Life 3

Leo Sullivan

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 04 septembre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781946789433
• Langue: English

Extrait

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Sullivan Productions, LLC
Copyright © 2008 by Leo Sullivan
Library of Congress Control Number:
2005930724
Sullivan Productions, LLC P.O. Box 1342
Decatur, GA 30031-1342
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Contents



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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue


Completed Series By Leo Sullivan

Note From Leo Sullivan

About the Author

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Synopsis



When Stevie D., one of Life's old foes surfaces to take revenge on Marcus for killing his son, Marcus Thugstin is placed into a whirlwind of drama that finds him fighting for his life and searching for his mother, Black Pearl, as well as Kayla's mother, Nandi. But in the midst of this, he has Mike Spitler on his tail, the son of another one of Life's old foes, and Spitler has made it his business to be a constant thorn in Marcus's side.

With Blazack to his right and Kayla not far behind, Marcus sets out to take action in the streets in the same way his father did before him. But with history repeating itself, will Marcus make it out alive? And will Kayla prove to be the ride or die that she always promised she would?

As fate would have it, Marcus is devastated when the love of his life is brutally murdered. Then things take a turn for the worse when the one person he thought he could trust, betrays him.
© 2017
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage without express permission by the publisher.
This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Contains explicit language & adult themes suitable for ages 16+
Created with Vellum
1
MONEY

I reached for the banger but my father shoved me so hard that the gun was dislodged from my hand and caromed across the linoleum floor as a bullet grazed my skull and a barrage of shouts rang out, ricocheting off the wall. The police were trying to kill me. There was an eerie, blood gurgling sound of Kayla screaming to the top of her lungs, as she rushed forward into the deadly fry of bullets and madness like a Kamikaze soldier attacking Spitler, Jr. Just as I fell to the floor with my mind spinning, the world strobed around me in psychedelic colors, brilliant red and purple. I could vaguely hear my father yelling my name like he was an insane, lunatic man.
A table with a large water vase was overturned. Kayla was lifted off the floor by a huge burly white cop and slammed on her back so hard I heard the air escape her lungs with a whoosh as she groaned in agony. Then, just as I looked up at what sounded like an army off footfalls storming the room, a huge shadow hovered over me like and eclipse of the sun. A large boot came down hard on my face, and my head hit the floor like I had been tossed out of a two-story window.
I was knocked out instantly. I’d momentarily escaped into an abyss of white pain like an electric shock on the brain. The light was so bright, and with each blow to my body, it got brighter.
I welcomed it, embraced it, like a sanctuary of escapism, immune from all the outside forces, the anguish, the hurt. In the white brightness, I walked and searched for my stepmother, Black Pearl.
“Where are you? … Please be alive…. please come back home…”
Then I saw her. She just stared at me with a sad face.



Juvenile court Leon County Tallahassee Florida
Three days later
There was a dusty smell like old furniture, stale cigarette smoke, and fear. A beacon of sunshine piped in through a Catholic archway ancient window. The air was stale with the murmur of hushed voices. The courtroom was packed with mostly reporters and a few stragglers. As my attorney, Allen Crump, addressed the courtroom, the cadence of his voice boomed, reverberating throughout the dank courtroom. My head was wrapped in a bloody gauze from where a bullet nearly hit me, and my face was bruised with discoloration.
I stole a furtive glance behind me, in search of my stepmom, Black Pearl, and Ninda, Kayla’s mom. I didn’t see them. I didn’t see them; my heart sank in my chest. She had to be alive… they had to be alive.
But I did see my dad, Life, and he looked like a frail old man as he sat in a chair next to Brenda, his stepmom. She smiled at me and waved. I didn’t wave back. All I could do was acknowledge her with a curt nod of my head. I can’t lie, I was scared to death. Kayla and I had a laundry list of charges and, true indeed, I had gone on a rampage, a real menace to society, at least with the society of niggaz that had wronged my family by invading our home. I also know that cops were trying to pin a murder on me, for the death of the guy that got shot in the melee when Lil D and his goons raided our home.
Across from me, on a wooden bench that looked as ancient as slavery relic, was Kayla. She must have looked as bad as myself the right side of her face was bruised, she looked haggard and weary. Ringlets of her once beautiful hair sprouted from her head. Her hair was balled up into some type of ponytail. She looked tired, with dark cycles under her eyes, as she clutched her stomach. I was instantly reminded that she was pregnant. She was carrying my seed in her belly and didn’t look a day over sixteen. She was dressed in an orange jumpsuit that appeared to be two sizes too big for her.
Her pretty eyes bounced back and forth between the lawyers and judge as if she were watching a volleyball game agitated as will as terrified. A female bailiff offered her a jacket.
“Fuck away from me, I wanna go home!” She screamed loud enough for the entire courtroom to hear, including the judge, which caused him to cast an irate glare at her. Kayla paid him no mind and sucked her teeth with disdain. This was not good, as the judge along with just about everyone was looking at Kayla because of her outburst. Time lulled in the backdrop of hushed voices. Finally, the judge cleared his throat as he asked, “Is there a problem?” looking directly at the bailiff and Kayla.
“Bailiff?”
“No, your honor.”
“Humph,” Kayla muttered with her lips twisted, balled up, pushed to the side of her face in full juvenile delinquency, contempt mode. The judge turned back to the attorneys and nodded for them to continue, but his face was now bet red.
“As I was about to say, your honor, a criminal civil suit will be filed at this juncture if the courts will not grant me a relief on my motion to release both defendants to their legal guardia—”
Attorney Crump was interrupted by the prosecutor, Linda Luwinsky, an older woman in her forties. She had a skinny, hatchet face. Her hair was coiffured into some type of 60’s style wraparound that resembled a volcano piled up on her head. She wore those tiny spec glasses that were supposed to make people look intellectual; however, they made her look evil in a threatening type of way.
“Your honor, this is ludicrous! Both defendants have a long list of laundry list of crimes that are too numerous to name, but the must offensives are attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon, and robbery of a gun from a police officer, as well as battery on several police officers. The list goes on!” she stated bluntly.
The judge sat up in his chair and stared at my attorney is if waiting for a reply.
“Your honor, in light of the fact my client’s civil rights have been violated, one of my clients was shot in the back on his own property, in front of his family, and attacked by the very people that was supposed to serve and protect them. This all happened when my client called the police for help when a young gunman showed up and shot up the residents, which resulted in a homicide and the owner of the property being critically wounded.”
The judge squinted his eyes at the paper he was looking at. “That is not what the police report reads. It says when they showed up at the estate, the residents were acting hostile and belligerent towards police, which resulted in several of them being arrested for various charges, and some of the charges being very serious.”
“Your honor, I have a deposition in front of me where Lieutenant Basemen, the captain of police, admits the police did initially make the mistake of thinking the occupants of the home were the culprits, and they tried to arrest my defendant, Marcus, a seventeen-year-old youth. He resisted and ran off and was shot in the back for no apparent r