“Ahli!” Rhonnie walked to the bathroom door and tried to turn the knob. She instantly caught an attitude when she found that the door was locked. “If you used up all of the hot water I’m going to be pissed!”
On the other side of the door Ahli heard her sister continuously knocking, but she ignored it. The shower in their hotel room was giving her life and it almost rivaled the one she had in her room at home. She tossed her head back and felt her long, wet hair brush against her shoulder blades. She welcomed the heat and the feeling of the water slapping against her body, and she just stood still for a while.
She glanced down at her curvaceous body and ran a hand down from her stomach to her vaginal opening. The sensuality exuding from the water was reminding her that she hadn’t been touched sexually in months. With her other hand she cupped one of her breasts and watched water trickle down her light brown nipple. Closing her eyes she began to imagine that it was Derek. She pretended that her hand was his and she massaged her nipple. Using the middle finger on the hand resting between her legs she began to roll it around her clit. Like a needy woman she accepted the tingles starting to shoot from her head to her toes. Derek wasn’t her first lover but he was definitely her best. The two hadn’t been in a relationship but they had a bond that was unbreakable, or so Ahli thought.
Derek moved away to go to college and he begged Ahli to come with him. He just couldn’t understand why she wanted to stay in a city that had no outlet. There were some aspects in her life that he, of course, never knew about and they were things that she would probably never have told him. But leaving her sister behind was something that she couldn’t bear to do; she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. She hadn’t heard from him since the day he left almost a year ago, and it was crazy to her that thinking about him still broke her heart. He touched her mentally and physically in ways that she didn’t even know existed. When they made love there were fireworks every time. She imagined the way he would bury his handsome caramel face in her neck when he stroked deeply. She remembered how his soft hair felt under her fingers while she tried to hold on to him for dear life and not run. His manhood had a slight curve so it hit her G-spot with every thrust.
“Mmm!” Ahli moaned into the steam with her face twisted in pleasure. The thoughts of how his lips felt trailing down her stomach until they reached her tenderness and wrapped around her . . .
“Ahh!” she cried softly, tossing her head back again.
She was experiencing the most extreme orgasm of her life and it felt amazing. Once her body was done quivering she hugged herself and let the water run from her face and into her hair.
“Ahli!”
Her moment was interrupted by Rhonnie banging on the door.
“Hold on!” Ahli yelled back, trying to keep her tone even. “I’m getting out now!”
She washed her body up once more and stepped out onto the white towel she laid down before she got in the tub. It was something her mom always did for them as kids so they wouldn’t slip, fall, and “bust their heads to the white meat.” She grabbed her towel and put it around her body before she swung the door open.
Rhonnie almost brought her knuckles down on Ahli’s nose since she was in the middle of banging on the door again. She stopped at the last minute and Ahli looked at her like she was crazy.
“Here, crybaby.” Ahli rolled her eyes at her little sister. She stepped out of the bathroom and a sea of steam followed her. “It’s all yours.”
Rhonnie set her clothes in the bathroom on the sink and proceeded to shut the door.
“No, leave that open,” Ahli said from where she stood in her bra and panties. She reached in her toiletry bag and pulled a comb and brush from it. “I still gotta do my hair.”
“You were just in here with the door locked.” Rhonnie pretended to smack her lips. “And why you have the door locked anyways? What were you in here doing, playing with your pussy?”
Ahli’s face turned red and her expression gave her up instantly. Rhonnie’s face twisted up disgustedly and Ahli burst out laughing.
“Mind your damn business!” she said, walking into the bathroom and staring into the mirror. “Hurry up before Daddy fuck us up for fucking up this drop!”
“Uh-huh,” Rhonnie said, stripping out of her travel clothes. “Now all of a sudden you’re worried about hurrying up. You little nasty!”
It took them about thirty more minutes to get ready. Not knowing what to expect, both girls dressed comfortably, but fly as always. Ahli wore her hair at the top of her head in a ninja bun with her edges laid professionally down. Rhonnie, on the other hand, braided her hair into two long and neat Cherokee braids. That was the only thing different about the two that day, however. Both wore plain black crew-neck T-shirts and baggy tan cargo shorts that stopped right under their knees: the perfect outfit to hide the new toys that their father had given them.
“Pack all of your stuff back up, NaNa,” Ahli told her while she threw her dirty clothes back into her bag. “Daddy probably is going to let us take a nap before we go but I want all this shit together so we don’t have to worry about it later.”
Rhonnie didn’t make a retort because she was used to Ahli taking on the role that a mother would. Also, she had come to find over the years that Ahli was right most of the time about most things. Although Rhonnie might bicker and whine, the one thing Ahli would never have to question about her little sister was the level of respect she had for her. Rhonnie would lay her life down for Ahli with no question and Ahli would do the same.
Ahli checked her phone before putting it in her pocket looking to see if she had a missed call from her dad. When she didn’t see one she smirked at Rhonnie.
“For once we beat him getting ready,” she gloated and went for the door. When she swung it open the smile on her face instantly wiped away.
“Not quite.” Quinton grinned down at his daughter from where he stood, leaning on the doorframe. “But almost.”
