After Miss. Elly took Norman III and Isuri to their bedroom, Face and Tasha retreated to their own room and closed the door. Tasha took off her silk robe and laid it across the arm of a chair. Then Face watched as she walked her naked body across the room and over to the bed.
"Okay, your turn," she said with a big grin. After all the years they had been together, Tasha was still very much attracted to his youthful and masculine handsomeness.
Every time she saw his naked and muscular physique she was in total awe. "Damn!" was all she could say.
After Face got undressed he joined her on the bed. They began kissing and moments later Tasha's moans filled the room. With her eyes tightly closed, her mind and body was somewhere between space and heaven.
* * *
For the past two and a half years Quincy now lived in Philly. Right after he was released from the San Quentin Prison, Face invited him to Philly to live and be a part of his crew. Quincy was Face's number one hitman and the leader of Face's own personal death squad.
In the two and a half years that Quincy lived in Philly, he had already killed eight men; one of them was a Philadelphia District Attorney. Standing at six feet three, Quincy had muscles popping out all over his tattooed body and he was an intimidating sight. The years he spent in prison had made him hard and bitter. He was a cold blooded killer who had no remorse for snitches, or the law. The only person that could control Quincy was Face, his younger brother, whom he loved more than anything else in life. There was nothing Quincy would not do for Face, even if it meant putting his own life on the line.
The black Cadillac Escalade pulled up on the corner of Chew and Chelten Avenue and Quincy rushed over and quickly got inside.
"What's up, Reese?" he said as they shook hands.
"Same ole' shit," Reese replied and he slowly pulled off. "You gotta hold the fort down tomorrow, while me and Face go out of town to take care of some business," he added.
"Don't worry, everything will be cool." Quincy looked at him. "You alright, Cuz?" he asked.
"Yeah, I'm cool. I just had a few things on my mind that’s all."
"Like what? Spill it out," Quincy said.
When Reese stopped the truck at a red light he looked at Quincy and said, "My grandmother's birthday is in three days. I always get a little sad around this time of year."
Quincy knew the whole story about Reese's grandmother and his younger brother being killed inside their home. He could feel Reese's pain, because he had also experienced a similar
tragedy in his own life, when his mother and step father were murdered inside their bedroom. "I know just how you feel, Cuz. Hopefully time will heal some of your pain. Just don't bug out like you did last year," Quincy said, playfully pushing his shoulder.
The light turned green and Reese pulled off and said, "I'll try not to."
They were referring to an incident the year before when Reese got so drunk that he pissed all over himself and fainted. He had gotten so drunk that Quincy and Face had to carry him to his bed. Once there, he slept for twelve straight hours.
Thirty minutes later the truck pulled up in front of a small row house. Quincy said, "I'll see y’all in a few days. Don't worry everything will be cool while y’all gone." They gave each other a pound and Quincy got out of the truck.
When Reese pulled off, Quincy went inside the house. He walked straight up the stairs and entered into a back bedroom and immediately went to a closet that was filled with a plethora of weapons and ammunition. He had AK-47s, SKs, .9mm's, Uzi's, pump shotguns, .40 caliber Desert Eagles, silencers, a few bullet proof vests and so much more. Quincy was a gun fanatic, and at any given time he was prepared for an all out war.
Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia...
Veronica stood in her doorway as a tall white man got out of his car and rushed toward her. He was wearing a pair of dark shades and a short blond colored wig. Once inside, Veronica closed the door behind them. "Charles I don't like this!" she said, walking over to the stairs.
"Veronica, I'm the Mayor for God's sake! What do you expect?" he said following her up the stairs and into her bedroom. "I have a political career to protect. So, it's better to be safe than sorry," he told her.
Veronica stood in front of Charles and took off his shades and wig. "It just seems so childish. And you look so stupid," Veronica said as she tossed the shades and wig to the floor.
Charles picked Veronica up in his arms and said, "As long as I get to be with you. That’s all that matters."
He laid her across the bed and watched as Veronica took off her robe. Seeing her beautiful naked body gave him an instant erection. Veronica gave him a seductive look as he started to get undressed. "You don't want to wait for Jeffery, Mr. Mayor?" she teased as she spread her legs wide apart. She watched as he removed a condom from its packet and unrolled it onto his dick. "I guess not," she smiled.
He walked over and eagerly joined his young black mistress on the bed. After all the years they had known each other, Charles, who was now the Mayor of Philadelphia, was still hooked on her sexual prowess, and he had no intentions of ever giving her up.
CHAPTER 81
Washington, D.C.
Early the next morning, 9:38 A.M...
Inside the J. Edgar Hoover Federal building a group of powerful, intelligent and political figures convened inside a large conference room. Ten men and two women sat around a large oval shaped conference table. They were all heads of federal agencies; FBI, ATF, DEA, U.S. Coast Guard, U.S. Treasury, Department of Homeland Security, the U.S. Attorney General and two senior members of the Senate.
