Till Dope Do Us Part

Michael C. Parker

Description

Till Dope Do Us Part, exchange vows the streets cannot refuse when a Don retires and his sister seizes power alongside a street dealer, Lion.
Till Dope Do Us Part brings the underworld into the 21st Century when an Italian mob boss who supplies the inner city takes ill and faces forced retirement by passing the family business to his only heir, Ferrell Valentino. The scent of a woman is like a fingerprint unique and stimulating. And once she has rubbed her natural...body odor or perfume across your scenes. It is something that will stay with you for life. The most popular perfume in the world may have been created by Dolce & Gabbana, but the first woman you ever smell it on will forever rule over your thoughts of her. Even if it’s worn by another woman. Ferrell has played the shadows long enough and has planned for the day when she'd meet the legend behind his name. The Don protects her the best way he knows how by offering the merger of the family's ring with a street hustler he supplies, Lion. Bloodlines are mixed, and unlike oil and water that can be divided, when these two worlds exchange vows it’s an offer the streets can't refuse, the underworld is rearranged when the first Blackman is inducted into the Italian mob family as Don of the City alongside its first Lady.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Marriage
• Spooky
• Valentino
• Suspense
• Don
• Fiction
• Lion

Informations

• Publié par: iUniverse
• Date de parution: 29 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781663246745
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Till Dope Do Us Part
MICHAEL C. PARKER


TILL DOPE DO US PART
 
 
Copyright © 2023 Michael C. Parker.
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
 
 
 
iUniverse
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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4673-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6632-4674-5 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022919092
 
 
 
iUniverse rev. date: 02/23/2023
Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
About the Author

Till dope do us part brings the underworld into the 21 st century when an Italian mob boss who supplies the inner city takes ill and is forced to pass the family business to his only heir, Ferrell Valentino. Ferrell has played the shadow long enough and has planned for the day when she’d meet the legend behind his name, but she’s green to the ways and means of her family riches. The Don protects her the best way he knows how by offering a merger with the inner city’s Lion Family whom he supplies. Blood is mixed and the two worlds exchange vows with an offer the streets cannot refuse when the first Black man is inducted into the Italian mob family as a Boss of Bosses alongside its First Lady.

Dedicated to the memory of:
Richard Lee Parker and Sonya Lovelace-Jones, for we may have lost you in the flesh, but the universe birthed two stars that will shine forever. R.I.P. 2019
Dedication
We celebrate life not by our accomplishments but alongside those who give us strength, encouragement, and make personal sacrifices to see our goals fulfilled despite the obstacles. Some remained for an hour, others a few weeks or months, and a few held on throughout the years until this day. To you all, I am most humbled by your friendship, family devotion, and business tenacity.
LaTonya N. Lovelace, the woman who stood by my side in love and back-to-back against all odds. When it was said the grass is always greener on the other side, you rolled up your sleeves and planted the seeds to make ours the greenest grass on the block. The love is reciprocated and the loyalty infinite.
Asiana Coleman, for your typing and creative designs for Divine Diva on the cover, you are the embodiment of inspiration.
To Kyla McGinister, in doing your part in making this book possible, your opinions always mattered and the smallest voice in the room is often the biggest boss in the room.
To Kenny McGinister, for taking time to retype the manuscript and keeping us on the deadline with the publisher, your skill is invaluable.
Shirley Lovelace and Gloria D. Parker, your criticism was the push we needed to get us across the finish line. Love does conquer all.
To my daughter Ahlisha (Alexis, Ayana, and Asia) and son Jamyrin Williams, we the best!!!
And last but not least, to our followers. Thank you all for your inspiration.

