“If you’re going to kill me anyways, I might as well enjoy this shit,” I told him, playing with my pearl.
Coopa licked his lips as he watched my panties moisten.
“Damn, shorty,” he said, kissing my inner thigh.
He moved my panties to one side and let his tongue explore the depths of my treasure. My hands ran over his smooth head as I relished in the feeling of his warm tongue slipping and sliding, tasting my sweet nectar. A few moans escaped my mouth, and he stopped suddenly, shaking his head.
“This shit, it too wet. Turn around; let me get this pussy from the back,” he said.
I must have been going too slow because he grabbed my ankles and flipped me over himself, putting me at a perfect angle on the queen-sized bed to reach down and grab my clutch.
OK, Sadie, now you just have to play your fucking cards right, I thought knowing the ball was now in my court.
The feeling of Coopa ramming his monster all up inside of me interrupted my thoughts. My walls instinctively clenched tightly. Coopa proceeded to beat my love spot into ecstasy. He was giving it to me so good I even began throwing it back at him. I looked over my shoulder at him and saw how infatuated he was with my ass.
“Damn, ma, you got a fat-ass fuck! Why you have to be that nigga’s people? I could’ve made you my shorty!” Coopa threw his head back while he rode me until I felt myself about to explode.
“Fuck, I’m about to coooome!” I couldn’t help crying out.
I couldn’t hold back anymore, and my body quivered violently with the intensity of my orgasm. Coopa had my juices dripping all over him, but he still wasn’t ready to bust.
Fuck, I have to get this nigga to nut! I thought.
I started to make my ass clap as I threw it back at him, hoping that would be enough to make him bust.
“Hell yea, take this dick! Oooh, shit!” Coopa gripped my hips tightly, and I finally felt his dick pulsating inside of me. “I’m about to . . . ahhh!”
Coopa pulled out of me and squirted what seemed like a gallon of semen onto the bed. While he was busy enjoying the feel of his nut, I used that as my window of opportunity to reach down and grab my clutch. Although my legs were shaking, and I could barely stand, I knew what had to be done.
“Well, bitch, it was fun.” Coopa wiped his hands on the bedsheets and reached for the .45 he must have set on the ground while he was fucking me. “It’s a shame I have to kill you now.”
The second he took his eyes off me to grab his gun was the second I used to aim mine. I let one round off, catching him by surprise in the arm. The force of my bullet caused him to drop his gun and fumble back.
“Ahh!” Coopa cringed, gripping his arm in pain. “Bitch!”
“The fuck did you think was going to happen here?” I said, standing there in just my panties and tank top. “Did you think you were going to fuck me, kill us, rob us, and live to tell the fuckin’ tale?”
I let out a crazed laugh at the sight of Coopa standing there weighing his options. He knew he’d lost, and the realization he was feeling made me happy.
“Nigga, I’m a Last King! We don’t fuckin’ die!” I raised my gun again, feeling the power in my words. “You know what your mistake was, Coopa? You got too fuckin’ comfortable, and the streets got hungry. We’re here because you lost your boss mentality, and because of you, Detroit seems weak. We’re here because you failed to do your job, but I guess it’s good that we’re here to take your place . . . huh?”
Coopa tried desperately to make a quick grab for the gun around his ankle, but I pulled the trigger one more time, rocking him to sleep forever.
“Bitch,” I spat and kicked his dead body.
After I put my pants back on, I opened the door to the bedroom as quietly as I could. The television in the living room was on loudly, and that explained why they didn’t hear the bullets that had just killed their boss.
“Stop!” I heard Mocha cry out over the television and snickers in the background as I eased closer to the living room. “Get the fuck off me, you dirty dick-ass niggas!”
