The Last Kings (17 page)

It was no longer business; it was personal. Khiron was going to kill each and every one of those Italians. Since Vinny's bullet was the one that pierced his father's skull, he would get it the worst. Khiron's blood raged when he thought about how that piece of shit had touched him. Only one word pumped through his brain.
Revenge
. He picked up his phone and called Mocha.

“Hello?” she answered. Her voice sounded exhausted.

“What up, bae, where you at?” Khiron asked, trying his best to keep the disgust from his voice.

“Nothing, just watching some TV.” Khiron shook his head at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.

“My plane just touched down,” he lied. “Meet me at my hotel in a few hours.”

He heard her sit up straight through the phone.

“You're
here?
” He heard a mixture of concern and excitement in her voice.

“Yea, bae, I wanted to surprise you,” he lied again. “I tied up a few loose ends in the A and thought it was time for a little venture into my wifey's city. See how she's living.”

His last words had an icy effect to them, but Mocha barely took notice.

“OK, um, text me what hotel and the room number. I have some shit to handle right now but a few hours sounds like a plan.” Her voice dropped as if she didn't want anyone around her to hear the plans she was making.

“A'ight, ma, I'ma see you,” and with that, Khiron disconnected the call.

His eyes stayed on the Corvette until the two men returned to the vehicle. They didn't know it, but that night would be their last night on earth alive. It was true that Detroit was Ray's city, and he ran it out of love instead of fear, but it was Khiron's game, and when he was done with The Last Kings, his name would shake the bravest of hearts. He was going to wreak havoc and torture them all. He'd vowed long ago that his father's death wouldn't be in vain. The shit at Lace and the hair salon was nothing compared to what he had in store for all them muhfuckas. When he saw the car prepare to pull off, he made one last phone call and began to tail behind it.

“What was that about?” Vinny asked Ray once the two shook hands.

Ray leaned back in his seat and smirked. “Business as usual,” he shrugged. “Little niggas always approaching for work but can't even deliver.”

Vinny stared at the man before him and chuckled at his suave. Ray was no longer the kid with potential he'd met with in the backseat of a Mercedes. He knew that investing in Ray would be good for business, but in all actuality, Ray had invested in him. Vinny was in awe at the way Ray had branched off of him. Ray was the connect to six major drug-demanding cities, so, in turn, Vinny was all of their connect. The drug demand was so high that if Vinny didn't want to conduct business with anyone
but
Ray, he would never have to. The Italian drug cartel was making millions off of one operation, and that was why, in Vinny's eyes, Ray had rightfully earned the title of a king.

Ray asked Vinny to have a seat, but he declined.

“Business as usual,” he said, but in so many words, he was telling Ray that he was just there to pick up and get out.

“A'ight,” Ray said nodding his head. “It's all here. Miami, DC, LA, Chicago, Houston, and New York. Two mil.”

Vinny raised his eyebrow at Ray's carelessness, but didn't say anything. He trusted Ray's judgment, and he also knew that Amore was the safest place for the money. He nodded to his men to go grab it and shook Ray's hand once more before he too made his exit. That was the way Vinny was; he was never in one spot for more than twenty minutes. He also never went anywhere without an army of Italians behind him and an automatic pistol.

Ray rubbed his facial hair and looked at the phone sitting on the table. He had no doubt in his mind that his generals would handle the little situation that took place that night, but when it came down to it, he knew he needed both his left and right hand. Something told him that the fuckery would continue, and that somebody was sending him a message. Ray was low-key glad that his two leading generals would be touching down in the morning; the horrendous scent of an upcoming war was frozen at the tip of his nose.

After that night in the restaurant, things between Tyler and I were a little awkward, but we tried to make the best of our arrangement. We went on many tours and ventured off a lot by ourselves. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to be evil to him, although he'd broken my heart twice. I didn't know if it was love or the simple fact that I respected his loyalty to the game. He was right, after all. Mixing business with pleasure never worked, and I knew the life span of a hustler was short. Instead of indulging in the negatives, I decided to shoot for positives with Tyler. He surprised me our last night in the beautiful place and something in the air changed between us.

“You can't just tell me what it is?” I asked him, pouting as I tried to keep my balance on the sand.

“Then it wouldn't be called a ‘surprise,' ma,” Tyler smiled at me and grabbed ahold of my waist, assisting me with walking.

“Well, you could have at least told me we were going to the beach,” I cut my eyes at him holding his arm lightly. “I wouldn't have put the fuckin' Red Bottoms on. My shoes are going to be ruined!”

