Bonded by Blood

by Cash

  As the weeks went by, Q was readying himself to retire from the game. He considered himself lucky when he thought about it. Yeah, he had been fuckin’ with work since he was thirteen-years old, but he had been fucking with major weight only four or five years. Not many niggaz, he knew had stacked the kind of chips he was now sitting on, in such a short time. A month short of twenty-two years old, he was sitting on three mil.

  Q wasn’t a fool, he knew that three mil tickets might seem like a lot, but it would not last a lifetime unless he found a way to flip it once he went legit. Then, too, he wanted to bless Khalil and Rapheal—and even B-Man—with some grip if he was calling quits. He figured he would split a mil ticket between the three of ‘em, break Vashon off proper. Then, he’d be left with a little less than two mil tickets. Nah, that ain’t enough to walk away with. I’ma make one more large ass re-up.

  B-Man was doing bad. His ass was nothin’ but a straight smoker now. He had sold his Chevy drop, bought some weight with the money, with the intention to come up. But he had ended up smoking more dope than he sold. A nigga had jacked him for the rest. Muthafuckaz knew he had fell all the way off when he traded his burner for some crack, which Tweety Bird helped him smoke up. Now that he had no more money or crack, the junkie bitch had ran off with another smoker.

  B-Man was so fucked up, his hustle now was stealing steaks and shit out of supermarkets, and trading the meat for rocks. Or he washed Caesar and Tone’s whips for a rock or two. When they wanted a laugh they gave B-Man and a junkie ho a couple rocks to put on a freak show. It amused the two young dope boys to watch B-Man punish those hos with his donkey dick. They gave the hoes three rocks to let B-Man stick that donkey dick up their asses. Then Caesar and Tone laughed like crazy when them hoes shitted all over the place. When they stopped laughing they’d throw a coupla rocks at B-Man’s feet, saying “Clean dat shit up!”

  Q and Khalil heard about how niggas was handling their brother. Bonded by blood ran through both of their minds.

  “Let’s go see what the business is, shawdy?” Q suggested.

  Q, Khalil, Rapheal and Vashon pulled in front of the crackhouse in two whips. Caesar and Tone was outside, clownin’ B-Man for not wiping all the wax off their whips when he detailed the cars just a while ago.

  From inside their own whips Q and ‘em heard the two lil’ jits handling their fam like a straight G. Q and ‘em were out of their whips, business in hand, before Caesar and Tone could react.

  “Go ahead, test my muthafuckin’ G, nigga!” barked Vashon at Tone. The nine Vashon gripped convinced Tone not to try him.

  “What about you?” Rapheal echoed, talking to Caesar.

  Q and Khalil patted down the two jits. Caesar was strapped; Tone wasn’t. Q took Caesar’s burner, removed the clip and, the round in the chamber, and then slung the burner down the block.

  “You know who I am, lil’ nigga?” barked Q, all up in Caesar’s grill.

  Caesar nodded his head. Q was well known in the streets.

  “Well, if you know who I am, then you know B-Man is fam, right?”

  “Uh-huh,” muttered Caesar.

  “Well, why you got my brotha out here, chumpin’ him off?”

  “Aw, man, he—” Whap! Q slapped him in the mouth, with his burner, knocking him to the ground.

  “Fuck you think, shawdy—you can disrespect my fam!” Whap! Whap!

  “You got something to say about it?” Vashon asked Tone.

  “Naw, man.”

  “You just said somethin’, nigga!” Whap! Whap!

  Khalil and Rapheal then joined in the beat down. The four of them pistol-whipped Caesar and Tone damn near to death.

  Q, tried to help B-Man get off the dope, but he was too far gone. Q got him an apartment, but it quickly became a crack den. Q didn’t know what to do with him. They tried to get him to go to rehab but B-Man wasn’t hearing it.

  Khalil had lost his first ho. Cha Cha had left to go shopping one morning and never came back. At first Khalil thought that B-Man had snatched her up. He armed Sinnamon and Rayne with .25 automatics. Then, a week later Cha Cha called. She told him that she was living in Miami, being taken care of by Eva.

