by Tee Jae
She Fell In Love With A Miami
Kingpin
TEE JAE
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© 2018
Published by Elite Publications
www.leolsullivan.com
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
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Acknowledgements
First, I would like to thank God for making this possible; He continued picking me up and guiding me every time I’d fall to knees.
To my closest family and friends who continuously believed in me, pushing and NEVER letting me give up. I am especially thankful for you all.
This has been one helluva rollercoaster and you guys never left my side. I hope that I make you all proud and you continue filling me up with positive vibes.
To my new Elite Publications family: you guys welcomed me with open arms and I'm forever grateful! Let's put some best sellers on the market BABYYYYYYYYYYY!
Dedication
I would like to dedicate my first book to my son, M'khai.
Without you, I would not have the courage to move forward with my dreams.
While bringing me happiness, you also inspire me to do better, love better, provide better and there is nothing in this world I wouldn't do for you.
Keep your eyes on the prize and I'll be with you every step of the way.
Chapter 1
Brooklyn
3 a.m.
Boom!!
Jumping up out of a deep sleep, I glanced at the security monitor that was mounted next to our bed for a second and watched as the DEA jackets moved around on the lower level floor of our home. The fear that I felt for myself was quickly replaced with fear for my fiancé. Being engaged to one of Atlanta’s biggest drug dealers, I knew that a wake-up call in the middle of the night like this only meant one of two things; it was either jack boys or the Fed’s invading my home. Gator prepared me for either, so I was trained to shoot or keep my mouth shut in an interrogation room. I grabbed my silk kimono and slipped it over my naked body. Once Gator reached a different tax bracket in the game, you always had to have your people on standby; I grabbed my cell phone off the night stand and dialed our lawyer, Strickler.
“I’m getting dressed. Downtown or your home?” he spoke sleepily into the phone.
“Just meet me downtown. I’m sure they’ll be gentle with my home this time around.” I told him ending the call and locking my phone right before the federal agents kicked in my bedroom door.
“DON’T MOVE! HANDS IN THE AIR!” They screamed and despite how nervous I was, a smirk formed on my lips.
“Don’t move or put my hands up? You’ll have to pick one!” I said lifting my hands and wiggling my fingers. “Be aware that you’re being recorded, and the tapes can’t be deleted or destroyed from here.” I warned them right before a short, stocky man, made his way through the agents with their guns aimed at me.
“I’m Agent Garcia,” he said holding a piece of paper in the air. I took it and carefully looked over the warrant; this wasn’t my first rodeo. These motherfuckers had a hard on for Gator ever since he took over the streets of Atlanta.
“Have your way,” I smirked handing him the warrant back, “oh and one more thing, if a piece of my Italian leather furniture is ripped or hell, if a fucking glass is broken in this motherfucker you and your unit will be held accountable.” I called my last warning. The last home that Gator and I shared was raided and they ripped up the entire place and found nothing. Dan Strickler, one of the top criminal lawyers in the world had a field day making an ass out of the agents and in the end, the state had to reimburse us for everything broken in our home.
I sat around for two hours while they searched our 7,500 square foot home with not a worry in a world. If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was Gator never shit where he slept. After aimlessly searching and coming up empty handed, the fat fuck who presented me with the warrant approached me.
“Ms. Trase, you are not under arrest, but we ask that you come down to the station for a few questions. You can go put on something a little more comfortable if you need to.” Nodding my head ok, I walked back upstairs and changed clothes before heading downtown. Pulling out of my garage, I pulled up alongside the officers standing around in the driveway.
“Gentlemen, is there something else you needed?” I asked rolling down the window to my cocaine white Porsche, Panamera.
“Ms. Trase, when we asked you to ride down to the station, we meant with us,” I rolled my eyes. I was bored with the good cop act already.
“You said I wasn’t under arrest, right?”
Clearing his throat, “Well no, but…” with that, I drove off with a few of his agents following close behind me.
On the ride downtown, my stomach was in knots thinking about Gator. I love that man to death and I always stood by his side, but I needed to know what we were up against and not knowing, had my mind scattered all over the place. I thought back to our fertility appointment today that he never showed up to. We have been trying to have a baby for about a year now and it just wasn’t happening. At this point, I needed to know if it was him or me and find a solution.
Once we made it downtown and inside the station, Strickler jumped up from his seat walking towards the agent who led the raid,
“It’s 5 a.m. and I’ve been here for two hours waiting on my client. What the hell took you guys so long and where is Mr. Issac?” he asked referring to Gator, while looking me up and down to see if I was alright.
“I’m ok,” I gave him a faint smile.
Agent Garcia turned to me, “I told you that you were not under arrest.”
I winked at him, “A girl can never be too sure”.
