by Wahida Clark
“Damian, go in the house,” Lisha told him.
“Ma, who is that?”
“Damian! What I say?”
Damian looked at Dark. In the back of his mind, Dark could tell Damian was forming an idea of who he was. Reluctantly, he did what his mother said. When he was gone Lisha spat, “Jerome, I know you didn’t follow me!”
“Not today,” Dark replied. “I . . . umm . . . I’ve known where you live for a while.”
“What do you want, Jerome?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest defensively but willing to hear him out.
“Yo . . . I’m just . . . I wanted to see my shorty.”
“Well, you’ve seen him, so—”
“It ain’t right what you doin’, Lisha. A man has a right to see his child,” Dark reminded her.
“Not if it’s going to put the child in harm’s way. What if Damian would’ve been with you when you got shot? What if someone would’ve been following you when you were following me? Then what? Y’all niggas always talkin’ about your rights, but what about your duties?” Lisha asked him.
Dark could only drop his head.
“Yo . . . I ain’t come to argue. I came to say . . . I was thinkin’ about coppin’ this brand-new Benz S550. I was gonna sit that bitch on 22’s and shit.”
“Whoop-de-fuckin’-do,” Lisha remarked sarcastically.
“But I thought my shorty’s future was more important,” he remarked, tossing the duffle bag at her feet. “It’s two hundred grand. It’s the least I could do.”
Lisha looked at the bag in amazement.
“I ain’t perfect, Lisha, but, goddamn, neither are you. You can change but I can’t? You talk about duty, but you ain’t even tryin’ to give a nigga a chance! This shit work both ways,” Dark spat, then began to walk away. He turned and added, “And tell D to work on his wrist strength. It’ll help with his jumper!”
Dark got in the car leaving Lisha with her jaw dropped.
As he pulled away his phone rang. He checked the caller ID. It was Quita. “Yo.”
“I wanna fuck.”
Dark smirked. He loved the way Quita got straight to the point. Besides, he had stress he needed to work off, and her tight, wet asshole was just the remedy.
“So fuck.”
“I wanna fuck you. I love the way that phat dick fill this asshole, mmm,” Quita cooed, and released a seductive moan.
Dark was getting hard just listening. “I’m sayin’ . . . where you at?”
“Home,” she moaned like she was about to come.
“Gimme like twenty minutes.”
“Oh, daddy, hurry. This ass on fire,” Quita sang.
“Just keep it hot, li’l mama, I’m comin’,” he chuckled, then hung up. “Freak!”
• • •
Baby Boy was definitely ready to move on Dark, but he wasn’t sleeping on him either. He knew the dude was no joke, so he wasn’t taking any chances. He got at the one dude he knew wanted Dark even worse than he did. Mo’Betta.
They were both from the West Side and knew of each other although they had done little more than acknowledge each other in passing. But Baby Boy was known for his hammer game, and Mo’Betta was known for getting that gwap. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed, whether in beef or collaboration. Dark gave them a reason to collaborate.
Baby Boy knew Mo’Betta had been behind the shootout at Crystal’s funeral. Mo’s shooter that got killed was from Baby Boy’s projects, and he knew the kid worked for Mo’. Now it was time to put that knowledge to work. Baby Boy reached out to Mo’Betta, and Mo’ agreed to meet.
“So the bait already set?” Mo’ asked as they stood, both leaning on the driver’s side door of their cars.
“Indeed. My people should be callin’ the nigga as we speak,” Baby Boy assured him.
Mo’Betta nodded. He knew Baby Boy was a soldier, but still he wondered, so he asked, “Why you givin’ me this nigga head on a platter?”
Baby Boy spat, “Fuck that nigga, maine! He tried to leave me for dead down in Oak Ridge. But he don’t know I know. Now it’s time to serve justice.”
Once Mo’Betta heard the words Oak Ridge he knew Baby Boy was telling the truth.
“True, indeed. I feel the same goddamn way. But what up, though? What you tryin’ to do after this?”
“Shit, it’s whateva wit’ me. I got a little somethin’ bubblin’ outta town. Why, what’s good?” Baby Boy wanted to know. Mo’Betta had piqued his curiosity.
Mo’ smirked. “Trust me. With Dark outta the way, I’ma be the man to see in the ‘D’, and I’ma need some strong soldiers, especially when I get on with The Consortium.”
