“Oh shit, baby, I feel you,” she squealed.

  “Yeah. Feel that shit. Feel all that shit,” he growled, ravishing her.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He was so deep in her that tears were escaping the corner of her eyes.

  “Oh God, I can’t take it,” she managed.

  “Yes, you can,” he murmured, kissing her neck and grabbing her hands to hold over her head.

  He started thrusting yet again, and she knew that she was about to cream.

  “Oh fuck. Oooh, baby, I love you,” she screamed.

  “Shit, I love this pussy,” he growled in her ear.

  It sounded like heaven to her as he throbbed inside her.

  “Come for me, daddy,” she begged.

  “You want me to come?” he taunted.

  “Oooh yes, baby.”

  “You want me to come in that pussy?”

  “Yaaassss . . .” That was exactly what the fuck she wanted.

  “You still on birth control, right?” he asked, still pumping.

  “Yeah, baby,” she replied.

  He sat up and grabbed both of her legs, pushing them far back. Then he began to fuck her hard and fast. She knew he was about to bust because he started panting in anticipation.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, feeling her gripping his dick with her pussy lips.

  “You comin’, baby?” she moaned, ready to explode yet again.

  “Grrrr,” he growled.

  His head was back, eyes shut tight, and he was about to fill her with enough kids to pack an elementary school. He exploded inside of her, and she screamed out as she too orgasmed yet again.

  Collapsing onto the bed, he pulled out of her, and she smiled, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

  “Damn,” she said, still catching her breath. “If I would’ve known that you would fuck me like that, I would’ve been mad at your ass a long time ago,” she laughed. “Let me find out not talking to you got you putting in work.”

  He smirked and lay on his back as she jumped up to go to the bathroom.

  “Man, a nigga had to release some stress,” he told her, watching her walk across the room.

  She turned on the faucet to rinse out one of the washcloths, then came back and brought it to him so he could wipe himself. He had called her over after not talking to her for almost a week. She had never gone that long without talking to him or seeing him. But he definitely just made it up to her. She had used her time wisely, however. She had come up with a plan to get some major paper and still be the good girlfriend.

  She could hear his phone ringing and listened to hear who he was talking to. She saw him smiling, wondering what bitch had him cheesing.

  “Mama, listen, I’ll be there in a little bit, I promise,” he said. “Quit worrying. Just give me a couple of hours. I got to drop by the studio to listen to this track from one of my artists, and then I’m meeting up with Ty. After that, I’ll bring everything, okay? Oh, and Ty said he want your famous Mz. Ave banana pudding.”

  Ugh, this Liz chick, she thought as she cleaned up herself.

  She had heard Tank mention Liz before, but she never met her. She knew that Tank looked to her as a mother. He was a completely different person talking to her. She had heard him on the phone with her before, and he was always happy and smiling.

  “So, I take it you’re not mad anymore?” she asked when he hung up.

  “Nah, I’m definitely still pissed off. But I think I know who did the shit, so I’ma handle it,” he answered.

  “Really?” she asked, nervous, getting dressed. She had hoped that he didn’t figure out that it was Two-Shots. The plan was coming together, and she was too close. She could smell the money. “Who do you think did it?”

  “Oh, I got an idea. And I got eyes on that nigga,” he said. “Why, what’s up?”

  “I was just asking. You know, making conversation,” she recovered, making herself busy.

  She was trying to reassure herself. He couldn’t possibly know that it was my cousin, could he? Nah. He kept his face hidden. At least, I think he did. Her mind was racing with thoughts.

  “All right. Well, I gotta get ready to head to work. But you gon’ come scoop me after?” she asked, looking for her purse.

  “Yeah. I figure we go to the Bahamas for the weekend,” he answered.

  “Hell yeah,” she smiled, leaning over the bed and giving him a quick peck before heading out.