Garcia escorted Strickler and I inside an interrogation room where we sat quietly waiting to be questioned. We both knew there were agents on the other side of the two-way mirror just listening to see if we would talk about anything. A few minutes later, the door swung open and in walked a tall, lanky redheaded white woman and a medium build, handsome, black man. I immediately noticed them from the invasion earlier at our home. Only difference was they were dressed in suits and not cop attire. The redhead spoke first,
“Good morning, I’m agent Williamson and this is Agent Jenkins,” she said pointing to her partner, as they took a seat on the opposite side of the grey steel table.
“Where is my client?” Strickler asked.
Agent Jenkins spoke up, “Mr. Issac is being held under some pretty serious charges at the moment. You can actually leave now and speak to him if you wish.” Strickler huffed and sat back in his chair, knowing they were trying to get me alone.
Agent Williamson sat a tiny black recorder in the middle of the table and pushed the record button down, “Ms. Trase, how long have you known Chris Issac, also known to the streets as Gator?”
“I don’t know anyone by the name of Gator. I am engaged to Chris Issac,” I flashed my 7 carat, cushion cut, engagement ring. “Whom I’ve known basically all of my life, a businessman and entrepreneur,” I
answered in a matter of fact tone.
“So, you’re not aware of your fiancé’s activities outside of your home?” Agent Jenkins smirked, and I rolled my eyes at him. Black cops that tried to take another black man down disgusted me. Gator wasn’t a saint but he damn sure took care of the people in our black community.
Strickler spoke up, “My client wishes not to answer that question.” After going in circles and getting no answer to any of their questions, the agents decided to turn it up a notch.
Agent Williamson placed a folder on the table and retrieved a photo out of it, sliding it across the table towards me, I stared down at the photo of a beautiful woman who looked to be Dominican or Cuban, either way I had no connection to the girl.
“She’s a beauty,” I replied, sliding the picture back across the table to the agent.
“She is,” Williamson responded as she slid another picture towards me, it was the same woman with two small children. A gorgeous little girl that looked no older than two hanging onto the woman’s leg, while she held a baby boy who looked around eight months on her hip. I pushed the picture back across the table and she slid another picture across the table that made my heart drop to my stomach. I stared at the picture of the same woman with her two kids and Gator on a family portrait; Strickler quickly sat up and snatched the picture up from the table.
“What type of bullshit games are you all playing with my client?” the agents ignored him.
“Ms. Trase, have you ever wondered why you and Mr. Issac have yet to tie the knot?” the agent asked, standing up from the table. Suddenly, the room felt hot like it was about to cave in, I popped my shirt back and forth to get some air. Strickler grabbed my arm,
“We are not here to discuss my clients’ personal relationship. Brooklyn, let’s go!” I stood up and grabbed my purse, but Williamson didn’t stop there.
“This is why!!!!!” she yelled, shoving a picture of the woman in a wedding dress and Gator standing right beside her in a tuxedo. I stood still staring at the picture feeling nauseous and light headed. I leaned over and snatched the picture out of her hand.
Strickler grabbed me, “Let’s go, Brooklyn, do not fall into the trap that they have set up. They will do anything to bring Chris down.” I looked back at the agent who had a devious smile on her face.
Rushing out of the interrogation room, I ran outside with Strickler hot on my heels, pushing through the door feeling the cool morning air on my face helped me catch my breath. No Way! Gator’s not married, I been with this man since I was seventeen. Granted, I know he’s had his fair share of infidelities here and there but MARRIED, seriously?
I already have my dress picked out! We were waiting on the wedding planner to get back with us on the location I so desperately wanted.
MARRIED? NO WAY!
I glanced down at the picture I snatched out of the agent’s hand. Gator was smiling, he looked happy…content even, the problem is… HE’S MY MAN! How? When? Where? I started thinking back to all his out of town trips and oh my goddddddddd, kids? Were these kids his? I had to control the vomit threatening to release from my body. I leaned over on the railing trying to keep my composure,
“Brooklyn, wait here. I will see if I can get you a visit with Chris, so this could make some sense,” Strickler said as he grabbed my face trying to get me to focus. “You don’t let these motherfuckers break you… Wait here!” he told me and rushed back inside the building.
I sat on the steps waiting patiently for Strickler to return. After about 15 minutes and a million questions crossing my mind, he finally walked out of the building and waved me over to him. He pulled me close as we walked inside and whispered in my ear, “No matter what, do not lose your cool in there. The only reason these pigs allowed this meeting is because they think you or him will incriminate yourselves and help the case.”
I stood outside the door and took a deep breath before walking inside. Gator had his head down and cuffed to the table but even in this situation he was still handsome. Standing at 6’3, he was every woman’s dream. His long, neat dreads were pulled back into a ponytail while his full bushy beard was wild and untamed. The scar that ran from his ear to the corner of his mouth only enhanced his features. He was rugged, bossy, thuggish and the ugly tan uniform that covered his smooth chocolate skin didn’t take away from his swagger. He still looked like THAT NIGGA even in turmoil. He lifted his head once he saw me and plastered a genuine smile on his face, causing my heart jump but behind that smile, I could see the stress in his bloodshot red eyes. Walking over to the opposite side of the table, I pulled my chair out and sat across from him.