Rhonnie walked passed Ahli, giving her a knowing look, before she stood on her tiptoes to give her dad a peck on the cheek. Ahli rolled her eyes sheepishly and did the same thing. When she stepped back she smoothed the jacket of his black Dolce & Gabbana suit and looked into the eyes she could barely see due to the Cartier sunglasses blessing his face. “Two cars?”
“Nah,” Quinton said, thinking about what he saw earlier. The original plan had been to take two vehicles, get in, and get out. But something was telling him that would not be a good idea. “We just need one car for this drop. Get in and get out.”
Ahli raised her eyebrow, feeling like her dad was leaving something out, but she didn’t press it. Instead she just nodded and let the door go so that it could close behind her. The three of them walked out of the hotel together, with Rhonnie leading, to the gold Camaro. When they were almost there Quinton held his hand out and Ahli tossed the keys to him.
“When we get there under no circumstances are you to reveal that you are my daughters,” Quinton told them when he pulled away from the parking lot. He glanced into the rearview mirror as he drove so that he could see Rhonnie. “These men we are meeting with are dangerous and the moment they spot any sign of weakness they will eat you alive. You will be presented to them as my bodyguards.”
Rhonnie and Ahli smirked at each other before Rhonnie cocked her head at their father. “Do you think we’re green or something?”
“Right,” Ahli said from the front seat. “Don’t worry about us, Daddy. We know the drill. ‘Never reveal who you truly are.’ And if anything happens—”
“We pop off,” Rhonnie finished for her as she placed her sunglasses over her eyes and faced the window.
Quinton had always been overprotective of his daughters. But ever since he opened the doors of his lifestyle to them he worked hard to keep their connection to him a secret. Not because he was ashamed of being their father but because of the promise he made to Rhebecca when she died. On her deathbed she told him things that he never knew about her
and the reasons why she never wanted his name on the birth certificate, nor the correct spelling of her first and last name. She made him promise to keep their girls safe by any means necessary. For years he battled with himself, especially when he lost all access to the money Rhebecca had put up. They struggled because, with the law’s eyes already on him, he couldn’t work the only job that he knew how to do. However, the things she told him were some of the same things that solidified his decision to teach them all that he knew.
Recently Ahli had begun to ask questions. The death of their mother affected both girls tremendously but it had hit Ahli a little bit harder. She was the firstborn and had a close relationship with her mom. Lately, when alone in her room, she would pull out all of Rhebecca’s old stuff just to feel close to her. When she got to all of her own school records an eyebrow was raised for her. Rhebecca’s name wasn’t on any of it; it was all in Quinton’s name. Long before their mother had truly died it was listed that she was not living. She didn’t understand that and when she asked her father he brushed it off and said something about getting the girls free lunch. She didn’t buy that, not for a second, so she pressed the topic. Eventually he just sighed and told her that one day, when both of the girls were ready, he would tell them. Hearing that, she now knew for a fact that there was a deeper meaning as to why Quinton didn’t want anyone to know they were his daughters.
“Exactly.” Ahli looked at her father’s side profile. “We pop off. As in drop bodies, snatch souls. Daddy, hopefully after all of this you see that we are big girls and can handle some words. I think we are ready to hear whatever it is you’re hiding.”
Quinton didn’t flinch; he kept driving almost like he didn’t hear a word Ahli said. But Rhonnie did.
“Daddy, what is she talking about?” She leaned over since she was sitting behind him. Looking at the side of his face she searched for an answer there. “You hiding stuff from us?”
There weren’t many times that Quinton was stern or even raised his voice at his daughters, but right then he took the same tone he would with someone who’d crossed him. “You are my children, not the other way around. When I am ready to tell you, I will tell you. Until then I’m not at liberty to tell you anything. Remember whose blood runs through your veins.”
His voice was cold and it instantly stopped any question from even being thought of. Ahli knew not to press the matter and Rhonnie leaned back into her seat. The car was quiet and no one spoke until they reached a battered neighborhood. Their father made a couple of twists and turns until finally they reached their destination.
“It looks like we’re going to have to find another way in.” Rhonnie leaned forward when she saw the construction all down the street they needed to turn down.
“No, we don’t,” Quinton said, and turned down the street despite all of the construction signs. He only drove as far as the first house and the moment he put the car in park there was a kid walking to the car with a suspicious look on his face. The young man looked to be Ahli’s age and was dressed in a pair of Levi’s with a white V-neck Ralph Lauren T-shirt with a blue Polo logo. His hair was faded into a flat top that was a couple of inches tall with blond tips. His face would be handsome had it not been for the fact that he wore a mug that let Rhonnie know that not many people were welcome on that block.
“You lost?” the kid asked when he got to the Camaro. He knelt down and peered into the car so that he could give them all eye contact. His eyes lingered on Ahli and she mugged him back letting him know she wasn’t intimidated. Rhonnie leaned into her window so she could check him out a little better. The bulges in the back of his pants showed that he was strapped, most likely with something automatic.
