The Last Kings

by C. N. Phillips

  “Well, hopefully, she hurries the fuck up,” Adrianna said, the look on her face implying that Mocha needed to be there.

  Devynn studied Adrianna’s outfit and noticed that she was a little dressier than usual. Instead of the usual skinny jeans on Adrianna’s thick lower half, she wore a pair of black leggings. On her feet were a pair of badass nude pumps that crossed at the ankles. Adrianna even had a little bit of makeup on her already naturally beautiful face.

  “Is Ray going to be here?” Devynn asked, and the tomato redness that overcame Adrianna’s entire face was her answer. “I knew you liked that nigga. I see you checking for him all the time. His dick must be something if it got you dressing for him.”

  “Shut up, bitch, you don’t know my life! No, he’s not going to be here!” Adrianna snapped, but she knew instantly how untrue her statement was.

  She and Devynn had been a team for four years before The Last Kings. Vinny found them, starving and hungry, in the streets of New York. At that time, their only means of survival was hitting a few licks and sticking a few no-names up. The money never lasted long with their lavish spending habits, and they were often stuck in situations where they had to go without for days at a time. Vinny came into their lives and saved them, and all he asked in return was loyalty. He had to be sure he could trust them, so he gave them a target to hit. They had never killed anyone before, but for what he was offering them, they would have taken anyone out of the game. After they successfully had removed the target, Vinny took the two of them under his wing. They moved work underground in New York to not get the attention of the current boss of the city at that time, but did, however, infiltrate his cartel. Vinny needed the name of the connect, and they got it. A short while after informing Vinny of the name they heard, that same name appeared in the news. The man’s body was found burnt to a crisp in his Audi. There was suspected foul play, but nothing was ever proven. The girls didn’t ever ask what happened, but they knew then that the Italian Mafia was nothing to fuck with. When Vinny came to them with the proposition to be a part of maybe the biggest cartel known to the States, they hopped at the chance, dollar signs flashing before their hungry eyes. Their first meeting with Ray was a few weeks before the meeting at his home.

  Devynn saw immediately the spark in Adrianna’s eyes as they listened to Ray inform them of what they would be up against. Devynn herself couldn’t deny that he was the epitome of a boss. He carried himself like he was made of money. When he spoke, the education he harbored was the truth. It intrigued Adrianna because she had expected a hood nigga like the ones she’d dealt with in the past. She knew then why Vinny invested so much in Ray. At just that first meeting with him, she had more faith in his operation then she’d had in anything for herself in her whole life.

  “Mmm-hmm,” was all Devynn said. Normally, she would have warned Adrianna about the decisions her heart made. But after two failed attempts at love, she hoped her girl had grown some fuckin’ sense. “D and Amann coming?” she asked Adrianna instead.

  “They were supposed to have been here already too,” Adrianna said, the color slowly coming back to her face.

  Devynn opened her mouth to speak, but just as she did, the three of them all sauntered into the club at the same time. One hell of a coincidence. Mocha walked in looking ravishing as always with her hair pulled back neatly into a ballerina bun and a skintight black dress with the sides cut out. Her face held a smug expression. She knew she was late, but she didn’t care.

  “Wassup?” D said once they were all at the table. “This muhfucka is popping tonight!”

  “I don’t give a fuck how popping it is, I’m missing out on money to be here,” Amann looked at Adrianna with a look that could kill. “You think the nigga is gon’ show?”

  “I scoped the muhfucka out before we pulled in. I ain’t see nobody suspicious,” D said.

  “When they ran in Taste, it was real messy,” Devynn said. “They were some amateur niggas. I’m not from here, but I could tell they weren’t from here either.”

  “You hear their voices?” Amann asked.

  “Naw,” Devynn shook her head. “But we need to figure out who the fuck these niggas are.”

  “No,” Adrianna disagreed. “We need to figure out who sent them.”

  “The feds know what happened?” Mocha asked.

