I’m pulled out of the memory when I finally feel my nut rise and then gush into Justin’s open mouth. Trembling and shaking, I smash his face in there good to make sure he gets every drop and then at long last push him away. While he crawls out from up under the table, I work my pants and panties back onto my hips.
“Not bad, Justin. You got a number?”
He grins at me with pussy juice glossing his lips. “Absolutely. There’s more where that came from.”
I scoop my cell phone from my pants pocket just as the muthafucka starts ringing. It’s Bishop. “Hold on a second,” I tell Justin, and then answer the phone. “Whatever it is, I’m busy.”
“They got Profit!”
“What?” The alcohol in my system disappears as I jet up out of my chair. “I thought he was at his prom tonight?”
“Hey!” Justin yells when I rush past him. I just keep him in my rearview.
“He was. Those muthafuckas snatched him and his girl in front of witnesses on their way to the hotel! I’m trying to find Fat Ace, but he ain’t answering his cell.”
“Shit.” I race through the crowd and then bolt out the front door. “Where you at?”
“We’re out here looking for these niggas. We got a tip…Hey, is that the building? Yo, I think we’ve found—There he go!”
I hop behind the wheel of my black Escalade. “Give me a fuckin’ address, Bishop.”
“Over off O’Donnell. Where the abandoned warehouse buildings are.”
“I’m on it.” I peel out of the parking lot while straining to hear every little thing over the line. “Talk to me, Bishop.” When I hear nothing, I glance down at my cell to see I’ve lost the signal. I just toss the muthafucka aside and slam on the accelerator. Less than five minutes later, I make it over to O’Donnell and see Bishop and a string of brothers from the set.
“Tell me something,” I shout, racing out of my SUV with my gat ready to blast. Niggas part like the Red Sea, and my gaze immediately lands on the twisted, bloody body lying in the dirt. “Shit.”
Brothers continue to stand around and shake they heads. “Them grimy niggas gonna pay for this shit.”
For the first time in a long while, I’m stunned. I liked Profit, even though I’ve just known him for a little over a year. The lil nigga had heart. “We know who did this?”
“Who the fuck else? Those Gangster Disciples,” Bishop shouts. “They want heat? We’re about to bring it to them.”
I kneel next to Profit’s body and look down at his young face. So much potential. Leaning forward, I place a hand against the side of his neck, and my heart nearly stops.
“What?” Bishop asks.
I pick up Profit’s wrist and then place my ear against his chest. “Oh my God. He’s still alive.”
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2010 by De’nesha Diamond
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: 978-0-7582-6194-6
Hustlin' Divas Page 31
