Читать книгу STREET KARMA - Pain - Страница 8

CHAPTER

1

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

“Oh yes, baby! Oh yeah…Oh!...Yes! That feels soo good! Take it! It’s yours, baby! Yes! Yes baby! Oh yes, yes! I feel you all over, baby.”

Damn, you a straight up freaky bitch. Low was thinking while the satisfied smile on his face was all he was wearing as he pumped his dick in and out of her tight, brown hole. He was busy making all her sexual fantasies come to fruition. So the fingers of Low’s right hand steadily fingered her throbbing pussy. He thrust three digits in and out of her, leaving her twat wet. Low removed his fingers from her moist tunnel, and put them inside her mouth. He felt like he was big pimping, smugly smiling while enjoying the pleasure of her tongue licking, and sucking her juices dripping from his hand.

She felt his dick tearing down the thin flesh of door to her forbidden hole, and shouted, “Smack my ass!”

Obliging her freakish demand, Low gave her caramel complexioned butt a firm smack on the left cheek. Smiling at the rippling effect that made her ass jiggle like Jell-O, he watched as she arched her back. Suddenly a tsunami of moans erupted.

“Hmm… Oh…ah yes baby. Yes!”

The mixture of pain, and anal pleasure reached a crescendo, sending her into a whirlpool of sheer bliss. Reaching back, she grabbed Low’s balls into her soft palm, and playfully juggled them between her fingers.

“Ah…” Low hissed.

The massage, and her tight asshole gloving his pulsing penis only intensified the euphoria Low was experiencing. The two Ecstasy pills she had convinced him to pop earlier reached their peak. His blissful rush now exponentially heightened, Low found himself feeling almost too good. Closing his eyes, and tilting his head back, he couldn’t stop moaning his pleasure aloud.

“Uh yeah… Ah yeah, girl!”

“I’m ‘bout to cum!”

When Low heard her screaming, he viciously plunged his pipe deeper into her ass while continuing to finger fucking her gushy pussy. She closed her eyes while intensely rubbing her clit. Hollering in pleasurable pain, her gorgeous body shuddered as an intense orgasm began building inside her like a volcano. Only seconds away from a great eruption, she screamed, “Ooh… I’m… ooh baby, yeah!”

Squirming, her body shook violently while reaching her climax. The feeling of being stimulated three different ways caused a strong wave-like orgasm to stream from her warm crevice. There was no room for recovery because Low was still pumping his dick furiously inside her. The beast within him was unleashed, and her tight ass raised high welcomed it with lust. Low slowly eased his hand from her clit. Reaching back, he grabbed her ass, stuck his thumb slightly between her cheeks, and quickly plugged her hole. The sudden heightened stimulation that she felt caught her totally off guard. The feeling of having both his dick and balls pleasured simultaneously overwhelmed Low. An intense sensation flooded him, causing his knees to buckle.

“Cum for mami, baby!”

She seductively tightened her ass muscle, and Low felt an orgasmic rush take over him. His ecstasy induced high heightened the sensation, and made his entire body feel like one-big dick.

“A-h-h!” Low whimpered, blasting off inside her.

Then immediately collapsing on the hotel’s super king-sized bed, Low was sweating, panting, and gasping for air. He was exhausted, and with eyes shut, he rolled onto his back while trying to catch his breath.

“Damn girl, you’s something else,” he gasped.

With a pleased smile, glancing at Low, she said, “Yeah, I am. But daddy, I ain’t done.”

Inching closer toward him, she began seductively kissing his neck, gliding her moist tongue down Low’s chest, and slowly easing her way down his stomach. On reaching his manhood, she grabbed a hold of his slowly hardening meat.

“Hmm, I see you ain’t done either,” she salaciously smiled then began licking the tip of his dick like a chocolate Tootsie Pop.

Lifting his head, Low stared at her in surprise. His dick was solid as a rock. Fuck Superman, he thought wearing a smug smile. These fucking pills got me feeling like super-dick. Those double-stacked ecstasy pills with five point stars he popped earlier were only an hour and a half into the nine-hour ride. A night Low would never forget was in the beginning stages. It seemed to be going well. Low kicked back, and delighted in some serious sexual pleasure.

Closing his eyes, his mind was enchanted. Damn! This bitch must be a seasoned pro. Her head-game was terrific, and she was expertly giving his cock the deep-throat treatment. Occasionally gagging when the tip of his dick temporarily clogged her esophagus, she was putting him in a trance.

Grabbing a hold of her long silky black dreads, Low used his hand to navigate her rhythm, controlling her pace while fucking the shit out of her mouth. She reached for Low’s nut-sack then gently rubbed, pulled, and massaged his balls. The added pleasurable sensation made Low’s toes curl. Instinctively, she knew Low was on the verge of another explosion. Low’s volcanic buildup reached its peak. His body went tense, and he erupted. Wrapping her full lips around the tip of his meat, she sucked him into her mouth like a Hoover vacuum. His semen gushed through his dick like milk from a cow, Low’s entire body shook in convulsions, and he grimaced.

Lying comfortably on the bed with his head reclined on two plush silk pillows, he took a drag on a Newport, and slowly exhaled. Then he scrolled through his iPhone 8, and released a tiresome sigh. He was feeling drained, and exhausted from fucking for the past two and a half hours. But at the same time, he felt very much satisfied.

“You must work for Bell South, girl cuz you done sucked all the energy out of me,” he laughed, pressing send on his phone when he located the number. Then he continued. “What was your name again?”

“Karma…”

Sighing seductively while winking at Low, the sexy woman glanced up. A sly smile was pasted on her lips. She wanted to be free, and have fun tonight. Wiggling her sexy hips, she returned to crushing the double-stacked Batman-stamped E-pill in a square shaped tin foil. The pill was almost powdery, and ready to mixed with about two grams of fresh crypie weed she brought with her on her flight from school. Ass fucking, and smoking weed-laced with ecstasy were two habits she picked up while attending the University of Miami. Her bachelor’s degree in sports medicine, and communications was a past accomplishment, and she was ready to take the next step on the ladder of success.

An occasionally dabbler in coke, she mostly cultivated a taste for fine wines, partying, and pills. She also developed a deep interest for thug-ass niggas with big dicks, and loads of cash. Low met all her qualifications. She was hooked after her first boyfriend at the U turned her out, exposing her to the fast life, illicit drugs, and sex. Torri was a good girl gone rotten. Her first love, Troy Moore was the star quarterback of the Miami Hurricanes College Division 1 Football team. He was a lock to be in the first round of the upcoming NFL Draft.

All the women on campus wanted him figuring he would be a guaranteed meal ticket. Torri felt fortunate and was grateful to be the girl that he chose. He treated her like gold, buying her everything her heart desired. Throughout her four years at school, Troy made sure she wanted for nothing. In return she was loyal to only him, catering to his every need and desire. Even obligingly allowing him to engage in threesomes with her and her dorm-mate on the night of his twenty-first birthday.