He stared at me.
I stared at him.
A good three minutes passed before he spoke up. “I need you,” his voice low and raspy like he hadn’t talked in days. I tore my eyes away from him, afraid of falling for the bullshit he was about to spit. “I haven’t been honest with you Brooklyn.” I remained quiet giving him the floor to speak while keeping my eyes trained on the floor. “Brooklyn look at me.” I fidgeted with my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Brooklyn, listen, I know she has my last name and my kids but…” I reached across the table and slapped him.
WHAP!!!
“BUT WHAT MOTHERFUCKER? How dare you? How dare you sit in my face and tell me another woman has your last name? Ten years motherfucker…10 years!” I shouted, pissed off, unable to control the pool of tears falling from my eyes.
“I don’t love her, I love you… I had to mar…” he quickly shut up before finishing his sentence.
I stood up sending my chair flying back against the wall. “Nah, yo ass on mute, huh? You think I’m your gutta bitch? Huh? The one that holds you down through everything, while she’s your wife? That’s all I ever wanted was your last name and kids, but you prolonged it for TEN FUCKING YEARS!!!” I screamed.
I was nowhere near a gutta bitch! I mean, I held my man down like no other, but seeing the beautiful woman’s face that was married to my man caused me to feel insecurities that I’ve never felt in my life. Gator has never made me feel less than; part of me wanted to run into his strong muscular arms while he held me and tell me all this shit was a lie, but unfortunately it wasn’t. I’d spent the last decade of my life giving “my man” everything that I had in me, only to be slapped with some fucking true facts; this nigga doesn’t belong to me.
“Brooklyn, I love you! I want to be with you! She’s nothing to me, but I’ll never turn my back on my kids.”
Kids? Kids? I could’ve just puked hearing that shit come out of his mouth.
“Baby, look at me, I promise it will make sense later.” That was it, I heard enough. Standing up, I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. “BROOKLYN!!!” he shouted pulling at the steel table he was cuffed too. He started going crazy, bucking against the table like a wild animal. “BROOKLYN…DON’T YOU LEAVE ME!!!!” I ran out and down the hall. I could still hear him screaming my name; I covered my ears like a child and hightailed it outside.
I ran all the way to my car and slid in the front seat, pulling off into the early morning downtown traffic. It was almost like my car knew exactly where to go because I was in a daze and never snapped out of it until my car came to a complete stop. I stared out the window at the broken front door wrapped in tape reminding me that all this was very much real. Strickler pulled in the circular driveway and hurriedly rushed out of his car.
“Brooklyn, I need you to take a walk with me, I don’t trust us talking inside. The feds have had Chris on their list for a long time and will stop at nothing now that they have him in custody.” I nodded my head and lead him through the foyer of our home out into the back yard where there was a walkway leading up to the river. Once we sat down, he opened his briefcase and pulled out some paperwork.
“What’s this? His wife demanding, I leave our home?” I chuckled as Strickler pulled out an envelope and held it in his hand.
“Brooklyn, before I give this to you, I want you to know that if you deci
de to move forward I will advise you every step of the way. I have built a very unbreakable bond with the Issacs over the years and I consider you an Issac.” He said giving a friendly wink while handing me the sealed envelope. I took a deep breath before ripping it open:
Dear Brooklyn,
I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now, but if you are reading this that means my bullshit has caught up with me. You know I love you more than anything in this world but listen baby, three years ago I had to make a decision to keep my family safe and as your man I should have been honest with you. First off, I need you to know that I do not give a fuck about Yani, but I am a man and I do however love my kids. I know this has hurt you to the core and I’m truly sorry you had to find out this way, I have been working day in and day out to get myself out of this situation with the Ortiz family, so that I can marry my one true love; YOU! But now that my power is limited, I need you to make some moves on my behalf. You are the only person I trust whole heartedly; Brooklyn I love you and only you! You are strong…you are mine… and always remember you are in a fucking jungle, so watch your back!
Love, Chris
“Arghhhhhhhh!” I screamed out in pain as I ripped the letter apart. Tears threatening to fall from my eyes…three years? This nigga married this bitch three years ago? My wheels started turning trying to think back three years ago. The bond I thought we so closely shared and my love for him would not allow me to leave him stranded while he needed my help…. nah, fuck that! This nigga took an oath and married another bitch after I’ve dealt with many bitches during the decade of our relationship; even had to put hands on a few, but marriage was a different ball game. I felt foolish, ashamed, and most of all, I felt insecure. Like a fool, I’d spent months planning a wedding that was never going to happen. I had so many unanswered questions that I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know the answers too.
