Angel's Revenge (7 page)

If he could pull off the murder.

Roll wasn’t someone to fuck with. He had been in the game for years, so he was sharp and always on point. He kept no pattern
that could be used fatally against him, so he wasn’t an easy target. But Duke felt confident in his plan. His greed told him
that if he killed Roll, then all that was Roll’s would be his. Then World would be dependent on him for the new spots. It
would be leverage Duke could use in getting World to agree to the mob backing he finally had in his corner. From there, it
was just a matter of time before he would push Young World aside and take his spot.

Everybody wants to be boss.

Duke checked his watch then picked up his cell phone and dialed his shooters. The phone rang several times before he heard
the aggravated voice of an awakened killer.

“Who this?”

“Get yo’ ass up, nigga! We got work to do,” Duke barked into the phone, flipping his plasma to ESPN to check the scores. Ty
snapped up and rubbed his eyes, trying to revive himself.

“Oh, what up, Duke, my bad son? I ain’t—”

“Yo, is you ready?” asked Duke, cutting him off.

“No doubt.”

“How the fuck is you ready and you asleep?” Duke fired back, catching Ty’s dumb ass in a trick question.

“I meant I’m getting ready, yo. Gimme like thirty minutes, aiight?” Ty said, standing up with the phone cradled to his cheek
while he put his pants on.

Duke didn’t even bother to reply. He simply hung up the phone and grabbed his keys to meet Ty at the rendezvous spot.

F
ree at last!

Angel stepped onto the Boeing 747 bound for San Francisco, California. She had been out twenty-four hours, and anyone who’s
been locked up knows the first twenty-four hours are always the sweetest. The air smelled fresh, not stale like the recycled
air inside the prison. The sun shone brighter and seemed to embrace her with welcoming warmth. Even the mundane sounds of
car horns and the hustle and bustle of everyday life was music to the ears of a person who hadn’t heard anything but the slamming
of steel and the gravelly shuffle on concrete. All that was behind her, and her lover, Goldilocks, had made sure that Angel
stepped out in style.

Goldilocks had a stretch Benz limo waiting outside the federal women’s prison in Alderson, West Virginia. But she didn’t stop
there. She had an outfit, shoes, and everything Angel needed waiting for her. Goldilocks knew Angel’s taste for men’s clothing
and dressed her to look the part. When the female CO escorted Angel to the front door and took one look at Angel in the outfit,
her face turned green with hate.

Angel smirked.

“Take a picture for Trina and Lil’ Kim and let ’em know who the baddest bitch really is!” Angel remarked, rubbing her wealth
in the face of the heavyset low-wage earner.

“Hmph, you’ll be back,” said the CO.

But going back wasn’t the plan for Angel. It was time for the jump off. She wasn’t only going to take back what was hers.
She was about to elevate the game to the next level. All who couldn’t hang had best bow out.

“Welcome to Continental flight 1707 from Atlanta, Georgia, to San Francisco, California. Enjoy your flight and don’t hesitate
to let us know if you need anything,” the shapely stewardess announced with a friendly smile.

Angel eyed the woman, from her long sexy legs to her small, slim waist and perky breasts, and couldn’t help but smile. The
flight attendant couldn’t help but notice and returned Angel’s smile with a grin of her own.

“Believe me, sweetie, you’ll be the first to know if I need anything,” Angel said, stressing
anything
.

“You do that,” the flight attendant flirted back as she walked down the aisle. Angel watched her from behind.

Angel was exotically gorgeous. Her time in prison had only served to enhance her already voluptuous figure. She and Goldilocks
had worked out religiously and had succeeded in sculpting Angel’s five-seven frame into a Beyoncé-type figure. Her panther-slant,
light-brown eyes gave her the look of a dangerous beauty.

She relaxed as the plane taxied and took flight. The takeoff was always the worst. She had only been on a plane twice in her
life and both times had been with Dutch. Her heart ached for him as she imagined him sitting next to her instead of the elderly
white woman in pearls.

Relax, mami. We where we ’posed to be ’cause stars belong in the sky.
That’s what Dutch had said to her the last time they were on a plane. The whole crew had flown to St. Tropez, back when shit
was sweet, when they were on top of the world, untouchable and together. Now he was gone, but her heart refused to accept
it.