That night, he also enjoyed a girl-on-girl freak show. The evening was topped off with her giving him anal sex for the first time. They were soul mates, at least she was sure of it. During their senior year, he proposed to her, and she was certain that the deal of becoming a rich athlete’s wife was sealed.

Abruptly, he broke-off the engagement after being drafted first overall by the Dallas Cowboys in the NFL Draft, and signing a lucrative multi-million dollar contract. She was by his side, and expected to reap all the rewards of being his beautiful, and loyal fiancée. He moved to Dallas with his millions with a newfound sports agent and girlfriend. Devastated, she never shed a tear. Instead she used that heartbreaking experience as motivation.

The rest of her year at school was mostly spent at all the hot spots in Miami, chasing a good time and trying to find a millionaire baller to lock up and marry. This quickly became her obsession. Her search was definitely going to end with Low, if she had anything to say about it. She had hit the jackpot. She knew that Low’s name was ringing bells even down in Dade County, Miami. The word on the street was that Low was large. People spoke of him like he was some kind of Tony Montana.

When Low first approached her at the bar of Atlanta Airport’s Fliers’ lounge and offered to replenish her half empty gin and tonic, her first thought was to tell him to go fuck himself. She gave his appearance - plain white T-shirt, khaki shorts, and cheap Reeboks the once-over with her gold-digging eyes. Then she quickly dismissed him as another petty-ass wanna-be hustler.

The fact that his cheap looking-ass even thought he was worthy of her time and conversation made her that much angrier. She just wanted to dismiss him as quickly as possible. Having just got into Atlanta from a long unpleasant flight from Miami International about an hour ago, she was experiencing a pulsing migraine, and was feeling beyond fatigued. The last thing she had time for was this lame-ass.

Her usual ‘my shit doesn’t stink’ attitude almost crept out, and got the best of her. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was on her third glass of gin and tonic, and was getting tipsy which slowed her reaction time in telling him off. Filled with attitude, her eyes began rolling.

Then she noticed the gleam coming from the glistening ruby stones on Low’s Cartier wristwatch.

She recognized the piece immediately. Having taken, and completed a jeweler certification course in college, she knew jewelry. If her eyesight was correct, the timepiece Low wore on his wrist was worth anywhere from fifty to sixty thousand dollars, she quickly surmised. Instantly, the strained look on her face morphed into a big, warm smile.

“I have some time to kill,” she smiled, inviting Low to sit at the bar with her. When he did, she sprung her plan on him. “I’ll have that drink now,” she added.

Wiling away the hours, the two chitchatted about this and that. Then she nonchalantly asked to see his watch. She inspected the five-carat VVS diamonds and rubies flooding the face of the Cartier, and realized that her initial appraisal of Low’s watch was actually short by four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The discovery that Low had a half a million dollars sitting on his wrist left her pussy wet and tingling.

It was a wrap. She was up in his presidential suite, and he was up in her ass so fast that she ditched her golden rule of never letting a man get the goodies on the first night. She decided to let Low fuck her brains out. She knew after she laid her pussy on him, he would be hooked, and be a fiend for more of her physical ploy. After tonight, her body would be off limits until she had his mind. Her plan was in motion, and there was no way she was going to let him slip her grasp.

When she was finished rolling the techno filled vanilla Dutch, she lit it, and inhaled deeply. Letting the smoke linger in her lungs, she exhaled the fumes, and began thinking. What would her older brother think if he knew how his supposed-to-be-virgin, saint sister that he sent away to college on his dime was really living? Even though he was aware of the devastation her break­up caused, he wouldn’t be too pleased. The techno-blunt began making her buzzed. Quickly, all thoughts of her brother faded. She took another deep pull, and inhaled.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged, exhaling.

The past would be kept secret, and set aside with her college years. Her brother didn’t expect her home until tomorrow anyway. Plus, she knew she would have to leave the drugs alone around him. So tonight she decided to toast the town for one last go-around.

“Here baby, hit this blunt,” she said, reaching out to Low, and putting the lit Dutch to his mouth while he spoke to Red on his cellphone.

“Okay then pimp. I see you got company over there huh, homey?” Red said, hearing her voice while she passed Low the Dutch. “Damn nigga, what room you in? I might have to come up there, and see what you working with cause that bitch sound fine as hell!”

“Yeah nigga. She sure is a bad one,” Low smiled in agreement. Pausing, he took couple tokes then continued. “But I think I’m a have to keep this one to myself, my dude.”

Glancing at her round apple shaped ass, Low watched her cuddle next to him. Then she began gently massaging his chest. The sight of her lovely caramel skinned nakedness mixed with her sensual touch made his dick jump. He kept puffing, and pretty soon he was getting horny as hell. Gently Low caressed her plump, soft ass. He slid two fingers between her cheeks entering her wetness, and began to slowly finger fuck her pussy from the back. The sensation of his fingers roaming inside her wet walls, teasing her G-spot, sent shockwaves through her petite frame.

“Ah… Ooh,” she hissed with a guttural groan.

A series of desired-filled moan escaped her opened mouth as she gently sucked while licking Low’s rising chest. Her breath came rapid letting him know he was getting her hot. Low knew he wanted to bust another nut before Red came to pick him up. He cut the small talk short on the phone with him.

“Yeah, so how long is it gonna take you to get here?”

“Ah nigga, you know you was always a cuffer,” Red chuckled.

Red was aware of Low’s habit of not sharing his women. He paused, listening intensely to the seductive moans coming from the other end of the phone. The sounds of lovemaking only served to make him think of the pussy he already lined up for later that night.

“I got something for tonight anyway,” Red laughed.

“That’s what’s up. Do you?”

“I’m approaching College Park right now—I’m about thirty or so exits from downtown… I should be there in half an hour. I’ll hit you up when I get out in front of the lobby, be ready my nigga.”

“A’ight my nigga… One.”

Low ended the call, tossed the iPhone on a nightstand, and stared at the beautiful body on the bed.

“Damn baby, your friend is coming to take you away from me already?” she asked, easing closer to him.

She teased with light, passionate kisses starting at his torso, and making her way up to his chin. Gliding her tongue toward his ear, she traced his earlobe with her moist tongue.

“If you leave you’ll miss the surprise I have for you,” she seductively whispered.

Grabbing Low’s hand, she pulled his fingers out of her wet pussy, and stuck them in her warm mouth. Sucking, she licked her own juices off Low’s digits. Then with a demure smile on her lips she said, “I know you don’t want to miss what I have for you right?”

Her soft brown eyes were searing with vision of nasty sex. She continued licking and hungrily sucking on his fingers. Low took a deep drag off the Dutch and exhaled loudly, with a sly smile on his face. Her sexual banter was making his dick hard.

“Damn ma, I just gotta make this quick drop off and pick up my car. But I’ll be right back in about an hour,” he said, passing her the Dutch.

