by Kiki Swinson
Also by Kiki Swinson
Playing Dirty
Notorious
Wifey
I’m Still Wifey
Life After Wifey
Still Wifey Material
The Candy Shop
A Sticky Situation
Wife Extraordinaire
Wife Extraordinaire Returns
Cheaper to Keep Her series
The Score
The Mark
Anthologies
Sleeping with the Enemy (with Wahida Clark)
Heist and Heist 2 (with De’nesha Diamond)
Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless (with Noire)
A Gangster and a Gentleman (with De’nesha Diamond)
Most Wanted (with Nikki Turner)
Still Candy Shopping (with Amaleka McCall)
Fistful of Benjamins (with De’nesha Diamond)
Schemes and Dirty Tricks (with Saundra)
Also by Noire
The Misadventures of Mink LaRue
Natural Born Liar
Sexy Little Liar
Dirty Rotten Liar
Red Hot Liar
Stone Cold Liar
Anthologies
Maneater (with Mary B. Morrison)
Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless (with Kiki Swinson)
Published by Kensington Publishing Corp.
BAD BEHAVIOR
KIKI SWINSON
NOIRE
KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
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.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Bad Behavior © 2017 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Nine Lives © 2017 by Kiki Swinson
The Crushed Ice Clique © 2017 by Noire
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: 978-1-6177-3949-1
eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-950-7
eISBN-10: 1-61773-950-2
First Kensington Electronic Edition: January 2018
Table of Contents
Also by Kiki Swinson
Title Page
Copyright Page
Nine Lives
CHAPTER 1 - THE END OF THE TUNNEL
CHAPTER 2 - FREE MY BROTHER
CHAPTER 3 - MAKING MOVES
CHAPTER 4 - GOTTA BE MORE CAREFUL
CHAPTER 5 - OUR FIRST HIT
CHAPTER 6 - TIME TO SAY GOOD-BYE
CHAPTER 7 - TIME TO COLLECT
CHAPTER 8 - MAKING MORE MOVES
CHAPTER 9 - NINE MORE LIVES
CHAPTER 10 - MORE MONEY—MORE MONEY
CHAPTER 11 - LAYING OUT THE PLAN
CHAPTER 12 - MY BROTHER IS REALLY FUCKING CRAZY
CHAPTER 13 - BOYS IN THE HOOD
CHAPTER 14 - TWO DOWN, SEVEN TO GO
CHAPTER 15 - NO MORE SLIP-UPS
CHAPTER 16 - REALITY CHECK
CHAPTER 17 - WHAT’S REALLY GOING ON?
CHAPTER 18 - SURVEILLANCE TIME
CHAPTER 19 - MISSION ACCOMPLISHED
CHAPTER 20 - DEAD MAN WALKING
CHAPTER 21 - THREE SOULS LEFT
CHAPTER 22 - THIS CAN’T BE REAL
CHAPTER 23 - FALSE ALARM
CHAPTER 24 - WHY ME?
CHAPTER 25 - WHO’S NEXT ON THE LIST?
CHAPTER 26 - I’M SORRY!
The Crushed Ice Clique
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
Teaser chapter
Nine Lives
Kiki Swinson
CHAPTER 1
THE END OF THE TUNNEL
Normally when niggas get released from jail they are all happy and shit. They walk around the prison making plans about what they’re going to eat, who they’re going to fuck, and what they’re going to wear when they go to the nightclub. Not me. I’m kind of dreading going back into the streets. I don’t have a woman. I don’t have any kids. I don’t have any money, so I’m pretty much fucked up. Realistically speaking, the only person I have waiting for me on the outside is my twin sister, Ava. She’s been my rock since day one. I can count on her for anything. There has never been a time when I can say that she wasn’t there for me. When I needed commissary money, money for the telephones, and visits, she was there every single time.
I’ll be getting out of this hellhole in a matter of three days. Niggas been walking around the prison giving the handshakes, talking about, “Yeah, Aiden, you’re about to get out of this joint! Nigga, I know you’re happy.” They say it with excitement. And I always come back and say, “Nigga, fuck the outside! I don’t give a fuck about going home. This is my home. I’ve been in jail almost my whole life.”
Most of the cats roaming around here talk behind my back and say how crazy I am. And you know what? They’re right. I’m fucked up in the head. I don’t have any love for no one. The only person I can honestly say I love is my sister. So I vowed that if anything ever happens to her, or if a motherfucker ever tries to take her from me, I’m coming killed them on site. End of story.
I was sitting on my bed minding my damn business when this cat named Winston Battle walked up to my cell door. I looked at this nigga like he was crazy because everybody in the jail knows not to bother me because I am not a friendly guy. “I heard you were about to hit the streets,” he said.
“What do you want?” I asked him, straightforward. I wasn’t feeling his company at all, and he knew it.
