# Love & War

## Sky Black

### Contents

About the Author

Synopsis

Part I

Introduction

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

Part II

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

TO BE CONTINUED

DREAMHOUSE PUBLICATIONS

ALSO BY MESSIAH RAYE

ALSO BY SHONTAIYE
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Love & War. Copyright © 2019 Sky Black. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

# About the Author

Sky Black aka Messiah Raye, is a collaborative pen-name from Stixxx, the CEO of Most Famous Entertainment and Shontaiye, from DreamHouse Publications. Shontaiye proudly admits that Stixxx is the creative force among the two, with him penning this novel from a jail cell with a notepad and an ink pen. Expect much more from him in all areas of entertainment.

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# Synopsis

A war is brewing ... And 18-year old Tiffany has been thrust right into the middle of it. Tiffany, daughter to East Side King-Pin, Antonio Anderson, is in love with an under-boss she knows little about. As expected with love, there is always sacrifice. The man she loves, is deeply and dangerously connected in the streets, and of course, Tiffany has no idea. Not until she's unknowingly thrown right in the middle of a war among hoodlum wannabe's and powerful King-Pin's. Tiffany soon finds herself forced to love and family. When blood outweighs right, wrong, and love, what's a girl to do?

Antonio Anderson is fed up with the drug game. Although the riches he's acquired from it has helped him give his family a beautiful lifestyle, it seems to have all been in vain as he watches his family begin to crumble. His son Tre is up to no good, trying desperately to emulate the lifestyle Antonio has risked his life to shield him from. Tre is a wanna be thug that is being unknowingly manipulated and used by his so-called friends. Before long, Tre has made terrible and grave decisions that not only puts him in danger, but everyone around him. Tre has crossed Pedro, a dangerous Mexican Kingpin who not only is his father's mentor, but supplier.

As Antonio struggles to clean up the dangerous mess Tre's made, he doesn't realize his daughter Tiffany may be in just as much danger as her brother. Pedro is out for revenge and the man he's sent to execute that revenge is closer to Tiffany than anyone could have imagined.

Watch the drama unfold in this explosive story of Love and War.

# Part I
# Introduction

**Present Day**

The sound of the alarm system blaring through the house caused Pedro to jolt out of sleep. Snatching back the luxurious sheet set from his pajama clad body, he immediately went to reach over and grab his revolver from his nightstand. If he had to shoot, he wanted to be able to do so quickly. Before he could touch the Italian brass knob on his stand, he felt a gun firmly pressed to his forehead.

"Reach and I squeeze," Drew snarled, clutching his 9mm tightly. "Now we gon do this my way... You're going to get up and deactivate that alarm — You do as I say, and no one gets hurt. Try some slick shit and I'll rock everybody in this bitch... Get up," he demanded.

Drew wasn't new to home invasions. He knew he had about sixty-seconds to stop the alarm before police were notified. It still amazed him that as much money as Pedro was allegedly getting, his security system was bullshit. He was barely a step up from ADT. He didn't even have any of his henchmen hanging around.

Drew backed away slowly and cautiously, to make room and allow Pedro up. With his eyes struggling to adjust to the dark, Pedro led the way. Drew quickly followed him to the front door where he proceeded to deactivate the alarm. As Drew walked off, Spice and Tre hit the lights to find something to tie up Pedro's wife Anna.

Spice quickly tore through the closet and found a few long sleeve shirts. "Tie that bitch up. I'm about to search this mufucka."

As Tre did as he was told, Drew and Pedro walked back into the room. Pedro appeared deathly calm, however, no one could mistake the anger in his demeanor. Noticing the blatant hostility, Spice turned around and walked over to him. He withdrew his gun from his waistband, and violently smacked Pedro across the face with it. No attitudes were allowed. The fact he even had one, was an insult. He should have been grateful he was still breathing.

His knees buckled from the blow and pain shot through the top half of his body, but Pedro refused to cry out. Witnessing the assault, Anna, screamed out. "Please God! No, don't hurt him please!" she cried, in a fit of panic.

Tre immediately gripped her by the throat and squeezed. "Bitch, shut the fuck up with all that yelling!" he demanded harshly, before shoving her to the bed.

Taking control of the situation so they could hurry up and get out of there, Drew spoke. "I'm only gonna ask one time... Where's the money and work? I'm not leaving without sumn. It's either gon be wit yo shit, or _wit yo life_. Starting with that loud ass bitch of yours," he said, using his gun to point to Anna, who was laid out on the bed tied up, and now gagged to silence her screams.

She appeared paralyzed with fear and her face was soaked from the constant flow of tears from her eyes. Drew didn't care. He didn't have time for games and theatrics.

Tre had told them that Pedro was a heavy hitter in the city, and that was who his father Antonio, got his product from. Tre's father ran the East Side and he knew that if he supplied Antonio, then he was definitely holding something heavy.

Still in pain and equally terrified, Pedro didn't hesitate to point to the closet. He lived and breathed for his family, and they were worth more to him than some dirty money. They could have the couple hundred-grand in his trunk. He'd have it back in no time.

"It's in the closet, underneath the shoes. The big green trunk. The keys in the top drawer over there," he stated quickly, while pointing to the dresser. He was still holding his face, blood oozing through the cracks of his fingers.

Pedro was clearly outnumbered, and he wasn't about to put up a fight. He just wanted them to take what they needed and get the fuck out. He figured they weren't there to kill him since they had on masks. He knew the saying all too well; _When they're masked up, they're coming for your ice. If they're bare faced, they're coming for your life._ He cursed himself for not having more security.

With dollar signs in his eyes, Drew waved for Spice to hit the closet and open the trunk. Pushing Pedro onto the bed beside his wife, he yanked the silk case off a pillow and shoved it into Pedro's mouth. Even though he was restrained, Pedro wasted no time trying to console Anna. He remained silent, as he rubbed his face against hers, silently ensuring that everything would be ok.

Spice snatched open the top drawer to the dresser Pedro had pointed to, and retrieved the simple, small, brown key to the trunk. They had been expecting a safe and were delighted by how easy the night was turning out to be.

"Yo, make sure that bitch tied up good, and then go search the rest of the crib. We got three minutes and then we out," he instructed Tre.

Tre grew irritated by Drew's requests, but once again, did as he was told. He wanted to be the one to hit the stash because it was his drop. Drew and Spice were his niggas, but he wanted to make sure they split the come-up evenly down the middle. He was younger than the both, and at times he felt like they tried to treat him like a sucka. Nevertheless, Tre made sure Anna was secure and began to head out of the room.

* * *

Over in the closet, Spice's eyes lit up like Christmas lights when he saw the old, green, trunk safely nestled underneath the dozen rows of designer shoes. With excitement fueling him, he inserted the key into the chamber.

Before he could push open the heavy top to the chest, the faint sound of a door swinging, along with subsequent running down the hall, stopped Spice in his tracks. The sound coming from the pitch-black hallway, also caused Tre to stop abruptly as he was walking out of the room to search the rest of the large house. Drew, who had been standing by the bed next to a restrained Pedro, also appeared stunned by the noise. As the sound neared, Anna and Pedro started to squirm, wiggle and shake to get out of their restraints. Their muffled attempts to yell caused Drew and Tre to grow alarmed. Someone else was in the house, but it was too dark to see who it was, and what they were carrying.

The rapid footsteps grew dangerously close and a Smoke appeared by the door. Fear gripped Tre and without thinking he frantically drew his gun. Before Drew could yell for him to wait, he fired through the door. The running immediately stopped and the sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard.

Tre lowered his gun and the image was clearer, the Smoke and person now visible.

"Shit," Tre cried out, with panic flooding him. They were fucked.

# Chapter 1

**One month ago**

"You can't tell me who I can and can't hang with. Those my niggas and besides, you act like you didn't grow up on the East. The same hood that made you who you are," Tre argued with his father, who was growing increasingly irritated with every word Tre uttered.

"That's some real live, hypocritical shit," Tre continued.

"Who the fuck you think you talking to? Don't get fucked up in here!" Antonio threatened angrily while rapidly approaching his son with clenched teeth and tight fists. He felt he was being challenged and he was about to give Tre something he wasn't quite ready for.

"As long as you live in my fuckin house you gon do what the fuck I tell you. You know, you really sound fuckin stupid. Yeah, those streets made me, but they didn't make _you_. You have no idea what I went through to get here. To give you and your sister a decent life. You're a fake ass thug and you're gonna wind up getting hurt. Although my name is strong on the streets, that alone don't mean shit to these other niggas out here trying to make a quick come up. You think Drew and Spice fucks with you on the strength of _you_? If you do, you're dumber than I thought!" Antonio yelled to his son while trying to reason with him.

