Power (Romantic Suspense) (39 page)

Jesus. Why does it seem like I can’t get rid of these motherfuckers? Is there glue on my hands?

Fuji shrugged. “Wherever we go, Mo can bunk with me, until we get a big place.”

I groaned.

305 raised his hand.

“What?” I yelled.

“Yo, this is mad weird. I feel like we’re going to end this meeting in a song while we hug each other.”

“That would be fun,” Crusher added. “The song. Not the hugs.”

305 shook his head. “I don’t like hugging men.”

For once, I agreed with 305. “No one’s hugging.”

“What about the red-head, Boss?” Fuji gestured to the guest room where she’d remained.

I would need to do something with Mary Jane’s pet or she’d fucking kill me on the first day of my retirement. Crusher wasn’t an option.

“Don’t worry about her.” Crusher cracked his neck as if he would be fighting one of us. “I got her.”

305 and I exchanged another glance.

“Do we even know who she is or where she came from?” 305 asked.

Crusher faced 305, towering over him. “You didn’t hear me the first time? I got her.”

“Yo, what’s up, man?” 305‘s hand went to his holster. “I’m just asking questions.”

Crusher refused to stand down. “I can smash your head before you can pull that gun you use for your dick.”

“Use my gun as a dick?” 305 quirked his eyebrows. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Alright. Alright. This shit is getting us nowhere.” I pushed away from the Buddha statue. “So basically, what we’ve figured out in this productive conversation is that my retirement is some punk ass shit, Fuji will continue to be on Mary Jane’s doggy leash, Mo has forced me to adopt him in the creepiest way possible, and the red-head’s going to need a restraining order against Crusher soon. Meanwhile, we probably all want 305 to shut the fuck up.” I clapped my hands and stormed off. “Good talk.”

I headed back to my bedroom. “I don’t know why I even left my bathtub. I’m going back to Mary Jane. At least she actually has something to say.”

Somebody whispered, “Pussy whipped.”

I got to the door, touched the knob, but didn’t turn it. “I’m retiring from running the city, but I’m not retiring from killing people. Be very careful.”

“Okay, boss,” they said in unison.

Fuji cleared his throat.

I glanced over my shoulder. “What?”

“Who would be the fifth person?”

“What?” I turned around.

“You said that we were the only four men that you trusted to run the city and that there was a fifth, but you don’t want to use him, unless it’s an emergency.”

“I was talking about Aristotle.”

305 backed up. Fear overcame Crusher’s and Fuji’s face. Poor Mo was too young to understand the terror that came with that name.

“Don’t everybody look so happy.” I shrugged. “Who else would I trust with my life? Besides, he could help me with Butterfly, just in case she doesn’t bow down easily when I give control to him. In fact, the more I think on it, the more I can’t see why I didn’t go to him earlier.”

Aristotle could fix it all.

Fuji’s voice lowered. “But Aristotle? He’s fucking crazy.”

“And cursed,” 305 asked.

“You’ve just described every guy on the streets,” I said. “So new plan, tomorrow, we get back to work. Crusher, take 305 with you and get ten guys to go with us to Aristotle’s tomorrow night. And 305, don’t fucking bring up that curse shit around them. We need a large group.”

305 argued, “But Aristotle’s place
is
cursed.”

“Someone I trust has to run Din City. Let’s see what he says,” I said. “And we’re all going to his
cursed place
so put some courage in your chest and chill the fuck out.”

Yes. Aristotle will help. We just have to deal with that house and the curse or whatever. I would say it’s more bad luck.

I returned to my Mary Jane. My new drug. The one I’d hope to never get over.

I found her naked in my bed and wrapped in blankets. I didn’t want to wake her, especially since she’d woken up from that nightmare earlier, but I couldn’t help touching her. I had to take a hit of that hypnotic drug between her thighs.

I am pussy-whipped, but I will never admit that shit out loud.

I
explored her body from head to toe—caressing her curves, stroking the points of her knees, kissing those round hips, nibbling at the bend of her elbows, and consuming each nipple one by one.

“Mmmm.” She turned over with her eyes remaining closed and wrapped her arms around my neck. “What did you decide?”

“I’m choosing you.”

Yes. Aristotle will save us.

Yawning, she opened her eyes. “Didn’t you already choose me?”

“No, I was just trying to make you fit into my life. I didn’t really have my eyes on the prize.” I kissed her and tried to swallow her fucking tongue down.

Damn. Why does she always have to taste so sweet?

She moved her head away and I almost screamed. “Baby, I was thinking of something, before I fell asleep.”

“What?” I asked.

“Is Butterfly’s mother still alive?”

“No. After her bastard of a husband left, she grabbed another one that liked to beat her. She had a thing for bad men. The guy accidentally killed her. I paid for the mother’s memorial. It’s this beautiful angel statue in the center of the cemetery.”

“Why an angel?”

I tensed. “That was her name.”

“Hmmm.”

I hovered over her. “Why did you ask?”

“You’re a dangerous man, but you have certain rules. So far you’ve always tried to keep your battles away from women and kids. Sure, you had to involve some of Butterfly’s women, but I get the feeling that she forced you to do that.”

“She did that when she grabbed you.”

“But you also don’t mess with anyone’s parents. I was thinking about the respect you gave to Domingo’s mother. She was hitting and screaming at you the whole time and you just took it.”