Taking a pull on the weed, she inhaled deeply while staring at Low. She exhaled then clipped the Dutch, placing it in the ashtray on top of the nightstand. She sighed deeply like something was wrong, and said, “By then I’ll be sleeping like a baby.” Smiling, she continued. “Well I guess I’ll have to show you what I have for you right now,” she said, shrugging.

“Carpe diem, baby-girl,” Low smiled, watching her.

She quickly climbed on top of Low, and set herself into a sixty-nine position. Her round ass and moist pussy glistening from juices and sweat welcomed him. Grabbing a firm hold of his erect penis, she slowly stroked it.

“Now I know you’re hungry, baby,” she purred, teasing his stiff manhood with slow, wet licks of her tongue.

She saw the pleasure all over Low’s face. Licking up and down the shaft, and tip of his magic stick, her tongue assault caused a slight drip. Wearing the most seductive smile, she said, “If you’re gonna go then I can’t leave you with an empty stomach. I suggest you start eating.”

Then lowering her buttocks, she straddled his face with her wet pussy. Leaning forward, she feverously engulfed his dick in her warm moist mouth, and sucked his shaft. Low wasted no time in sticking his face into her goodies, devouring her. With both hands slightly spreading her ass cheeks apart. He began to gently suck on the edge of her pink pussy lips while occasionally flicking his tongue across her clit causing her to moan out ecstatically.

“Oh yes! Yes babe!”

She slowed the tempo of her strokes, and like the rhythm of an intimate love song she began to rock his world. Raising his anticipation to the highest crescendo, she stopped at the tip of his meat to circle the head with her tongue then swallowing him whole again. This calculated routine brought a feeling Low never before experienced. The techno-blunt heightened his ecstasy induced high so much that with every stroke she made with her mouth his entire body reciprocated.

It felt as if his whole body was being licked and sucked at once. Her oral antics left Low feeling so good, he obliged by returning the favor. She brought out the freak in him, and he let his tongue invade her gushy love box. Low traced the outer wet walls of her womanhood then eased his way to the bare area of skin separating vagina, and anus. With slow passionate licks, his tongue teased her.

“Oh no… No! Yes… yes!”

Ecstatic moans, and the shrill of screams burst like flares of delight across the room. Low snaked his tongue, sticking it deeper inside her tight asshole. With firm circular strokes he rimmed the tip of her anus. He spent a couple minutes tossing her salad. By the up tempo sway of her hips, and the intense grinding of her clit on his chin, Low realized that she was on the verge of an immense explosion.

“Oh baby, yeah! Yes!” She moaned in pleasure.

Low felt a humming vibration on his dick, sending waves through his entire body. In one quick motion, he eased his tongue out of her asshole, made it stiff, and plunged his tongue into her soaking, wet pussy. The tip of his tongue rubbed against her upper walls, springing her G-spot to life, and setting her entire body on fire. The ecstasy heightened the feeling so much so, she found herself unable to continue to please him anymore.

“Oh God! Yes! Yes!” She screamed.

Her fingers clutched the satin sheets as a heavenly orgasmic wave began building inside her. Her climatic elevation began vaulted to another level. The torturous nature of his tongue-action lifted her body up as if Lucifer possessed her. She rode the fuck out of Low’s face. Nearing an apex, Low quickly plugged her anus with his middle finger, sticking it all the way inside her. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Ah-h!” She screamed when a vicious orgasm rocked her entire body.

Holding his head in place, she erupted. Her milky white juices overflowed in and around Low’s mouth.

“O-o-h yes, daddy!”

Her body spasm, and shook in convulsions. When her body finally stopped shaking, she swiftly got off Low’s face. Without missing a beat, she grabbed his rock hard cock. With a straddle hop, she quickly jumped on Low’s dick in a reverse cowgirl.

“Hold on, baby,” she purred devilishly while gyrating her hips.

Stretching her pussy walls, she allowed Low’s massive cock engulfed her insides. Then she felt the tremors of an orgasm coming from the pit of her stomach. The sexy young woman seductively bounced up and down on his rigid pole like she was riding a mechanical bull. Raising his hips to greet her grind, Low plunged his massive tool inside her twat. Then he started thrusting in and out her wetness like his dick was a jackhammer. He fucked her so hard her screams were filled with the blissful mixture of pleasure and pain. She shook her head side to side, and her walls stretched. This sensation was followed by the instant delight of his cock rubbing her G-spot.

“Oh, yes! I’m cumming! I’m cumming, baby! Cum with me!”

Her body convulsed and she reached her peak, exploding on Low. His entire body stiffened, and semen flooded her tunnel.

“A-a-ah!” Low grunted, collapsing on top of the bed wearing nothing but a presidential smile.

RED

The blind stares of a million pairs of eyes looking hard,

But won’t realize that they’ll never see the P

—Tupac You Can’t See Me

Red was straight zoning. Gunning his sports car south down Highway 85, bumping 2Pac, he raised the big bottle of Barbancourt Haitian Rum to his mouth. He took four thirst-filled gulps of the brown liquid like it was Spring Water. Wiping his mouth, he was careful not to scratch his lips with the one and a half carat diamond encrusted cufflinks on his black, silk Armani shirt. He carefully placed the bottle of rum between his legs, and raised the volume on the Bose sound system to the max. The four eighteen-inch Bose subwoofers blasted heavy, showing him what they were working with.

Speeding toward downtown Atlanta, the car’s six hundred and eighteen horse powered AMG engine was effortlessly traveling at a hundred miles-an-hour. Red reclined comfortably behind the wheel, and the car’s corn silk Italian leather fitted his body like a G4 jet pilot. Rapping along to the lyrics of 2Pac’s, You Can’t See Me blaring through the cars surround-sound speakers, he was in an exhilarated trance.

“See me in flesh

And test…

And get your chest blown

Straight out tha west, don’t get blown

My adversaries cry like ho’s

Open and shut like doors…

Is you a friend or foe?

Nigga you ain’t know?”

Feeling on top of the world, Red took three massive gulps, and the rest of the liquor was finished. Red lowered his limo-tinted driver’s side window, and tossed the empty two hundred dollar bottle liquor out. Quickly, Red reached behind him where three more bottles sat in the back seat. Grabbing one of the pint sized bottles, he opened the top, and took a heavy swig that went down smooth. Every part of his six feet eight inches, weighing around two hundred and thirty-five-pound frame was on fire. The hundred-proof-rum left him with a heated sensation, easing down his chest. Red blew air out his mouth as if he was exhaling smoke, causing his eyes to squint.

“That’s some good shit right there,” he smiled, muttering to himself.

1:44 a.m. His night was progressing exactly as planned. Red’s smile reflected that of a hustler finally reaching the apex of his game. Fueled by the potent alcohol, Red was now officially stuck in a euphoric zone. Shifting his gaze toward the time on his canary diamond-studded, rose gold ice-link watch, he nodded his head.

Red’s mentor, and confidant was Low. He was the reason Red finally accomplished his lifelong goal. Illegitimate or not, the fiery, ambitious teenager was now of millionaire status. For the division-1 college basketball prospect that dropped out of high school in his senior year this wasn’t too bad. After abandoning his hoop dreams, and a full scholarship to any university in the country, Red made it in another game.