"Whatever, I'm not gon argue with you," Tre muttered angrily, before walking away and making his way to his room. He had pissed Antonio off big time, and he wasn't about to make him even angrier by continuing to argue with him. He was out.

Antonio shook his head in disgust as he watched his rebellious son walk off. He was sick and tired of Tre's shit and oftentimes blamed himself for spoiling him as a child.

Since the tender age of seventeen when he found out his girl Sheila was pregnant, Antonio Anderson had done his absolute best to ensure that his family would want for anything. Before the piss could dry on the pregnancy test, he started making moves. He hustled hard by pushing packs on the corner, to running his own blocks, to ultimately running nearly the entire East Side of the city. That alone was a milestone for someone like Antonio, who grew up poor with no decent role models and only the hustlers to look up to.

Landing on top didn't come without its fair share of bloodshed. Working for niggas was never a long-term option for him, so when he found out his only choices were to either push packs directly for the block runners, or pay them to hustle on the block, he chose the latter. To him it didn't matter, since within months he was running down on the runners and taking over the blocks. A lot of niggas had come up missing during his five-year rise, even a couple of his suppliers.

To him, only the strong survived and deserved to be on top. His takeover method worked in every aspect of his hustle, and now at the age of thirty-eight, most of the dope that was sold on the East Side came from him. It had been that way for nearly sixteen years.

With the lifestyle he led, he knew that his family would be most vulnerable. With his dedication to his family fueling him, he saved diligently and moved his children to the best area he could afford. While his daughter appreciated and embraced the life they lived, his son resented it because of its unglamorous boredom and normalcy. It didn't help that in his younger and more less intelligent days, he would often take a young and highly impressionable Tre with him during runs to the hood. Cash, fly cars, and pretty women were the norm to the boy. He admired his father's power and yearned to emulate his infamy on the streets of the small city.

As Antonio grew older, he grew wiser and purposely shielded his children away from the dangerous lifestyle. However, it was a little too late. It didn't matter to Tre that Antonio had established a legitimate family landscaping and property business, so that they could have something for themselves. It was very modest money compared to what he had seen in the drug world, but it was a lot more than what most people had. They literally wanted for nothing, and his kids even had trust funds tucked away and waiting for them when they reached twenty-five.

In his mind his children were above the cold streets he was bred in. He envisioned Tre as a future entrepreneur, not some fake ass wanna-be.

Tre was by no means a thug in any form. He would easily be considered a sheep in the street — food or prey; someone who was weak and vulnerable. To say he was privileged was an understatement. His typical attire included $100 button ups and $400 Giuseppe's. He was a suburban kid whose only ties to the hood was his father. Antonio knew that Tre name dropped every chance he got. His son was a follower who had been brainwashed by the false glamorization of the streets.

Antonio knew without a doubt, that if Tre were put in the wrong situation, the average cat would chew him up and spit him out. He would do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He knew he wasn't going to always be around to save Tre, so he would do his best to keep him out of the hood, and away from the "wolves" he called his friends.

Hearing the commotion from the kitchen as she cleared the dishes out of the sink, Tiffany quickly dried her wet hands with the dish towel and went to calm her father down. A true daddy's girl, Tiffany knew exactly what to say to calm him. She was the lady of the house and had been so since her mother had been killed in an automobile accident ten years ago.

"You okay Daddy?" Tiffany asked softly, before giving him a kiss on the side of his face. She could tell he was still angry. His cheek was rock hard because his teeth were still clenched tightly together in anger. The deep crinkles in his forehead also solidified the fact that he was indeed still livid.

"Daddy you know how Tre gets," she said softly. "He's hardheaded. He doesn't think, and he really does believe that Drew and Spice are his friends," she said sadly. "I know it's frustrating he wants to be in the hood, but in reality, he's dying to be just like you."

She too agreed with her father, she just used a different approach to express her concerns and opinions to Tre. He was a lot like their father, and unfortunately, Antonio's delivery was what often caused their explosive disagreements.

Antonio went to reply in agreement, but quickly frowned in disapproval as soon as he heard a yellow cab honking out in front of the house, followed by Tre quickly taking off out the door before anyone could stop him.

"Tre!" Tiffany called out anyway, but to no avail.

"Don't worry about it Tiffany; I'll deal with his ass later," he said, before getting up to handle some business.

Tiffany sighed. They were always at it, and she was tired of being the peace-maker.

# Chapter 2

"Tre, why you acting stupid? Are you seriously trying to piss Daddy off or something?" Tiffany asked as soon as Tre answered the phone. She was mad, and she hated to see her father so rattled over some stupid shit about Tre.

Rolling his eyes, Tre responded. "Damn. Hello to you too." He held his phone loosely to his ear as he prepared for the second bullshit lecture of the day.

"Cut the crap Tre. I heard you and Daddy arguing from the kitchen... You know what he saying is true. Them wack niggas aint ya friends, and ya ass need to stay out of the hood. You gon end up getting in trouble, or worse: _hurt_."

"Yo, what the fuck you mean? We don't even be doing shit. Just chilling in the crib smoking and talking shit. That aint a fucking crime," he argued, growing irritated. He didn't even know why he was explaining himself to her — or anyone for that matter. He was grown.

He wanted to hang up, but decided to hear his little sister out. Both he and his father had a weak spot for her, and although she was the baby of the house, they admired her intelligence and outspoken attitude.

"Tre, you're hanging with those lames in a trap house. I ain't slow to nothing fast. I still fuck with bitches from the East and they tell me all the time that they be seeing you with Drew and Spice at Pat's house. Now, if I'm not mistaken, Pat is a certified fiend, and there's nothing good coming up out of her crib."

Tre didn't bother to respond. It was true, and he wasn't going to play on her intelligence by suggesting otherwise. Pat was certainly strung out and wouldn't hesitate to sell her children's soul to the devil if the price was right.

"Bottom line Tre, Daddy wants what's best for you. He's not your enemy, and he worked hard to get us out the hood and put us up in a gated community — for you to return to the East and sit in trap houses, that's like a slap in the face to him. He runs most of that shit, and people stay telling him they be seeing you out there. I mean... he conducts business out there for God's sake. You're a target, _Einstein_. Do you know how easy you're making it for niggas to run down on you? You're the only idiot I know that would sit up in a dirty ass drug house when you don't have to. People do that when they have no choice. You're lucky and privileged as fuck Tre," she said, trying to reason with her brother. "You actually have a choice. And you're putting _everything_ and _everyone_ at risk. If some shit pops off and you get jammed up, Daddy's the first person you gon call. Why risk that? What chu think gon happen to us if something happens to Daddy behind ya dumb ass?" she asked.

"Ain't nothing gon happen," he said smacking his teeth.

"How the hell you know that?" she questioned. "People fucked up out here and you strolling through the hood with rent money on ya back. Driving a car worth two year's of the average persons salary — come on. Use ya head big bro," she pleaded.

At times, it was hard to tell they came from the same mother and father. While she soaked up all the knowledge her father bestowed upon them, Tre disregarded it. She was like a sponge, eagerly absorbing every drop of knowledge he had to offer. She admired, and literally adored her father. He had taken excellent care of them as a single parent and provided them with a life most kids would dream of. She didn't understand what the fuck Tre's problem was.

Tre sat quietly before pulling from his blunt and exhaling a thick stream of smoke. "I hear you Tiff," he replied nonchalantly, before plucking his ashes to the excessively stained carpet.

He had in fact heard her, but he wasn't listening. He wasn't worried about nobody trying to creep him since he stayed strapped. Besides, he was bored and tired of staying cooped up in the house all the time listening to his father rant and rave about him going to school or taking over his business. He knew he was destined for something else. _What_ exactly, he wasn't sure. What he did know, was that he simply didn't have the patience to deal with that business shit like Tiffany did.

His father owned a landscaping business and about a dozen properties through the city. When Tiffany wasn't in class getting her degree in Business, she was helping her dad manage all his residential and commercial buildings. Non-stop phone calls, emails, and work orders consumed most of her day, in addition to her school work. She loved keeping busy, and for the life of him, Tre never could understand why. The shit was boring to him. He refused to work like a slave, while his father took the easy way out and sold dope.