Standing at the head of the table was Senator C.W. Watson, the new Presidentially appointed head of the Domestic Anti-Drug Commission. C.W. Wilson was a short stocky man with salt and pepper hair and light blue eyes. At five feet four inches tall, he was small in height, but he was a political giant. He established his powerful reputation as a member of in the Republican Party for the past thirty years. Where many respected him…many more feared him. C.W. Wilson was extremely serious about the new position the President entrusted him with and he was determined to clean up America's violent streets and finally win the loosing war on drugs.
But behind closed doors, a few powerful men knew that C.W. Watson's new position was only a stepping stone for something much bigger. In the next two years, if all went well, C.W. Watson would be the next Republican candidate for the United States Presidency.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a very serious crisis on our hands!" C.W. said, as his piercing blue eyes scanned the room. "And I was appointed to clean things up," he added.
There was a collective sigh from around the table as others agreed with him.
"My first task is to go right after the big boys. The so called, 'kingpins'! And all the drug smugglers that bring their garbage into our country."
C.W. opened his brown folder and took out a small stack of paper. He walked around the table and passed one sheet to each person.
"I want all of you to look very closely at the names and faces of the people on that page." Everyone did as he asked. "The men that you are looking at are the top five drug dealers in America. Ladies and Gentlemen, in the next two years I want every man on that list to be brought to justice! And I will use everything in my power to personally bring each one of these men down!
Everyone on The Anti-Drug Commission Committee started clapping and nodding their heads in agreement. "We will no longer stand for our great country to be run by low life scum of the earth! It's time to take back control of our country and I'm the man that was appointed the job to do it!” he wholeheartedly declared.
Once again all the committee members attending the private conference erupted in applause and enthusiastically nodded their heads in agreement.
After the meeting ended, C.W. Watson and another man was escorted outside and lead to an awaiting black limousine. They climbed inside and closed the doors.
"That was a good speech. I think you made your point,"
the man said.
"Thanks Robert because I meant every word I said. And I won't let anything stop me from getting in the White House. Nothing!" C.W. stated.
"How about we fly down to my property in South Carolina and do a little hunting this weekend? It's been a while," Robert said changing the subject.
"That sounds like a good idea. I have a Senate meeting tomorrow morning, but afterward you can count me in", C.W. said with a smile. Then he reached over and grabbed the phone.
Ibiza, a small island in the Mediterranean, off the coast of Valencia, Spain...
On the north side of the exotic island the clear blue water surrounded the sixty foot yacht. The yacht was far enough away from the island’s shore that complete privacy was not an issue. Six men stood out on the large deck talking and enjoying the beautiful weather. There was Rico and Jose Gomez, their top man Roberto Chevez, Face, Reese and a dark skinned, stocky man named Lance.
Lance was a drug kingpin from Cleveland, Ohio who the Gomez brothers supplied with 1500 to 2000 kilos a month.
"Anyway Face, like I was saying, my friend, we don't have anything to worry about. This guy C.W. Watson is just another front man that's been appointed to fool the public," Rico said.
Face nodded his head and took a sip of his French wine.
"So what do you think of all of this, Lance, you've been pretty quiet all morning," Rico asked.
"Huh?" Lance said, snapping out of his daze.
"I said, what do you think of all this talk about this new guy C.W. Watson? The head of the Domestic Anti-Drug Commission," Rico asked again.
"Uhm...I don't...I don't know nothing about him," Lance answered nervously.
Everyone looked at Lance with suspicious eyes. Since coming to the island he had been a nervous wreck. But the Gomez brothers told him it was imperative that he be there for a very important meeting. Both Face and Reese wondered why Lance was there. It was the first time the Gomez's had ever invited someone else to one of their meetings. It was something that Face had always opposed. He knew that the less people who knew his name and saw his face the better.
Rico walked over to Jose and Roberto and whispered something into each of their ears.
"Face do you and Reese mind standing over there? Jose asked, pointing near the end of the deck.
Face and Reese did as they were asked and wondered what was going on.
Lance stood there looking fearful and uneasy about his current situation. Sweat involuntarily poured from his forehead and it wasn't from the hot scorching sun.
Face and Reese stood back and watched as all three men surrounded Lance. Suddenly all three of them pulled their guns out from under their shirts. Lance's eyes widened in total fear.
"What the hell is..."
"Shut the fuck up and take off all your clothes!" Rico said, cutting him off in mid sentence.
Lance knew they were serious and started taking off all of his clothes.
Face and Reese watched everything from a short distance.
After Lance had taken off all his clothes he stood there totally naked and fearfully asked, "please Rico, what's this all about?"
Rico reached down and picked up his tropical colored shorts and slid the black leather belt out of the belt loops. He closely examined the strange looking square shaped buckle. Then
raised it up high in the air and smashed it hard against the teakwood deck of the yacht. When the buckle cracked open several small electrical components bounced and rolled across the deck exposing the well disguised recording device.
"So Lance, what agency made the belt for you… FBI? DEA? Who?! You fucking snitch!" Rico shouted.