Ditching school for the grind of the street, Red chose to finance his sister, Torri’s college education. He pursued the less guaranteed route, becoming a stellar street scholar. To gamble on such a critical decision would’ve been disastrous if he failed. So there was no room for any losses. Because of that Red didn’t make a move unless his heart was completely with it.

Red was taking a great risk when he chose to hustle instead of going to college, but couldn’t give up the chance of becoming a member of Zoe Pound. It was one of the most financially prosperous criminal organizations in the United States. He would be under the tutelage of the most notoriously feared drug lord of the nation’s underworld—Low. This was a one in a million opportunity Red just couldn’t pass up.

And I ain’t stoppin’

‘Til I’m well paid

Bails paid

Now nigga, look what hell made

Visions of cops and sirens

Niggas open fire

Bunch a Thug…

Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Red knew the last thing he needed was to have his spit-clean arrest record ruined by a reckless felony. He was in possession of an unlicensed handgun while driving under the influence. Red throttled the speeding car down to a respectable forty miles-per-hour. Then sucking his teeth, Red let out a long sigh. Activating the right turn signal, he guided the car to the exit lane, entering the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.

Red hated being anywhere in the vicinity of downtown, ATL. He never partied or enjoyed nightclubs. Always about making that money, Red cast a hater’s glance at ‘the scene’ and being seen. All of his clientele lived in and around the suburbs therefore being in the city was never a necessity. Only if he were heading out of state on one of his business trips would he drive to the airport.

Unfortunately for Red, his sister, Torri, was coming into the airport tomorrow, and he was scheduled to pick her up. The thought of that trip made him sigh heavily. Red was well aware of how freely the ‘alphabet boys’ - FBI, DEA, and ATF roamed this part of the city. Their headquarters were in the downtown area. Red held onto the common sense belief of not showing his face at the local strip clubs, celebrity restaurants, and social events.

Staying out of the spotlight was what a lot of hustlers failed to do, and became a portrait for the ‘alphabet boys’. He was not only cautious, but was sharper than your average hustler. Red wanted to be in the game for the long haul, and avoided the ‘scene’ at all costs.

Taking the airport exit, heading toward the Royal Sonesta Hotel & Resort, Red shrugged off the dislike for being in the city. Torri would be returning home from four years of college at the University of Miami. Red hadn’t seen his beloved sister since her last visit a year ago. He couldn’t wait to see the huge smile she would be wearing when he presented the spanking new ‘09 db9 Volante Convertible, Aston Martin he bought for her graduation gift. Red went the extra mile with his gift. He had the luxury sports car shipped off to California, where it was gutted, and customized to his liking. Red even had ‘Torri’ stitched into all four of the car’s headrests in bold script.

He wanted to get himself, and Torri out the hood. Red accomplished this, but unfortunately he realized that Torri’s heart was out of his hands. All he could do was help her move on from her broken relationship. Along with the new car, Red leased a two-bedroom luxury condo in Atlanta’s exclusive Buckhead residential area for Torri. He also had fifty thousand dollars deposited into an American Express prepaid Credit card account. Torri was ready to start graduate school in the fall. Red planned on paying the full tuition—another surprise he wanted to reveal when she arrived.

Red guided his beluga black on black rims, two-door Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren to the front entrance lobby of the luxurious Royal Sonesta Resort Hotel, and Casino. He pulled to a stop in front of a valet. For a moment, Red wondered why Low booked a room at such a well-known hot spot. Then smiling, he quickly shook his head. Red knew that Low was a big-time trick, and a sucker for fine women.

The choice of hotel told Red that Low definitely had some five-star pussy up there with him, and he was trying to impress her. Two taps on the driver’s side window broke Red’s train of thought, and his smile disappeared into a frown. Turning the cars sound system off, he lowered the tinted window just enough for his eyes to be seen. Red glared at the young valet with a cold stare.

“Yo…?” he sneered.

“Uh… Yes, sir…”

A valet reluctantly approached when he saw the person sitting behind the wheel of the expensive vehicle. Smiling nervously, the valet said, “I was just kindly wondering if you had any luggage that needed to be taken up to your suite with you, sir?”

Sucking his teeth, Red said, “Nah, I’m just picking up someone.”

Then he gave the valet an icy stare, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand, Red signaled for the valet to get away from his car. The valet flashed an uncomfortable smile.

“Very well, sir,” he said, nodding, and rushing to another vehicle.

His driver’s side window up, Red turned up the volume. Suddenly his iPhone vibrated. Shifting his gaze down toward the phones screen, Red saw the message.

Daddy I’m soaking wet. Where R U?

It was the fourth text in the past thirty minutes Lovely sent him. She was blowing up his phone, but Red couldn’t blame her. He was supposed to be at her house an hour and a half ago. Red didn’t bother to respond. Letting out a deep sigh, he reclined himself in the cars leather seats, resting his deep waves on the seat’s headrest with a mischievous smile on his face, thinking. Lovely was one of Low’s bad bitches.

Lovely’s pussy was A-1. Behind Low’s back, Lovely had given Red a taste of the goodies. Since then, Red could not get enough of Lovely. His young- ass was sprung. Grabbing his crotch, Red began massaging his erection through his Armani silk slacks. Wild thoughts of fucking Lovely had him going, and his smile grew wider at the thought of getting more of Lovely. He rubbed his palms together, thinking life was good. Eventually Red would have to tell Low that he was fucking Lovely. That could be done much later.

Even though it was damn special, her pussy was not good enough to jeopardize his future, and livelihood. He was aware that Low hated secrets, but figured that Low wouldn’t give a fuck once he told him about Lovely. Women were an added luxury to a man of Low’s status. A long time ago, Low made it clear to Red that only his wife, Michelle was off limits. Red wasn’t going to allow Lovely to deter him from his destiny. This was a monumental turning point in his life. At this moment, Red’s mind was on presenting Low with a million dollars in cash tomorrow. He needed the dough to complete the final stage of his initiation then he would be an official member of Zoe Pound.

Raising the money was the final test. It had taken four years to raise the amount. Red did this without the guidance or help of Low, and he didn’t have the muscle of Zoe Pound. Low needed to see that Red was not only a hustler, but that he was sharp, and street smart. If Red were able to garner the resource to accumulate one million dollars without attracting the FBI, ATF, and DEA or getting set-up, or worse—getting robbed along the way, he would be worthy to carry on the torch of the Criminal Enterprise known as Zoe Pound.

2Pac’s, All Eyez On Me album rolled on, Check Out Time flowed through the car’s sound system. Nodding his head, Red’s mind drifted further into the struggles he faced in the last four years. Setting the foundation, he was in the midst of making the necessary moves to get a million dollars tax-free. Success came down to making the right decisions. That philosophy never rang as true as it did when it came to the final connection that eventually got Red over the seven-figure milestone.