“Chill, Say, plus, you have about a hundred more pairs where those came from,” he laughed.

Before I could say anything else smart, we came up on the most beautiful beach scene I'd ever seen in my life. It was like a movie. On the beach, overlooking the water, a single table with a white tablecloth and two chairs was set up. On the table were two plates with covers over them, two wineglasses, and a candle in the center. Around the table, rose petals were scattered and a piano—yes, a fucking piano—played soft tunes into the night.

“Tyler,” I said breathlessly and stopped in my tracks. “Is all that . . .?”

“For you?” He stood in front of me and grabbed my hands. “Yes. It's our last night in paradise, and I wanted to do something special for you, ma.”

“Like an apology?” I pressed my luck.

“Real niggas,” he said, “don't apologize. But they do make up for their wrongs.”

“Like an apology,” I said matter-of-factly, and he laughed.

“Shut up and come on.” He urged me toward the table.

He pulled my chair out for me, and when I sat, he pushed me back in. When he joined me on the opposite side of the table, he wore a huge Kool-Aid smile.

“What?” I asked, feeling myself blush at the way he was looking at me.

“You look gorgeous,” was all he said.

I rolled my eyes, not wanting to get the wrong idea again.

“Hungry?”

“Hell yea,” I said and felt my stomach growl. “What's on the menu?”

“Oh, nothing,” Tyler said smugly, lifting both of our tops off of our plates. “Just some macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and corn bread.”

The aroma filled my nostrils, and I was in heaven. The sight of the food made my mouth water. It looked absolutely scrumptious!

“My favorite!” I exclaimed in shock. “How'd you know?”

After the question was out, I realized how dumb it sounded. Tyler probably knew me as well as Ray did. It didn't hit me until then that I barely knew anything personal about the man I thought I loved.

“It's not as good as Grandma Rae's, but I tried,” he shrugged.

It touched me that he'd gone to such great lengths to make my last night there paradise, but then I had to stop myself before I got to thinking too much.

This is why Ray sent him; he's just doing his job
, I told myself.

“Thank you,” I said and dug into my plate not able to stop.

He was right, it was nothing like Grandma Rae's, but it was still delicious. We ate until our stomachs were full, and I could see a little bulge in my Dolce dress.

“I didn't know you could cook,” I told him, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

“There's a lot you don't know about me, ma,” he said and pushed his empty plate away from him. “When I was young, my mom was always gone. So I had to learn to take care of home myself.”

I nodded my head, knowing how that was. I could see why he and Ray were best friends.

“Tell me about yourself, Tyler. There's a lot I don't know, but I would like to,” I told him in all honesty.

“There's not enough time in the world for my story, Say,” he chuckled. “Just know we all got a story, and right now, mine is here. With you.”

“Make time then,” I said, not wanting to let him off that easy.

I knew that was probably the only time I'd get him alone again. Once we got back to Detroit, it would be all business and no play once again. The Sadie in Jamaica and the Sadie in Detroit were two separate people, and I knew the same held true for Tyler. I wanted to get the most out of it. Since the incident at the restaurant, no longer did my clit throb for Tyler's presence, but when he was away, I still did miss him. I didn't want to go back to Detroit and it still be the same way, because he'd be away a lot longer than thirty minutes there. If I couldn't have him as my man, lover, or whatever, I would settle for whatever piece of him he would give. When I said I wanted to know him, I meant it. Tyler looked at me, confusion on his face.

“I promise I won't ever make any type of advance on you again,” I said, placing my chair directly on the right of his and sitting in it. “This is our last night here, so if I'm not going to get any dick, you have to give me something.” I shrugged, placing my elbow on the table and placing my head in my hand. I'd kept it one hundred with him, and I was expecting the same in return. He studied my face intently to see if I was serious.

“A'ight, ma, since you insist. What do you wanna know?” he asked.

“Everything,” I stated simply, and he paused again.

“Here's the shortened version. I was born in Detroit and raised by a mother who worked three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. My old man was an abusive alcoholic, but once I turned fifteen, all that shit stopped. I almost killed that nigga after he beat my moms so bad she had a broken jaw and rib cage.” He stopped, but I didn't interrupt. I wanted him to continue. “I started hustling at eighteen with Ray, just getting it how we lived. I came up, fast. We always had a business plan. The Last Kings started with us. I don't know if he ever told you that, but this shit popped off long before Coopa ran the city. Shit was coo for a while. My mom only had to work one job since I was taking care of the bills and shit. Everything was going good until some hating-ass niggas got wind of our money chase and did a drive-by on our house. Unfortunately, for them, I wasn't there, but unfortunately for me, my moms was. She was in the middle of cooking dinner when the shots hit her body. My little sister was upstairs in her bed asleep. Didn't even know what happened.”