The characters and events in this book are pure fiction. Any similarity to real people, living and/or dead, is coincidental and not intended to cause harm, defame, or injure anyone whatsoever.
Chapter
1
“Yes sir, Mr. Valentino. I’ll be there.”
“Lion,” he chuckled between a saver cough before hanging up.
It had been a long time since I called Andrew by his surname, Valentino. He rarely called for a sit-down unless something had run afoul, or new orders were being issued by the heads of the families to the streets. Some voices do not need aggression for you to hear its authority. Although I remained the Lion of the city streets, there were by far other predators that lurked the underworld jungles, and traps man-made as well as natural viruses that were as vicious as a worldwide pandemic. His call became my third matter to attend to; the Brotherhood meeting was my first order of business.
I came up off the Lodge Freeway and made a right turn on Livernois just as my phone went off. It was Medina. It was her birthday, and although it was on a much lighter note, it was nevertheless just as important, if not my highest priority of the day. The Brotherhood Nightclub was on the corner of Fenkell and Livernois, in eye shot as I looked at her call. Answering would have only diverted my attention even further than the call I had just taken.
“What up doe, Lion?” Blast asked as he opened my door before I could put the car in park.
I didn’t say anything immediately, not until I was out of the Jaguar and had looked the main street over.
“I’m late,” I finally responded, heading out of the parking lot towards the nightclub.
“Not by my watch,” he opined.
Once inside the club, everything quickly came to order. The heads of the families were seated and acknowledged by the plaques on their tables. I walked straight to the chairman’s table positioned on the dancefloor, being flanked by four of my handpicked men.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” I said to bring things to order, as I sat down.
“Lion,” came from various corners of the club.
“Are all of the families present?” I asked.
“Everyone with the exception of,” Castro, my first lieutenant, cleared his throat before saying, “the Rakehell family.”
The Rakehell family had been suspended from all family meetings for 180 days and fined $50,000 dollars, to go into the families PR treasury, for the chain of deaths committed by the Highland Park and Puritan region over turf wars. I assumed it could be the possible reason Andrew was calling me for a sit-down. Needless bloodshed drew attention that made it bad for business, especially when the higher-up’s caught wind of blood flowing in the gutters from the streets.
“Good,” I glanced over at the only empty table in the room, then interposed, “then we can proceed.”
“I called this meeting,” I started, “and we’re here in daylight hours because of the severity of a problem that affects everyone here. I don’t want to take up much time on anything other than this issue,” I said. “If there are any individual matters that can be addressed on a smaller setting, than I would be delighted to mediate, if need be, at that time. Can we all agree on this?”
The agreement was reached by the customary high raising of hats and hands.
“Wonderful,” I said. “Majority carries. We’ll move straight to the matter at hand. As most of you are aware of by now, the massive oil spill that has occurred off the coast has affected transport of our various investments and because the entire world has turned its attention in that direction, I have taken all deals off the table with our supplier.”
One hand raised.
“Yes,” I acknowledged.
“Showboat, representing the Sixty-Nine family,” he introduced himself. “So does this mean we’re facing a drought?” he asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” I replied. “For now, you’re here to accept or reject me as your supplier. This shipment was supposed to be cheaper than your last supply. But with that off the table, I can only provide you with a limited supply to hold you over at the same price of your original purchase order. So, the deal I’m offering is this — you can leave your investments on the table for a future run, which I cannot guarantee it will be the same quality product, or you can cash out with me by using your present holdings.”
The club was filled with mixed feelings as far as I could tell by the small whispers amongst themselves. But there was one sure sign that was expressed by the entire room, and that was no one wanted to appear as though they could not afford to take my offer.
“So this makes you our new supplier?” Showboat weighed in.
“For now, yes,” I said, “if you want to call it that.”
“What else would you call it?” he inquired.”
Gratitude!” I snapped.
He was silenced by the hand touching his shoulder. Showboat was second-in-command of the Sixty-Nine family and was simply out to live up to his name. Casablanca, the hand that touched his shoulder, prided himself as being slow to speak and twice as flamboyant. He nodded his approval in accepting my proposal.
“If there’s nothing further,” I concluded, “then there’s only one matter left to be voted on, that there be no increase in your sales to the streets as long as supply ca