I closed my eyes quickly trying to envision who all was in the room. There was one big black nigga and two fair-skinned skinny niggas. From their movements, I could tell that they were all in one area of the living room. I knew they were strapped, but I didn’t give a fuck. I would take many bullets for Mocha if they hurt a hair on her head. I took a deep breath and slid into the room, gun raised. As soon as I entered the room, my finger clicked the trigger, catching one of the skinny guys in the chest. He dropped like a fly. They’d been in the middle of trying to pin Mocha down and pry her legs open. The turquoise Fendi dress that she’d decided to wear would have given them easy access, but from the looks of it, they were having a pretty tough time.
“What the—” the big one started.
“Fuck?” I finished for him and cold-bloodedly splattered his brains throughout the room with two bullets.
His fat ass needed two bullets to send him to the afterlife. I felt a bullet whiz past my head and saw that the last guy had time enough to get a shot off. However, Mocha kicked him, throwing off his aim. She then pulled her hidden pistol from her thigh and emptied the clip into his head. When she was done, his head was no longer on his body. Instead, it was in little bloody pieces scattered everywhere in the room.
“Stupid bitch!” Mocha kicked the bodies of the fallen as her body shook uncontrollably.
She made her way to where I stood and embraced me. Then she pulled back and examined me.
“Did he—”
“Yes,” I answered her truthfully before the question fully formed from her mouth.
“Are you—” she stared again.
“I’m fine,” I told her, walking to the couch and grabbing one of the two duffle bags of drug money. “Grab that shit. We gotta go.”
Mocha understood that it wasn’t the time or the place to get sentimental and obliged to my orders. I grabbed everything they’d taken from us and noticed I had a shitload of missed calls, all from Ray and Adrianna. I was about to call Ray back when Mocha and I rushed out of the apartment, but just as I hit the last number, I saw Ray’s Escalade pull in front of the building. He jumped quickly from the driver’s side and rushed to us.
“Say, you coo? Y’all good?” he asked. Worry drenched my cousin’s handsome face.
I embraced him tightly to let him know that I was all good. When I pulled back, I looked into his eyes and smirked lightly.
“Go see for yourself,” I told him, throwing the duffle bag into the back of his truck.
Nodding my head to the apartment, I stepped out of the way so Ray could go check out the murder scene. Adrianna, who’d been making sure Mocha was OK, quickly followed suit, wanting to see what had gone down. When Ray came back out, he wore a huge grin on his face, and I knew he was pleased with the death of Detroit’s old kingpin.
“Straight like that?” Ray asked, extending his hand.
I nodded my head and shook his hand, grinning.
“Like that.”
Ray’s grin slowly turned into a frown as he stared into my eyes.
“That nigga ain’t have no pants on, Say.” His eyes pierced into mine, but I couldn’t look away. “What the fuck happened up there?”
I knew he would be scoping for a lie, and I couldn’t tell him what really happened. I could already see guilt forming on his face. He was blaming himself for the whole ordeal. I thought carefully about my words before delivering a story. I glanced at Mocha as if to say, “Go along with this shit,” before I started speaking.
“As soon as Mocha and I walked in, it was on and popping. They off’d our man before we even got there. Coopa was talkin’ beef shit and was plannin’ on takin’ the money after he did what he wanted with me.” I took a breath before I continued seeing the vein slowly throbbing on his temple. “He took me to the back room, and he had three other niggas there makin’ sure Mocha’s ass ain’t go nowhere.”
“They unstrapped y
ou?” Ray asked.
“Yea, but the dumb nigga never took my clutch,” I told him.
Ray shook his head at Coopa’s stupidity.
“As soon as he dropped his pants. I pulled my gun out and blasted his ass.” I tasted salt as the lie rolled off of my tongue. “Then we finished the niggas off in the living room. This murder shit is pretty gangster. I could really get used to this.”
Despite the fact that we’d almost died, Mocha stifled a laugh at my joke, but Ray stood firm and serious.
“This ain’t shit to joke about, Sadie! I should have never sent y’all to handle this shit! That nigga thought he was smart. You could have fuckin’ died and—”
“But I didn’t!” I reassured my cousin. “Kings don’t die; they live on forever.”