It was the most critical decision he had to make throughout the whole ordeal. Keys were going for twenty-seven-five up north in Massachusetts, and two determined hustlers out of Boston were in town, and looking to cop thirty of them at fifteen a piece. The thought of killing these out-of-towners, taking their money, and doing away with their bodies seemed like the easiest route at first. Red’s long-term frame of mind kicked in. Quickly, Red realized that if these buyers were about money then not only would he surpass the million-dollar mark necessary, he would also have another out-of-state customer.

There was no necessity to flip coin on this deal. Red already had a solid circle of connections, and was making real good money locally. With close to seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars stashed away already, Red was not in a rush to get that last quarter million. Never the anxious one, Red knew it was better to be safe than sorry.

Knowing this deal could push him over the top, Red chose to roll with his gut feeling. He hit the buyers with the bricks they were requesting at a price tag of seventeen thousand dollars. The deal went down smoothly—that was three months ago. After hitting the Bostonians with their last ten keys earlier, and collecting one hundred and seventy thousand dollars, Red’s net worth stood at nearly a million and a half.

Red put Low’s million in a safe at his condo in Decatur. With the money he owed on the bargained price of two hundred thousand, Red was able to pay for a new Benz, and Torri’s Volante. He headed straight to the Aston Martin dealership, and paid them off. Then he put fifty thousand on a pre-paid credit card for Torri. While shopping at an Armani outlet in DeKalb, Red bought a few dozen outfits.

He booked a V.I.P reservation at P Diddy’s exclusive five-star restaurant, Justin’s. It was there that he planned to entertain his sister in style on her first night back home. Four years ago, Red chose the street game over a shot at going to the NBA. Looking back at the decision, Red felt he made the right choice. Once he started working with Low’s connections, twenty million dollars at the end of the year was a guarantee. Then he and Torri would reap untold rewards. It was a vow he had already staked his life on.

His vibrating iPhone broke Red out of his ruminations. Glancing at the screen, he saw another text from Lovely, sent with a video message. Scrolling, Red opened the video message. He could feel his eyes growing in size while looking at the screen. His mouth stayed open for the entire two-minute video of Lovely seductively rubbing her clit with a vibrator.

‘I’m on my third nut and counting Daddy! WHERE R U?’

The message read, and Red felt an immediate response. “Ooh-wee!” He shouted, his dick already rock-hard.

Desperately pressing the reply button, Red was about to reply, but saw that Low was coming his way. He secured the phone on his waist, and shook his head, whistling in blissful anticipation of a booty-call. Sighing thankfully that Low only needed a ride to the stash-house, Red wanted to drop off his mentor, and haul ass to Lovely’s condo.

“This nigga swear he fly,” Red muttered under his breath when Low got closer.

Looking freshly dipped in Versace silk linens from head to toe, Low was his unflappable self. Flossing five-carat diamond cuff links on his ivory white and gold Versace button-up lit up with every step, Low’s matching ivory white Versace silk slacks were tailor pressed perfect. Cuffed precisely over ivory ostrich skinned, round-tip slip-ons, his slacks were complemented by two large Versace sun pendants on the face of each shoe. Each pendant made of solid gold, with a three-carat diamond flooding the face of the sun—worth about fifty thousand each. Throw in his five-hundred-thousand-dollar, ruby studded Cartier watch, Low looked like a million bucks.

Making his way through the hotel’s massive double doors, Low walked to the valet parking area. A car’s horn caught his attention, and Low’s face lit up when he locked eyes on Red’s McLaren Roadster. Hustlers have a way of communicating without saying a word. The suicide doors swung open on the Benz. Red was telling Low that he was officially in the building. Then Red, one gator foot at a time, stepped out the two-door coupe. Low’s face straight beamed with a great smile. It was a joy similar to a father witnessing his son reaching a higher level of success.

“Okay then pimpin!” Low excitedly exclaimed.

Red glanced to his right, and began to lightly brush his shoulders off. Low threw his head back in laughter at the move.

“I see ya shining nigga!” Low joked, making his way over to Red.

“Yessir, I’m in my motherfucking bag!”

The two hustlers locked hands, embracing with a homeboy hug. Low stole a glance at Red’s wrist.

“Damn, my nigga. You could’ve at least bought yourself a rollie,” Low joked.

“You right,” Red smiled.

“Fuck is this? What you need to know the time in Asia for? Nigga you ain’t an international playa like me,” Low chuckled.

“Nigga, you’re laughing cause your old-ass ain’t up on this new shit,” Red retorted, gesturing towards his canary studded watch.

“That’s what you think…”

“After tonight, even bitches in Japan gonna want a taste of this eggroll. Cause the boy knock down these bricks like King Kong in the flesh nigga!” Red laughed, giving the face of his iced-out watch two assuring taps.

“Say no more, playa…” Low said, jokingly lifting up his hand in an act of surrender before he continued. “But say bro, that’s a mighty nice car you got there.”

Low quickly gave Red’s new ride the once-over. With a raised eyebrow, he glanced back at Red, and asked, “You got your license, my nigga?”

“Ah nigga don’t trip,” Red said in a serious tone. “You already know. I never leave home without my

license,” he declared, and raised his shirt exposing a.44 Smith & Wesson revolver.

“Good nigga, cause I forgot my shit upstairs,” Low said.

“Look at you,” Red said, shaking his head before continuing. “Fuck it. We ain’t headed too far, right?”

Low’s car was parked at the stash house. Low always stay strapped, carrying two.357 Magnums in armrest of his Bentley Continental Flying Spur.

“Oh for sure. You know my twins go nowhere else. Soon as you drop me off, I’ll be good.”

“Well a’ight then my nigga. I guess we good to go. Hop in so we can get the fuck up.”

  

The Mercedes’ engine roared as Red maneuvered in and out of the highway’s traffic lane. Low sat snugly in the passenger seat while Young Jeezy’s, Trap Or Die boomed through the cars Bose sound system. Low adjusted the volume then reclined, resting his baldhead on the leather headrest. He lifted the crypie weed to his mouth, and lit it.

“Bro, I’m telling you…” Low began as he inhaled the thick weed smoke deeply into his lungs. Then he continued. “I think I just met the baddest bitch ever!” Low exhaled the laced fumes, and passed the weed to Red.

“Nigga, you trippin,” Red snickered in amusement, took a long pull off the weed, and kept his eyes on the road.

“Man I ain’t even bullshitting, bro,” Low said.

“The bitch’s bad as fuck, man. I swear she look like that broad… Ah… You know that broad we be seeing in all them King and XXL magazines?”

“Who…? You mean Angel…?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one,” Low said, snapping his fingers.

“Yeah sure… Angel’s bad. That bitch can’t look that good,” Red snickered, shaking his head then continued. “Angel’s a straight up twenty-piece.”

“You think it’s a game, huh? I ain’t even joking, bro. And the shit about it… You’d think a bitch that beautiful would be a straight up saint, right? Man, look-a here!”

