Like everyone else in the world, Real was watching the Miami news and the face of his enemy being broadcast. Bellda was in shock when she heard that the head of the Haitian mafia had struck again within ten years.
“Baby, this man got to be crazy!” Bellda exclaimed while looking at the face of Black on the news.
“Yeah, that shit he did is gonna have him famous forever,” Real admitted.
“It’s voodoo that he supposedly left behind. Calling it a damn sacrifice.”
Real grabbed the remote control from the nightstand and shut off the television.
“What do you think about this voodoo shit?” Real questioned.
He was worried, because he didn’t really want to expose his fear of his enemy possibly casting a spell on him.
“My mama always told me that in order to be affected by the works of voodoo, you’d have to believe in it first,” Bellda said to Real as she climbed on top of him and straddled him.
“So, if I don’t believe in it, don’t worry about it?”
“Exactly, baby,” Bellda retorted as she kissed Real on the lips.
“Do you believe in it?” he asked her.
“No, baby. I never even been to Haiti to even be ’round those who do,” Bellda answered.
Real instantly began thinking about Gina and what she had declared before she lost her mind. She had told the doctors, Real , and Shamoney that she saw Black come into the room while they were visiting her.
“Gina’s deaf, and no one has any idea what caused it, not even the doctors,” Real explained to Bellda.
“So that’s why she sounds like a chicken now?” Bellda asked, not meaning to sound sarcastic.
“Something happened to her that no one can explain,” Real said.
“Well, let’s not worry about it right now. I need some dick,” Bellda said as she slid down in bed, pulled out Real’s dick through the slot in his briefs, and then slowly began to suck his cock.
“Deal!” he exhaled.
* * *
Killa County
Fort Pierce City
“Chyna Man, let me holla at you for a moment,” one of Johnny’s workers, Demon, said.
“What’s good, homie?” Johnny asked while sitting on the trunk of his Chevy Impala SS.
“Man, shit over on 7th Street spooking me out, brah!”
“What do you mean by that, Demon?”
“Shit! Money too good, and I don’t have the supply I need. So I’m wondering if we can get more product so we won’t be losing money waiting on re-up,” Demon suggested.
Johnny thought for a moment. What Demon was really telling him was that it was time to step up on the quantity of supplies. And the only person who could do that was his brother Real. “I’ma see what I can do and get back to you.”
“Bet that up, my nigga,” Demon retorted as he gave Johnny dap before he strutted off.
“Yo, Chyna Man!” a fiend called out while walking up from behind the projects building with his fist balled tightly holding money.
“What’s good?” Johnny asked the filthy fiend.
“Man, I need a twenty, and I mean a phat twenty piece.”
“Well, do you have phat twenty piece money?” Johnny asked.
“Yeah, hear me out first. I only got—”
Before the fiend could finish, Johnny pulled out his .44 Bulldog and aimed it at the fiend’s head.
“What the fuck I tell you ’bout coming to me short of money? You think I’m out here risking my freedom and life ’cause you want to come short of my money?” Johnny screamed at the startled fiend.
“Naw, nephew, it ain’t even like that. See, what I was trying to tell you was that I got eighteen dollars.”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Johnny wasn’t trying to hear that shit. He popped the fiend three times in the head. When he looked around, he only saw two witnesses, but they both walked back into their apartments. Johnny then got in his car and reversed over the dead fiend, leaving a more gruesome sight, as the confines of the fiend’s stomach poured out of his mouth.
“Muthafucka come to me half-stepping. It’s too much money out here to come to me short of money,” Johnny said as he called up one of his bitches who lived on Airport Road in the area.
Her name was Dominique, and she was one of his favor-ites.
“Hello,” Dominique answered.
“Daddy’s on his way home. You know how I want it.”
“Boy, you a mess. You better hurry up, because I have to go to work soon,” she retorted.
“Say no more,” Johnny replied.
When Johnny pulled up to Dominique’s crib, he parked his Impala backward. Dominique was a married woman whose husband stayed on the go working as a movie director. Johnny had last heard that he was in New York. Still, Johnny wasn’t going to take any chances. It was routine, and he wasn’t changing up for anything in the world. As he walked toward the front door, Dominique opened it wearing only a towel from hopping out of the shower.
“Baby all wet for me, huh?” Johnny said as he pulled her into his arms and gripped her succulent ass all at once.
Johnny closed the front door with his foot and then pinned Dominique against the door. He then locked the door to secure his safety. He kissed her deeply while she unfastened his jeans and then pulled out his erect dick. She stroked him to his capacity while drowning in his deep-throat kisses. Dominique was a sexy five foot four, 125-pound dark-skinned bitch who had a striking, scintillating, voluptuous body.
“Mmm!” she moaned out when Johnny began to suck on her neck.
He stepped out of his jeans, picked her up, and carried her over to the comfortable plush sofa. When he laid her down, Johnny began planting small kisses down her body from her lips to her breasts.
“Baby, please!” Dominique panted as he continued to sexually torture her.
When Johnny made it to her sultry mound and stuck his fingers inside her wetness, her body began to tremble.
“Uhh shit, daddy!” she purred.
Johnny sucked, licked, and ate her pussy until she came like crazy. She was a squirter, and Johnny loved it every time he made her squirt. Dominique was panting and begged him to fuck her.
“Baby, please fuck me!”
Johnny stood up and began stroking himself. “Put that ass in the air for daddy,” he demanded.
Dominique wasted no time following orders. When she got on all fours with her ass airborne, Johnny deeply plunged inside her world.
“Uhh shit!” she cried out in ecstasy.
* * *
“That’s a swamp nigga,” Crazy Zoe said to his twin brother, Boxhead.
