the moment he’d walked through the door. One thing he couldn’t stand was a woman that didn’t know how to listen. He wasn’t the most social person to begin with, but he most definitely hated women with no morals. Specifically, ones like Mocha. She’d do anything for money, no matter how backstabbing or disrespectful it was.
“Care your ass on,” Don shooed her away with his fingers.
“Why are you being so mean? You ain’t been acting like this.”
Don blew out a frustrated breath and ignored her while looking at the screen of his phone. He checked his text messages for the thousandth time, waiting on the message from his friend Echo that would get his night going. His thumb was tapping on his screen when he felt Mocha’s hands sliding down the front of his chest. She wasn’t given the chance to get much further than his collarbone before Don had a death grip on one of her wrists.
“Bitch, you must want to die.”
Mocha sucked her teeth and tried to pull her hand free of his grasp, but it wasn’t happening. Don squeezed it a little tighter, even twisting it until she whined in pain.
“When you see me, do your fucking job and keep it moving.”
“Let my arm go. I got it.”
Don applied a little more pressure, this time twisting it harder to one side. When she yelped and dropped a set of keys into his lap, he finally let her go. With no more words spoken, she walked away nursing her wrist. Don watched her rush to the back corner, where a few niggas he knew from around the hood were sitting.
He pushed the keys into the front pocket of his hoodie as he observed her switch back to where she belonged. Mocha was one woman that did too damn much. It had been a tedious task to be cordial to her during their brief alliance, but he’d done it and he was more than happy that it was finally about to be over.
He wasn’t surprised when she sat in the lap of the biggest man in the section, and held her wrist up to his face as if he was going to do something about it. Her thick lips were moving rapidly as she relayed what had just happened. Don watched and waited. Bishop, a well-known pimp, held her wrist and placed a kiss on it as his pudgy fingers rubbed her back.
Like Don knew he would, Bishop looked his way with a grimace. His eyes searched the people around Don until Mocha whispered something in his ear. Finally, Bishop’s glare found Don’s. Unmoving and unbothered by anything that Bishop could possibly be attempting, Don peered back.
The frown that had been there earlier disappeared and a simple head nod was rendered. Don nodded back before looking away. He hadn’t expected anything different. He wasn’t to be played with, and even Bishop knew that. He might run them hoes, but he didn’t run Don, and that was known.
Back in his element, Don leaned back and checked his phone once more. Still nothing. His irritation grew by the second. It was a little after one in the morning, and his job was scheduled to have been completed by midnight. Don huffed out another ragged breath and stretched his legs in fro
nt of him.
His hands were resting across his stomach with intertwined fingers when he heard a loud commotion at the door. Accustomed to staying alert, he sat up with the speed of lightning. His hand went to his back, releasing the large Glock nine that had been secured in the waistband of his jeans. He made sure the silencer was intact before allowing his eyes to scan the crowd where all the noise was coming from.
On his feet, sliding further into the darkness he’d just been occupying, Don waited to see what was happening before making any further moves. The bright red exit sign above his head, leading to the unchained door behind him, was the perfect avenue out, if things blew out of hand. His seat for the night hadn’t been by chance; Don was a thinker, and so was Echo, so anything they planned was bound to run smoothly.
In a room full of niggas he knew nothing about, near the exit had been the safest and smartest place to be, for reasons like the one unfolding in front of him. Still unsure of what was going on, or who it was causing the disturbance, Don squinted his eyes trying to see the faces of the yelling men. With the loud music still playing, and the staggering drunk patrons, it wasn’t easy to make out the issue, but Don wouldn’t relax until it was revealed.
He was squeezing the handle of his gun when he felt his phone vibrating. In a hurry, he pulled it from his pocket and checked the screen. GO was the one word message he’d been waiting on all night. With the skill and expertise of a trained shooter, Don raised his nine and aimed it until the red beam attached to it landed on his first target. Phew . . . body number one. Phew . . . body number two . . . Phew . . . Three. He was done.
An uproar of screams and frantic cries sounded throughout the room as Don hit the exit without looking back. There was no need to—his job was done. He’d killed all three people before the first one’s body hit the ground. Positive no one had seen or heard him do it, Don trekked down the sidewalk coolly, but with a little more urgency in his step.
The hood to his black hoodie shielded his head as the cool breeze from the night air brushed against his face. His hands were tucked securely in his front pockets as he bent the corner heading for the big black pickup truck parked on the side of the hole-in-the-wall club he’d just been in.
Don looked over his shoulder once to make sure no one was coming, before snatching the keys out and hitting the locks. Once the door was open, he slid in and backed out of the parking space. The block was empty and dark as he cruised down the street. That too was a part of their strategic planning. From the fifth-floor window of the abandoned apartment building to his left, he’d shot out every street light along that block hours prior. The lick he’d just hit had been in the works for weeks and he had one last step to complete before giving himself a pat on the back.
With no outside help, Don and Echo had hopefully set themselves up to become a part of something much larger than themselves. Something that would potentially alleviate his loneliness and repetitive struggling. Echo had his family, so he was good, but Don was alone. Just trying to make it. He’d been living from one dump to the next since turning eighteen four years ago, and had been putting in work ever since.
Nights had been long, with days that were even longer but he’d made it happen. With nothing or nobody outside of Echo, Don was self-made and planned to keep it that way until the day the city covered his corpse with the dark dirt that would eliminate his light forever.
Echo had been the only family he’d had in years. They’d met in the county jail three years prior and had been hanging since. If it wasn’t him, it wasn’t anyone. Echo was truly a stand-up guy and the only person that Don halfway trusted. He trusted him with business, but nothing personal.