“That’s all good, homie. But from here on out, a nigga’s soldierin’ days is over,” Baby Boy announced proudly. “I’m promotin’ myself and pledging my allegiance to Born.”
“I respect that, homie. Well then, let’s say both hands wash the face.”
“Say no mo’.”
They dapped. Baby Boy’s phone rang. “Yeah.”
“He on his way, baby.”
“Cool.” He hung up. “It’s a go,” Baby Boy told Mo’. They moved out to get in position.
• • •
Dark pulled up to Quita’s apartment building. He got out keeping his eyes peeled and hand close to his waist. As he crossed the street he heard, “Big bruh!”
He turned quickly and saw Baby Boy approaching. His guilt momentarily blinded him to the coincidence. When Baby Boy caught up with him he gave Dark a gangsta hug.
“What up, li’l bruh? I was comin’ to check if you was back!”
“Fo’ sho’. I tried to call you, but you ain’t answer,” Baby Boy replied.
“Shit been hectic, maine. A lot of shit on my mind.”
“Yeah? Me too,” Baby Boy spat pulling out his pistol and aiming at Dark.
Dark’s reflexes were on point. He knew he didn’t have enough time to pull his pistol, so he opted to slap Baby Boy’s gun away, then pull out his piece. Baby Boy watched with anxiety as the pistol flew from his hand and Dark caught him with an elbow that brought blood from his nose.
“Bitch-ass nigga! You thought you could play wit’ me?” Dark laughed at him.
“Oh, so you think shit is funny? Yo, my niggas!” Baby Boy called out. As soon as he did, Mo’ and his two shooters crept out of their positions in the shadows and ran down on Dark from two directions. By the time Dark had realized what he walked into, he felt twin burners to both his temples that froze him in place.
“Sneeze, nigga!” Mo’Betta dared him, taking Dark’s gun off his waist.
Baby Boy jumped up and punched Dark dead in his face, staggering him. He then followed up with a barrage of punches that dropped him to the ground. The four men collectively stomped the so-called King of the Streets onto the street, releasing the pent-up rage they all felt, for different reasons. While Dark lay unconscious, a van appeared, and they scooped him up, and then dumped him inside.
• • •
Nick was finally about to see his fantasy come true. Tiny and Shan in a ménage à trois.
He was amped. He had even taken some Ecstasy and Viagra. Not that he really felt like he needed it, but he wanted to make sure he enjoyed every minute of the threesome.
He had had ménages before, but not with two bad broads. He felt like he had talked them into it. It just proved the strength of his game.
Nyla was feeling Shan. She had opened her eyes to true game. Too many women let men manipulate their minds, and when the shit hit the fan, instead of getting mad at the man, they take it out on the female. It didn’t make any sense, and Nyla appreciated Shan for pointing that out. It still hurt to have lost Forever, but he had made the decisions Nyla had mistakenly held Shan responsible, when the truth was, his death was only the consequences of his own actions.
But now they were about to run the scam on Nick. The plan was, they would get him all aroused while getting their drink on. But his drink would contain
something extra to put him to sleep. Then they would film him having sex with two men and blackmail him for the money.
“Ohhh, girl, you are fuckin’ cruel!” Nyla snickered when Shan broke it down.
“He said he wanted a ménage, right?” Shan laughed.
Courtney and Michelle wired the place up, placing black boxes along the walls in almost every room.
“Cameras,” Nyla squealed. She figured they could make a fortune. She didn’t want to do Nick like this, but the motto was, ‘us bad bitches gotta stick together.’
When Nick knocked at Nyla’s door, she answered it wearing only a thong and a sheer nightie. The Viagra and Ecstasy that he popped sprang into action immediately. He closed the door behind him and snatched Nyla’s little ass up. She giggled and hit him.
“Calm down, big daddy, you act like this is your first rodeo,” she said.
“Shit, you wish. If it was a league for this shit, I would be MVP. Believe that.” Nick was really feeling himself.
“Awww, talk that shit’, big daddy.”
He was amped. He couldn’t wait and immediately called Shan.
“Don’t worry, baby, I’m on my way,” she told him. “Put Nyla on the phone.”
Nick frowned. “Who’s Nyla?”
Hearing her real name, Nyla frowned too. Nick extended the phone. She took it.
“Sorry, girl, but . . . uhh . . . we had to make it look like an accident. People never see the obvious until it’s too late.”