  “Of course them muhfuckas know. You know somebody had to call their asses. By the time they got there though, there weren’t any bodies to be found, and they didn’t have a warrant to look around. We moved all the money here just until the drop is made.”

  “You know them niggas are mad,” Mocha said.

  “Yea,” Devynn agreed. “But until Tyler comes back, it’s best not to get on their bad side.”

  “Do you think they might try to hit Lace?” Mocha asked Adrianna.

  She hadn’t even gotten the words out of her mouth before Adrianna nodded her head toward the door, reaching for her waist. Entering the strip club was a group of men ranging in all ages, and they didn’t look like they were there to enjoy in the festivities of half-naked bitches prancing around. Nobody but the five people at the table noticed the newcomers, and the crowd was so thick that it was hard to make all of them out, but Team Mula already knew what was up. The way the intruders moved through the crowd of people was snake-like, and Mocha could tell by the way they were dressed that Detroit wasn’t their home. What niggas would wear Tims to the strip club in the summertime?

  “A thirsty nigga can smell a dollar from a hundred miles away,” Adrianna said, standing to her feet.

  “These niggas don’t know who the fuck they’re fuckin’ with!” D exclaimed, infuriated, grabbing for the metal on his hip. “How the hell they even get in?”

  Before they knew what was happening, the men dispersed, covering all ground in the club and began opening fire. At first, people thought it was a hoax, and they cheered. But once bodies began dropping and blood splattering in the air, the commotion began. The crowd became a frenzy of butt-naked bitches and wannabe ballers frantically trying their best to get out of the club. All exits were covered, so no one was going anywhere. They all split up and took cover as bullets rained all around us.

  “Help!”

  “Oh my God!”

  “I don’t want to die, man!”

  There were several screams being let out as more bodies dropped.

  “Get down!” Amann yelled to Mocha, and he shot his pistol over her, killing two of the shooters.

  Fuck this, Mocha thought. She reached and grabbed the pistol she kept strapped to her thigh and began firing too.

  “There they go!” she heard somebody yell, but that didn’t stop her from using her extended arm to dead them.

  No mercy, she thought as she blew off the top of one of their heads close range.

  Adrianna and Devynn were already on it too. Devynn had her twins out, and Mocha witnessed her pistol-whip a nigga, and then blow his brains out all over Purp and Candy. The two of them were so scared they were trembling. Before Mocha could yell for them to get to their secured entry headquarters under the club, half of Candy’s head was blown off. Purp was so startled, she jumped to her feet to run, but her body soon was embedded with at least twenty rounds. Her body jerked on the ground trying to hold on to any little piece of life she had left. The four of them held their ground until their own people finally got there and swarmed the club. The gunfight seemed to last forever until the intruders finally seemed to realize that The Last Kings had them outnumbered. But by then, it was too late. They hadn’t thought their plan all the way through, and it wasn’t going to be over until all of them were dead. Devynn squeezed both of her triggers until they clicked empty, and when they were smoking, she was finally able to hear that there were no more shots being fired. The strobe lights just gave that effect. She stood up and looked at the bloodbath before her and saw there were at least fifty dead bodies, a few of their own laid out.

  “Let’s go!” D yelled to Mocha, Adrianna,
Amann, and Devynn.

  The parking lot outside was almost as chaotic as the scene that had just taken place in the strip club. Cars were hopping curbs just to get the fuck out of there.

  “It’s only a matter of time before the feds get here,” Mocha said, pulling out her phone to call Ray. “Ain’t no way a cleanup team can pull that shit off! It’s like fifty dead muhfuckas in there!”

  “I know.” Amann stood back and shook his head. “We ain’t got no choice but to let the shit ride.”

  “Sí,” Adrianna said. “I have to stay since I know them fuckin’ pigs are going to need to speak to me. I’m about to go and get rid of the security footage. Devynn, get Mocha home safely. Amann and D, call Ray and let him know what’s up. Tell him his blocks aren’t safe and neither are any of his businesses. Two in one day?”