“I was told that if a person needed a job done, you were the person to do it,” Winston continued.
“I’m listening,” I said, giving him the same blank stare.
“A’ight, so here’s a story. I need to get rid of this cracker who’s standing in the way of my freedom. He told the cops that he witnessed me kill somebody. So I will pay you anything to end this motherfucker’s life. He’s got to go ASAP. You feel me?”
“How did you want that nigga eliminated?” I wanted to know.
“Execution style.”
“Where does he live?”
“In some ritzy area of Virginia Beach.”
“Is he a big guy? Little guy? What?”
“He’s about the same size as me.”
“How much are you paying?”
“You give me a number.”
“Nah, dude, you give me a number,” I instructed him, refusing to change my facial expression. I wanted him to stop wasting my time so we could get this conversation over with, because he was invading my space.
Winston hesitated for a second, and then he said, “I’ll give you ten grand.”
“When do I get my money?”
“My cousin will give you half up front and the rest after you do it.”
“Done. Give me his name, address, and the names of anyone close to hi
m before I get out of here,” I instructed him.
“A’ight, cool!” he said, and then he walked away from my cell door.
After that nigga Winston walked away from my cell I thought about whether he was really serious or not. I also thought about if the ten thousand dollars he was paying me to execute that nigga was enough. I wasn’t a contract killer, so I didn’t know the going rates for bodies. I just hoped that if this was a legit hit, I would get the rest of my money after I completed my job. If not, then anyone connected to Winston was going to die.
CHAPTER 2
FREE MY BROTHER
My twin brother, Aiden, was getting out of prison today, and boy, was I happy. He’s been in prison so much I’ve lost track of the time he’s done. And as much as I tell him that I miss him while he’s doing time, it seems to go in one ear and out the other. Aiden was definitely detached from everything dealing with people and feelings. I think he checked out a long time ago, when we both got in trouble for beating a kid up, ultimately killing him. After that, Aiden’s view of life was: nothing really matters.
I often told him how much I loved him, but I never got an I love you back. I knew he loved me, but showing emotions and talking about them wasn’t something that Aiden did. I’ve learned a long time ago that Aiden and I only had each other, so we made a pact that no one would ever come between us. And we’ve done that until this day.
I was front and center of the jail where Aiden was doing his time. I was sitting in a tan, four-door, late-model Cadillac SUV. The truck belonged to a guy I was fucking named Nashad Stone. He was a thirty-five-year-old merchant seaman. He was currently out to sea for a ninety-day trip, so he was scheduled to be back in Norfolk in two weeks or so. He and I had been seeing each other for close to six months now. I liked him, but sometimes I wasn’t sure. Sometimes I thought I had feelings for him because my brother Aiden wasn’t around. Now that Aiden’s getting out of jail, I’d have to see if my feelings for Nashad would fade.
When I looked at the clock on the dashboard of the SUV, the time was 7:30 a.m. The Virginia Beach jail always let inmates that had been released from custody out by eight a.m. So I knew that at any moment my brother was going to be walking out of that iron door. While I sat in the truck and waited, I popped in one of Nashad’s mix CDs that niggas be selling in front of the corner store. The CD had some of Lil Wayne’s and Future’s music. I started pumping the music loud as fuck, but when a Virginia Beach cop walked by the truck, he asked me to turn the music down before he wrote me a ticket. I almost flipped out on that rookie-ass cop, but when I saw movement on the left side, I looked in that direction and noticed that it was my brother walking my way. Ignoring the cop, I turned the music down, hopped out of the truck, and ran toward my brother. His smile was as bright as the sun. “Aiden, I missed you so much!” I yelled.
When I got within arm’s distance of him, he dropped the brown paper bag he was carrying. I jumped right into his arms. “I’m so glad they let you out of that shit hole!” I said with excitement and kissed him on the cheek.
“You know me, I don’t care if I’m in or not. All I care about is seeing you,” Aiden said, his face showing no emotion. Ever since we were kids, Aiden has had this attitude that he didn’t care about anything. I partly blamed my mother, because she never really gave a fuck about my brother and me. Okay, granted, we killed a little kid when we were in middle school, but what we did was only out of retaliation. That motherfucker kept bullying my brother, so we had to take a stand. My mother didn’t care, though. She saw an opportunity and left my brother and me to rot in a juvenile detention center. So this man standing in front of me didn’t trust or love anyone but me. He didn’t even love himself. That’s why I couldn’t ever turn my back on him.
After he let me down on the ground, I grabbed his left hand and pulled him in the direction of the truck I was driving.
“What did that cop say to you?” Aiden wanted to know.
“He was just telling me to turn the music down.”
“Fucking racist-ass cops! I fucking hate ’em!” Aiden huffed.
