by Kiki Swinson
“Don’t threaten me, bitch.” Kevon snarled at me. “You were useless. You couldn’t even go through with the plan. Takin’ that nigga’s side over mine. What woman holds her man down like that?”
“Babe, don’t even waste your breath. Let’s just finish the plan. Shoot the bitch.” Misti laughed.
“Yeah, I think I’ll do just that.” He reached in his waistband and wrapped his hand around his gun, pulled it out, then slid the trigger back. My heart skipped a beat as I closed my eyes tight and waited for the end, but nothing came but silence.
Opening up my eyes one at a time, I found Soulja standing in front of Kevon and Misti, with a gun pointed at them. I blinked to be sure I wasn’t seeing things.
Soulja, I mouthed. He looked at me briefly before positioning his attention back to Misti and Kevon. Again, I was confused. Why Soulja would be here unless he was getting revenge for Caesar?
Misti took a quick glance at Kevon, then slowly but steadily made a few strides across the room, leaving Kevon alone. As I watched Misti wrap her arms around Soulja, my tongue went dry and the room swirled. “What the fuck?” I said out loud. This shit was just getting out of control, not to mention bizarre. Nothing made any sense at all.
“Bitch, what the fuck is you doing?” Kevon yelled at Misti. I guess this was not a part of his two-timing scheme. The look on his face was shitty. That much I liked, but I could not celebrate until I understood what was going on. “You set me up? How could you do this to me? After all I done for your thirsty ass. Ain’t this a motherfucking bitch? Damn, these hos ain’t loyal.” Kevon went on and on, shaking his head. He was hurt.
“Soulja, what’s going on here?” I was calm. Maybe he could give me some answers. I mean, how could he be involved in this? Mimi had just died, and he was here rescuing Misti. “How could you do this to Mimi and your daughter?” I was emotional.
“Well, if you must know—” Misti started.
“Shut the fuck up because I ain’t talkin’ to you bitch!” I screech.
“Well, maybe you should be. ’Cause you know what? If you really want to know, it was Soulja here who killed your little friend.” The room whirled, and my chest tightened. I looked down to see if I saw any blood, because surely I was shot. But there wasn’t any. “See, your friend had a big mouth. She found out about us, then our plan, and threatened to tell. And for that, the bitch had to die. Because what you don’t do is cross me.”
That was it; I would shut Misti’s mouth up for good. Running toward her, I prepared to kill her with my bare hands. Soulja pointed his gun at me and threatened to shoot. But losing his focus on Kevon was his first mistake. Kevon pulled his trigger, shooting Misti directly between the eyes. Her body hit the floor so hard you could hear her skull crack. But the battle didn’t end there. Soulja fired off two or three rounds. One hit Kevon in the throat, but not before he fired again, shooting Soulja in the head.
I stood still, frozen in what had turned out to be a bloodbath. I could not believe my eyes as they darted from body to body. Even Caesar’s body lay on the floor. Blood was everywhere. And there was no movement in sight. I looked down at my body to confirm that not one bullet had hit me.
Stepping over Misti and Soulja, I made my way outside. I took in a deep breath. The air was so refreshing. Putting one foot in front of the other I start walking toward where I had hid my car. I approached Soulja’s Dodge Challenger and realized it was still running. As I walked past it, I couldn’t help but notice a car seat in the front. Walking over to the car, I gazed inside. And there, sleeping peacefully, was Alijah. I cried out with joy before kissing her on the forehead. This precious bundle of joy had been robbed of a mother by her own father. This was something I never wanted her to know. At that moment, my life had been decided. Alijah would be raised as my own. Mimi would want that.
Taking the car seat out of Soulja’s car, I carried it to my own car, where I carefully strapped her inside. St. Louis, Missouri, was going to be a memory for me. We were out of here, but there was still one more stop to make, Kevon’s house. He kept his stash there, in a safe that he thought only he knew about. But I had always known; and that safe held over five hundred thousand dollars. That money would give Alijah and me a good start.
What do you think?