"We found out everything!" Jose said. "We know all about the Feds catching you with drugs and weapons," he added.
Lance stood there speechless. His trembling body was covered in sweat.
"Do you know what we do to snitches and informants who work for the government? Motherfuckers like you who try to take us down?!" Rico vented.
"Please, man!" Lance begged with eyes filled with tears and fear.
Rico shook his head in disgust. Then, he, Jose and Roberto aimed and squeezed the triggers of their loaded Berretta .9mm’s, sending bullets into Lance's head and body. They watched as his dead, shot up body dropped hard on the deck’s surface.
Together they picked up Lance's corpse and tossed it over the side of the yacht and into the warm Mediterranean sea.
Rico walked over to Face and Reese, "There's nothing I hate more than a snitch!" he said before walking down the stairs.
CHAPTER 82
Two days later inside a safe-house in West Oak Lane, Philadelphia...
When Face and Reese returned from their trip Quincy had everything running smoothly. While they were away he made sure everything was under control and money kept pouring in. Quincy passed Face a back pack filled with cash. "That’s two hundred and fifty thousand dollars," he said. "I'm running over to Jersey tomorrow to pick up the rest," he added.
"Good job, Quincy," Face said, as he looked across the table at Reese.
Reese was sitting at the table daydreaming. For the past few days he had been in a somber mood and sorrow was written all over his face.
"Reese! Yo Reese!" Face said smacking the table.
Reese jerked his head and woke up from his day dream. When he looked across at the table Face and Quincy were both staring at him.
"Is you alright, man?" Face asked caringly. "'Cause you been really out of it the last few days," he added.
"Yeah, I'm cool, man. Just had some shit on my mind, that's all," Reese said, standing up from his chair.
Face already knew what Reese’s problem was because he too was dealing with the pain of losing Momma and D.J.; Face was just better at hiding his emotions.
"Face, I got some thinking to do. How 'bout y’all handle this without me tonight and I'll get with y’all tomorrow?" Reese said with a grim tone.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, I just need to drive around and clear my mind a little," Reese replied.
"Okay, just be safe. Luv you."
"Love you, too. See you tomorrow," Reese stated as he turned around and walked out of the living room.
When Reese had left the house, Quincy looked at Face and said, "He's going through it, man! I understand his pain, Face. I had to go through that same fucked up feeling when
my mom and stepfather got killed."
"I understand Quincy, but you got over it and moved on. Reese is letting Momma's death bring him down. And that's not good for a man in his position. I'm hurting too. Momma was like my grandmother and D.J. was like my little brother. But, I knew that if I didn't accept it and move on, that it would likely kill me. And that's what it's doing to Reese," Face said.
"We have a multi-million dollar a month drug business going on and I need my right hand man to be focused at all times, he added.
Sitting inside his black Cadillac Escalade, Reese reached over, opened the glove compartment and took out the small photos. He sat there staring at the pictures of Momma and D.J. with watery eyes. Not a day had gone by without him thinking about both of them. Many times he had blamed himself for their murders.
As the flow of tears fell down his face, Reese put the photos back, closed the glove compartment then reached under his seat and grabbed a bottle of Hennessey. Tearfully, he
unscrewed the top and raised the bottle up to his mouth, "I love you, Momma. Happy Birthday!"
After swallowing a big gulp, he sat the bottle between his thighs. When his cell phone started ringing he looked on the small caller ID screen and saw that it was from his fiancée.
Passion had been worried about him and had called him repeatedly for the last hour.
Reese put his cell phone down on the passenger seat, then started up his truck. As tears continued to fall as he pulled off and drove down the street. Every few minutes he would put the bottle to his lips and swallow another big gulp. As he drove to nowhere in particular, he cried, grieved and cont
inued to drink away his pain.
* * *
Inside the T&F offices, Tasha and Pamela were sitting around talking about a new property acquisition, when Passion sadly walked back into the office.
"Girl, you still ain't get in touch with Reese?" Pamela asked.
"No, Ms. Pam, he still ain't answering his cell phone. And I'm afraid...afraid...that..."
"Afraid of what? Tasha asked as she closed a black briefcase.
"I'm afraid that Reese will do something crazy today. Just like he did last year when he got drunk and started acting like a mad man," Passion replied.
"Just keep trying to call him. He'll eventually answer. Today's Momma's birthday. He's just hurting. But, sooner or later, he'll come around," Pamela said with compassion.
"I sure hope so," Passion said, sitting down in a chair. Tasha and Pamela watched as Passion started rubbing around her round plump belly. Passion was five months pregnant.
She and Reese were expecting their first child.
"Girl, you don't need to be stressing over nonsense. That ain't good for the baby," Tasha said in a caring voice.
"She's right, Passion. Stressing will only make matters worse," Pamela agreed.
As they sat there talking, a tall attractive white woman opened the door, and stuck her head inside. "Mrs. Smith, your meeting with the Chinese investors will start in five minutes.
They are all in the main conference room," she said.
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