“Tyler, I'm so sorry,” I said, sitting up straight. “I didn't know.”

“It's good, shorty.” Tyler shook his head, the look in his eyes distant. “I found out who did it and sent all their body parts to their mothers in little freezer bags.”

I'd forgotten the illusion that Jamaica had given me of Tyler, and it was false. It was true that he could be sweet, but that's because we were on the same team. At heart, Tyler was a cold-blooded killer. It came with the job description. Mercy wasn't even a word to him. It didn't exist.

“How is Marie by the way?” I asked, knowing he kept his little sister's whereabouts low-key. I knew she had to be about eighteen now though.

“Good,” Tyler smiled at the thought of his little sister. “A lot like you actually.”

“That's not a good thing,” I smiled.

“Who says?” Tyler held my gaze deeply, and I had to avert his gaze.

“Have you ever been in love, Tyler?” I asked the sand.

“I've had my share of women, but, no, I can't say I've ever loved one of'em. In the life I'm living, there honestly isn't enough time for it.”

I nodded at his answer, slightly relieved that no woman had ever captured his heart.

“What about you?” he asked, catching me off guard.

“Have I ever been in love?” I repeated the question and thought about the pain I'd suffered as a young teenager with my mother's devil. “No, I've never let a man get that close to me. I've never even allowed myself to have a real boyfriend. Bosses don't have time for pain.”

I answered the question, trying not to think about my past trauma, but the sound of my own screams invaded my mind, and I couldn't stop the tears from flowing. I removed myself from the table and went to stand by the piano facing the water. Gasping for air, I tried to calm myself down. Through my long wet eyelashes I could barely see the moon reflecting off of the water. Tyler's presence was soon felt behind me, and I tried to stop the tears that kept coming. Nobody but Mocha had ever seen me cry.

“Sadie, what's wrong, ma?” Tyler asked grabbing my shoulders and pulling me to him, but I couldn't speak.

That one question sent me diving deep into the memories I'd tried so hard to erase. All I could see was Nino's face as he mounted me and took the only thing I'd ever had to offer. Nino was the reason I bled every time when I first started having sex on my own free will. Nino was the reason why I'd never trusted any man besides Ray. Nino was the reason why my feelings for Tyler were so jumbled. How could I love a man when I had no idea what love was? How could any man love a woman like me? I had too much baggage, and that was why whenever any relationship of mine seemed to be blooming, I did something on purpose to end it. Ending any connection between me and that person . . . It was the only thing I could control. That way, I didn't feel the pain. But right there on that beach? I felt it. I felt it all.

“Tyler, just let me go!” I yelled, trying to fight him off as a sea of emotions swarmed over me.

But he didn't. We fell into the sand, and he held me through every sob, stroking my hair and telling me it would be all right. Whatever it was, it would be all right. When I was finally done, I wiped my eyes and turned to face him.

“I'm so sorry,” I told him, and he cupped my face in his hands. “I didn't mean to ruin another dinner.”

“It's coo, ma.” Concern drenched his face. “What's going on?”

I studied him. A real nigga, a dying breed. In that split second, I knew I could trust him. I told him everything—about the rapes, how I was forced to hustle, and how I came to stay with Grandma Rae. He never once interrupted me. When I told him about the rapes, I'd never seen him look so mad before. The vein on his temple pulsated violently, and when I was done, I begged him not to tell Ray. I couldn't bear the thought of Ray knowing about the skeletons in my closet. He promised me and held me again.

“If that nigga wasn't already dead, I'd send an army of niggas to blow every one of his fuckin' limbs off, ma,” he said into my hair. “I swear on my life, no man will ever hurt you again. They're going have to get through me first. You hear me?”

He lifted my chin with his finger, and I looked deep into his eyes. I could see that not only did my story make him angry, but there was pain there too. He hurt because I hurt. Something deep inside me erupted, and I knew then, at that moment, that my feelings for that man weren't faux. I nodded my head because I believed him with every fiber of my being.

“I love you, Tyler,” I was able to breathe just before he kissed me.