He never understood why his father didn't take him under his wing and let him help him run the East Side; he instead tried to shield him from it. He didn't want to go to school with the square ass niggas. He wanted money, hoes, and fly ass whips. At twenty-one, he was still young and dumb, and angry that his father would not aid in his recklessness.

"Listen sis, I gotta go. I'm a chill for a quick minute and then I'm coming back in. You want anything while I'm out?" he asked, knowing full well he didn't have any money.

"No Tre. I don't want anything except for you to hurry up and get home," she sighed. He was so damn stubborn. Everything she had said, had went in one ear and out the other.

"I will, alright. And tell Dad, I hear him and I'm sorry."

He did his best to sound sincere, but he wasn't. He just wasn't trying to come home and hear Antonio talk shit. He knew that if anyone could butter him up, it was Tiffany.

"I'll calm Daddy down, and _you_ , text me when you leave. Love you."

"Alright, I will. Love you too sis. And don't worry."

Tre hung up the phone and continued to smoke his blunt. He didn't understand what the big deal was. Hanging with Drew and Spice was exciting. It sure as hell beat riding skateboards with the corny ass white kids in his neighborhood. Besides, he and his niggas had plans. Big plans.

# Chapter 3

Spice snickered as Tre lowered his phone from his ear to his lap. They had heard Tre's end of the conversation and had also heard Tiffany barking on him from where they were seated on the other side of the room.

"I see ya lil sister still got ya ass in check over their nigga," Spice cackled loudly.

Although Tiffany was three years younger than Tre, he and Drew both knew her fine ass was second in command in the Anderson household.

"Fuck you nigga. Ain't nobody got me in shit," Tre argued. He mashed his blunt out in a nearby ashtray that was already overflowing with cigarette butts and blunt roaches.

"Whatever nigga, you know Tiffany run shit... When you gon put me on anyway?" he asked, trying to piss Tre off further, for his own amusement. He was well aware that his requests for Tiffany were never going to happen.

They constantly took shots at him about hooking up with his baby sister. At only eighteen, Tiffany was considered a bad bitch. 5'7 with creamy caramel skin, and a slim but curvy body she strongly resembled a young Vanessa Williams. Tiffany was stunningly beautiful and wore her naturally long hair, bone straight. Good looks ran in the family, as Tre and his father both were considered "easy on the eyes" to most women. Both men had caramel colored skin, almond shaped brown eyes, and a perfect set of teeth. Tiffany looked like her late mother, with a big innocent set of hazel brown eyes.

Even though she was hands-down beautiful, she was by no means self-centered and egotistical. She often helped her father arrange fund-raisers and donations within the community. She was an A student at the local university and because of her intelligence her father's business had been growing consistently since she began to oversee things at the age of sixteen. Although sassy, once one knew her, she was any man's dream come true.

Tre looked over at Spice and frowned his face up. "Stop talking stupid nigga," he stated, his irritation on full display.

"Let's talk about those lame ass West side niggas talking about running down on niggas when they see us. Little bitch I met down at Starlite's last night put me on."

"Who she heard that from?" Drew asked, finally joining the conversation. He had initially been too busy serving the influx of fiends through the side door to participate in their small talk.

"Shorty said her sister was just fucking with one of dem niggas. I think his name was Dante or some shit like that," Tre added with a shrug.

"Well apparently she not feeling the nigga anymore because he whopped her ass the other day. Blacked her eyes and some mo shit. Now she ready to give up the nigga info on some get-back — for the right price of course," he added. "She also said the nigga we fucked up last night wasn't no little nigga. That's why niggas came gunning quick after the shit let out. Boy caked up and ready to war, _on sight_. I heard they plan to squad up and creep through. I also got the drop on where the lil young nigga Dante trapping out of," he added sinisterly. They all knew what that meant — a come up.

"Over on Westover," he continued. "A lil something we can hop on for a quick come-up and show mufuckas we don't give a fuck about _none_ of dem niggas," Tre stated proudly, hoping to gain his friends full acceptance and praise from the information he had obtained.

After listening intensely, Drew and Spice smiled. They were always interested in a come-up. They weren't too concerned with anyone looking for them or going to war. It was easy for them to lay low. They didn't fuck with many people, and mufucka's around the hood knew who they were, as well as what they stood for. If anyone gave up their location to allow anyone the opportunity to creep on them, they were dead. Not only were they dead, but so were their whole family if necessary. They had no problem proving their point. They would lay down a whole block if they had to — old ladies and babies. They gave no fucks and the hood knew it. That's what landed them in the rift with the West Side in the first place. It had just happened the previous night and was still fresh on their minds.

It was Thirsty Thursday at Starlite's, a hole in the wall club that purposely bordered the East and West. It was where all the hood niggas and ratchet bitches from both sides flocked to on the weekends.

The club was packed and as usual, the poor excuse for security would literally let in niggas with Uzi's and AK's for the right price. After sliding the security guard, a $50 bill, Tre, Drew, and Spice all entered the club armed. With no il intentions, Tre went in with the intent to have a good time. Drew on the other hand, had other plans.

Although densely packed and dark, blue club lights illuminated through the large room giving everyone a glow. Ignoring the party-goers around them, the trio made their way to the single crowded bar. After ordering multiple shots, they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. From their small dark booth in the corner, they hit on the small selection of pretty women and talked shit to one another over the loud music. As the unmistakable voice of Drake pounded through the speakers and shook the small club, Drew decided to proceed with his plans.

He scanned through the patrons in the club and quickly realized that it was literally filled with broke ass niggas. They were the majority. From the ran-down sneakers to the dingy, over-washed clothing he knew that it wasn't any hitters in the building. That was, until he peeped the young nigga in the far-right corner of the club. He'd quickly spotted a target. __ Drew smiled. The flashy nigga he'd just laid eyes on looked soft. What some would consider a "pretty boy." Light skinned with short curly hair, he rocked an old, but fly throwback Adidas short set. Drew could see the suits' designer emblem from across the room. He also couldn't help but stare at the trio of eye-catching Cuban link chains that he bore around his neck. It didn't stop there, as he also wore a thick gold bracelet, an iced-out watch, and a diamond encrusted pinkie ring. All of them sparkled brightly and arrogantly against its drab surroundings.

If "pretty boy" weren't so young looking, Drew would've sworn he was an 80's baby, as he looked like he was straight out of Paid in Full. Nevertheless, Drew didn't give a damn what era he was from, or what year he was born. His mind was focused solely on the stones he rocked. The jewels he wore would easily get him five-grand from the crooked jeweler he knew downtown.

He continued to watch his vic and his companion, a pretty big-butt light-skinned chick, with a silky weave that dangled to the tip of her ass. Both appeared to be slightly intoxicated and having a good time. It couldn't get any better for Drew. After several minutes of watching, the girl eventually got up, adjusted her skin tight bodycon dress, and started walking towards their side of the club. Her oversized faux-gold bamboo earrings bounced with her as she moved. Drew knew it was the perfect opportunity to put his plan in motion.

"Damn shorty bad," Drew said, pointing to the girl, while nudging both Spice and Tre who were at his side. She was quickly headed their way and he didn't want to miss his opportunity.

"She aight. A little too ghetto looking for my taste," Tre stated arrogantly in response to the pretty red-bone approaching.

"What?" Drew asked, smacking his teeth in disbelief. "That bitch bad. I bet _you_ couldn't bag her. Matter of fact, I bet she wouldn't even give you her number nigga," Drew teased, hoping Tre would hop on the challenge.

"Yeah right nigga. I can bag any bitch in here," he argued. He was dressed to impress and always looked like money. He had no doubt he could pull the big butt, ghetto looking chick with ease.

Hopping up to quickly prove his point, Tre sauntered right over in her path with confidence. Grabbing her arm gently, Tre leaned over with a smile and whispered in her ear, "You coming home with me tonight?"

Immediately snatching her arm back with an attitude, she looked at Tre like he had lost his mind. She clearly wasn't impressed with his approach.

"Nigga you don't know me, so don't touch me. And furthermore, you can miss me with that lame ass approach," she said, surprising Tre.

Her pink glossed lips curled up intensely to express her distaste. She couldn't believe the nerve of the young boy. She only fucked with dope boys, and while the youngin in front of her was cute and well dressed, he looked a little square. He definitely wasn't in her lane.

With his ego immediately bruised, Tre grew instantly embarrassed, a feeling he didn't experience much. His embarrassment immediately caused him to grow angry. He had only been right about one thing. While he couldn't bag her, he was right that she was indeed ghetto. As loud as she was, everyone within ear shot had heard her play him like a game of hoops. Looking behind him, he grew even angrier at the sight of Drew and Spice stomping their feet and laughing hysterically at Tre's public rejection. It amused them that Tre always ended up looking like a fool while trying so hard to impress them.