“Not at all,” Quinton told the kid, giving his hard face a small smile. “Dot is expecting me. Tell him I’m here to bring his bitches home.”
The kid looked curiously in Quinton’s face before nodding slightly and backing away from the window.
“Yeah, a’ight,” he said, pulling a walkie-talkie from one of his pockets.
While he was doing that Ahli looked directly in front of her at the rest of the neighborhood, if you could call it that. There were cars in a few of the driveways of the old houses but not many. She wasn’t stupid though, she would bet money that each of the vehicles had bodies with loaded weapons in them watching to see who the newcomers were.
A slight movement caught her eye. She squinted her eyes and focused on the yellow house three houses down. “Rhonnie,” she said in a low tone and nodded toward the house. “Look.”
Rhonnie, too, squinted to the house and sure enough she saw the sniper knelt behind a plant on the porch. She chuckled to herself and shook her head. “It’s like Little Italy in here.”
“A’ight, y’all good,” the kid said, coming back to the car and pointing his finger down the street. “Pull up to that brick house in the middle.”
“A’ight,” Quinton said, putting the car back in drive.
“What’s your name?” Ahli asked before Quinton pulled off.
“Brayland,” he said, staring into her eyes.
“Well, Brayland, tell your people that if they want a more effective defense then it’s better to not give away their location,” she said, glancing toward the sniper again. “I can guarantee there is one in the exact same place in the house across the street. Also the cars are just out of place. I can bet that you have shooters in every vehicle. If we were on that”—she winked—“your whole operation would have been penetrated that easy. Oh, and I like your hair.”
Brayland was taken aback and, before he even had a rebuttal lined up, the Camaro pulled away from him. Quinton smirked to himself and couldn’t help but be proud of his daughter’s keen eyes. He didn’t know why he had ever doubted them in the first place.
He did as Brayland said and pulled to the brick house in the middle of the neighborhood. The house was two stories and definitely the best looking house on the block. The yard was neatly trimmed and there were shooters lined up neatly around the whole perimeter of the house with their guns drawn. Before the car could be swarmed he and the girls stepped out of it, understanding that there would be no valet. A heavyset man carrying an Uzi as casually as a cell phone walked up on Quinton with three men close behind him. He was slightly shorter so he had to cock his head up.
“You here to see Dot about some bitches?”
“That’s what I said, ain’t it?” Quinton said in a bored tone.
“Well?” The man shrugged his shoulders and sarcastically looked around. “Where they at then?”
“You Dot?” When the man didn’t say anything Quinton looked past him. “What are we still talking for then?”
The ugly man with the dreads stood firm in front of him and didn’t budge, even though a part of him felt that it was a mistake. The vibe Quinton gave off was that of a man not to be tampered with, and even though he couldn’t see the eyes behind the glasses he felt the cold gaze. The men behind the dread-head all tensed up, and tightened their grips around their weapons.
“Let him through,” a voice called, interrupting the tension between the opposing sides. “This isn’t how you treat our guests!”
“Because we don’t have guests, Dot,” the dread-head said, still staring up into Quinton’s emotionless face. “You taught me that.” He moved out of the way to let the three newcomers through before he gave the others the signal to go back to their posts.
“You must be Dot,” Quinton said, bounding up the few steps on the stoop.
The man standing in the doorway of the house had a forty ounce of beer in one hand and a stack of hundreds in the other. He was a good-looking man who seemed to be in his mid-thirties with long hair that was pulled back into a braided ponytail. His skin was bronze and he had a mustache that connected to his neatly trimmed beard. His sharp brown eyes pierced the three people walking toward him. When he saw that instead of an array of men there were only two women with his connection he was shocked. Not only were they
women, they were young women. One couldn’t have been older than twenty-one and the other looked to be about eighteen.
“And you must be Quinton,” Dot said, raising a hand so Quinton could shake it. “And who are these two beautiful ladies might I ask?”
“My bodyguards.” Quinton smirked and pulled his hand back. “Don’t let their age or beautiful exterior fool you. They’re thorough as they come.”
Dot could already see their loyalty to Quinton in their stance. The cargos they wore were a dead giveaway that they were armed and the calmness in their presence let him know that they were dangerous. Still, two women barely posed a threat to his army.
“Come, let us do business. Get this shit over with.” Dot waved them in the house.
Rhonnie and Ahli had seen a lot of things in their lives but a trap house was not one of them. Ever since they’d purchased their house they barely visited the hood. Most of their licks were done in nice neighborhoods, the ones where, even if unplanned, they knew they would be leaving with something worth a couple bands. There, at that moment, they found out that the things they saw on TV were true. As they walked through the house they passed the entrance to the living room and saw that there were half-naked women bagging up drugs on the living room floor. Dot led them to the kitchen where two women in nothing but their red lace bra and panties were sitting at an island. Not once did they look up from the money they were counting. The men who had followed them inside stopped in the hallway outside of the kitchen and lined up with their backs to the walls.
“If you have what I need your money is right here. One hundred thousand dollars. May I?” Dot said, taking a swig of his beer before setting it on a countertop. He then motioned to the bags that the young women had on their shoulders.
Deep Page 4