  “Something ain’t right,” Devynn said as they all walked quickly toward their vehicles leaving Adrianna behind.

  Nobody said anything, but it was a fact that they all felt the same way.

  “Today is drop-off day . . . before everything hits Amore,” Devynn continued. “Those niggas had to have known that . . . but—”

  “Not one nigga made a move for the money,” D finished for her.

  Devynn nodded her head, and Mocha shook hers.

  “What were they trying to prove then?” Mocha asked, opening the door to her BMW coupe.

  “The way them dudes came in execution style said it all,” Amann said over his shoulder getting into his Corvette parked on the opposite side of Mocha’s vehicle. “They were trying to send a message. Of what? Now, that’s the question. I ain’t recognize not one of them cats.”

  They all nodded, agreeing. Those men couldn’t have been from Detroit. The city respected Ray too much to even dare to do that shit. But who?

  “We about to go get at Ray and make this drop-off. Y’all lay low for a minute,” D told us. “Dev, don’t go home; go to a hotel or some shit. I’m sending ten niggas with y’all. If you need us, just call. We’re going to get to the bottom of this shit.”

  Devynn nodded her head and hopped into the BMW with Mocha.

  “Make sure Adrianna is straight too,” she informed D.

  “Already on it,” he told her nodding to the parking lot across the street where three black Mercedes were parked almost unnoticeable in the night. “Be easy. I’ll get at y’all in the morning.”

  And with that, he shut the door to the car. He knew Ray wasn’t going to be too happy, but that was the least of his worries. His worry was that somebody had just started a war, and they had no idea why.

  Chapter 17

  Khiron pulled up to Amore, and he couldn’t help but to be impressed with the establishment. It was nothing he’d expected. The restaurant was two stories, and the entire look of it exuded class. The parking lot was completely packed. From where he was parked, he had a clear view of the inside of the restaurant. The lower lever consisted of filled dinner tables surrounding a large dance floor with couples swaying together slowly. Everyone inside that Khiron could see was in dress attire, and he knew then that his black Armani suit was a good choice. He fixed his collar slightly before stepping out of his vehicle and making his way to the entrance.

  Inside Amore, Ray was on the top level of the restaurant in the large, secluded VIP balcony section. There were five huge men that surrounded him, ready to take bullets from all sides and not letting anyone get too close. But by the look on Ray’s face, nobody would be bold enough to come his way. He was infuriated with the news he’d just received. Not one but two of his businesses had been hit in one day. It couldn’t have been a coincidence. He’d be a fool to think that.

  “Fuck that shit. I want niggas on every block looking for the nigga that set that shit up!” Ray barked into the phone.

  “A’ight, fam, but check this shit. Them niggas busted in here and never went for the money,” Amann told him.

  “What they want then?” Ray asked. “If it wasn’t the money, what the fuck them niggas want?”

  “We don’t know,” Amann told him.

  “Find out. Drop what was at Lace off here.”

  “A’ight, fam.”

  Ray disconnected the call with Amann and waited patiently for Khiron to arrive. He was angry at what Amann had told him, but even when a war was waging, business had to continue. Ray watched as a light-skinned kid with curly hair and an impressive designer suit made his way toward where he was sitting. Before he could make it completely to the table, he was stiff-armed and stopped.

  “Raise ’em,” one of Ray’s personal bodyguards demanded, preparing to check Khiron and strip him of any weapons.

  Ray watched Khiron silently to see his reaction. The kid looked at the guards, and then at Ray.

  “This is your city. I respect that. But if this Fat Albert muhfucka don’t move his arm in two seconds, he won’t have one to extend,” the kid’s voice was low but icy. “I’m here to conduct business, but I don’t know you, and personally, I think it would be better if this thing stayed on my hip.”

  Ray chuckled, shaking his head slightly and waved at his guard to let the kid through. He motioned for Khiron to sit down, which he did, and offered him a drink, which he declined.

  “You got something for me?” Ray said, cutting right to the chase.

