PROLOGUE

PHILADELPHIA, PA

An impulsive grin stretched across Shalik’s face as he glanced over to the passenger side of his Infinity QX 50 truck where Sandra sat. He couldn’t believe his luck. Not only was she one of the sexiest urban models in Philadelphia, but she also owned a popular clothing line.

Sandra had been making eye contact and throwing flirtatious smiles at him while in Club Onyx all night. Donning an exclusive black lace cat suit that boldly displayed her remarkably curvaceous body, paired with black and gold Guiseppe spiked suede heels, all eyes from both men and women were justifiably on her. Seemingly oblivious to them all, she was fixated on Shalik.

His name was quickly spreading throughout South Philly due to his steady rise in the drug game. He never had a problem when it came to the ladies, but to receive the attention from a woman of Sandra’s stature confirmed that he made it to the major leagues.

Shalik casually watched Sandra head to the bar. A moment later, to his surprise, she strutted up to him with two drinks in her manicured hands and offered him one. He accepted. Less than an hour later they were on their way to his house.

“Do you wanna stop and get something to eat?” Shalik asked.

“All I want is some desert.” The seductive tone in her voice made her message quite clear.

“I’m sure I can satisfy your cravings.” He played it cool and continued driving.

They engaged in small talk and exchanged flirtatious jabs until he pulled into the driveway of a spacious white and tan Victorian style home on 65th and Woodbine.

They eased out of the vehicle and Shalik disabled the alarm system to his home before they entered.

“Is this really your house?” Sandra asked as she stood in the marble floored foyer looking around in shock and awe.

“Yeah, I just moved in a few months ago,” he answered proudly.

Her expensive heels clicked against the foreign tile as she stepped closer. He met her advance, embraced her and wrapped his hands around her twenty-six inch waist. Her soft, sensuous kiss caused blood to rush through his entire body. He slowly guided his hands down to her forty-two inch hips, allowing them to caress her plump, round butt.

Feeling a slight rumble in his stomach, he took a step back.

“What’s wrong?” Sandra asked.

“N-nothing.” He felt the rumble again, but this time it was more intense. “Baby, make yourself comfortable. I think I have to use the bathroom.”

Before she could respond he began to trot up the stairs.

Sandra removed her cell phone and sent a text: I’m here...the front door is open. Hurry up!

She slid the phone back into her Yves Saint Laurent leather clutch and waited patiently.

Within two minutes the door opened. Mack slid inside wearing all black clothing, including black leather gloves. “Did you pour that stuff I gave you in his drink?” he asked in a low whisper.

“Yeah. He’s upstairs using the bathroom right now.” Sandra answered.

“It’s a black Crown Victoria with tinted windows parked four houses down. Get in the driver’s side. I’ll be there in a minute.”

She immediately left and Mack closed the door behind her. He crept up the stairs while removing a massive .357 Python revolver from the holster on his waist. Once the bathroom was located, he knocked lightly on the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute, baby,” Shalik shouted from inside.

Mack pushed the door open and walked into the bathroom. Shalik looked up in fright at the large, imposing man who stood before him. The menacing rubber-gripped hand cannon was clutched in Mack’s huge hand, invoking the fear of a tamed pit bull.

“I sent you a message to get down with SP, and I don’t like the response you gave my young bawh.”

Unsure of what to do, Shalik raised his hands partially in the air. “Can we talk about this, Mack?”

“It ain’t nothin’ else for us to talk about. I gave you two options—get down, or lay down. You ain’t want to take the first option, so I’ma give you the second one.”

“That’s my word I was going to get in touch with you. Ya bawh came up to me at the wrong time. I was...”

“Nigga, you’re full of shit,” Mack interjected. “Matter of fact, put ya fuckin’ head in the toilet.”

“Are you serious? I ain’t puttin’ my head in the toilet. It’s shit in there!”

With lightning speed, Mack closed the space between him and Shalik, raising his hand that held the pistol and sent it crashing down on his face.

Upon impact the heavy steel caused his skin to break, causing blood to escape. He fell off the toilet with his jeans draped around his ankles. Mack repeatedly rained thunderous blows from the pistol until Shalik’s face was nothing more than a swollen, bloodied, unrecognizable mess. Mack stood up breathing heavily.

“Fuck you!” Shalik managed to push the words through his broken jaw.

“Oh yeah? I like that. Let me see if your tough ass can take these bullets.” He aimed his gun at Shalik’s face.

His eyes grew wide as he stared deep into the large barrel. Mack squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession, smearing the bathroom floor with blood, skull fragments and chunks of brain. His body instantly stilled as his soul was released.

With one final look at his work, Mack left the house and got into the passenger seat of the Crown Victoria. Sandra pulled off without saying a word...