"Bitch I didn't want ya raggedy ass anyway, wit that cheap ass dress. And do some fucking sit ups while you at it. Fucking stomach bulging out but thinking you tough!" he balked. He wasn't gon front though. She was cute... but she wasn't that bad to be acting that stank.

"Nigga fuck you! Who the fuck you think you talking to? I'll get my nigga to fuck you up!" she yelled, causing a scene in the small establishment. She was known to go from zero to one hundred on anyone. She didn't care if it was male or female.

"I don't give a fuck. Get whoever you want," Tre argued back. He was tempted to hawk spit in her face.

Seeing the commotion from across the room, her companion "Rico" hopped up and quickly made his way over to her to see what was going on. Grabbing her by the arm, he pushed her behind him and stood in front of her to end whatever dispute she and the unknown man were having.

"No disrespect but wassup my nigga?" Rico quickly asked. He did a brief scan of the room for his squad. He was never alone when he was out partying, and he hoped that his niggas weren't far in case some shit popped off over his side piece. He wasn't really trying to war over her, but nevertheless, she had come with him and letting her be disrespected would've made him and his team appear soft.

Drew had already filled Spice in on the plan so they both hopped up from where they were seated as soon as Rico approached Tre.

Seeing his team out his peripheral view, Tre felt no need to filter his words. "Ain't shit popping nigga, but if she with you, you should tell that bitch watch her mouth," Tre said to Rico while pointing at the girl.

Rico sighed in disappointment. He was hoping they could talk it out like men, respectfully. The nigga in front of him, _had_ to go left. With no tolerance for disrespect, Rico threw a hard right that met forcefully with Tre's jaw, sending him flailing backwards onto a table and directly on his ass. Surprised and now even more embarrassed, Tre ignored the pain shooting through his back and immediately hopped back up. His anger caused him to see nothing but red. Before he could swing back, Drew and Spice were already all over Rico, raining a barrage of brutal blows to his body. Rico did his best to defend himself, but was no match for the bigger, stronger men.

Rico's side piece yelled and swung to get the duo off him, causing Tre to knock her to the floor with a hard punch to her face. He felt no remorse as he watched blood instantly run from her nose, and she begin to scream out in pain and disbelief.

Bouncers from the club quickly rushed over, and after a quick struggle, managed to separate the men and throw them out of the club. Tre, Drew, and Spice through the front, and Rico through the back. While it seemed like their night had abruptly ended, it was actually just getting started.

* * *

"Yo we fucked that nigga up," Spice laughed hysterically as they all climbed in Tre's car.

" _And_ we came up," Drew beamed proudly, while holding up Rico's stolen jewels so they could see. The gold pieces sparkled brightly in the dark car.

"Did you run his pockets too?" Spice asked Drew.

"Na, I didn't have time. Security was over there quick as shit."

Tre, oblivious to the plan, thought nothing of the conversation and figured Drew just grabbed his shit when the opportunity presented itself. It never dawned on him that he had been used as a pawn.

"Fuck that pussy," he spat. "He got what he deserved. Nigga hit me on some bitch ass shit. Over a wack ass thot bitch," Tre complained, before rubbing his aching jaw. He could already tell it had begun to swell.

"Aww stop crying nigga. You shoulda slid that nigga as soon as he came up trying to play tough," Spice said. "You standing there wanting to argue and shit. And can you slide over to 7-Eleven? Nigga hungry," he said to Tre as he drove down the dark city street. "Trying to get something to eat before I go fuck the shit out of Tracy ass," he laughed. Spice had a weakness for hood-rats and was a known trick around the way.

Tre merged onto Route 13 off Isabella Street in his new model Cadillac SRX, a late graduation gift from his father. Pulling into 7-Eleven, they weren't surprised to see the large crowds of people in the tight parking lot. They lived in a small city and there was only a handful of places to go to eat after the clubs let out. Tre pulled up to a parking space closest to the entrance, but furthest from the door. He hated crowds and wasn't trying to be stuck while trying to get out.

"Damn nigga. You parked far enough didn't you?" Spice complained.

"Nigga stop bitching. I ain't trying to be all day getting out this mufucka," Tre argued. Already irritated from being hit in the face, he was ready to head home. He felt at his jaw again and hoped it didn't get too big.

"Word," Drew agreed. "We in and out."

The trio made their way through the dense crowd to the entrance of the store, with Spice leading the way. Before he could touch the dirty metal handle of the door, shots immediately rang out. They immediately ducked for cover and quickly scanned the crowd to search for its origins. It didn't take long for Drew to recognize where the gunfire was coming from.

* * *

As soon as Drew spotted the short and stocky, dark skinned kid with a hoodie pulled tightly around his head, he already knew what time it was. He immediately recognized the face and build, as well as the reputation of Chubs. At twenty-two, he was known to the city as the "grim reaper." He was a shoot-out in broad daylight type of guy — A run in ya house and put the burner in ya bitch and kids mouth type of dude — He didn't care, and _that_ was what made people fear him. He had numerous bodies under his belt, and not a single person willing to even so much as implicate him.

Chubs clearly was a force to be reckoned with in the streets, and he also happened to be one of Rico's right-hand men. Turmoil and chaos excited him, and he would gladly bust his gun whenever Rico gave him the word. This special night he was on a mission. He had been given the simple task of enforcing the teams, " _zero tolerance_ " policy. He was to leave the three men before him lifeless, for their blatant, and outlandish act of disrespect. Chubs looked up to Rico and would make it rain bullets day and night through the city if necessary. The lesson for the night was simple; disrespect always ended in gunfire.

Chubs glossy eyes stayed glued on his target as he squeezed the trigger on his slate gray, Glock 19. He had only fifteen shots and he wanted to make each one of them count. This particular night, the three men he was gunning for had luck and coincidence on their side. Chubs was known for his accuracy; however, tonight he had been drinking heavily at the club and his aim would not be nearly as precise.

" _Pow, pow, pow_!" were the sounds that crackled through the air and sent everyone ducking for cover. People pushed frantically and nearly trampled one another, trying to escape an early death sentence.

After spotting Chubs twenty feet away, Spice too was quickly able to comprehend that the gunfire was a gift for them and was a direct result of the incident at the club.

"Shit!" Drew yelled, as he quickly released his grip from the door handle. There was no way in hell he was going to enter the closed-in store while Chubs still had rounds left in his gun. That would easily be a death wish. Not one of the three men were armed, as they had tucked their guns away after the club. The only thing left to do, was run like hell for cover. Clearly, they were no match for the ammo begging their bodies for penetration.

"Run! He from the club!" Drew commanded before taking off in full speed through the parking lot.

Tre, who had never been in a shoot-out, immediately took off behind his friends, desperately pushing past people to get back to his car. His feet slammed in rapid succession against the pavement as his heart thumped violently in his chest. As Tre ran, the unfamiliar feeling of fear plagued his body.

" _Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow_!" Bullets continued to rip through the air, while Chubs did his best to chase the trio through the hysterical crowd. They knew he was coming but they kept running. Fear wouldn't allow them to look back. They just prayed to God that they wouldn't get hit. Every one-second they ran, felt like ten, as they fled to the car in terror. As they ran, all three braced for the moment when one of the bullet's Chubs generously released from his gun, tore through their body. After what seemed like eternity, the three friends finally made it to the car, literally diving in for safety.

"Drive this shit nigga!" Spice yelled dramatically, as he crouched in the back seat. He quickly down and under the driver's seat, retrieving his .22 to return fire. He only brought the small gun for convenience reasons and now regretted it. He was flaming mad, and wish he had something stronger to let loose on Chubs bitch ass.

Drew too was furious, and quickly rolled down his window to expose his previously concealed pistol. The duo proceeded to exchange fire through the crowded parking lot, disregarding the innocent bystanders. The shots coming his way didn't stop Chubs who bit down on his lip in anger, and ran behind the now full-speed, moving Cadillac, still letting off shot after shot, until his gun was empty. _Lucky mufucka's,_ Chubs thought to himself. The next time, he wouldn't miss.

* * *

"Ima body that pussy!" Spice screamed furiously in the car, spit flying from his mouth. He rocked back and forth dramatically with every word he spoke.

"Word — on everything I fucking love!" Drew agreed, as he tucked his gun back underneath his seat. "Anyone hit?" Drew asked, as he checked himself for wounds.