Red was laughing as he switched lanes, and tried his best not to choke on the weed smoke. Red could tell from Low’s enthusiasm that Low was about to become animated.

“Good thing I never let looks fool me, when it comes to these broads.”

“Yeah, but I bet you was spitting that A-1 tech to her though,” Red chuckled.

“Shit, nigga. I ain’t even have to spit no game to that ho. Soon as the bitch seen them stones on the kid’s wrist it was a wrap. She was instantly in the matrix!”

Red threw his head back in laughter, knowing well the effect his own jewels had on woman he first met. Then chuckling, he said, “Nah, you ain’t have the bitch stuck on the stones like that bro.”

“Man I told you I ain’t had to spit no game. Soon as the bitch seen the rubies on the kids wrist the bitch turned into Roger Clemens, and straight fastballs me the pussy.

They both burst out laughing at Low’s animation and his analogy.

“I swear, bro—word to the Pound. I tell this bitch my name…next thing I know, she’s pulling out the visa, and started charging drink after drink to that shit. She even insisted on charging a room for the whole week.”

Red glanced at Low, smiled, and said, “Man, I know you didn’t have shorty maxing out her lil’ credit card trying to impress you?”

“I was about to,” Low said with a devilish smirk.

“Oh yeah…?”

“Yeah… But you know I had to let her see she was in the presence of a boss.”

“Anyway bro… Soon as we get in the suite, the bitch pulls out a big prescription bottle full of these.”

Red glanced down at Low’s at opened hand. Skeptically eyeing the four two-toned, cloverleaf stamped pills for a brief second, Red immediately started laughing so hard he almost dropped the weed.

“Nigga, this bitch had you popping Viagra!” Red asked still laughing.

“Nah, fool. Nigga, this Ecstasy,” Low said, passing Red one of the double-stacked Ecstasy pills. Then he continued. “All the young freak’s popping these shits nowadays. I ain’t even gonna front, that lil’ broad just turned me out on to these pills. You ever tried one?”

“Nah, I never tried that shit,” Red said while examining the green and white pills.

“Okay then—”

“But I heard they’ll have your dick hard for like two hours straight,” Red said with a smirk.

“Nigga what?” Low chimed in excitedly, grabbing his crotch. Then he continued. “These pills is the truth! Fucking have your meat hard like Rottweiler!” he laughed.

“Huh…?”

“Yeah nigga, been fucking for like two hours, and my dick’s still hard as fuck right now! The shit just won’t go down. Plus, the bitch was crushing these shits all in the weed, and shit. Man, I’m high as fuck, bro. I can’t wait ‘til you drop me off. I’m heading straight back to the telly to tear that pussy up some more.”

Laughing, Red shook his head, and said, “Nigga, now I know why this weed taste funny. Shit, I got this bad one lined up tonight waiting to get blessed too.”

“A’ight, I’m telling ya bro. Pop one of these babies, and then go see that broad. You’ll see… Matter of fact, pop two,” Low said, handing Red a second pill then he continued. “I’m ‘bout to pop these two myself.”

Red eyed the two ecstasy pills skeptically then he said, “Really…?

“Yes nigga.”

“C’mon you know me. I ain’t into all this extra shit like some of y’all old-heads. No disrespect. But I don’t fuck with coke and—”

“I know you only fuck with weed, and liquor to get right, but you gotta take a chance on this shit right here.”

The thought of fucking Lovely’s brains out for hours on end without losing his erection made things seem quite enticing. Nodding his head, Red said, “A’ight, fuck it. I’m a fuck the dog shit outta this bitch.”

He purposely left out Lovely’s name. Instead, reaching around the backseat, Red retrieved a bottle of Haitian rum that he was drinking earlier. Placing it in his lap, he took a toke on the weed, lowered his driver’s side window, and tossed out the roach. Then he swallowed both pills, lifted the bottle of rum to his mouth, and with one swig, washed them down.

“Damn nigga, I passed you my blunt, and your young-ass smoked that whole shit,” Low said, realizing the weed was all gone.

“My bad, Low…”

Shaking his head, Low dropped the ecstasy pills into his own mouth, and got the rum in Red’s hand. After swallowing he said, “Back in the day it was puff, puff, pass…”

They both laughed, and Low took another gulp of liquor, and his face wrinkled when the liquor burned his throat on its way down.

“Ah, nigga don’t trip…” Red said.

“This liquor is potent—”

“Yeah, this stripper bitch I be fucking with her parents just got back from Haiti. Look at the backseat. I got twenty more cases of Barbancourt Haitian Rum at the crib. Nigga, that’s enough juice to keep a nigga drunk till next summer.”

“Be careful with this shit,” Low said, taking another gulp.

Red took the bottle back, took another gulp, and asked, “How long it’s gonna take these pills to kick in?”

“Don’t worry. You’ll feel it soon.”

It was now 3 a.m. They were travelling for seventeen minutes, and Red could feel the ecstasy creeping on him. The car’s sound system blasted Bone Thugs and Harmony. Highway I-85 was virtually empty. Red was doing a hundred and eighty miles per hour entering the city of Columbus where Low’s stash-house was located.

The smooth ecstatic effect the pills gave Red, mixed with the flowing beats of the music left him in an excellent mind frame. His Kool-Aid smile was accented by occasional chuckles as he listened to Low’s ranting about his sexcapade with the freak at the Hotel. Low was filled with animation while telling his story complete with details, leaving no room for imagination.

“Nigga, I stick my tongue in the bitch ass and toss her salad a lil’ bit to get her loose, and ready. Once I replaced my tongue with this meat! Man look-a here! Whoever was hitting her off before me must’ve not been packing. Cause once I stuck this Anaconda in that tight ass, the bitch started screaming hysterically like she never took it in the ass before…”

Red threw his head back in laughter, but all he could think about was how he planned to punish Lovely later on.

“Man, you’s a straight up freak, Low. Word up!” Red chuckled, shaking his head.

“Nigga, I’m soo old school,” Low retorted.

Then he lifted the bottle of Haitian Rum to his mouth, and guzzled down about a half pint of liquor in one gulp. The Rum went down much smoother this time, but still caused Low to blow out air, and squint his eyes.

“Be easy with that hundred proof shit, my nigga,” Red cautioned.

Licking his lips, and smiling, Red said, “Ain’t no shame in ma-my… game.”

The Rum left him feeling woozy, and the ecstasy had kicked in, heightening Low’s drunkenness. In a span of five hours, he had popped four double-stacked pills, and was rolling something serious.

“A’ight, but take it easy anyway, old-school nigga,” Red chirped.

“Shit, nigga y’all new jacks gotta start eating more pussy, and licking a lil’ more ass. Might grow some hair on your chest, lil’ nigga. Fucking with these young girls ain’t gon’ cut it,” Low said, taking another gulp of the rum before continuing. “They don’t even know how to clean themselves right yet. Might fuck around, and get a piece of turd on ya tongue. You need to find a woman about my age. You know thirty-six through forty, and let her throw dat grown woman pussy on ya. Ya might learn a thing, or two. Bet’cha won’t be thinking I’m such a freak then.”