Kiki Swinson, the bestselling author known for “fast, tension-packed” (Library Journal) novels featuring the glamour and grit of Virginia’s most notorious streets, shows what happens when a criminal partnership takes a detour that puts its members on the road to jealousy, revenge, and murder . . .
THE SCORE
On Sale Now
LAUREN
Present Day
My feet moved at the speed of lightning. I could feel the wind beating on my skin so hard it made snot wet the inside of my nostrils. My entire body was covered with a thick sheen of sweat and I could feel it burning my armpits. My breath escaped my mouth in jagged, raggedy puffs and my chest burned. My heart felt like it would burst through the front of it. Even feeling as terrible as I did, I would not and could not stop moving.
“Move!”
“Get out of my fucking way!”
“Watch out!”
“Move!”
I screamed command after command at the nosy-ass people who were staring and gawking and being in my damn way. My legs were moving like those of a swift and agile cheetah as I swerved and swayed through the throngs of people on Virginia Beach Boulevard. I was met by more than one mouthful of gasps and groans and I could faintly see more than one wide-eyed, mouth-agape stare as people gawked at me like I was a crazy woman. I guess I did look crazy running through the high-end shopping area with no shoes on. I had run straight out of my Louboutins, my expensive embellished Balmain skirt was hitched up around my hips, my vixen weave was blowing in the wind, and my Chanel caviar bag was strapped around my arm like a slave chain. I could feel that my makeup was a cakey, smudged mess all over my face and eyes. But I didn’t give a damn. I wasn’t going to stop running. No matter what. Looking crazy was the least of my worries.
I had run track in high school and it was still paying off now, but clearly I wasn’t in the same athletic shape. Still, I wasn’t about to go out like this. I wasn’t going to get captured on the street and probably murdered for something that wasn’t totally my fault. I had been pushed and provoked to do everything that I did. All of the mistakes. All of the grimy shit I had done over the years. All of it was because I was born at a disadvantage from day fucking one.
I didn’t want to die. I had always seen myself growing old with a few kids and grandkids surrounding me when I was ready to be settled. I would’ve given anything to be old and settled at this moment. But, of course, life threw me a curveball.
I could hear the thunderous footfalls of the three men chasing me. If they weren’t so damn gorilla big and slower than me they would have caught me by now.
“Hey! Are you okay?” I heard a man on the street yell at me as I flew past him, nearly knocking him over. Why the hell was he asking me such a dumb question when you could clearly see that I was being chased by three hulking goons dressed in all black with their guns probably showing on their waists or maybe even in their hands. Thank goodness I am always so alert or they would’ve walked right up on me while I unsuspectingly ate my lunch at the posh restaurant and grabbed me. It was the fact that I had only been back in town for a few hours, the disappearance of my lunch companion, and the suspicious looks that had alerted me in the first place. How could I have been so trusting? So naïve and stupid, too.
I could feel the look of terror contorting my face, so I know damn well passersby could see the fear etched on every inch of it.
Finally, I dipped through a side alley and the first door I tried allowed me inside. Thank God! With my chest heaving up and down I rested my back against another cold metal door inside and slid down to the floor. My legs were still trembling and my muscles were on fire in places on my body I didn’t even know existed. I tried to slow
down my rapid breathing so I could hear whether the men had noticed me dipping into the alley but the more I tried to calm myself the more reality set in about the grave danger I was in. I was probably about to be murdered or worse, tortured and then murdered right in a dank alleyway in the place I thought I would never return to. If I hadn’t gotten that call, it would have been years before I crept back here. I thought about Matt and wondered if he was the one who had sent these men after me. But how would he have known I was back? I knew Matt had a lot of selfish ways about him and although shit had gone south with us, I never thought he would try to do something like this to me. I expected that if he wanted to confront me, he would come himself. Even if it was Yancy who had sent the goons, I would think Matt would have tried to spare me.
CLANG!