Dondé es, papi?
her palpitating heart asked, and it was as if she could hear his reply.
Wherever you are, I am. They can’t stop what they can’t see. Never forget that. Now it’s your turn. Rep the bloodline and
show these muthafuckas real niggas don’t die.

Te quiero
, her mind replied, because she thought only in Spanish.

The flight to California took forever. The only thing that kept Angel amused was the cat-and-mouse game she played with the
stewardess. Angel flirted and the stewardess blushed, so Angel flirted some more.

The flight attendant brought Angel a drink, which for Angel was the perfect opportunity to make a move. When the flight attendant
handed her the plastic cup, Angel caught her hand and held it in hers. She looked at her nails.

“You need a manicure, boo.”

The stewardess giggled nervously. “I plan on taking care of that when I get some time off.”

“I got some things you can take care of when you get some time,” said Angel, throwing it out there.

“I guess it depends on what types of things,” the flight attendant replied as she slowly withdrew her hand.

Angel knew she had made her point. Before she got off the plane, she had the stewardess’s number tucked away in her pocket.

Once she arrived in San Francisco, Angel cut through the terminal in a confident stride and headed for the baggage claim area.
Goldilocks was supposed to be waiting for her, and just as she promised, she was.

Goldilocks was leaning on the hood of a jet-black 760i with a charcoal-gray interior. She was casually dressed in a Juicy
jogging suit, Nike sneakers, and Fred sunglasses. With no makeup, she radiated beauty. Goldilocks was shorter than Angel and
more petite. She was half-German and half-black. German in her smoke-gray eyes and high yellow skin, but black in her fat
ass and sassy attitude.

She got the name Goldilocks because of her shoulder-length dreads that were sun-kissed to a golden brown. She and Angel had
met in prison while Goldilocks was doing a stint for bank robbery. She was bisexual and had been gay way before she met Angel.
She was not only Angel’s lover but her best friend, a first for Angel, who had always swung with men and rolled dolo.

Goldilocks had gotten out a few months before Angel and had been counting the days until they would be reunited. As soon as
she saw Angel come through the door, she hurried to her, threw her arms around her neck, and tongue-kissed her like Angel
was a soldier coming home from war.

“I missed you! Oh, my God! I can’t believe you’re finally here,” Goldilocks whispered, caressing Angel’s ear with her tongue.

People walking through the baggage area couldn’t help but stare at the two women locked in a passionate embrace. Even in San
Francisco, passion that electric turned heads.

“Be easy, ma, before you start something we could be arrested for finishing.” Angel smirked, wet with anticipation.

Goldilocks took Angel’s hand and slid it inside her sweatpants down to her pussy. “It ain’t like we ain’t been there before,”
she teased.

“Yeah, and it’s somewhere we ain’t goin’ no time soon,” Angel replied as she removed Goldi’s hand and smacked her on the ass
with it. “Take me home.”

Once they arrived at Goldilocks’s apartment, the two girls wasted no time. Goldilocks stepped out of her sweatpants, revealing
her firm, juicy ass to Angel’s lustful eyes. She began to do a striptease for Angel, removing her shirt and bra slowly. Her
tits were the size of ripe grapefruits and had tiny red freckles around the nipples that Angel tickled with the tip of her
pierced tongue.

“Damn, you got me so wet,” Goldilocks moaned, rubbing her clit then sticking her finger in Angel’s mouth so she could taste
her sweet nectar. Angel undressed and stood over Goldilocks as she lay on the couch, spread-eagled. Angel then took Goldilocks’s
legs and placed them over her shoulders before going down on her.

Goldilocks arched her back to meet Angel’s adventurous tongue that lapped greedily over her pulsating pussy, bringing her
to a thunderous orgasm.

Then it was Goldi’s turn.

“I got a surprise for you, boo,” Goldilocks announced mischievously after Angel came in her mouth. She reached under the couch
and produced a large nine-inch strap-on. She started to harness it around her waist, but Angel grabbed it from her.

“Nah, that’s my job,” Angel said, asserting her dominance and refusing to have a dick, fake or real, fuck her.

Angel strapped on the dildo and bent Goldilocks over the edge of the couch, plowing into her with the hard rubber as if it
was real.

“Sssss-awwww,” Goldi gasped, sucking in air through clenched teeth. Angel slid deeper inside her tight hole with the nine-incher.

