by Zaire Crown
Praise for Games Women Play
“Crown’s debut will appeal to a wide variety of urban fiction fans. Writing with power and from the heart, Crown is a promising author to watch.”
—Library Journal
“Zaire Crown totally astonished me with an action-thriller that had my imagination racing as fast as my pulse.”
—The Washington Informer
“Games Women Play is an exciting, twisty thrill ride that’ll keep you turning the pages to its jaw-dropping conclusion.”
—De’nesha Diamond
“Games Women Play goes in hard and heavy straight from the gate! Zaire Crown is a bold new voice in urban fiction!”
—Noire
Books by Zaire Crown
Games Women Play
The Game Never Ends
The GAME NEVER ENDS
ZAIRE CROWN
KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Praise
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Chapter Forty-nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-one
Chapter Fifty-two
Chapter Fifty-three
Chapter Fifty-four
Chapter Fifty-five
Chapter Fifty-six
Chapter Fifty-seven
Chapter Fifty-eight
Chapter Fifty-nine
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.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2020 by Zaire Crown
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: 978-1-4967-2521-9
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2523-3 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-2523-9 (ebook)
First Kensington Electronic Edition: September 2020
Prologue
“You don’t catch feelings!” For twenty years, Tuesday had lived by this one unbreakable commandment. From her small strip club in Detroit, she and her team of ex-dancers would target all the local drug dealers. Their M.O.: robbery through seduction. She had been the mastermind behind the successful planning and execution of countless heists. Until she met her match.
During her last mission, she went after the most powerful and reclusive boss in the Midwest: the infamous Sebastian Caine. Tuesday broke her own rule by falling in love with her target and this earned the betrayal of her crew. An attempt was made on her life after they murdered her best friend. Tuesday had to flee Detroit, but not before she got revenge on her former associates.
For three years she had been living in California under the name Tabitha King, married and raising two children with Caine. Like her, Sebastian had also put his old life behind him. The former kingpin now lived as Marcus King and was completely legitimate. The couple owned Abel Incorporated, where Tuesday served as the CEO. A small venture once used to launder Caine’s drug profits had grown to become one of the largest importing companies in America.
Tuesday had come up from the stripper pole to the board room. After years of being in the struggle, she now enjoyed a comfortable life with luxury cars and private jets, all while living in a Beverly Hills mansion with the man of her dreams. Tuesday seemed to have achieved the fairytale ending.
However, when dangerous enemies resurfaced, Tuesday learned that happily ever after only happens in children’s books. She and Sebastian may have changed their names and gone legit, but that didn’t erase their criminal pasts. Being done with The Game doesn’t mean The Game is done with you.
Chapter One
Tuesday checked her watch to learn that it was fifteen minutes past eight. She was late again. She cursed out loud and scrambled to get dressed.
Over the past few weeks she had gotten sloppy and careless. Careless was something she had never been. Sloppiness was something she never tolerated.
When she was back in Detroit, every minute of her day was meticulously planned, every decision weighed to the point of torment. It was the same neurosis that gave her the ability to analyze all the angles to a situation, and was the primary reason why her team pulled off so many successful licks.
Now she was barely able to keep track of time and doing something so reckless that it could cost her life.
She jumped into her panties and pants. She slipped her feet into her Marc Jacobs heels. Since she didn’t feel like taking the effort with her bra, she just shoved that into her Chanel bag after going headfirst into her shirt.
Tuesday had received the storybook ending that most little girls dreamed about. She got her Prince Charming in the form of Marcus and lived in a big white castle in Beverly Hills. Prada, Gucci, and Dior were overflowing in closets large enough to get lost in. She had cars and jewelry and more money than she could spend. Most importantly she had Danielle and Tanisha: finally a family.
So why was she at a low-rent bungalow in West Hollywood putting it all at risk?
Like most transplants, Tuesday soon realized that Los Angeles was the most image-conscious city in the world, where every waitress, check-out girl, and parking valet was a model-slash-actress in waiting. Tuesday had always been thick, so the thirty-five pounds of baby weight she picked up carrying Tanisha did little for her self-esteem. Neither did turning forty. So the millions she poured into renovating the entire thirtieth floor at Abel to create a first-class gym just seemed like a conscientious move for her and the employ
ees.
Tuesday only hoped to reclaim some semblance of the banging body that had been as much a trademark as her color-changing eyes. She knew she would never again be the same bad bitch who used to cause thunderstorms when she danced at the Bounce House but wasn’t ready to let it all turn to pudding. Building the company gym had only been about keeping herself tight for her husband. She never intended to meet anyone.