Ray looked lovingly into my eyes, and I knew why he was trippin’ so hard. We grew up with only each other, until Mocha came along. If anything happened to me, I knew Ray would go insane, and vice versa. He nodded his head, agreeing with my words.
“You right. Kings don’t die. The important thing is that bitch nigga is finally out of the picture.” Ray grabbed the duffle bag from Mocha and handed it to Adrianna.
Ray and Adrianna got into his Escalade to take the money to where it was supposed to go. He instructed us to go directly back to his penthouse and wait for him there. Mocha and I got into her BMW 335i. I knew a sweeper team would be there soon to clean up the mess and take Coopa’s body to his home front. The message would be clear. Coopa’s reign was over. The reign of The Last Kings was in Detroit now. It was time to make our official claim on the city.
Chapter 12
Two Years Later
After Coopa’s death, the rise of The Last Kings had to be swift and accurate. There wasn’t any room for fuckups. The feds were all over Coopa’s operation after his body was found. The majority of his soldiers weren’t prepared to answer questions and explain where the drug money came from. They took Ray in for questioning, of course, because at one point in time, he and Coopa were clearly in cahoots. But they didn’t have enough on him to keep him in custody; the murder weapon was never found. If they would have even tried to hold him, he had more than enough money to get out. So they just let him go. They couldn’t tie him to the murder or to the drugs and money found in Coopa’s traps, but Ray knew he would have to tread softly for a while. In the streets at least.
Mocha switched her way into Lace wearing a skintight Armani one-strap dress that stopped just above her knees and held a clutch and a black folder in her hands. The sleek black of the dress clung to her body, giving the illusion that it was actually painted on. She stepped through the door, not even bothering to flash the guard the tattoo of the pharaoh on her forearm. He knew she was affiliated. Mocha smirked as he watched her step, catching every quake of her ass.
You ain’t never going to taste this, boo, Mocha thought to herself as she made her way through the dim lighting of the strip club to the back. It wasn’t too busy, but there was a nice crowd surrounding the stage watching the hoes twirl around on the poles.
The stairwell led to the locker room for the strippers. Mocha knew better; she wasn’t going there to chill with any of those hoes. She walked past many naked women preparing for their acts and headed directly for the showers and bathroom stalls. The last stall was for the handicapped, and on the door it read, “OUT OF ORDER,” but Mocha entered it anyway. She pulled a set of keys from her clutch purse and opened the tampon box that was on the wall above the toilet paper. Instead of tampons inside it, there was a keypad in which Mocha entered a code that consisted of six numbers. Once the last number was entered, she heard a soft click and light hum. Before her, the concrete wall the toilet was attached to opened just a crack, enough for her to reach her hand through and open it the rest of the way. She walked through it, entering the secret and only trap house of The Last Kings. Ray had learned from Coopa’s mistakes and knew the location of his trap had to be ducked off and out of the way.
Mocha walked down one more flight of stairs before entering a long hallway. At the end of the hallway was a high door, and on the outside of it, two big niggas stood guard. They opened the door for her before she’d even gotten all the way to them, and she nodded when she walked through. Almost immediately, she was hit with the aroma of cocaine being cut up and bagged before she saw the bitches in Victoria’s Secret lingerie dealing with the product, cutting and bagging it. They wore masks over their mouths and noses to protect them from the debris. In front of each of them on the tables lay a pistol. Mocha didn’t even acknowledge the bitches and went to the back room. She’d just made a big business investment, and she had come to wrap up some loose ends with Tyler. She opened the door to the basement and traveled down the stairs to where she knew Tyler was.
“Y’all gotta show these niggas that fear don’t live in ya’ fuckin’ hearts,” Tyler was instructing a room full of young men. “These niggas think we can be touched just because Coopa got merked. Fuck that!” He went and grabbed one of the young men’s arms and held it up, showing everyone the tattoo of a pyramid he had on his forearm. “This is who the fuck we are! What we do is make this money, branded for life; one way in, one way out. If you got this fuckin’ tattoo, that means you’re in this shit forever. We are family, y’all, not just soldiers. But cross this team, and I will put a hollow tip in ya’ fuckin’ head like you was just some random muhfucka on the street. Y’all hearing me?”