  Getting into the car, she drove straight to her cousin’s house. She had started to get an idea on the way, one that was foolproof. When she got there, he was sitting on the couch, as usual, watching TV.

  “Please, tell me that you did not show your face that night at his crib,” she said.

  “Nah, why?” he yawned.

  “Because this nigga talking ’bout he know who did it and that he got eyes on them,” she told him.

  Thinking about it at that moment, she realized she probably shouldn’t have come straight to his house. She should’ve had him meet her somewhere. If Tank really did have eyes out, it might bring up questions about her being there. She was going to have to think of something to cover her tracks.

  “Don’t worry. Everything straight,” he said, flipping through the channels.

  “A’ight. Cool,” she sighed, somewhat relieved. “So, I was thinking about something on the way over here.”

  “Wassup?” he asked.

  “I know how to get a whole lot more money up out of him,” she grinned devilishly.

  “How?” he turned and looked at her curiously.

  “His mama. Liz.”

  He grew quiet and looked down.

  “Yeah, I know who that is,” he mumbled.

  “Yeah, I just told you. It’s his mama,” she said, not noticing the change in his mood from her excitement. “This could be the way for us to get everything we need. We get her, and we use her as bait. Simple.”

  “Nah. Stick to the original plan,” he demanded.

  He didn’t want the woman involved. She would recognize him, and then it would be over.

  “Are you crazy? His mama is our in,” she stressed.

  “I said, no,” he yelled, jumping up.

  She jumped at how angry he had gotten. “What the fuck is your problem?” she asked, stepping back.

  “Nothing,” he snapped, flopping back down on the couch. “Just leave it alone.”

  She didn’t have time to press him about his outburst. It was almost seven, and she was running late.

  “Whatever,” she dismissed. “I gotta go. You just watch your back and make sure ain’t nobody following you. That nigga is out for blood,” she warned.

  “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  She left to go to work, wondering about how he reacted. This is why I gotta handle this shit, she thought. This nigga don’t know how to get shit done. Can’t handle somebody coming up with a solid plan instead of the bullshit.

  They were about to be paid, and there was no backing out. If he didn’t want to deal with it, then she would do it herself.

  Chapter Twenty

  February 2019

  “I forgot how lit the streets be out in Wynnewood.”

  “Man, yeah,” Tank agreed, watching the people cover the streets of Miami.

  “Yo, I’m trying to go to South Beach,” Ty suggested. “It’s supposed to be a big-ass party out there that everybody been talking about.”

  “Shit, you know I’m with it,” Tank told him.

  He hadn’t really had a good night out in a minute. Even though he was always in the middle of the nightlife, it was because he was working. He was always watching and recruiting. But tonight, he and his boy, Ty, were going to let loose. Genese was at work, and Ty had invited him for a night out. He needed it. But he was still cautious, though, because he knew somebody out there was going around bragging about robbing him. He had his boy Armani and just about every one of his soldiers hitting the streets to find information. It was bothering him that he had come up empty, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before somebody said something.

  Tonight, he was going to enjoy the nightlife. He was dressed in all white, looking like a chocolate wrapped in heaven, and he and Ty hit the strip. He drove his new BMW M4 convertible with the top down, catching everyone’s eye. Women looked, smiling and winking, trying to get his attention.

  “Damn, look at ole girl over there. She gawd damn thicker than peanut butter,” Ty said, looking at an exotic-looking woman walking past.

  Tank himself was fixated on a group of Cuban women that were walking down the streets.

  “I swear Cuban bitches are like fucking unicorns or something,” he said. “Them bitches got phat asses and them small-ass waists.”

  “Yeah, but they got some crazy-ass mouths, just like my baby mama,” Ty complained.

  “Nigga, she ain’t Cuban,” Tank said, confused.

  “Puerto Rican. Same damn thing.” Ty shrugged.

  Tank laughed at his boy’s frustration and ignorance.

  “Man, my baby mama was going off on some dumb shit last night,” he went on.