She never intended for her and a co-worker’s innocent flirting to lead to an innocent lunch date. She never intended for their innocent friendship to become a not-so-innocent relationship.
There was nothing innocent about what just happened in that bungalow, and what had been happening several times a week for the past four months.
Tuesday left Shaun sleeping on the bed, grabbed her purse, then rushed into the adjoining bathroom. Inside she checked her phone to find twelve missed calls. She hissed a string of curse words then bit her lip in frustration.
As expected, most were from Brandon and the office sprinkled in with a few random numbers that were unimportant, but the final three were from her husband. Those haunted her. He had started calling at fifteen minutes after seven and tried two more times in fifteen minute intervals. Seeing this was like a gut-punch that dropped Tuesday onto the toilet.
She pulled up her event calendar and saw that it was clearly marked there: Danielle’s School, 7 pm. She had saved it in her phone, and had her secretary give her a verbal reminder, only to forget still. Tuesday had totally lost track of time, which was happening more and more often while she was with Shaun. It was bad enough that she was lying to Marcus, and being late for (if not altogether missing) board meetings and appointments at work, but now she was even flaking on her daughter.
And for what? Flawless caramel skin, an amazing body, and exotic features. Shaun was new and exciting but Marcus was her heart. It wasn’t even a contest.
Tuesday stood and when she caught a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, she frowned. She was ripened by time but still had the luscious lips and gray-green eyes that made her a dime. Her skin had been bronzed some by the California sun. She eventually got her body right thanks to exercise, a low-carb diet, and a little bit of cosmetic surgery. It was not her appearance that had Tuesday put off by her reflection.
She said, “Bitch, you fuckin’ up!” And the twin staring back at her nodded to agree.
It was time to end this shit and she knew it.
When Tuesday came from the bathroom, Shaun was sitting up on the bed waiting. Nude, twenty-two years old, and perfect. This byproduct of a black father and Peruvian mother had a body toned by discipline and good genetics. Shaun’s mind had earned that degree in accounting, but the looks had helped to pay tuition. The brief stint as a model had resulted in a few magazine spreads and video shoots as well as three hundred and fifty thousand followers on Instagram. Shaun was a gym rat whose dedication had helped to spark Tuesday. One of Tuesday’s favorite pastimes was smoking some good California kush and just watching the youngster walk around the house naked.
Shaun was an Amazon, at close to five feet ten inches. When they met in the center of the room, Tuesday’s four-inch heels only put her at eye level with Shaun, who was still in bare feet. Shaun’s one hundred and thirty-seven pounds were always beach ready. What accentuated her figure was a pencil-thin waist and eight-pack abs. She had small up-thrust breasts with rubbery nipples that Tuesday loved to feed on almost as much as the pretty shaved pussy which always smelled and tasted of something sweet.
Tuesday took it all in, knowing that this was going to be the last time. Tuesday grabbed an ass that was well-toned from squats and leg-lifts. Their lips met for a long, slow kiss, and when Shaun tried to pull her back towards the bed, Tuesday had to stop her.
“Bae, just stay the night,” Shaun said in that whiny little voice that could be cute or annoying depending on Tuesday’s mood.
Tuesday gave her a look that expressed she didn’t find it cute at the moment. It was a stupid comment because Shaun knew better.
“Shit, I was supposed to be home like three hours ago.” She shrugged her bag onto her shoulder. “I missed another meeting with the board members today. Worse, I missed Dani’s competition! My husband and daughter probably flippin’ a coin right now to see which of ’em get to kill me.”
Shaun pouted the way she always did when Tuesday brought up her family. “I’m beginning to think you and him ain’t gone ever have that talk.”
Tuesday rolled her eyes. The talk Shaun wanted her to have with Marcus was never going to happen. Tuesday had only said it would to placate her, and Shaun was finally starting to realize that. Even if she did like to fuck a bad bitch once in a while, to Tuesday her family was, is, and always would be first.
Shaun went to the bed and yanked off the sheet to cover herself. It was to say that Tuesday had lost the privilege of seeing her beautiful body.
Tuesday turned to leave. “I gotta go.”
There was a finality in those three words that Shaun could pick up on. She snatched off the three-carat diamond earrings that Tuesday bought for her a week prior and threw them at her.