A loud noise outside interrupted my thoughts and caused me to jump. I clasped both of my hands over my mouth and forced the scream that had crept up my throat back down. Sweat trickled down my face and burned my eyes. My heart jackhammered against my chest bone so hard it actually hurt. My stomach knotted up so tightly the cramps were almost unbearable. I dropped my head. Suddenly I felt like vomiting.
“I don’t see her! She’s not down here!” I heard one of the goons outside of the door scream to the others. I swallowed hard and started praying under my breath.
Dear God, I am sorry for all of the things I’ve done. I don’t know how things got so far gone. I never meant anything by any of it. I just wanted to live a better life than I had as a child. I guess with the mother You gave me and the hand You dealt me, I should’ve just handled it. I should’ve worked harder and not try to take the easy way out all of the time. I knew stealing is wrong. Since the first time I stole a credit card from my foster mother’s purse, I’d known it was wrong. But I got addicted to the feeling that I’d gotten over on someone. I felt powerful. I remember the times I’d hear her talking to my foster father about some of the fraud scams she witnessed by working as a bank manager. It was interesting to hear how bank and credit card frauds were being committed on a daily basis. It all seemed too easy, too intoxicating. I had to test the waters....
So here I am today. I’m literally running for my life. Maybe this is Your way of teaching me a lesson. Trust me, I hear You loud and clear. If You let me get out of this, I swear I will change my life. I don’t even know how things got this far . . .
In this thrilling series, acclaimed author Lutishia Lovely dives into the scandalous heart of romantic obsession with a cunning, sexy seductress, and the object of her affections . . .
THE PERFECT AFFAIR
Available wherever books and ebooks are sold
CHAPTER 1
“Let’s toast to Jacqueline!”
A group of five fashionably dressed and vivacious women, seated in a trendy Toronto eatery, lifted their champagne flutes in the air. The atmosphere was festive. Even the April showers had paused, allowing bright, warm sunshine to surround them.
“To you, Jacqueline Tate,” Rosie, the speaker, continued. “A woman who has finally gotten what all of us want.”
“A good man?” The plus-size cutie with dimples and curves kept a straight face as she asked this. The others laughed.
“No, Kaitlyn, money. The next best thing.”
“Or the best thing,” Jacqueline countered, “depending on how you look at it.”
“We wish you tons of success on this new venture. Go get ’em, girl!”
“Cheers!”
The ladies clinked their glasses and took healthy sips of pricey bubbly before questions rang out.
“What, exactly, will you be doing?”
“Is this full-time or freelance?”
“How did you get this job?”
Jacqueline laughed as she raised her hands in mock surrender. “All right, already! I’ll tell you everything.” She took another sip of her drink, eyes shining with excitement. “First of all, it’s a freelance writing contract—but,” she continued when the other writer in the group moaned, “it’s for three months and . . . it’s with Science Today!”
“What’s that?” Kaitlyn asked, looking totally unimpressed.
“It’s the magazine for scientists like Vogue is for models,” Jacqueline replied.
Kaitlyn cocked a brow. “Really? That big, huh?”
“It’s a huge deal,” Molly, the other writer, commented. “Doing articles for such a prestigious journal will look great on the résumé.”
“Wow, that’s wonderful!” Rosie said. “Will you work from an office or from home?”
Jacqueline sat straighter, barely containing her excitement. “That’s the best part, guys. I’ll be spending most of this assignment in America, traveling to events and interviewing the movers and shakers in the science world.”
Kaitlyn reached for the champagne bottle. “Somehow ‘mover,’ ‘shaker,’ and ‘scientist’ sound weird in the same sentence.”
“That’s because your world revolves around Hollywood,” Jacqueline countered. “And you consider tabloids real reading and their content true fact.”
“It isn’t?”
This elicited more laughter from the group, and more questions. Finally, the successful-but-shy one in the group, Nicole, spoke up. “I’m really happy for you, Jacqueline. After what you’ve gone through, you deserve to have some good stuff come your way.”