“She’s mom. Rasheed’s mother is mom too. I sent her money, after he died. I’ll probably send her more later.”

I thought of a plan, but didn’t really want to put it together yet. I had other things I needed to do as I lapped at another nipple. “How do you feel?”

“Noah, if you’re really asking me to have sex, then all I have to say is, please, please, and please.”

“But how does your body feel?”

“Hungry and in need.”

I sighed. “Mary Jane?”

“Fuck me, Noah. Please.” Her voice throbbed all the way down to my bones.

Fuck it.

My cock took over my thinking and in seconds, my towel was off and the conversation had ended.

The only thing that could be heard were our moans and the bed’s squeaking as I thrust into that sweet, wet flesh over and over, in and out. How lush that pussy was when it gripped my cock just so. How my lady knew what I liked, rubbing that puckered clit against me and rocking her hips just right. How those whispers of I-love-yous filled my ears and made me climax faster than her pussy could ever do. How I had to have her. Not just for the moment, like other chicks, but for a life time.

Chapter 27

Mary Jane

A husband with bad breath asks his wife,
“My dear, why do you hate me?”

She gives him an answer,
“Because you kiss me.”

–Philogelos (The Laughter Lover)

I
n
my dream, we all stood in front of a marble angel. The statue’s wings glistened in the sunlight. Her robe rippled around her. A little marble girl hugged her left leg and smiled. Whoever had carved the statue had been a true artist. She and the child looked alive and close to flying out of there. Her eyes seemed to move. Her lips were full and reminded me of Butterfly’s. I wondered if the angel had been sculpted with the mother’s image in mind.

Several police cars outlined the cemetery. A midnight suit draped Noah and reeked of money. Fuji had on a black jogging suit on.
Crusher had on a black leather trench coat with Mickey Mouse silk fabric lining the inside of it. Along with that, he wore dark jeans and a shirt.

305 took off his sunglasses and turned to Noah. “Why are we all wearing black again?”

Noah kept his concentration on the parking lot. “Ask Mary Jane.”

“Mrs. Boss.” 305 turned to me and bowed. “Why are we wearing black?”

“This is sort of like a funeral.” I said. “Plus, I thought it would be cool if we came united and dressed together.”

“Like a football team?” 305 asked.

“Yes, like a football team.” I grinned. “I like you, 305. You’re pretty funny.”

“That’s me. Funny.” He put his glasses back on and adjusted his jacket. Thick, black fur covered the collar. Like Noah, he symbolized money. Everything on him portrayed exclusive and expensive—from the patterns in his jacket to the stitching on his pants. Even his shoes gleamed against the setting sun.

Oh, God. Is this her?

A red rolls royce pulled up. A tall dark skinned guy stepped out. He had no muscle, just bones and a mean stare. His dreadlocks fell down to his knees and pretty much hung around his body like a cloak. His ropes of hair swung back and forth as he made his way to the back of the car and opened the door.

I leaned Noah’s way. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Sam,” he muttered.

“Sam,” I said. “Really? Finally, a regular person.”

“I wouldn’t say normal. Have you ever heard of the Son of Sam? That serial killer in New York that shot tons of people in the 70’s?”

I frowned. “Yes.”

“The guy wrote this letter to the police saying all of this stuff about how he was the son of Sam and that Sam was this satanic sort of father that locked him in the attic and killed women behind the house.” Noah must’ve looked at my horrified expression. “Anyway, this guy over here has a fascination with the serial killer. He calls himself Sam in an effort to connect with the Son of Sam. His living room looks like one of those FBI boards as if he’s trying to solve the crime—pictures of the Son of Sam, red lines going to images of the victims, descriptions of each murder, and the bullets the guy used. I had to deal with him a few times and meet him at his place. I hated it.”

I shook my head. “I’m so glad you’re retiring.”

“Me too.”

Sam opened the back car door and then Butterfly stepped out.

She had impossibly long legs, perfect hips, big tits, and a taunting pout that I bet made most guys give up all they had. Noah had said that girls from the streets gain strength once they learn the power of their pussy. I was sure she’d learned that in kindergarten and graduated at the top of her class. She probably could write a book series about how to be a bad bitch.

But if she touches me again, she’ll be a dead, bad bitch.

With a practiced elegance, she strolled our way—black six inch heels, crimson red fur coat, fire engine red dress with two splits that went up to her crotch, and her breasts bounced with each step. Today, she had her hair cornrowed and gathered in a bun in the back with roses stuck all around it.

I hate the whore, but she is fucking beautiful.

I glanced at Noah. He stared at her, but there was no appreciation or lust in his gaze. Nothing but rage radiated from him.

305 tried to add humor to the moment. “Apparently, she didn’t get the memo about wearing black.”

Tension and silence was the only thing to be heard after that comment. Everyone teetered on a sharpened edge, even me. I placed my hand in my purse and gripped the gun.

You better behave, bitch.

Butterfly swayed her hips more as she got closer and directed all of her attention on Noah as if she knew he was into her and just pretending.

I don’t know, if this is going to work. She looks like she would kidnap and rape him if she could. I’m glad I have a backup plan. I just don’t know if I can do it.

Sam followed Butterfly into the cemetery. She nodded at the police. We all remained there. Off in the distance, Mo crept around some graves. He was behind Sam, but not too close.