  “Cop and blow,” Rapheal reminded him.

  Q had spent a mil and change on one last re-up. After he flipped this weight, he was getting out of the game, he promised himself as he dressed for his birthday party.

  Q’s twenty-third birthday celebration was held at the Level Three nightclub, the same spot where they had Khalil’s welcome home party almost two years ago. The place was packed.

  Q and Corlette were dressed in matching colors; he was rockin a cream Sean John two piece suit and chocolate gators, accessorized with an iced-out Jacobs watch and bracelet. Corlette wore a form fitting cream colored strapless dress by Donna Karen. Her jewels sparkled around her neck, wrists, and from her fingers.

  Khalil was stuntin’ hard in his light gray Armani suit and matching bossilini. Rayne, Sinnamon, and Emily were on his arm looking well worth the price it would cost another nigga to get some holla.

  Rapheal was there with Elisse and Vashon was there with his boo Jaid. Even B-Man was in attendance. He had cleaned himself up for the occasion. Persia was outside the entrance showing her ass because she was not allowed inside. Security had been given pictures of her and were told not to allow her admittance.

  “I still can’t figure out what I ever saw in that rat bitch!” Q said to Khalil. They were posted up at the bar.

  “A big butt and a smile,” cracked Khalil.

  “Yeah I guess so.”

  “You got you a winner now with Corlette.”

  “Fas ho, and the game been real good to a nigga, that’s why I’m about to get out before it turns cold,” revealed Q.

  “Happy B-day, nigga!” Jimmy wished Q.

  “Thanks homie,” Q replied. He looked at Jimmy suspiciously and Jimmy peeped it.

  “Homeboy, me and you have always been good—I fuck with you the long way. Whatever problem my uncle got with you don’t involve me, I’m just here to celebrate your birthday with you.”

  “Fam, you got a problem with this nigga?” asked Vashon who had just walked up and was already aware of Jimmy’s relation to Fazio.

  “Naw, it’s all good,” Q quickly assured him.

  “I’ma fuck with you later man,” Jimmy said and touched fist with Q. Then he grilled Vashon before bouncing.

  “You don’t want no drama,” Vashon called out behind him.

  Q shook his head at his young protégé cockiness.

  B-Man eased off and caught up to Jimmy on the other side of the floor. “Yo, Jimmy lemme holla at you, dawg.”

  “Yeah, what’s up?

  “A while back Fazio’s stash got robbed right?”

  “Yeah, what do do you know about that?” asked Jimmy with furrowed brows.

  “I know who did it. Call your uncle up and find out how much that information is worth to him.”

  B-Man followed Jimmy outside where they made the call to Fazio.

  “He says he will pay you a half a brick and ten stacks but the information has to be concrete,” related Jimmy to B-Man.

  “Oh, its concrete but tell him it’ll cost him two bricks and twenty-five stacks, nothin’ less,” negotiated B-Man. “And he need to have it delivered to me within the hour. I’m not giving up any information until I have what I asked for in my hand.”

  Jimmy relayed B-Man’s demands. A few minutes later he said to B-Man, “The stuff is on its way.”

  While Jimmy waited outside in his Nav’ for Maldanado to arrive with the drugs and money, B-Man went back inside to the party. He stopped Rayne as she was on her way to the lady’s room.

  “You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said softly, reading the apprehensive expression on her face. “I think you’re too good of a woman to be doing what Khalil has you doing. And trust, it was never about him needing you to help him get out of a gambling debt—that was game. Rapheal coached him on
how to turn you out.”

  “I don’t believe you,” replied Rayne.

  “Real talk, the drugs you got busted with were never intended to go to Khalil’s homeboy. Khalil set you up. He needed for you to lose your job so that you would lose your independence and have to move up here and depend on him. It’s the same dirty ass game Rapheal ran on my mother back in the day.”