“Here, I don’t want ’em and I don’t want you. Bye! D’you know how many women and men try to holla at me every day? Shit, look at me. Just on my floor I got six or seven people lined up for a shot at me. You think a fine muthafucka like me can’t do no better than a bitch who old enough to be my momma?”
Tuesday didn’t feed. She understood that it was just Shaun’s youth and immaturity giving vent to her pain. Tuesday didn’t even bother to pick up the earrings. She stepped over them on her way out of the bedroom.
“Maybe I should go see HR in the morning. Tell ’em that the chief executive officer came on to me in the gym, told me that if I didn’t go out with her, I’d lose my job. What if I did that?”
Tuesday stopped and threatened her with a look.
While the company had no official policy against employees dating, her and Shaun’s relationship was inappropriate, which was why they took great care to play it low-key at work. Outside of Tuesday’s marriage, their respective ranks within the company did violate the unwritten rules of the corporate caste system. If a low-level drone from the accounting department went to human resources and claimed that the owner’s wife and CEO used her position as leverage, it could cause a scandal. Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein’s accusers had opened the floodgates, only to be pushed wider by the #metoo movement. Powerful people making unwanted sexual advances against their subordinates had embroiled many celebrities and had recently become the media vultures’ favorite carrion.
“Going to HR wouldn’t be the smartest thing you did,” said Tuesday. “My family doesn’t like unwanted attention, and you’ll be surprised how far we’ll go to keep our names out of the press.”
Tuesday saw in Shaun’s face that the message was received. She turned and continued her exit.
“Wait.” Shaun ran down the hall after her.
Tuesday was in the living room a few feet from the door when Shaun came and wrapped her up from behind. Shaun was a big girl and Tuesday was too old to be fighting. There was a Heckler in her bag; her alias Tabitha King had a license to carry in the state of California. She liked Shaun, but if she tried to go Fatal Attraction, Tuesday wasn’t above shooting this bitch.
“Please, baby, please. Just listen to me.”
She spun Tuesday to face her. Shaun needed all her beauty and the sincerity in those sparkling brown eyes to make her final plea. “Tabitha, that nigga will never love you as much as I do. NEVER.”
Tuesday stared back at her with eyes that were hard and gray. All the green had vanished from them.
“And I will never love you as much as I love HIM.”
Shaun stumbled backwards, holding her chest as if the words were a gun blast. Her face contorted, her lips quivered.
Tuesday saw the buckling of the emotional dam and could pinpoint the exact second when Shaun’s heart had broken. Tears spilled
in a steady stream. She ran to the couch, flopped down hard, and began to bawl like a child.
Everything Tuesday had in her wanted to go and console her friend but she couldn’t. This was always going to end ugly, and Tuesday knew it even if the youngster didn’t. She left that cheap bungalow in West Hollywood. Tuesday pulled the door closed to the sound of Shaun calling her a thousand different kinds of bitch.
Chapter Two
By the time Tuesday made it home, dusk had descended and the landscape lighting bathed the limestone facade of the big Grecian mansion in a luminous white. The portico over the front entrance was supported by huge columns with decorative acanthus capitals. Out front, statues of Aphrodite and Athena stood post on either side of a wide, reflecting pond where a fountain sprayed water jets into the air that resembled arcs of gold coins when dazzled by the moonlight. Tuesday often thought that their house looked like something that should sit atop Mount Olympus rather than be a home for ordinary mortals.
She parked her white SLS AMG Benz beneath the portico behind Marcus’s black G Wagon SUV and the two-tone Rolls Royce Wraith they shared. The rest of their toys were kept in the attached garage. She sighed when she saw her stepfather’s Bentley Mulsanne, only because she had hoped to avoid him until tomorrow.
Tuesday killed the engine but didn’t get out. She wasn’t quite ready to face her family. For a second she just sat there behind the wheel of her two-hundred-thousand-dollar car, looking out over the grounds of her thirty-million-dollar estate.
Life was good. In fact, life was so damned good that it was easy to forget how hard things used to be. Just three years ago, Tuesday would spend months plotting a lick that might only net her twelve grand when now she could easily spend ten times that in a single trip to the Hermes store. She had forgotten about those lonely nights in her one-room condo, eating microwave dinners with only her cat for company: no family, no man, and so horny that she was going through fresh batteries every few days. She promised herself that she would never take Marcus and the girls for granted, but that was exactly what she had done. That was why she had to cut Shaun loose.