Red smiled, thinking about diving into Lovely’s pussy tonight, face first, made Red want to hear more of Low’s tale.

“Nigga, you such a boss. You ain’t have that ho’ suck you off?”

“Lil’ nigga, raise your hand when you address a boss!” Low jokingly sneered.

“A’ight…”

“Nigga, soon as I busted off, I took the dick out the bitch’s ass, and stuck it in her mouth. And ooh-wee! That girl can suck some dick. She’s a certified pro. Plus, a nigga was rolling on these pills. Shit, she sucked a nigga off soo decent… I started getting emotional. Damn near got teary eyed by the time she was done. On every-thang!”

“Fool, you crazy!” Red shouted, throwing back his head in laughter.

“I’m saying porn star quality…”

“Shit…if the head that good you might as well let ya lil’ homie get in on the action,” Red said with a wide grin.

“Shit, I fuck ’em. I don’t love ’em,” Low said with a shrug.

“I can’t tell. Earlier I was try’na come up there to see what you working with. You acting like Captain-Save-A-Ho or some shit. Matter of fact, what’s the bitch’s name? Cause I done had me a few stallions ‘round here. I might’ve done fucked the broad already, and you over here try’na cuff that,” Red boastfully smiled.

“Ma-a-a-n, I’m so fucked up right now,” Low smiled, taking another sip off the bottle. Then he continued. “I think she said her name was…Carmen…something like Karma, but she wasn’t Spanish or anything. She looked kind a Haitian. Shit, wouldn’t remember the bitches name if my life depended on it,” Low chuckled with a drunken smirk. Then rubbing his baldhead, he continued. “She ain’t even from ’round here, anyway. The bitch done flew up from Miami. She one of those college freaks,” Low shrugged.

Red’s left eye suddenly began twitching when he asked, “College freaks…? Say, what she look like again?”

“Man, I told you the bitch look just like that model-broad angel…just with green eyes,” Low smiled, rubbing his crotch.

“C’mon man. You bullshittin’ me…” Red said.

Red silently watched Low falling into a trance, reminiscing. Low’s smile was a telltale sign of what was on his mind—the delicious sex he had earlier experienced. Pictures of her face, and body flashed in his memory banks. Low chuckled then said, “Shit, fuck around, and find out that it was angel. Nah, but this broad’s ass wasn’t as fat though.”

Taking another swig, Low laughed, and said, “As a matter of fact, I remember that bitch had tats on her back coming down her spine.”

“Yeah…?” Red asked, silently nodding.

“Yeah, my nigga. She had some red roses, and vines and shit. The bitch was riding my dick from the back. I was fucked on ’em pills, and them roses on her spine had a nigga feelin’ like I was in the motherfucking Garden of Eden and shit,” Low laughed.

He was the only one laughing. Red snapped impatiently. A violent surge of anger was rising deep inside him. His foot weighed down on the gas pedal. The Roadster speedometer hit two hundred and seven miles per hour, and climbing.

“Nigga, what’s her name?” Red pressed.

“Ma-a-an, you know your boy ain’t too good on names,” Low muttered in a drunken slur.

The empty bottle of Haitian rum was now sitting idly in his lap. Low was completely oblivious to the heavy tension choking the air in the fast moving vehicle. Rum, along with the concoction of the ecstasy pills, and weed left him with double vision. Everything started to be blurry, and the world seemed to move in slow-mo. His rollercoaster ride reached the peak, and now it was time to go into a deep plunge. Suddenly, he felt the jolt.

“Matter of fact… I do remember that bitch’s name… Low said, snapping his fingers. Glancing over at Red, he continued. “Yeah, the bitch told me her name’s Karma, but I figured she was lying, and shit. So when she was rollin’ up some exotic bud, I checked that bitch’s wallet. She had a Miami U. ID. And that shit had Torri—”

“NIGGA WHAT!”

The car was moving at maximum speed driven by an impaired driver, who was under the influence of marijuana, alcohol, and Ecstasy. A surge of venomous anger exploded like a time bomb inside Red. The fiery output shot through his left leg, and it slammed against the brakes. Tragedy was a certainty.

Red’s animated response activated the Roadster’s four fifteen-inch Brembo upgraded brakes. The sudden halt in torque at such a great speed instantly elevated the Benz from the highway’s pavement. Causing the coupe sized Roadster to lift up in a rapid, death-defying three hundred and sixty degree spin. The car hurtled through the air toward the highways four-foot guardrail separating the north and south lanes.

It happened too fast for Red and Low to react. Like a speeding bullet into on-coming traffic, the Benz shot across the highway, bumper smashing against the concrete guardrail. At the same time, a massive eighteen-wheeler Mack truck transporting three-dozen luxury vehicles in tow roared down the highway. Traveling at ninety–four miles per hour, it was headed in the same direction as the flying coupe.

The heavy-footed trucker behind the wheel of the Mack Truck noticed a spinning black object. Instinctively downshifted the truck’s gear from fifth to fourth gear. This declension in speed prevented the unpleasant from occurring. The Roadster flew by the trucks massive front windshield, avoiding a head-on collision by fractions of a second. Maybe it was Divine intervention, but the Almighty couldn’t prevent the next turn of events.

Thick smoke from its demolished radiator filled the car’s interior. Slowly, Low raised his head from the dashboard on the passenger side. His face had smashed into the wood-grain trimmed air exhaust vent, he was feeling dazed, and felt the aches of a severe, neck-breaking whiplash. Low was also bleeding from his right eyebrow caused by a deep gash. Blood coursed freely down the side of his face.

“Ugh…ah shit! Ah…ugh!”

He let out an agonizing moan while trying to get into a sitting position. Feeling a sharp, burning pain from his shattered ribcage, Low grabbed his right side. Wincing, he collapsed backward against the passenger seat as the burning sensation intensified.

In the meantime, Red was in a nauseated state. Coughing, and desperately gasping for air, his head was spinning. Thick, toxic engine smoke engulfed his throat, and made it impossible to breathe. He was gagging uncontrollably, but Red did not suffer a scratch because he was safely secured in his seatbelt. Low neglected to put on the seatbelt, and suffered injuries. Other than a damaged bumper, punctured radiator, and a crack windshield, the Roadster was virtually intact. It was still running.

The Roadster crashed through a wooden gate that lined the residential backyard on the side of the highway, and landed on a manicured lawn. Red let down the driver’s side window, and his dizziness began to fade. The toxic smoke seeped out into the late night sky. Red took a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs. He shifted his head toward the passenger seat. It didn’t take long for his fogged mind to clear.

Low used both his hands to clutch his severely damaged ribcage. He glanced over at the driver’s seat, and for the first time in his life his face was flushed with fear.

“You had my little sister doing drugs, Low…?” Red asked though clenched teeth.