  Rayne knew that B-Man wasn’t lying. What really hurt her was that it had been Khalil’s plan for her to get caught carrying drugs into the prison where she’d worked. B-Man told her that it had been Khalil who’d placed the call to the prison to alert them that she’d have drugs on her that day.

  “And that shit about him owing a huge gambling debt—please! Khalil don’t gamble. When have you known him to gamble? Believe me, a gambler can’t just quit gambling overnight. It’s like a drug addict. Besides, Khalil wouldn’t have been afraid of no loan shark! My brother ain’t afraid of shit.”

  Rayne listened to B-Man go on and on, and though she knew B-Man was a crackhead who was capable of all types of treachery, she knew that in this instance he was telling the truth. When she thought back on everything, it all added up. She looked across the room and saw Khalil and Q laughing—thick as thieves. Q was in on it too, they played me, Rayne realized. She ran back to the ladies room in tears.

  Twenty minutes later Rayne slid into the booth that Khalil shared with Sinnamon and Emily. She had dried her eyes and gathered her emotions. “You okay?” Khalil asked.

  “Yes, daddy,” she answered in a sweet voice and leaned over and kissed him. Thanks to him she had become good at pretending. They drank champagne and watched Q bend down on one knee, in the booth next to theirs, and propose to Corlette. Sinnamon and Emily rushed over to get a closer look at the huge diamond engagement ring.

  “Khalil, I feel sick. Can we please leave?” Rayne asked.

  “Let me go over here and congratulate Q then we’ll bounce.”

  A half an hour later, Khalil left with his three ladies, they had rented the Executive Suite at the Hyatt-Regency in Buckhead for the weekend.

  B-Man eased outside to collect the blood money and drugs that Maldanaldo had arrived with.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Q and Corlette left the party hand in hand. Q was sober but Corlette was giddy with drink and the excitement of knowing that she would soon become Mrs. Quantavious Jones. They said goodnight to Vashon and Jaid then slid into the back of the chauffeured limo that Q had rented for the occasion.

  Not long after the limo pulled out of the club’s parking lot a van full of Mexicans pulled in traffic behind it.

  High on the top floor of the Hyatt hotel, in the bedroom of the Executive Suite, Khalil was propped up in bed with his back against the headboard. He had on brown silk boxers and nothing else. Emily was on his right and Sinnamon was on his left side cuddled under him. Rayne was in the bathroom.

  David Hollister played in the background and the bedroom lights were dimmed. Khalil looked up to see Rayne standing at the foot of the bed holding the .25 automatic that he had given her for protection. Here eyes were vacant and her jaw was stiff.

  “You slimey-ass bastard!” she hissed.

  Khalil’s forehead wrinkled. “Say what?”

  You heard me, nigga—I called you what you are, a slimey ass bastard!” Rayne raised the gun and cocked one in the chamber. Emily scrambled off the bed and scurried underneath it.

  “Baby Love, what are you talking about?” asked Khalil, very poised.

  “When was the last time you gambled, Khalil?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’ve never been a gambler, have you? It was all just a scheme to turn me out, wasn’t it?”

  Pow!

  She fired a shot pass his head. Khalil jumped and Sinnamon screamed.

  “Put down the gun, baby, and we can talk,” Khalil said softly. But Rayne was not trying to listen to anymore of his lies.

  “No, Khalil, there’s nothing you can tell me that will give me back my innocence. I loved you, but it was never about love with you. You were just playing the game. Well, pimp muthafucka, you played the wrong chick!” Pow! Pow!

  The first shot struck Khalil high in the chest. The second one hit him in the neck and ruptured his esophagus.

  Sinnamon screamed at Rayne. “You stupid country bitch!” she covered Khalil’s body with her own, willing to take the next bullet for him, but Rayne lowered the gun to her side and wept as her whole body trembled at the sight of what she had done.

  Sinnamon was covered in Khalil’s blood. She screamed for Emily to call 911. Tears poured down her face as she cradled Khalil’s head in her lap. “It’s okay, daddy. I promise I’m not going to let you die.”