“An acci—” Nyla started to say, and then it hit her like a ton of bricks. The black boxes. Cameras, they had said when she asked.
Nyla frowned when she recalled Shan saying those same words before. This bitch set me up. Once a snake always a snake.
In actuality, Shan was just down the street sitting in a parked car with Courtney and Michelle. Shan lifted the remote control and extended the antenna. She hit the switch and Nyla’s whole house went up in a big fiery boom! The series of explosives detonated room by room. Each explosion building on the last until the house and half of the house on either side were burning down.
“Technology is a mother,” Shan said, because with one press of a button she was now the number-one boss bitch in the ‘D’.
• • •
“Yes, Steve, authorities are being very tight-lipped about the explosion that rocked this community a few hours ago. They have drawn the interest of federal forensics,” the Latino reporter said, standing in front of the smoldering remains of Nyla’s small English brick home. “A source close to the investigation did say that there’s a possibility a terrorist cell had shielded themselves in Detroit and somehow their explosives had mistakenly detonated. Also, we do know that two people were discovered inside the house. My sources confirmed that one of the victims was reputed drug kingpin Nicholas Powell. No word yet on who the other person was. Terrorist and drugs? Drugs? Yes. But terrorist in Detroit? Stay tuned for more details.”
Janay watched the news from her hospital bed. She knew by the surrounding houses that that was her cousin Nyla’s house. But why didn’t they mention her name? Did that mean she was alive? What about Tameerah? Was that even her in the house with Nick? She could only speculate, but what she did know was who was behind the whole thing. She smiled. It had been a perfect plan, one she should’ve seen long ago.
“Janay.”
Hearing the soothing voice brought her out of her zone as it always did. She looked into the face of the man she was slowly becoming very comfortable with.
“You look as if you knew those people,” Muhammad remarked.
She nodded.
“Are you going to be all right?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Am I?” she replied, giving his hand a squeeze.
He smiled. “Yes . . . I think you will be.”
• • •
The ropes were so tight they had cut off the circulation in his hands and feet. He couldn’t feel them at all. If he didn’t know better he’d think they had cut them off. After everything else they had done to him, being numb was a welcomed blessing. His face was swollen from the beating, and he slumped in the chair they had tied him to. He knew he would die. They wouldn’t be dumb enough to let him go, but he still prided himself on taking it like a G.
Soon he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and realized he had lost track of time. How long had he been there? Hours? Days? Weeks? It didn’t matter because he knew it was over. In fact, he welcomed it.
When he saw the man approach it all made sense.
“You!” he grunted, hating to acknowledge he had lost.
The man chuckled. “Surprised? Not surprised? I gotta admit, I still can’t read you. But I won, and that’s all that matters, huh?” the man gloated.
“Nigga, suck my dick. Do what you came to do. Get this shit over with because I got some bad bitches in hell waiting for me,” he spat.
“In due time, my nigga, I wanna savor this moment,” the man answered, walking around him, circling him like predators do to wounded prey. “You know it’s over, right? The Consortium is done. Now I run this show . . . solo. Briggen’s dead. Nick’s dead. Now you.”
The man stopped in front of him and looked him in the eyes. Despite the beating he still had that fire in his eyes.
“You wanna know how I did it, don’t you?”
“Fuck you,” Dark spat.
“Well, I’ma tell you anyway, cause the shit is just so fuckin’ gangsta you gonna love it! See, you thought you were workin’ for Sherman the whole time, but you were really workin’ for me!” He laughed. “And the best part was The List. Even Sherman thought it was real. He thought it was a list of motherfuckas that could blackmail him, but it was really a hit list I made up so Sherman would clear the streets for me. Self-preservation is the first law of nature. Make a man think it’s in his self-interest and he’ll do whateva you say!”
Dark shook his head. The man was right. The plan had been diabolical. “And the shootout? You set that up, huh?”
He smiled. “What better way to take the heat off yourself by puttin’ a hit on yourself? I knew to hit Six-Nine but you saved Crystal. That was her lucky day. No biggie. It was only a matter of time before I hit you all.”
“But, but Joy and—”
“Mines.”
“Duffy?”
Born laughed. “I got big plans for that nigga. I’m sending him all the way to the top. He has a strong shot at the presidency.”
“You ain’t no god, nigga . . . You the devil!” Dark scoffed. “If I could clap I would give your ass a round of applause . . . I’ma die a legend,” Dark taunted.