  “What y’all beefing about?”

  “Bruh, dumb shit,” Ty dragged. “I told her that I was coming to get little man, and she talking about she coming down here too. What the fuck she need to come down here for? She act like I don’t know how to take care of my son by myself.”

  “Oh, she still tryin’a cuff you and shit?”

  “Man, yeah,” Ty sighed. “But shit don’t work with me and her. I mean, we cool and everything, and we both take care of our son, but I just wasn’t trying to be with her like that. We smash every now and then, but she know what it is.”

  “Nigga, that’s why her ass tryin’a come down here. She tryin’a get that D,” Tank laughed.

  “Whatever, nigga.” Ty rolled his eyes. “She knew what it was.”

  This was the exact reason why Tank didn’t want to have any kids. He didn’t want to be dealing with the baby mama drama.

  “Well, we gon’ find you a new baby mama tonight, my nigga,” he joked.

  Once they got to South Beach, Tank found a parking spot, and the two got out to find some fun. They were headed to Club Infinity, which was supposed to be Tank’s biggest competitor. They had three decks of parties going on simultaneously, three different DJs, constant drink specials, and cages for the girls to dance in. Even though he was going to have fun, he had to admit that a part of him wanted to peep the club to see if he had anything to worry about.

  Walking down the sidewalk, he saw something that caught his attention. It was a group of girls with sashes on, and he could tell that it was a bridal party. Every last one of them was gorgeous.

  “Ay, hold up a minute,” he told his boy, walking over in the direction of the girls.

  They were getting on this big party bus when one of the girls noticed him and smiled.

  “Hey, sexy,” she said, clearly drunk.

  “What’s up, love?” he said, approaching her. “What’s your name?”

  “Star,” she answered, looking him up and down like she wanted to pounce. “Oooh, you cute.”

  “Appreciate it, baby girl,” he smiled, showing his pretty white teeth.

  “Girl, get your ass on this bus so we can go,” one of her friends called out.

  “Girl, I’m sorry. I was talking to this fine-ass piece of chocolate right here,” she said, not taking her eyes off him. “Mmm . . . What’s your name, baby?”

  “Tank,” he introduced himself.

  “Yes, you are. Ain’t nothing like a dark piece of chocolate. Damn, I just want to lick you,” she sighed.

  Tank raised his eyebrows in surprise at her boldness.

  Yeah, she drunk off her ass.

  “Star, get your fast ass on this fucking bus,” her friend yelled.

  “Ay, yo, how you get one of these things?” he asked the girl that was on the bus with the “Bride-to-Be” sash.

  “I just googled it,” she told him.

  “So, y’all ain’t feel like partying at the club?”

  “Oh yeah, we doing that too. But this is cheaper and easier than doing a whole limo and all that shit,” the bride told him. She got off the bus and walked to him, and he loved what he saw. “We can get up here, drink, party, and not have to worry about bumping into a bunch of other bitches and all that stuff.”

  “That’s wassup,” he nodded.

  “Plus, everybody will be looking at us ’cause we looking all cute,” she added. “That’s right . . . ow!” Star chimed, staggering on the steps mimicking Cardi B sticking her tongue out.

  Tank laughed as people passed by and cheered the drunken bridal party.

  “A’ight. I tell you what. When I start my party bus, I want you to be one of my first passengers,” he said, pulling out a card and handing it to her. “Consider it a late wedding gift. And I’ma have it bring you to my Club 305. I want you to hit me in three months.”

  “Really?” the bride-to-be smiled. “Okay, I will.”

  He winked at her and walked off back in the direction where Ty was waiting.

  “Bruh, you shoulda had me come with you as your wingman, my nigga,” he said.

  “Nah, man, I wasn’t tryin’a holla at them or no shit like that,” Tank corrected him.

  “Then what was you over there caking about?” Ty asked, confused.

  “I think I’ma start my own line of party buses,” Tank told him. “That shit can make money.”