Mocha stood back listening to Tyler’s speech that he was giving and noticed Adrianna and Devynn standing behind him. Mocha knew that anyone in that room had to be a cold-blooded killer. They couldn’t afford to have any bitch niggas on their team. Bitch niggas were the same as snitch niggas, and The Last Kings were allergic to those. Leaning on the wall, she admired the respect that was held in the room. A nigga would have to be a fool if he didn’t respect Tyler. It was true he was a loose cannon, but if you showed loyalty to him, then he would be loyal to you.
This is really us, she thought, pleased, watching the hungry looks of the niggas in the room. It was a fact that she was very skeptical about the whole operation; she wasn’t a killer. At least that’s what she thought before she pulled the trigger of her newfound best friend. It was surprising to her how easily she could take a life. The money was the motive, and if a body was in her way . . . well . . . Tyler noticed Mocha standing behind the crowd of niggas in the room and dismissed them all.
“What’s up, ma?” he said coming up on her. His hair was freshly cut into a fade, and his facial hair was neatly trimmed. He wore Ralph Lauren from head to toe. The Rolex and diamonds shining from his ears let off that he was straight hood, even though he carried himself like royalty.
Mocha smiled at her business partner, seeing the imprint of the .45 through his shirt.
“Kings stay strapped at all times, even in their own house,” Ray always said.
“Business as usual; don’t act brand-new, Tyler,” she told him, rolling her eyes slightly. He knew that would be the only reason she would even come to the trap. “Where’s Ray?”
“That nigga is handlin’ business as usual,” he smirked, having fun being an asshole to Mocha who had become like a little sister to him. “What you got for us though, shorty?”
Mocha was slightly disappointed that Ray wasn’t there. She wanted to see the pleased look on his face when she told him they’d come up on $200,000. She liked when he looked at her the same way he did Sadie. The only difference was that Sadie didn’t have to do anything to get that look. Ray was proud of her regardless. Mocha often felt tiny pings of jealousy when it came to their relationship. Although they only had each other and Grandma Rae, that was more family than she’d ever had. Mocha’s mother forced her to move from Atlanta in junior high, and then left her when she was in high school. She sent her to school with a note that said:
I ain’t comin’ back for this little bitch; y’all can keep her!
That was when Grandma Rae had taken her in. Sadie didn’
t even have to ask her, and Grandma Rae acted as if Mocha had been staying there all her life. Mocha knew she had no reason to feel that green bitch, especially when Ray did everything in his power to make her feel at home. If she needed anything, he had her, and she loved him like the big brother she never had.
“Nothin’ much; just made a deal, that’s all.” She handed him the red folder she had in her hands with the details of the drop to be made.
“Damn, shorty! Two hundred stacks!” Tyler said, obviously pleased. “That’s real nigga shit.”
He grinned down at Mocha, causing her skin to blush a bit. She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, “It was nothing.”
Tyler was sexy. No, Tyler was sexy as fuck. But she wouldn’t dare try to get his attention for three reasons. Tyler was a loose cannon, which was the reason he was perfect for the job of Ray’s general. He thought with his trigger finger and his body pile had added up quite drastically over the years. He was ruthless, and mercy was something that he knew nothing about, so it was impossible to show it. The second reason, although she thought Mocha didn’t know, Sadie had some type of feelings toward him. Mocha didn’t know what had happened, but she knew for a while when they were in high school, all Sadie spoke about was Tyler. But then one day it just stopped. Sadie never spoke about it again, and since then, the way she was with Tyler was different. Even now, Sadie kept everything strictly business with him, but Mocha didn’t press for details. Her girl had the right to her privacy, just like she did. The last reason was because she had a love interest already. And she wasn’t thinking about any other nigga.
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