“Your Sister…? What…? What you talk—” Low groggily began.

Red sharply interrupted, and said, “Shut the fuck up!”

All the drugs and alcohol left Low critically impaired, but his mind screamed danger. He was made leery of Red’s emotion.

“My sister!” Red shouted.

Trying to shake off his heavy wooziness, Low’s eyes instinctively grew wide. He was desperately fighting the feeling of being high while attempting to keep his focus on the driver’s side. With every passing second, Red was clearly growing angrier.

“I’m a kill you!”

All seemed silent for the longest second of a gangster’s life. Within that split second, Low locked eyes with Red, and saw what he already knew. Low’s survival instincts took over, reaching for the gun on his waist, his heart sank. The realization that he wasn’t armed hit him like a ton of bricks.

Watching Low’s expression, Red firmly gripped the chrome handle of the.44. Low jumped at his only remaining option. He attempted to take flight, and even managed to get a foot out the door, but was ultimately seconds too slow. Red pulled the trigger, letting off two thunderous shots, and hitting Low in the left elbow. A second hollow tip slug tore through Low’s side, shredding muscle tissues on exit. Low’s arm was severely severed, and barely still attached to the rest of his body. His one hundred and eighty-five pound frame stumbled hard to the ground. Low attempted to break the fall with his right hand. It was just too much weight for his fragile wrist to withstand.

When Low hit the ground, his wrist broke in two places. Red let off another shot, missing by inches. Bullets exploded through the tinted glass window, sending fragments of glass, and plastic film flying everywhere. The deafeningly loud shot whizzed past echoing in Low’s

eardrum. He quickly realized if he didn’t get away fast, his death was certain. Frantically making it to his feet, Low swallowed the pain. His only thoughts were now on survival. His adrenaline kicked into overdrive as he took off running toward the highway.

“Fuck!” Red seethed.

Low was making good on his getaway. Hastily distancing himself from the car, Low began really running for his life. Quickly reaching for the driver’s side door handle, Red swung the cars door ajar, and attempted to hop out. His seatbelt restrained him.

“Fuck! Damn this motherfucker’s getting away!” Red hissed, unbuckling the seatbelt in a rage, and hopping out the coupe.

Red’s eyes adjusted to the late-night darkness located, and locked in on the back of his fleeing target. Low hit the highway’s four-foot guardrail like Jesse Owens approaching the final hurdle at the Olympics. At thirty-six years old, Low deserved a gold medal the way he hopped over the guardrail. Low made it to the other side of the highway, dashing through a field of grass, and heading toward a backyard fence. Red took aim, trying to finish Low off. He squeezed off two shots in rapid succession hitting Low in the back.

His body jerked violently as the force of both shots sent Low flying into the fence. Low refused to die. Swallowing the intense pain, he managed to pull himself on top of the fence. He was now in the open, and Red had a clear shot at his head.

Red had one round left. Taking aim from fifty-five feet away, he zeroed in on the back of Low’s skull, and was about to squeeze. The sound of sirens suddenly caught his ears, and he took his eyes off the target. Red glanced over his shoulder and spotted flashing cherry lights in the distance. They were closing in fast. His eyes darted back to the fence, but Low was nowhere in sight.

“Goddamn!” Red shouted, letting his last shot off at the fence.

Red figured he had twenty seconds to clear the scene. Turning, he dashed toward his Benz while silently praying that Low was dead. Quickly hopping back in the coupe’s driver’s seat, Red swiftly kicked the McLaren into gear, flooring it over the dismantled wooden gate. The Roadster’s tires touched the highway’s pavement, and Red was already in third gear. A cloud of dirt and smoke mixed in the air, Red was burning tires. Hitting a hundred and twenty in less than seven seconds making a smooth getaway.

  

For the past hour, Low had been unconscious, and lying on his back in someone’s backyard. Blinking twice, and glancing around him, Low was at a lost to exactly where he was. Low slowly began to regain consciousness. He realized that he had lost a tremendous amount of blood, and with each critical minute that passed, his life was slowly slipping away. His eyes opened to a full moon, and a sea of bright stars in the sky. His memory began to slowly kick in. Vivid scenes of the night’s events started to swiftly flash through his mind. Then almost instantly, the sense that allows a person to feel kicked in, causing Low to let out an agonized-filled wail.

Low’s body was on fire it felt like his flesh was burning. Someone must have held an extremely hot iron against his back. In a state of total panic, Low desperately tried to move. With great effort, he managed to roll onto his stomach, and was eventually able to stagger to his feet. Low quickly scanned his surroundings. He saw a big house ahead. The thought of knocking on the back door of the house wasn’t an option.

The entire yard wasn’t completely fenced in. There was a big space leading to an alleyway. Low took a step, and grimaced from the burning sensation that rattled his entire body. His legs ached painfully, and felt extremely heavy as he staggered forward. With greatly determined effort, Low managed his way to the open space. Glancing to his Left. A dozen or so family-sized trash bins were lined-up for a few yards on either side of the dark, narrow alleyway. About a hundred feet in the distance, Low saw the headlights of various vehicles speeding by on Highway I-85.

A renewed sense of hope washed over Low. Mustering all his remaining strength, Low winced as he began quickly hobbling toward the speeding headlights. Glancing further in the distance, he saw the other side of the highway. A convention of bright, flashing lights lit the skies. There were marked police cars, unmarked cruisers, and news vans parked alongside the highway by the large area of grass where Red crashed. Low knew why they were there. Being at the mercy of the law was like another heated slug penetrating Low’s flesh. He needed medical assistance. In order to catch one of the cops, or reporter’s eyes, Low made it as close to them as possible.

Low’s body was weakening by the minute while struggling forward. Low was breathing hard, and feeling extremely fatigued. His chest and back were soaked with sweat. The warm, wet sensation Low felt caused him to glanced down at his shirt. Then his hope for survival turned into complete fear of dying.

His eyes grew wide, and panic set in when Low caught sight of his blood soaked, white Versace outfit. Low’s gaze shifted back to the highway. Then staggering forward, Low raised his hand in the air, and waved it in a desperate attempt to get attention. The once vivid cars speeding by on I-85 were now blotches of white lights. His vision became blurred, and started fading. Desperation grew with each breath, Low tried to scream out for help. His weak voice was as faint as a whisper. All his senses began to slowly shut down..

Low wasn’t conscious when his knees buckled. His body crashed face first into the dirt. Low let out a pain-filled moan on impact. But his hearing had long since faded, and his agony fell upon deaf ears.

He had shot many men in his lifetime. Low even got shot once when he was a teenager. However, he was not prepared to be on the receiving end of several penetrating bullets—until tonight. While losing consciousness, his mind turned to thoughts of his right-hand man, Rob. Low’s past appeared to have finally caught up, and his Karma sure was an ugly bitch. Vividly, images of his life moved in a haste, flashing through his thoughts. It sped through his thirties. Moved into his twenty’s. Then it was on to his teens when all the bullshit first started. Then darkness came.