Faded

K.C. Mills

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 17 mai 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781648541346
• Langue: English

Extrait

© 2018
Published by Leo Sullivan Presents
www.leolsullivan.com


All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

Contents



Message to the Readers


Prologue

Shooter

Nomi Bryant

Shooter

Nomi

Hendreek Perry

Rivica Banks

Nomi

Shooter

Nomi

Rivica

Shooter

Dreek

Shooter

Nomi

Rivica

Shooter

Nomi

Nomi

Dreek

Shooter

Dreek

Shooter


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Message to the Readers



This series moves at a slower pace than my usual books. It’s crafted that way to allow you to really feel the connection with these characters. You need to know them through and through to understand how they think, why they react and love or reject the idea of love the way that they do. It’s delivered in a way that is more about them than the noise that makes up the backdrops of their lives.
Now. with that being said, you still receive my signature loving, caring alpha males, and the smart savvy women who steal their hearts, written in my signature style, so I hope you enjoy.
Thanks so much for supporting, and as always, I appreciate each and every one of you.
Prologue
Samiq (Sah-meek) “Shooter” Young

“C ome on, Shooter,” Ross dragged his hand down his face and exhaled a long breath before his eyes met mine again.
The alley was dark, with only a dim glow illuminating from the end farthest away from us, but I could still see him. That was planned and used as an asset. Those passing by couldn’t see anything, and I had just enough light to make sure shit played out like I needed it to.
“Bruh, fuck this. You either copping or not. Run that money or stop wasting my fucking time.”
“Fuck, man. I just…” He exhaled again, further heightening my annoyed state. One thing that I didn’t play about was my time. The only thing more important than that was my money, and Ross was currently fucking with both.
“You know what? Deal is off. Take your ass on before I vent your head.” My hand slipped smoothly to the small of my back, and Ross’ eyes stretched wide.
“Hold up, hold up. It’s not that serious…”
Before I could contain myself, I had my gun in hand and pressed into his chest. “Fuck you mean it’s not that serious? You’re wasting my time, muthafucker.”
“Nah, I’m not. Relax, I got your money. Let’s do business.” Ross held his hands up, clearly shaken.
He realized that he fucked up. See, the name the streets knew me by wasn’t just a name. It was validation for how I moved, how I lived my life, and how I handled things that weren’t beneficial to me. I had no issue pulling triggers, and everyone knew it.
By this point, I was irritated, but I was ready to get rid of my last two bricks. Ross was a corner boy who copped from me whenever he could get his money up. He was young and dumb, though, so he wasted more money on bullshit like jewelry, labels, and special edition sneakers, than he really should have instead of trying to stack, save, and flip. Because of that, his buys weren’t consistent. Another reason why he was pissing me off.
I had a little status out there. It wasn’t that I was really running shit, but I was holding my own. At twenty-seven, I was no longer selling by the gram or the ounce. If you couldn’t cop keys and pounds in multiples, then I wasn’t fucking with you.
I had put my time in and earned that right. I had been out there since I was ten years old and went from just trying to eat because my parents were irresponsible as fuck, to trying to maintain. Those days were long gone. I wasn’t rich, but I was comfortable. Even if I was in the streets, I was still smart. I had learned early to save. A flashy nigga was a broke nigga, and that was never gonna be me. Not if I could help it.
Backing away from Ross, I allowed him to pull the backpack he wore from his shoulder. I didn’t trust anyone, so I kept my gun on him while he moved, as a reminder that I’d blow his fucking head off if he played me.
“Thirty grand, right?”
“Nah, thirty-two.”
“Thirty-two, the fuck? You been charging fifteen each.”
“Yeah, that was before you pissed me off. They went up a grand each. If you don’t have it, tell me now.”
“Shit.” He groaned and then shook his head. “Nah, we’re good.”
Just as he was about to make the exchange, I felt someone moving. Whoever it was, walked fast as fuck, and Ross and I both had eyes in that direction. Luckily, I didn’t have shit on me. I learned that a long time ago. My word was bond, and I believed in that. So, if a muthafucker copped from me, he handed over money, and I sent a runner later with the product. I rarely had my hands on it. My name meant enough that whoever I served knew I wouldn’t fuck them, and my prices were the best they could get for the small scale that niggas around there could handle. Basically, they needed me, so they played by my rules. But, I wasn’t grimy and never would be. I always did good business.
“Shooter, I need to talk to you.”
The fuck she doing here? And with a got damn baby?
My ex, Laura, came barreling my way with a kid in her arms. She was antsy and looked like shit. I could smell her before she was close enough for me to really see her. The only thing that tipped me off as to her identity was her voice. I knew that damn voice anywhere. As many times as I had that same voice screaming my name, it was something I wouldn’t likely ever forget.
What is this shit?
“Nah, now is not the time. Take your ass on, Laura.”
“Now is the time. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, Shooter. She’s yours, so take her.” Before I could get a grasp on what she was doing, she shoved the kid into my arms. Had I not caught her, Laura would have dropped her own baby.
“Fuck you mean she’s mine? Man, if you don’t get this damn baby. She isn’t mine. I haven’t seen you in almost a year and a half. Shit, a year and a half? My eyes landed on the baby girl in my arms.
“Right. Do the math, nigga. Now take her. I can’t do it anymore.”
My eyes landed on the sleeping child once more before I glared at Laura. Then I took in her appearance. She had dirty hair matted into a ponytail behind her head, and she smelled like she hadn’t washed her ass in days. Nah, fuck that, weeks. That wasn’t what bothered me the most. Even in this dark ass alley, I could see it. She was fiending for a high. Having been around it all my life in the most intimate way possible, I knew the symptoms. The agitation, the rushed speech, the way her nails ripped across her skin as she moved her weight from foot to foot.
“Yo man, take this damn baby, Laura.” I pulled the child from my chest, and her little eyes popped open accompanied by a screeching cry.
“She’s yours, Samiq. She’s yours. It’s time for you to raise your baby because I can’t,” Laura yelled at me before she took off running with the speed of Usain Bolt.
I yelled her name for about two minutes straight before I was snapped back to reality by Ross’ voice…
“So, you want this money or what?”
Shooter

“D amn, you really did that shit, bruh.” Hendreek lifted my degree from the table and scanned it with disbelief apparent in his expression.
“Why do you act like you’re surprised? I told you I was gonna do that shit. When has my word ever not been law?”
“Yeah, you did, but damn, I really didn’t believe it. You cost me five stacks.”
“Bruh, did you really bet five stacks…” I paused to make sure I had his attention before I completed my sentence. “… against me?”
“Hell yeah. I thought that was easy money. You were in the streets as long as I was. People like us don’t just drop that shit and go to college.” Hendreek frowned at me like I had played him on some disloyal type thing for growing the fuck up.
He was right, though. Where we came from, when you were street, you were street for life. You didn’t just wake up one day and decide to go to college. The script didn’t fit my life, but I made it fit. I had to.
“You dropped it and opened your car washes, so why the fuck wouldn’t I let them streets go to get a degree?”
“That’s different. We’re different. You ran shit out there. I was just a player in the game, but you were that fucking game.”
Dreek and I were boys, but we were also family in a street sense. We both claimed the same set, and even though we’d earned enough respect to visually remove ourselves from that part of our lives, the bodies we dropped, the tatts that were inked on