“Don’t let them get you all worked up. It’s not even worth it.” I lifted his hand up to my mouth and kissed the back of it as we continued to walk toward the truck. When we got within arm’s reach, Aiden asked, “Who does the truck belonged to?”
“This guy I know,” I replied, trying to downplay my involvement with the owner of the truck.
After we got into the truck, Aiden looked around at the dashboard and then he peeped into the backseat. “This is really nice,” he complimented.
“Yeah, it is. It drives nice, too.”
“How long you been knowing him?”
“Knowing who?” I tried to play dumb.
“The nigga that owes this truck.” He pressed the issue.
“Oh, not long. Maybe a month or so,” I lied. I was getting uncomfortable answering Aiden’s questions, because I knew where he was going to go with it.
“What’s his name?”
“Melvin,” I lied once again.
“Where is he now?”
“On a ship out to sea.”
“How long he gon’ be out there?”
“A couple of months,” I lied. I was not going to divulge any information about this guy to Aiden. I knew my brother; he didn’t like outsiders. So I was keeping all the information concerning Nashad under wraps.
“Well, when he comes back I want you to give him his truck back. I’m going to buy you a car as soon as I do a job for someone.”
“What kind of job?” I wanted to know.
“When I get all the information I’ll let you know,” he told me.
“Whatcha want to eat?” I asked him while I started up the ignition. Everybody who got out of jail always wanted to get something to eat first. It was like we had to feed a craving that had built up while they were in jail. Unlike everyone else I knew, Aiden didn’t want anything special.
“Stop by Popeye’s Chicken and get me a two-piece with a biscuit,” he said.
“Really? That’s it? Popeye’s Chicken?” I repeated as I pulled into the road.
“Yeah.”
CHAPTER 3
MAKING MOVES
While I sat in the passenger seat of this truck my sister was driving, I stared at every car that we passed and wondered how those people’s lives were. Were they happy or sad? Were they rich or poor? I even thought about whether they were good people or bad. In the world I came from, I was sad and poor. And I was bad. I was all those things because I had no other choice. Maybe if I had been raised in a different environment, I’d be a different person. But since that didn’t happen, I was who I was.
Ava stopped by Popeye’s Chicken like I asked her. After she ordered and paid for my food at the drive-thru, the cashier handed her a bag of food. After she handed me the bag of food and drove away from Popeye’s, I asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“I was going to my apartment. Why? Do you need me to go somewhere else?” she replied.
“I need to get a throwaway cell phone.”
“Does it matter where you get it from?”
“Come on, Ava, you know me. You know I don’t give a shit about name brands. I just want the phone to work when I try to make a call.”
“All right, well, I guess we can stop at the smoke shop on the next block. They sell throwaway cell phones for fifty dollars.”
“Well, let’s do it,” I told her.
The smoke shop was less than a block away. As soon as Ava drove into a parking space directly in front of the store, I put my food on top of the dashboard.
“Do you want anything while I’m in there?” I asked her.
“You got money?” she wanted to know.
“Yeah, the jail gave me the money I had left in my commissary account.”
“So, you got enough money for your phone?”
“Yeah, I got it.”
“All right, well handle your business,” she replied.
Wi
thout saying another word, I hopped out of the truck and headed into the store. “Can I get a cell phone?” I asked the Indian-looking cat standing behind a fiberglass partition.
“What kind do you want?” he asked me, motioning to the selection of phones on the wall behind him. I looked at the wall and decided to get the black Tech cell phone that cost forty dollars. “Does that phone come with minutes?”
“No. You gotta buy a phone card.”
“How much?”
“I got twenty-five-dollar, forty-dollar, and fifty-dollar cards.”
“All right, well, give me the twenty-five-dollar card.”
After he rung up the cost of the cell phone and phone card, I paid him, grabbed them both from the counter, and walked back out of the store. The moment after I got back into the truck, Ava wanted to know had I gotten everything I needed, and when I told her that I had, she sped away from the curb and headed in the direction of her apartment. After I activated the phone, I pulled out the piece of paper Winston had given me with the information I needed on it and dialed the phone number. As I waited for someone to answer my call, I saw Ava look at me out of the corner of her eye. Instead of saying something to me, she waited.
Finally, after the phone rang three times, someone answered. “Hello,” said a male’s voice. I assumed it was Winston’s cousin. “Hello, this is Aiden. I was told to call this number,” I said.
“Yeah, I know,” the guy said. “Can we meet up somewhere?” the guy continued.
“Where?” I wanted to know.
“What about the car detailing spot on Princess Anne at the Longshoremen Hall?” he suggested.
“When?”
“What about within the hour?”
“All right, let’s do it.”
“See you there,” he replied.
Immediately after I disconnected the call, Ava went into question mode. “Who was that?”