"Na, I'm good," Spice responded, his adrenaline running high, while his face remained contorted in a scowl.

He was going to murder Chubs the next time he saw him — and he _would_ see him again. He didn't care where they were. He could be with his kids, his sister, or even his grandma — hell, they could be in church; Spice didn't care. He was going to empty his entire clip on him without hesitating.

Tre sat in the front seat and remained silent. His heart still pounded in his chest and his hands shook slightly as he gripped the steering wheel. He was trembling with fear but did his best to conceal it. Although exciting, he wasn't quite ready for the lifestyle that Drew and Spice had grown up in and ultimately become accustomed to. He also had no idea how the fuck he was going to explain the bullet riddled Cadillac to his father. His back window had been shot out and the rear of his car was now covered in holes from Chubs gun.

The beef wasn't over, not by a long shot. _This_ was just the beginning.

# Chapter 4

"Yo, I almost had dem niggas," Chubs said excitedly, but at the same time, with disappointment. He was giving Rico an animated run-down of the shootout that had occurred the previous night.

"They was running like bitches," Chubs laughed, before pulling smoke into his lungs from the lit blunt he was holding.

Rico nodded with a smile. That's all he wanted to hear. He wasn't into spilling blood, but he wanted niggas to understand he didn't fuck around. He didn't personally know the niggas that had jumped on him, but he remembered faces. He probably would never even run into them again since they probably weren't on his level, but unfortunately for them, if they ran into any one of his niggas, they probably wouldn't be as lucky as the first time. He honestly didn't give a fuck about the jewels they had taken; he was a boss and the jewels meant nothing to him. However, his team didn't feel that way. It was the principle they said.

The streets always talked, and while no one really knew who Tre was, everyone knew who Drew and Spice were. It didn't take long before Rico knew exactly who they were and what they were about. He didn't really want to war personally, since he wasn't really into the drama, so he told his team to chill for the time being. The message had already been sent. If either Drew, Spice, _or_ Tre, felt they wanted to continue the beef, then they would proceed with no mercy shown. However, Rico hoped they did the smart thing, and fell back. His team was strong _and_ large. He ran the West Side of the city and could get either of the men toe tagged in 24-hours.

"I wish that shit had happened early though," Chubs exclaimed disappointedly. "I was lit, and my aim wasn't on point. It's all good though, I'll see dem nigga's again," Chubs reassured Rico.

Rico didn't doubt him one bit. Chubs had personally handled many niggas for Rico and he was very confident in his youngin.

"No doubt, my nigga, but I want you to hold off on that. Remember what I said right?" he asked Chubs. "Let em live for now. Let _them_ decide if they ready to die."

Chubs frowned slightly, but eventually smiled. He admired his mentor, and although he didn't agree with all of Rico's decisions, he determined that the way he did things were usually for the best. Rico wanted the streets to remain as peaceful as possible. There was no time for war, as there was too much money to be made.

Rico stood up from the rickety oak table they were sitting at. It was mid-day and he had some business to handle. He made all his money out of the hood, but he didn't want to remain stuck there all day. The house he stood in was a stash house. It was on a quiet block with little activity; a place where they could meet, eat, and chill while they stashed the day's cash.

"Ay yo, I'm out. Bout to go handle some business and slide over my shorty crib," Rico said.

"Aight cool. Just hit me when you come back through," Chubs said, still seated.

Rico extended his hand and Chubs rose up and gladly grabbed it for their regular hood handshake.

"Aight my nigga, be safe," Rico said, before walking out the door.

They always departed that way. It was a jungle on the streets and only the strongest survived. Safety was the number one priority. The strength of his team ensured that they ate well, and there was no room _or_ tolerance for weakness. That was exactly why he had no choice but to act fast after being disrespected at the club. That was how it had been, and that was how it always would be.

# Chapter 5

Antonio glanced down at his Versace watch. He was early as usual but what puzzled him, was that Vince was also early. Vince was the client he was meeting. Out of all the years, Antonio had been meeting him, he was usually on time, sometimes running late, but never ever early.

Antonio often arrived at places early. He liked to beat others just to ensure they weren't being followed. He prided himself on being on point. Today he actually sensed he had reason to be.

Antonio looked around cautiously before exiting his new model BMW. Walking to the door he didn't notice anything unusual or suspicious, however he still proceeded into the building with caution.

"Hey Frank," Antonio yelled to the owner, who was behind the counter ringing up an unknown patron.

He had known Frank for years and had even helped him financially to expand the place years back. Because of this, Frank never questioned his meetings there, and would also let him know what was transpiring in the streets since his diner was smack dab in the middle of them. That was one of the main reasons, Antonio was a bit nervous by Vince's early arrival for lunch.

Just the day before, Frank had informed Antonio that Vince had been busted by the authorities. His barbershop had been raided after someone ratted him out to the DEA. Those facts didn't sit well with Antonio, especially because Vince had never informed him of the incident. Vince had a lot to lose: three kids and a wife to care for. Under the right pressure, he had seen some of the toughest fold like bitches. Nevertheless, Antonio proceeded to the table cautiously, paired with the infamous smile he always wore.

"Wassup Vince? You're here early," he said, before sliding into the opposite booth. He grabbed the menu from the table and pretended to look over it.

"Yeah, I gotta hurry up. My girl wants me to pick up my boys from football practice. She tied up at the shop," he said, referring to the barbershop and hair salon that he and his wife owned, or more so, used as a front to hide his illegal activities.

"Oh ok, well I definitely understand that. How's business been?" Antonio asked, looking Vince directly in the eyes. The eyes always spoke the truth when the mouth did its best to deceive.

"Shit is good. Real good. Soon we'll probably open another location," he lied.

"Yeah?" Antonio asked. "Well that's definitely what it is. You know, I'm a firm believer in ownership. If you want to grow Vince, you have to be a boss. But listen. I know you came for what we had talked about, but things have changed. My people got jammed up and shit is dry. I don't have anything and probably won't for a while," Antonio said, being careful of his word selection.

He couldn't prove it, but Vince was working with law enforcement, and he wasn't going to be fucking around with no rats. His judgement had always been pretty good in the past, and his gut was telling him Vince was nothing more than a dirty rat.

"Damn Antonio, when you think you gon have something? I got hella people waiting on me," Vince complained.

Vince sounded genuine but Antonio knew that was a front. His demeanor and movement spoke volumes. He was shifting around too much and every so often he would glance out the window. Antonio knew he had either been followed or was wearing a wire. Lucky for Vince, Antonio was years older and years smarter. Had he been in his early twenties, Vince would be dead by sundown.

"I can't say for sure. I'm just waiting on my folk's situation to change. When it does, I'll definitely call you," he assured him.

"Aight," he sighed. "I guess it is what it is," he sighed, before again, glancing around nervously.

"Well I'm gonna get moving man. Pick up my kids and shit before my girl start tripping."

"Oh no doubt. Be safe man," Antonio responded.

He had no intention of ever calling Vince again, or dealing with him for that matter. The couple grand a week he brought in wasn't worth the jail time. He would continue to keep his eyes and ears glued to the street. What he did know, had it not been for Frank, he would not have known not to trust Vince. He felt his time on the streets were numbered and he had to make some major moves soon, so he could get out of them.

# Chapter 6

Antonio hung up his phone and sighed deeply. The day wasn't even half over, and he had already been presented with more bullshit. Words couldn't describe how angry and disappointed he was in his first-born child.

He had just gotten a call from Tasteful Events Catering Services, a company he had a contract with, providing cleaning and landscaping services.

The owner had footage of one of his employees stealing the entire safe out of the executive office. The day in question, Antonio had some important business to tend to and had sent Tre and a small crew to deep clean the facility and provide landscaping service around the premises.

Although Tre had been in charge that day, he obviously wasn't supervising properly since he allowed someone access to the executive office. Usually, only the person supervising the crew would go into that room. Tre knew that is where most businesses kept their safes and petty cash boxes. How he could allow one of the employees to steal on his watch, baffled him. Tre always wanted to be in charge. He wanted to be a boss; however, he couldn't even handle the minor duties associated with that title.

Antonio quickly changed his route and made his way to meet the owner so that he could review the recording and repay whatever was taken. He couldn't believe that Tre would let this happen. He would get with him later, but for now, he would handle business and make sure he didn't lose one of his best clients behind nonsense.

* * *

An hour later, Antonio opened the door of his home and walked into the living room where Tre was lounging on the couch playing Hitman on his PlayStation. He took a deep breath. It was taking everything out of him, not to rip his only son off the couch.