They were Haitian mafia Zoes and had just left the Treasure Coast Mall shopping for some new shoes and clothes. Crazy Zoe was the eldest of the two. They were both very swarthy, with foreign features and a heavy Haitian accent when they spoke English.
“I know they swamp niggas because I did time with the tall one. That’s Kenny,” Crazy Zoe explained.
“What? You want to hit ’em up or just give it to them?” Boxhead asked.
“Chub said to flip these niggas on every corner. Then that’s what we gonna do,” Crazy Zoe said as he started the engine.
“Let’s follow them until we get somewhere to hit ’em up good,” Boxhead recommended.
“Yeah, we’ll trail ’em,” Crazy Zoe retorted as they began trailing the black-on-black Charger.
* * *
Shamoney wasn’t a happy camper being hundreds of miles away from home. He was hoping to end up in a nearby prison closer to home. Despite him being housed in the Florida panhandle at Century Correctional, Chantele still got on the road with her twins and Shada Jr. to visit Shamoney. He was happy to see his family when he stepped into the visitor lobby in his fresh blue prison state uniform.
“Hey, baby,” Chantele spoke as she stood up, hugged, and then kissed her man.
“Damn, woman! I miss you like crazy. Talkin’ on the phone will never compensate the value of actually seeing your beautiful face, baby.” He then looked at the kids. “And how are my babies doing?” Shamoney asked as he reached in and grabbed his two daughters and brought Shada Jr. into a warming embrace as well. He kissed them all, no more, no less. “Boy, you getting big!” Shamoney acknowledged.
Shada Jr. was happy to see his father. He clung to his leg like it was the last thing in the world to hold on to.
“You miss me, boy?” Shamoney asked Shada Jr. as he picked him up and sat him on his lap.
“All he says is ‘Daddy’ to me, and he won’t even say it to nobody else. What do you want to eat? I’ll go grab it while I give you time with the kids,” Chantele said.
“Anything will be fine. Whatever you eat, I’ll eat, baby.”
“Okay,” Chantele retorted as she strutted off to stand in the food line.
While Chantele stood in line, Shamoney admired her beauty, for only the guards knew that she was a swimsuit model. All of them were female guards, who, unbeknownst to her, had spiteful envy toward her because of their crush on Shamoney.
“Psss! Psss!”
Shamoney heard an inmate next to him hiss at him. When he turned around, he saw his workout partner, Big Mitch, looking at him while visiting his wife.
“Please tell me that’s not Chantele Wilkins from Swimsuit.”
“Yeah, Mitch, it’s her. I forgot to tell you she’s my wife,” Shamoney informed.
“You lucky son of a bitch!” Big Mitch said as he chuckled. “Hey, me and my wife are going to take pictures in a minute. Can we have her autograph?”
“Can you keep a secret?” Shamoney asked.
“Of course I can.”
“Then yeah,” Shamoney assented.
When Chantele returned to the table with a variety of food, Shamoney’s mouth began to water.
“I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you one of everything. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Baby, you are good. So how many people noticed you?” he asked.
“None and let’s pray that it stays that way. I didn’t dye my hair blonde for the hell of it,” Chantele said.
“Well, apparently you have a real fan. Big Mitch seems to know you really well.”
“Who the hell is Big Mitch?” Chantele wanted to know.
“He’s my workout buddy. All he wants is your autograph.”
“Are you serious?” Chantele inquired as Shamoney bit into his chicken sandwich.
“Yep!” he retorted while chewing on his sandwich. “Meantime, let’s just worry about us. Did you remember how they frisked you when comin’ in?”
“Yes, they did a poor job. I could have smuggled a gun in if I wanted to.”
“Really?”
“Matter of fact, I brought you something. It’s in Shada Jr.’s diaper,” Chantele explained.
Shamoney couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He had told Chantele that the visit would be the first to just scope out the security before he began to smuggle anything in. Big Mitch was the mule who would suitcase whatever Chantele had brought.
“What did you bring?” Shamoney asked as he picked up Shada Jr. and then sat him back on his lap.
“Just a couple of E pills,” Chantele said.
Shamoney dug his finger inside Shada Jr.’s diaper and immediately felt the bundle of pills wrapped in plastic. He looked over at Big Mitch, who was in conversation with his wife, and then at the female CO guards who were too busy talking among themselves.
“Psss! Psss!” Shamoney hissed to get Big Mitch’s attention.
“What’s up, pal?” Big Mitch answered.
Shamoney quickly and furtively tossed the bundle of E pills to him.
“Get rid of them,” Shamoney ordered.
“Sure will do, pal,” Mitch replied.
* * *
When Crazy Zoe saw Kenny pull into Taco Bell on US 1 in Stuart, his patience was at zero. “Man, I say we pop both of them now and leave these stankin’ niggas at the drive-thru. What’s up?” he asked Boxhead, who was a more calm and calculated menace than his hotheaded brother.
“Fuck it! Let’s do it. Then we go missing!” Boxhead assented.
Kenny pulled up his nice Lexus SUV to the order box and waited to get served.
“Welcome to Taco Bell, and thank you for choosing us today. May I take your order?” the sexy voice said.
“Man, who that sexy-ass voice belong to?” J-Mack said from the passenger side of the SUV.
“What do you want, J-Mack?” Alexis, the Taco Bell employee asked over the speaker.
“Girl, don’t act like you not happy to hear from your crush,” said Kenny, who was hanging out the window and never saw the threat approaching, but Alexis did from her monitor.
“J-Mack! Y’all watch!”
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
“Noo!” Alexis screamed as she watched Crazy Zoe release an entire clip on Kenny and J-Mack, who were caught slipping.
“Shut up, bitch!” Boxhead shouted as he shot at the voice box before he and his brother made their successful getaway.