It was true. Last year had been a doozy. On top of losing a high-paying job due to downsizing, she’d found out that the love of her life was someone else’s love too. Walked in on them in her house, in her bed. Guess he’d not counted on the fact that the interview she’d been called out to do might wrap up early. It did, and so did the relationship. They’d been dating for months. Jacqueline had even confided to her friends that he might be “the one.” The one to break her heart, maybe, but not the one for lifetime love.
Rosie sensed Jacqueline’s sadness, and placed a hand on her arm. “At least he’s out of your life.”
“I wish.”
Kaitlyn cringed. “He’s not?”
“Occasionally we’ll cover the same event. You guys remember that he’s a photographer, right?”
“I remember he’s a jerk,” Kaitlyn replied.
“And an asshole,” Molly added.
Jacqueline laughed, and it was genuine. “Thank you, guys. You sure know how to make a girl feel good.”
Kaitlyn peered at her friend of more than five years. She began shaking her head.
Jacqueline noticed. “What?”
“I don’t get it. You’re smart, funny, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in person.”
“Oh, girl . . .”
“Seriously? If it weren’t for you, I’d think those chicks posing on the magazine covers were make-believe.”
“They are,” Molly said. “It’s called Photoshop.”
“My point,” Kaitlyn continued, “is I can’t understand why you’re not married. I’m with my third husband and I look like a whale!”
Jacqueline frowned. “You do not. Stop exaggerating and putting yourself down like that.”
“That analogy may have gone a bit overboard. But I don’t look like you.”
No one would argue that Jacqueline was a natural beauty. Tall, slender, with creamy tan skin, long, thick hair and perfectly balanced features, she was often thought to be a model when out on assignment, and once had even been mistaken for the pop star Rihanna.
“Maybe Kaitlyn’s right,” Rosie offered. “Maybe in addition to finding great stories, you might find love.”
“Oh no. I’m not even going to think like that, and set myself up to be disappointed. I’m going to stay focused and disciplined, never forgetting the reasons for why I’m there. I’ll be going to some great places—LA, Vegas, New York—so, sure, I plan to have fun. But guys? Not interested.”
“You say that now.” Kaitlyn was obviously not convinced.
“True. Anything can happen. So if I do see a hottie and want a good time, I’ll view it as just
that, a good time, nothing more. For me, when it comes to men and relationships, using words like ‘love’ and ‘forever’ only leads to a broken heart.”
Rosie gazed at Jacqueline with compassionate eyes. “You’ve been through a lot and you’re still smiling. You deserve to be happy and to find true love. I, for one, will be rooting for that happiness to come your way.”
Kaitlyn reached for the champagne bottle and, noting it empty, flagged down the waiter to bring another one. Already outspoken and boisterous, the bubbly loosened her tongue even further and made her talk more loudly. “I’m with you, Jacqueline,” she said, trying to further drain her already empty glass. “I say get wined, dined, and screwed out your mind, then tell the muthafuckas to kiss your ass. Don’t even give them your phone number if they can’t pass the shoe.”
Every face showed confusion. “The shoe?” Jacqueline asked.
“That’s right. The shoe. Y’all haven’t heard of that? It’s a test.” Noting her very interested audience, including some from surrounding tables, Kaitlyn lowered her voice as if she was about to drop secrets from Camp David. “Okay, here’s what you do. Have him take you out, buy you dinner, and then, after a night of partying, when he’s trying to get in the panties, take off your stiletto, pour a drink in the shoe, and tell him to drink it. If he can’t do that, then he’s not a coochie connoisseur.”
Ms. Shy, Nicole, was suddenly not shy at all. “A what?” When the waiter brought out the second bottle, hers was the first glass raised.
“Coochie con-no-sir. One who’ll lick it, kiss it, nip it, and flick it before he fucks it.”
Rosie’s cheeks turned as red as her hair. “Oh my,” she whispered with a hand to her mouth.
Molly pulled out her phone to take notes.
“Thanks anyway,” Jacqueline responded. “But the last man I’d give my phone number is one who’d drink out of my shoe. That’s just foul.”