"Tre, turn off the game, I need to talk to you," he demanded.

"Hold up Dad, I'm almost off this level," he responded, throwing up his index finger signaling for him to wait.

That did it for Antonio. He could no longer contain his anger. Now enraged, Antonio walked over to Tre, ripped the controller from his hands and hurled it at the TV. The blow shattered the screen and left Tre wide-eyed with confusion.

"I asked you to turn it the fuck off!" Antonio yelled.

"Yo, what the fuck is ya problem?" Tre asked with a bewildered look.

"You're my fucking problem," Antonio responded, before angrily snatching Tre by his shirt, and pulling him to his feet to face him. He'd had enough and was past fed up with his son's nonchalance and lack of respect.

"I send you to supervise my crew and you fucking steal!" he roared, before releasing him with a forceful shove onto the long sectional.

Antonio didn't wait for a response. He wasn't expecting one. He had seen it with his own eyes on camera. Tre had gone into the office and took the safe out of the drawer. Not one of his employees, but his own son. His own flesh and blood had caused him to nearly lose one of his largest contracts. If it wasn't for Antonio's history with the owner, his profuse apologies, and his immediate repayment, he would have surely lost a contract he'd held for five years.

He was ashamed and utterly embarrassed. He felt like a fool. Tre had no idea how it had hurt his pride to apologize over and over, while begging someone not to press theft charges on his son and allow him to keep his contract.

He shook his head in disgust. "You're a disgrace Tre. I pay you nearly double what I give to some of my best employees. Only because you are my son. And you do this shit. You're so fucking ungrateful," he argued as he continued to shake his head. Words couldn't describe the anger he felt. Nothing he did was good enough to make his son do right and appreciate everything he worked so hard to give him.

"You refuse to do the right thing. From stealing, to nearly getting yourself killed, to bringing your dumb ass in all hours of the night — I've had it Tre!"

Tre just stared at his father while he ranted. It wasn't nothing new. He fucked up, Antonio argued, and the process repeated itself.

"You no longer work for me. You have to find a job, or you're cut off and have to move out," he said with finality.

The comment didn't even faze Tre, who sat on the couch and did his best to appear remorseful. He knew his father wouldn't put him out on the streets and he wasn't going to find a job either. He wasn't working for peanuts.

Antonio shook his head and looked at his son in disgust. "You and Tiffany are like night and day."

The comment instantly angered Tre, but he remained quiet. He knew his father favored Tiffany to him, always had. To Antonio, she was his perfect child and Tre was the black sheep. Tiffany got a new BMW and condo while all he got was a factory model Cadillac. Tiffany received a salary as his "Administrative Assistant," while he got paid hourly for any work he did, and a measly allowance of $500 a month, barely enough to fill his gas tank up monthly and have enough left over to buy a sandwich. It was insulting, considering the fact, his dad had probably made millions in the drug game.

Antonio finally decided to make his way out of the room, but slowly turned around and stared his son in the eye.

"And one last thing... If you do some underhanded shit like that again, I'm not just going to put you out... I'm going to drag you by your fucking neck and _throw_ you out."

He turned around and walked out of the room praying that his son didn't call his bluff. He meant every word he spoke and hoped that Tre didn't force his hand. Family or not, no one was going to tear down what he had worked so hard to build.

# Chapter 7

Tiffany quickly rose from her desk to answer her chiming doorbell. Her boyfriend was early. She hated unexpected guests. It was only 2:30pm and he wasn't supposed to arrive until 8:00pm. It was his way of popping up on her to make sure she was behaving herself. It wasn't the first time he'd done it, and it probably wouldn't be the last, despite her requests.

After checking the television-like camera screen mounted on her wall in her hallway, Tiffany proceeded to her front door. Before opening it, she placed her index finger on the touch screen keypad near the door.

She had only been in the condo for three months and her dad wouldn't even allow her to stay one night without the expensive state of the art security system. He was extremely protective and only allowed her to stay at her condo three days a week. The other days she stayed with her father and Tre at her childhood home. Antonio would have it no other way since her university was closer to his house. He also wanted to make sure she was going to class. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he just liked to have control. Tiffany however, always obedient and eager to please her father, didn't mind the arrangement. She mostly stayed at her condo to relax and work on her school work as well as handle paperwork for his business.

Lately, she had been using it for "entertainment" purposes. Unbeknownst to her father, she had someone special in her life. She was trying to find a good time to introduce that special someone, but she had yet to determine when that would be. What she did know was that, she really liked him, and she would keep him a secret before she let her father scare him off.

"Hey babe," Tiffany beamed as she pulled open the door.

"Wassup," Rico said, smiling warmly at her. He was smitten with the young girl before him. She had her head firmly planted on her shoulders and she was about her business. He had never met anyone like her, and she was foreign-like compared to the females he had dealt with. Not only was she beautiful, she was also intelligent. He had met her months back at a party thrown at his uncle's house. Since most of the attendees there were older, it didn't take long before he spotted her and struck up a conversation with her. She was stunning and at that very instant, he knew he had to have her.

"You gon let me in?" he asked with a smile. "Or you got somebody up in there?" he questioned jokingly. He had been dating her for several months and he prayed she wasn't too good to be true. They usually were.

"Cut it out," Tiffany said with a smile before stepping back and letting Rico enter her small, but expensive and tastefully decorated home.

Rico stepped in and immediately wrapped his arms around Tiffany's small waist. Grabbing her ass, he pulled her into him and gave her a kiss. He inhaled her scent and felt himself stiffen. She smelled sweet. Tiffany kissed him back before pulling away with a smile. She could feel him getting excited. She didn't want to start something she wasn't ready to finish.

"I thought you were coming at eight?" she asked, while looking up into his eyes as he still held her.

"Yeah I was, but I was in the area and I figured I'd stop by early," he lied. He really _was_ intentionally dropping in on her.

He was hoping she didn't mind. He wanted to spend the remainder of the day with her. Tiffany's expression changed slightly. She had plans that unfortunately, did not include him.

Sensing her hesitance, Rico let go of her waist, but took her hand to hold. "You busy or something? If so, I can come back babe. I don't mean to intrude."

"No... I mean you're not intruding, but my brother was supposed to come through in an hour or so."

"Ohhh ok," he said with a smile, quickly catching on to her hesitance. "You don't want me to meet him yet?"

"Ummm. No, not really," she laughed nervously. "I mean." She paused. "I wanted you to meet my dad first, cuz Lord knows, he would have a fit if you met Tre before him."

"I can dig it, it's cool. I'll come back at eight," he said before glancing down at his oversized watch, mentally trying to figure out what he would do until then. He had no other plans and was in no hurry to go back to the hood. His side-piece Latisha, the red-bone he was with at the club, had been blowing him up all day. However, he wasn't interested in spending quality time with her.

"Thanks babe," Tiffany said, wrapping her arms around Rico's waist and leaning in for a soft kiss.

"No doubt," he said, his lips meeting hers. "I'll be back at eight."

He turned to walk towards the door, but Tiffany stopped him.

"What happened to your face?" she asked in concern. She trailed her soft, manicured hand along the fresh four-inch scratch that ran down his cheek. It was nasty, but it looked as if it would heal without leaving a noticeable scar.

"Oh that?" he asked, pulling back a little bit from her touch. During the fight at the club, his stripped jewels had snagged, and cut into his face.

"I got in a little scuffle at the bar. It ain't about shit," he said.

"Mmmmm," she said with a frown, as she continued to carefully observe it. "Well you be careful babe. You too cute to be fighting. I'll clean it up some for you, when you get back."

She gave him another kiss on the lips before seeing him to the door.

* * *

"Watch my flowers," Tiffany complained, as her brother clumsily maneuvered his way through her condo. She frowned as he sat down on her cream colored, contemporary style sofa. She hoped they didn't leave a scent.

Tiffany was extremely annoyed, and she didn't try to conceal it one bit. Not only had Tre come reeking from the smell of weed, he also brought his friend Spice along. That hadn't been what they had agreed upon. She had asked Tre to stop by for dinner so they could have a heart-to-heart conversation over what was going on with him. He had been distant lately and over the past few weeks, had been hanging out more and more with Drew and Spice.

"Watch em for what? Them shits is fake as fuck. Can't kill em," Spice mumbled jokingly. Tiffany rolled her eyes and shot him a dirty look before redirecting her gaze back to her brother.

"Tre come to my office really quick. I want to go over something with you," she said, before walking off. It was more of a demand, than a request.