Born got in his face and responded, “Nigga, I thought you knew the science. The devil is a god too! Checkmate, nigga! And for the record, your run was short. You had no loyalty, no team, and you needed a bitch to put you on. So in my eyes, you gonna die the lame that you are.”
Born laughed and stepped back as Mo’Betta and Baby Boy came into the room carrying baseball bats.
“So now you know. It was me. You were just my puppet. But now it’s time to cut the strings. Yo, boys, have fun, but burn it down when you finish,” Born instructed as he left the room.
“Fo’ sho’,” Mo’Betta nodded.
He had been the one who Born contacted. Once Mo’Betta let Rudy know he had Dark, several minutes later, Born had called him. Mo’Betta felt like he was being followed ever since his meeting with Born and his call only confirmed it. He knew Born would be a powerful ally against Shan, so he was ready to try to slide up under Born like he slid up under Briggen.
Mo’ put his new plan in the back of his mind and turned his attention to Dark. He swung the bat hard into his kneecap, making Dark grit his teeth against the howl that threatened to erupt.
“Still don’t wanna holla, huh?” Mo’ snickered. “Don’t matter, nigga, I’m still gonna enjoy watching you die. This for Rob!” He gritted, swinging the bat into Dark’s face, shattering his nose and breaking several teeth.
&n
bsp; Baby Boy followed up with a blow to the forehead that cracked Dark’s skull. The blows began to rain down on him, knocking him and the chair over. The first few were mind-numbing pain. But as they beat the life out of him, with each blow he felt less and less. He had had a good run—the type of run that couldn’t last. But he knew the streets of Detroit would never forget him. The majority of his mission was accomplished. A hood legend. His mom would have to be proud of him now.
Right before he blacked out forever, his last thought was of Damian shooting the basketball. He mumbled, “Wrist strength, shorty . . . work on your wrist strength.”
• • •
Born walked out of the warehouse and headed for the stretch Phantom awaiting him. His plan had been perfect, but it wasn’t done yet. He wanted much more than just the streets of Detroit, and he had the next level plan to obtain it. Besides, he had a secret weapon. Her.
“Hello, big daddy,” Joy greeted as he climbed into the car.
She threw one curvaceous sexy leg over him while she kissed him passionately.
“Peace, love. How you? Did you take care of that?”
She smiled that cat-eyed smile that reminded him of a lioness after being fed. “Don’t I always? Sherman won’t be a problem.”
Born nodded. “Everything went as planned, except, Nick. I didn’t see Shan coming,” Born admitted. “Shorty is definitely smart.”
Joy giggled. “Don’t worry, daddy, let me take care of Shan. I’ll show her what a true boss bitch is.”
Born poured them both a glass of Armand de Brignac, then held up his glass. “To the future, love.”
“To the future,” she toasted, and they downed their drinks together.
Acknowledgements
All praise is forever due to the Creator. Book #13! Yah Yah, love you much. Don’t know what I’d do without you. The Staff. Never seen such dedicated folks ever. Love you all. You know who you are, Hasana (wahidaclark.org), Sherry, Al-Nisa, Mr. Barry, Kalimah, Sabir, Jabaar, Kisha, Hadiyah, Lindsey, Amin and Dwayne. You guys are in a league of your own. Slim and Baby, thank you for allowing me to do me and opening new doors. Cash Money Content Staff, Marc Gerald, Molly Derse who gets a special thank you for this bomb-diggity title: Blood Sweat & Payback (the hardest working little lady in publishing), Donna Torrence, Dawnalisa Johnson, Kia Selby, Vickie Charles. The behind the scenes Team at Simon & Schuster, thank you. To my editorial Team, you guys Rock!! You guys make my job very challenging and you push me to the limit! We got another New York Times Best Seller on our hands! Maxine Thompson (the backstory police), LJ Wilson, you Rock! Keisha Caldwell, thank you. Nuance Art, you are awesome!! I am so proud of you! Another bangin’ cover. Thank you for being my right hand man, creative consultant and traveling partner. Big Fifty from Detroit, much love! Last but not least my the Browns, my moms Berta and Dad, my little Brother Melvin and Jabree, Aunt Marva who tries to get to every book signing in New York, Aunt Ginger, my agent, the pitbull in a skirt, Claudia Menza. The WCP authors, you guys rock but remember books don’t sell themselves.