Which was why they’d been friends for years and Echo still knew nothing about his living situation. Anytime they made plays, he’d either meet up at the spot or they hung out at Echo’s crib. Nothing more, and Don planned to keep it that way until he could do better. He’d learned long ago to never let another man see him down bad. Hopefully, their current plan would open the door to all that.
With his heart beating a mile a minute, Don looked in his rearview mirrors to assure he wasn’t being followed before taking the highway en route to the meeting place that no one except he and Echo knew about. Well, almost no one. Thanks to one lonely night in the run-down basement he’d been sleeping in, where he’d stumbled upon a life changing opportunity.
It had been freezing outside and way too cold to sleep under his normal bridge, so Don had gone on a hunt to find somewhere warm to sleep. When the raggedy old building with the boards and plastic up to the window caught his eye, he’d wasted no time kicking the backdoor in. It had been empty, minus the rats and stray cats that were seemingly unbothered by the other’s presence.
Using plastic and the blanket he carried around in his tattered old backpack, Don made his bed on the bottom floor of the building. It was in the wee hours of the morning when he’d heard voices. Unsure who the men were, and afraid to move, Don lay deadly still beneath the dirty old blanket.
“It’s the one they call Bishop.”
“The pussy pusher?” The second voice questioned with a tainted accent.
“The one and only.”
One of the men cleared his throat before the conversation continued.
“So, he sells dope and pussy? You Americans are a fucking joke.”
Don strained to hear the conversation better. It was pretty easy, up until the one with the deep accent spoke. He was clearly a DeKalb county outsider. Nobody in Ellenwood sounded like that. Which only sparked Don’s interest even more.
“Who gave you the information?”
“One of his hoes. I think her name is Mocha or some shit like that.”
“Do you see why I say it’s stupid? His own women are selling him out. Disloyalty is something my family doesn’t tolerate.”
The man that owned the first voice made some sort of noise with his mouth before talking again. “What do you think should be done?”
“You tell me. This is your area, right?”
Although he didn’t know him, Don liked the second guy. His tone and wording sounded like a man that could be respected. In his opinion, the first one seemed to be a tad bit shifty. It was just something about him that didn’t sit right with Don. Little did he know, his gut feelings would soon prove to be accurate.
“The only way to get rid of him is to kill him, is that something you want done?”
“You tell me.”
“I mean, I could, but everybody would know. He’s the man in this city.”
“So, you mean to tell me I flew out here for this bullshit? Not one muthafucka that I’ve met since being here has shown me anything to respect.” Second voice cleared his throat. “Stop wasting my gotdamn time. Off that man, get me his shit, and call me when it’s done. Got it?”
By this time, Don’s heart was booming while his mind did numbers. If that nigga was scared to put in work, he had no problem picking up his slack. He just needed a way to get himself involved without seeming too eager. He lay beneath the blanket thinking over everything he was hearing and the best way in without getting killed for eavesdropping. The foreign man didn’t sound like somebody he wanted to rub the wrong way.
“Yes sir. I got it.”
“Good. Call me when you’ve figured this shit out.”
The sound of footsteps could be heard clicking across the floor which let Don know the man was probably well dressed. Only nice shoes made that type of noise when being used. With his mind in overdrive, Don lay still for a few moments longer after hearing the door of the building slam closed, and got the break of his life.
“Hey, who the fuck is this nigga, man? Trying to call shots when he can barely speak fucking English.”
Don slid the covers from his head slowly trying to grab a glance at the man as he spoke loudly on the phone.
“The only way he’s willing to give me a spot in his ring is if I take Bishop out, and I ain’t with that shit. I don’t give a f
uck how much money that nigga talking, Bishop is fucking royalty in the streets, killing him would be a sack move and I ain’t going out like that. Fuck nah, nigga. I’m Ellenwood to the death of me.”
Don was on pins and needles to sit up as he listened to the man he recognized as Jeff talk on the phone. Jeff was one of Bishop’s right hand men; no wonder he wasn’t feeling the proposition. Don had been hanging around the block doing odds and ends for Bishop and anybody else that paid him the right amount of money since he’d gotten out of his last group home, so he knew a few people. Jeff was one of them.
Even though he had no real idea what this job entailed, something inside of him wanted a part of it.
“I say we set that nigga up and give his shit to Bishop. We don’t know his ass, at least we know if Bishop comes up, we all gone eat. This stupid-talking muthafucka might let us do all the work, then feed our asses to the fucking fishes.”
What? Don was completely baffled as he listened to Jeff. Bishop was one of the greediest niggas in the hood, and that was a fact. Everybody knew Bishop was out for self, which was why Don had only done business with him once in the past. He promised one thing and had given another, something Don didn’t forget. He was a man that took people at their word, so when Bishop burned him that once, their business relationship was over.
Don might not have had much, but he had his respect and he’d die about it. After pulling his heat on Bishop, and killing the two men he’d sent to kill him, Bishop accepted defeat and laid off. Don let him live off street credibility alone, and because of that, Bishop kept his distance and allowed Don to do him with no interruption.
“I’m supposed to meet up with him again at the end of the month. He said I can either have it done, or we can find us somebody else to do business with.” Jeff paced the floor with the phone to his ear. “We met at the old barbershop on Thirteenth. You know ain’t shit in here no more but animals and bums.” Jeff laughed. “I just ain’t with the shit. I say we dust his old ass and take it for ourselves.” There was a pause. “Bet. Go ahead and tell Bishop what’s up. I’m on the way.”