“Ohh, Angel, Angel, Angel!” Goldilocks repeated like a hook in her favorite song. It was definitely good to have her lover
home.

After they showered, they ate Chinese takeout and lay naked on Goldi’s bed, basking in the glow of their reunion.

“If I told you I loved you, would you believe me?” Goldilocks asked, looking Angel in the eyes.

“Should I?” Angel countered.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Goldilocks replied solemnly. “You mean a lot to me, Angel. What we have, the world
may not understand, but I do and I never want it to end.”

“Nothin’ last forever, ma,” Angel said, remembering all that she had lost in life.

“But it can last for life.”

Angel shrugged, “Love makes you do crazy things, G. And I don’t need crazy right now. I need DBD.”

“DBD?” Goldilocks questioned, not recognizing the term.

“Death before Dishonor.”

Angel eyed Goldilocks’s reaction. She knew Goldi didn’t have the heart of a killer, but if she was planning on rolling with
Angel, she’d have to do something.

“Death before dishonor.” Goldilocks repeated the code like a bride saying “I do.”

She tried to kiss Angel, but Angel stopped her with an index finger to the lips. She traced the outline of her bottom lip
and across her chin to the flesh of her throat.

“Everything I’m about goes against everything you’ve ever known,” Angel explained, sliding her index finger and thumb down
Goldi’s gently heaving cleavage and circling her breasts. “And I gotta know. I gotta trust that the only thing that matters
to you is me.”

Goldilocks closed her eyes and licked her lips, enjoying the soft sensuality of Angel’s touch.

“I gotta know that your body is mine.”

“It is, I swear.”

“Your mind,” Angel continued, caressing Goldi to her navel. “Will you kill for me?”

“Yes, I’ll do anything for you,” Goldilocks responded.

Angel brought her face closer until they were sharing air.

“Will you die for me?”

Goldilocks blinked and focused on Angel as her fingers slipped inside her wetness. Goldi nodded slowly.

“Anything.”

Angel smiled and kissed her.

“Then we need to go to church,” Angel announced.

First Street Baptist Church.

Angel struck a match with one manicured hand and sparked her cigarette. She concentrated on the reddish- orange flame before
blowing it out. She inhaled deeply, threw her head back, and blew a stream of smoke into the cloudy morning sky. The Los Angeles
streets were slick from rain the night before.

Angel looked at the face of the church that boasted the name “Reverend Qwan Taylor” on its marquee. It had been almost four
years since Qwan testified against Dutch, and Angel had dreamed of making this trip ever since. She understood why Dutch had
let Qwan live. Qwan had always been a coward. He wasn’t of the same caliber as the rest of the team. Angel had known it ever
since she first laid eyes on him. He was a good car thief and an excellent driver, but that’s where his talents ended.

When the Month of Murder kicked into full swing, Angel saw how jittery and nervous he was. Qwan just wasn’t cut out for that
shit, and Dutch knew it so he pardoned him. Angel understood Dutch’s motives perfectly, but she didn’t agree with them, not
yet. Not until she had the chance to see for herself if Qwan had been truly vindicated.

Angel approached the front door, taking a long drag of her Newport before throwing it to the ground. She knocked on the door.
No one answered. She knocked again louder, and still no answer. Angel tried the knob, but it was locked.

“Shit,” she cursed before stepping around the side of the building to the parking lot. The only vehicle in the lot was a sparkling
new gray Lincoln Navigator parked near the rear door. She walked across the small parking lot and knocked on the back door.
A few seconds passed before she heard footsteps behind the door. Angel took a deep breath and let it out slowly as the door
opened. Qwan stood behind it.

Angel recognized him instantly even though he had gotten a little chubby and had grown a goatee. He was dressed tastefully
in a blue double-breasted suit that was clearly tailored to fit.

Looks like God’s been looking out for a nigga
, she thought sarcastically.

“Hello, Qwan. Long time no see, huh?”

Qwan looked puzzled for a minute. It had been almost fifteen years since he had seen Angel, and her blonde wig hid the jet-black
hair he was used to. Qwan’s eyes quickly took in every curve that generously filled out the body-hugging silk dress she wore
so well. Even Angel had to look twice at her own reflection. She couldn’t remember ever wearing a dress in her life, let alone
a dress so clingy and revealing.
How do broads wear this shit?
she thought, hoping her breasts didn’t pop out of the front.