  “I wouldn’t be here wasting your time if I didn’t,” Khiron told him.

  Ray looked different from the last time he’d seen him. The last time Khiron met him, he thought he was in charge. Now he knew.

  “Five minutes,” Ray said.

  While Khiron was busy studying him, Ray patiently gathered his thoughts. In a day’s time, he found out all he needed to know about Khiron. He knew everything from where he lived all the way to which hand he wiped his ass with. He also knew that the reason Khiron was there seated in front of him in the first place was because he needed a connect. From the information Ray gathered, Atlanta was a hungry city, and Khiron was losing it. Tyler had overexaggerated the moves of the kid. Whereas he knew how to play the game, he didn’t know how to own it. You could only rule with an iron fist for so long before it turned on you.

  “No need for a time stamp, fam,” Khiron said to Ray, leaning in on the table. “You know why I’m here. If you know why I’m here, that means you already have an answer for me.”

  Ray wanted to laugh at the boldness of the kid. But he didn’t speak; he just stared at the young buck before him. Fear was nonexistent in his eyes as he stared back at Ray awaiting an answer. There was something about Khiron that didn’t sit right with Ray, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. They hadn’t been in each other’s presence but five minutes, but it was true, Ray had an answer ready for him before he even had entered his restaurant. Khiron sat before Ray young and cocky, which meant he already had two strikes against him. The only reason he decided to humor him was because he came through Tyler. But unfortunately for Khiron, the chair he sat in was as close as he would get to Ray’s operation. Atlanta was a big market, but losing Khiron’s business would be but a small loss. He wouldn’t ever make the mistake of allowing his product to be pushed through a place if he didn’t approve of the man in charge. That’s how the game got fucked-up and how people got over. Ray took his time to speak, but when he did, the meaning of his words was clear.

  “I would ask you how you heard about me,” Ray started while pouring himself a glass of Hennessey, “but I honestly don’t give a fuck. You had it right, though; this is my city.” Ray raised his arms up halfway with his palms facing upward. “My establishment, my table . . . my chair,” he motioned to Khiron’s chair. “I’ll give you a pass just because you’re new in town, but had you been anyone else snapping, ya’ brains would be falling from the sky like fuckin’ confetti, feel me?”

  Ray looked at the diamond Rolex shining on his wrist and decided to speed up the process. It was like he was holding a job interview, and he just wanted the nigga out of his office.

  “You walked in here
and made two mistakes. When my man says arms up, you don’t speak. You do it. If he wants your guns,” Ray insinuated that he knew Khiron was strapped heavy, “you drop ’em on the table. I don’t like that sassy shit. That’s a trait of a bitch.”

  Ray saw Khiron’s jaw clench and unclench and a vein pulsated on his right temple, but he didn’t say anything, so Ray continued.

  “Understand this, my man.” Ray took a gulp of his drink before staring so coldly into Khiron’s eyes, Khiron felt a chill slither down his back. “My answer isn’t just no. It’s . . . fuck no. You obviously didn’t know shit about me when you made contact with my right hand but let me peep you on game. You never conduct business blinded. You hopped, skipped, and took a leap of faith to my city on hope. The fuck did you think was going to happen here? You thought you were going to leave here a satisfied customer because what? What the fuck do you have to offer me? Money?” Ray scoffed.

  “That’s what this is about, right?” Khiron asked through clenched teeth. Bottling his anger inside was getting harder by the second. Ray’s words cut into him like spikes. Nobody had ever spoken to him like that since his father was alive, and Ray wasn’t his father.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, kid,” Ray shook his head at the naïvety. “Money can easily be spent, but in order for it to be made, there has to be a strong foundation. Before I make any business moves, I make it my business to know exactly who I’m dealing with. This shit is more than a sale to me. I don’t give work to niggas just because they can afford it. My product will only be connected to success. Unlike you, I did my research on the man I was meeting. The little operation you have going in ya’ city is too shaky to hold my shit.”