  “Yeah, they do,” Ty agreed.

  “What you think?”

  “I think that shit a good idea,” Ty told him. “Shit, if I could get into it, I would.”

  “Ay, it ain’t like you don’t know about the business,” Tank reasoned. “My nigga, you know we can go in on it together. Be business partners and shit.”

  Ty pondered it while they walked to the front door.

  “It’s definitely something to think about,” he had to admit. Going into business with Tank would be a good look.

  * * *

  Security took their names at the door, and then they walked inside the club. Up until damn near three in the morning, they partied, drank, danced, and had a good time. The owner knew he was there and gave him and his boy the red-carpet treatment. Tank thought he had something to worry about with the club, but this was a completely different vibe than his spot, so he was cool.

  After dropping off his boy and setting up a time to talk business, he headed to the house. His mind was racing, trying to figure out how he would get started with the party bus. He was always trying to get money, no matter how much he already had. This new business venture was just another way for his name to hold weight in the city.

  He was home and getting in the shower when his phone rang. He picked it up to see a number that he didn’t recognize on the caller ID. It was almost four o’clock in the morning, so he knew it was probably some bullshit.

  “What up?” he answered.

  “May I speak with Martaveous Young, please?”

  “Who this?” he asked cautiously, not recognizing the voice.

  “Mr. Young, my name is Terry Miller,” the person said. “I’m calling you from the city of Miami Morgue.”

  Why the fuck is the morgue calling me? He was worried it would be his boy Fendi or maybe even Ty.

  “Mr. Young, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but we need you to come down here to identify a body.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  February 2019

  “Mr. Young, thank you for coming down. Sorry that we had to call you here under such dismal circumstances so late, but your name was listed as next of kin, and we wanted to try to get this matter resolved so that we could give the information to the authorities.”

  Martaveous was at the city morgue at almost five o’clock in the morning. When he got the phone call that he needed to come and identify a body, he didn’t know what to expect. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that he wasn’t going to like what he saw.

  He was standing outside in the hallway in front of a large window. On the other side of the window stood a woman dressed in a white lab coat in front of a body with a sheet over it. He could tell who it was by the shape, and the attendant hadn’t even pulled the sheet back. He knew the shape. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. The woman slowly pulled the sheet back, and his heart dropped to his stomach. Lying in front of him was the only woman that cared about him—Mz. Ave. She was gone.

  He felt himself breaking into a million pieces. His chest tightened, and his fists balled up in anger.

  “What happened?” he said after taking several minutes to calm down.

  “That’s what we’re trying to piece together,” the man told him. “Miami PD has opened an investigation. From what we know, she was murdered in her home.”

  Rage was filling Tank quickly. Looking at her lying there on the cold slab lifeless, he felt a part of him die. He wanted vengeance. He wanted to make whoever did this pay with their life. He wanted to kill them and bring them back to life again so that he could kill them once more. He could feel himself about to crack.

  Who would do this shit to Ma? Everybody loved her. She was the sweetest woman in the world.

  “If it’s any consolation, she didn’t suffer much,” the man told him as the woman covered her back up. “We found three bullet wounds. One to the heart, one through her hand, and another in her neck. The first bullet struck, killing her pretty much instantly.”

  Tank turned to the man and grabbed him, shoving him against the wall. He watched him flinch. The man did not know what was about to happen next.

  “So, you gon’ sit here and try to make it seem like she was some fucking dog or something that was being put down?” he growled. “Talking about she didn’t suffer much? You ever been shot, muthafucka?”

  “No,” the man mumbled. “Please . . . I was just—”

  “You was just nothing,” Tank cut him off.

  Seeing the man terrified, he let him go. He wasn’t mad at him. After all, he was just doing his job. But he was mad—dangerously mad.

  “Mr. Young, I’m sorry. Really, I am,” the man pressed, making sure to move away from Tank.