  ***TO BE CONTINUED***

  COMING SOON!

  TRUST NO BYTCH

  Chapter One:

  Brazen stood face to face with his cell mate and mentor with a heavy heart that was in contradiction with the ruthlessness that was reserved for others.

  In the thirty-six months that they had shared a cell at the federal prison in Hattisburg, Pennsylvania the man that he affectionately called Unc had become a surrogate father as well as a best friend to him. Though anxious to return to the streets of Cleveland, Ohio and apply all the things that Unc had taught him, he felt strong emotions about leaving his enlightener behind.

  “I wish I could take you with me.” he said with unbridled sincerity. Devin's stoic expression did not crack. He appreciated the thought but it did not change his circumstances; he had twenty years remaining on a thirty-year sentence for drug racketeering and related crimes.

  “Don't worry about me, I'm built to last. Go out there and put your hustle and murder games down like the street general I've trained you to become. Remember, leave no enemy alive or they'll seek revenge. Never forget that those around you are the ones that can do the most harm to you. No matter if it's friend or family you must execute them at the first sign of treason . . . no exceptions. They violate. . . you bury them. Let God be the one to forgive ‘em.” Brazen nodded his understanding as Devin continued. “Fuck what you've been told before. Self-preservation is the only code of the game that does not get broken.” He wished he had adhered to his own advice ten years ago when the Feds began snatching up his clique and pressuring them to testify against him, he repeated what he had told Brazen on many occasions.

  “I let certain niggas live because I thought they were built like me and would stand on the code Death Before Dishonor. When the government started snatchin’ up their family members and seizing their assets muthafuckas saved their own asses and left me for dead.”

  I feel you. That's why I'll have no mercy on anyone who shows that they have a flaw. Thought Brazen.

  “It's like I've been preaching to you for three years, it's imperative that you get in and get out. If you overstay your time in the game you'll end up in a coffin or right back in here. Go at it hard so that you can stack your money before anyone realizes that you're doing the type of numbers that you're doing. Because once it's known that you're a made man everyone will come after you. Take no prisoners and spare no feelings. You can trust yourself and you can trust my daughter. Absolutely no one else!”

  “Yes sir.” he respectfully replied.

  Devin took a step closer. Brazen could smell the prison issued toothpaste on his breath. They both stood six-feet two. Devin's bitter black eyes bored into Brazen's optimistic brown eyes. His chest heaved up and down. “Son, my daughter is all I have left in this world. She's been trained by the best. She is comfortable wearing stilettos or a bulletproof vest but I don’t want her in the line of fire. And you are not to fuck over her. If any harm comes to her I will reach out from prison to touch you, by any means necessary.” He issued a stern warning.

  Brazen respected him but he feared no one, so the threat didn't rattle him. He had no plans to do Devin's daughter wrong. He put a mitt on the older man's shoulder. “Relax Unc. I would never shit on Jazz,” he promised.
“I put it on all that I love. . . I won't ever betray you.”

  The two men embraced then Brazen saluted him.

  “Go take over the city the way I once did.” said Devin.

  “With all due respect to your legend, Unc, I'ma do it bigger and better. With Jazz by my side there's no stopping my rise.” Vowed Brazen.

  His mentor smiled. “Go on. My daughter is probably outside waiting.”

  Brazen turned and walked towards freedom and a destiny that was no longer in his control.

  -END-

  WAHIDA CLARK PRESENTS

  BEST SELLING TITLES

  Trust No Man

  Trust No Man II

  Thirsty

  Cheetah

  Karma With A Vengeance

  The Ultimate Sacrifice

  The Game of Deception

  Karma 2: For The Love of Money

  Thirsty 2

  Lickin’ License

  Feenin’

  Bonded by Blood

  Uncle Yah Yah: 21st Century Man of Wisdom

  The Ultimate Sacrifice II

  Under Pressure (YA)

  The Boy Is Mines! (YA)

  COMING SOON!!

  A Life For A Life

  The Pussy Trap

  99 Problems (YA)

  Country Boys

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five