Getting up and following behind her, Tre's glazed eyes looked towards the kitchen. He was hella hungry and could smell the scent of the Baked Ziti Tiffany was cooking circulating through the air.

Tiffany stood on the side of her door until Tre came behind her. She proceeded to close it, and once she heard the click, she went full in on her elder brother.

"Tre are you fucking crazy?" she asked, being careful to keep her tone and volume in check.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her with the same brown, baby face she had looked up to for so many years.

"Why would you bring that nigga to my fucking house?... I don't want none of those low-life scumbags knowing where I live," she growled.

Tiffany couldn't stand either of the two cousins Tre hung out with. They were street dudes to the core and she felt her brother had no business associating with them on a regular basis, let alone traveling with them. They were the kind of guys that could get shot at the drop of a dime.

"Daddy would tie your ass in a knot if I told him."

"What the fuck ever," he groaned. "Damn Tiff. I needed a ride, and besides, the nigga is harmless. That's my man," he assured her.

"Stop being stupid Tre or you gonna wind up fucked over. Didn't you ever listen to Daddy when he said, _trust no broke ass nigga_." She looked at Tre in disgust.

"Then on top of that, you two come in here smelling like shit," she complained, referring to the smell of weed permeating off their persons.

"Tre, I love you, but you and ya so-called friend gotta roll. Take ya plate and skate," she said with finality.

"Alright, alright, damn. I'll leave," he huffed.

"Oh, and I almost forgot the reason I called you over here. What you did was foul. Daddy called me and told me about the stolen safe," she revealed, shaking her head in disgust and disappointment. She didn't wait for a response.

"He also told me that your car had to be towed to the body shop because the back was filled with bullet holes. You could've been killed Tre," she said, her voice trembling.

She knew she could never offer him any advice, as he would not accept it. Because of his naivety and senseless recklessness, she worried relentlessly about her only sibling.

"Get ya shit together Tre. Learn from your mistakes, or you gonna wind up left behind."

"Yeah, yeah whatever," he said in annoyance before heading out of his sister's office. He rolled his eyes, but he had heard her.

He knew what he had to do, and it wasn't sit around listening to his sister talk down on him just like his Dad had been doing. He was going to show them he was a man and could stand on his own. And he planned to do it, exactly how his Dad had.

# Chapter 8

"Antonio! Hola mi amigo. Como estas?" Pedro asked, while smiling brightly as he gave Antonio a strong handshake, before immediately inviting him into his home.

"I'm doing okay Pedro," Antonio responded with a smile. Pedro always greeted him with Spanish words in a jovial manner. Antonio suspected it had a lot to do with the amount of revenue he brought in for his Spanish elder.

"Just okay?" Pedro asked, exposing two rows of perfectly aligned, shiny white teeth, perfected by some orthodontist.

"As much money as you make, you should be doing great!" he said, in a hearty laugh and thick accent.

"Come!" he gestured with his hands.

Following Pedro through the palatial space, Antonio couldn't help but admire the intricate Spanish details of the lovely home he religiously visited twice a month.

The contemporary Mediterranean stucco style home, custom designed by Pedro's wife Anna, was a staple in her country, solidifying one's wealthy status. Growing up poor in Guadalajara, Anna would often dream of living in one of the homes her mother used to clean tirelessly. She and Pedro had been together for over twenty years, and every chance he got, he strived to make each, and every one of her dreams come true.

"Come sit down," Pedro said, ushering Antonio into his lavish office at the back of his home.

Antonio took a seat onto the leather couch across from Pedro's large, executive style, cherry wood desk. He was nervous, but he did his best to make himself comfortable. Taking a seat, Pedro retrieved a Cuban cigar from his drawer, lit it, and took a long drag from it.

"Care for one?" he asked. He already knew the answer. Antonio took pride in his physique and refused to pollute his body with any kind of toxins such as alcohol, drugs or smoke.

"No thanks."

"Ok. Can I get you anything at all? Something to drink? I can have Anna make you a plate of Paella. She just cooked it. It's delicious," he bragged. Anna definitely knew her way around the kitchen and Antonio had tasted some of her delicious creations on multiple occasions.

"I'm good Pedro, but thank you."

Pedro shrugged and took another pull from his cigar. A thick stream of smoke escaped from his lips as he exhaled.

"So, what brings you here my friend?" Pedro asked. He was early for his shipment and he hoped his premature arrival was for positive reasons. However, he wasn't so sure. Antonio seemed distant, and it appeared something was bothering him.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something important," Antonio said with a sigh before pausing. It was now or never, and he wasn't quite sure how it was going to go.

"Speak my friend. What troubles you," he asked, leaning back in his desk chair. His eyes pierced deeply into Antonio's, and revealed his curiosity.

"I don't know how to say this Pedro. But I want out," he admitted, silently breathing a sigh of relief. It had come out easier than he thought it would.

"You want out?" Pedro asked, pausing. He was confused and Antonio now had his full attention "You mean you want out of the game... This lifestyle?" he asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Antonio responded, making eye contact with his mentor.

"I don't know what to say. In my country there is no such thing as _out._ The only way _out_ , is death there."

Antonio swallowed hard but stood his ground through eye contact.

"Hopefully that is not the case here. I've been in this game for nearly twenty years. I've made you a lot of money. Money that enabled you to provide a beautiful life for your family. Right now, my family needs my full attention. I have a daughter in college, a growing business, and a son that is going to either drive me out of business or wind up dead in six months if I don't step in. Earlier today, I met with a client. One I've known and done business with for over five years. One I considered my friend... That same client is under secret surveillance and tried to set me up." Antonio sighed. "So, you see Pedro, my time is winding down. All the signs are there. My only choice now, is to bow out gracefully, or let the streets take me and my family under.

Pedro said nothing. He sat stone faced and quietly stared at Antonio. This wasn't the news he was expecting, and he was extremely disappointed in Antonio's revelations; nevertheless, he could tell he was sincere and was deeply troubled. Pedro looked away briefly as he took his cigar and put it out in a nearby glass ashtray.

Directing his icy gaze back to Antonio, he continued to sit quietly. Antonio appeared nervous. He wondered what Pedro was thinking. He hoped and prayed that their conversation wouldn't go left.

"Antonio you're one of my best clients. You make me a lot of money; however, you're not just my client. You are my friend. If you want out, then you have my blessing. Family is the most important thing in life; after all, we do this for them."

Pedro let out a hearty chuckle, and it instantly lightened the mood of the room. Antonio had him thinking that something larger was troubling him. He had groomed Antonio for many years, and while he hoped that he would one day rule the streets, he understood his desire to retreat. Besides, he still had his young and hungry nephew who was more than eager to someday fill his spot as the largest supplier in the city.

"Thanks Pedro. I definitely appreciate it. You've done a lot for me to even be able to get to this point, and for that, I thank you."

"Of course. Of course," Pedro responded modestly.

Pedro had taken Antonio under his wing at twenty-two when he was a gun-toting live-wire. He'd heard about the youngster, along with his ruthless reputation. Initially Pedro was hesitant, but after some time, Antonio grew on him. He was ambitious, honest, and loyal to a fault. Over the years he'd resolved many issues for Pedro, some peacefully, and some through gunfire. He was one of his best men, and while sad to see him depart, he was happy that he had found a legitimate path to embark upon.

"Do you still want the upcoming load?" Pedro asked.

"Yeah, that'll be my last one and then I'm done."

"Fair enough," Pedro stated before getting up from his desk. "Same time, same amount?" he asked.

"Cool," Antonio responded, before standing up and preparing to depart from the room.

# Chapter 9

Although the viewing had only lasted an hour, it felt like a century to Tre, who was dying to leave. It was one of the worst situations he had ever been in. The guilt was eating him alive. He couldn't take it when he witnessed Anna literally wail in her husbands' arms over their slain child.

For the first time since Christopher was killed, Tre finally felt true remorse. Even after accidentally gunning down a seven-year old child, he never truly saw the aftermath of his actions until he saw Christopher's grieving mother. Her sobs were so deep they shook the room. No one could truly understand the magnitude of her pain.

Tre had done everything he could think of to get out of coming, but his father wouldn't take no for answer. Now that it was over, his plan was to make a quiet dash to the car. He could not face either of the grieving parents. It was all too much.

Just as he murmured his 10th "excuse me" and squeezed through the cracks of dozens of people, Tre heard his father call his name.

"Tre," he waved. "Over here." After spotting him through the crowds of attendants, Antonio gestured for him to join him and Tiffany so they could offer their condolences and leave. As he approached, he saw Tiffany in a tight embrace with Anna, while Pedro gloomily stared into space.

Tre began to sweat profusely under his fitted shirt as he walked up and stood beside his father, who was now shaking Pedro's hand and telling him how sorry he was for his loss. When he was finished, he released his hand from Pedro's. It was Tre's turn. A nervous lump had formed in his throat, but he did his best to rid himself of it. He looked at Pedro. The side of his face was swollen and had turned black and purple from where he had been assaulted.

Tre went to speak. "I know words can't express how you must feel..."

In one instant, Tre's voice, when he spoke, stopped Pedro dead in his track and brought him to life at the same time. The feeling he had at the time Christopher was shot, washed back over him. It was _his_ voice. Tre had been one of the intruders in his home that night. It was all starting to become clear...

# Chapter 10

"Nobody fuckin move!" Drew screamed, after kicking in the front door with his .45 drawn. Spice was right behind him while Tre served as the lookout from outside.

"Ahhhh!" screamed a brown-skinned girl that was crouched over the young man who now sat wide-eyed in fear.

Both had been caught off guard, and the girl now quickly scrambled across the ground, on her knees in terror. She disregarded the ring of saliva that had formed around her mouth and seeped onto her shirt from her oral escapade, that had been abruptly interrupted by the masked gunmen.

"Where's the money and work? I want everything, and I want it now," Drew demanded.

It was simple. He wasn't playing, and Dante could tell that judging by his demeanor. The only thing he could see in the dimly lit house was the homicidal scowl Drew wore on his semi-masked face, and the big black gun that was aimed at his head. He wasn't ready to die, and he grew angry that the dude Paulie he was working under, had him posted up in the stash spot with no muscle. To make matters worse, Paulie had picked up earlier than usual, and there was nothing in the house worth taking. He prayed the lack of come-up for the robbers didn't entice them to kill him.

"It's in the back bedroom," he replied calmly. "Open the air-conditioner and you'll find it."

Moving from behind Drew, Spice scurried to the back of the house to find the treasure they had come for. He tucked his gun against his waist. He knew there was no one else in the house but Dante and the jump-off. They had been watching the crib for several days and knew that Paulie often left him alone.

"That's what I'm talking about," Drew said, while keeping his gun aimed at Dante. He wasn't worried about the bitch. She was part of the set-up. She knew they were coming; she just wasn't sure what time they would be there. Tre knew her sister, who in turn had convinced her to get back with Dante after he had whooped her ass a few days ago. She would get her cut later.

After several tense minutes, Spice returned with a scowl on his face. Handing over the small stack of money to Drew, he turned to face Dante.

"What the fuck is this nigga?" Drew asked, disgusted. He didn't even bother to count it as he knew it couldn't have been more than $1,500. They had been expecting at least five-grand in the house.

"That's all that's there. The big homie picked up earlier," Dante responded, growing increasingly nervous. He was starting to sweat. He began to say a silent prayer asking the Lord for protection.

"I'm about to pop this nigga _and_ that bitch," Spice stated angrily. He reached in his waist to retrieve his gun.

"Chill," Drew stated firmly before grabbing Spice's arm.

"Fuck that shit!" Spice argued. "I don't have time for fucking games!" He was angry. They had been expecting much more since the girl Tre was dealing with, had bragged that they kept racks in the house in plain view. $1500 was a far cry from what she had been promoting.

"Let the bitch and the little nigga be. No need to catch no homicide over the shit."

To Drew, it was still a come up. They were still leaving with more than they came with. Disappointed, Spice smacked his teeth but stuffed his gun back in his jeans. He was angry, but ultimately agreed with his cousin. It was Dante's lucky day.

"Tape them the fuck up though so we can get the fuck outta here," Drew demanded. He looked at Dante, and then over at the girl. There was no need to waste any more time.

Spice grabbed the duct tape out of his back pocket and did as told. Taping them up would give them time to flee the scene before anyone knew what happened. By the time someone found them, they would be long gone.

# Chapter 11

The river view from the window of The Chateau was nothing short of stunning. It was exactly what Antonio dreamt, and he had gone out of his way to make sure he got the perfect table for Tiffany's 19th birthday.

"Thank you so much Daddy, I really love it," Tiffany beamed, as she looked out of the window and admired the view. Their seats were right near the window so she could see the water. The lights illuminating from the tall buildings downtown, cast an exotic glow on the still, black-like water.

"Anytime," he smiled back. Money was no issue when it came to his baby girl. The three-month reservations had set him back a grand, but it was worth every penny.

"And thank you for the bracelet Tre; it's beautiful," she smiled before glancing down at her 14k gold euro coin bracelet.

Tre nodded. He was happy she liked it. He had just picked it up at the last minute, and it had cost him every cent of the $500 he had gotten off the last-minute West Side caper.

Antonio smiled before stuffing a forkful of seared Porter House steak into his mouth. He had another gift for Tiffany.

"Tiffany, so I wanted to talk to you both about something." He paused for emphasis. "Next week I'll be focusing on the business 100%."

Tiffany dropped her fork and smiled brightly. "Oh, Daddy that's great!" She had longed for the day to hear the words that he would be exiting the drug game.

The admission caught Tre's attention, causing him to sit straight up. If his father was moving to the side, then he knew he would be passing the throne down to him. He was sure that Antonio had intentions of teaching him the ins and outs of the game.

"So, remember the building we saw when we rode downtown. Right near the park?" Antonio asked the two.

"We rode by there the other day and it had the _For Lease_ sign up," Antonio continued, trying to refresh their memory.

"Yeah," they replied in unison.

"Well I just signed a five-year lease today," he smiled.

"Daddy that's awesome!" Tiffany squealed while literally bouncing up and down. "So, does this mean I get a new office?" she asked.

"You not only get your own office, but you also get the new title of _Director_ of Anderson Enterprises."

"Thank you, Daddy!" she gushed, as she scooted from her seat and gave him a big hug.

She was honored that her father felt she could run his company and had given her an actual title acknowledging that belief. She wanted nothing more than to make him proud of her.

"So, what about me?" Tre asked. :What's my title? Do I get an office too?" he asked sarcastically. The positive vibe surrounding their table quickly soured as soon as Tre spoke.

Antonio cleared his throat before answering. "You won't' have an office Tre, but you will have a corner desk in the common area while Tiffany and I will take the back offices. Your title will be Account Manager. You will help Tiffany. She will basically oversea the specifics of all contracts, and then pass the tasks to you and the other Account Manager."

"Hold up, watchu mean, the _other_ Account Manager?" Tre asked, confused.

"I plan to hire another Account Manager. Business is doing great and it will take two of you to handle the load. You will oversee the landscaping and cleaning sector of the business, while the other Manager will oversee the property portion. They will handle the work orders, rent receipts and complaints. You will send our crew out to handle cleaning jobs and landscaping jobs. You two will also work together keeping the outside of the properties maintained. You'll also oversee move-ins and move-outs.

"What kind of shit is that?" Tre asked, surprising his father and sister.

Antonio quickly glared at his son silently. He was taken back by Tre's lack of appreciation. He was trying to give him a chance by even giving him a job. Not only was he not worthy of any position, Antonio wasn't even confident that Tre was capable of handling the duties that came with the title.

"Come again?" Antonio asked angrily. He did his best to contain his anger.

"What kind of shit is that?" he asked again.

"Tiffany gets an office in the back with you, while _as usual_ , I barely get shit. On top of that, you have me handling some bullshit ass lawn jobs while you're going to hire someone from outside of our family to run your properties." Tre's voice wavered between anger and hurt.

"First thing's first. I suggest you watch how you talk to me. Any decision I make is for the best interest of _my_ business . Second, you're a fucking thief Tre. Why would I allow you to handle my properties and important shit like rent?" Antonio asked, trying his best to remain calm while reasoning with his son.

"Man fuck this shit. I'm out. You can keep ya funky ass job," Tre argued. "I'll find my own way. I don't want shit to do with Anderson Enterprises," he continued.

Tre pushed back in his chair and stood up from the table.

"Tiff, I love you. Hope you enjoyed ya birthday. Ima hit you later," he said before walking off.

Antonio continued to glare at Tre as they both watched him walk away. Tiffany wanted to call out to him but knew that it would do no good. He was too stubborn. To make matters worse, he had been drinking. She wasn't even going to bother wasting her breath.

Tre got outside of the restaurant and quickly hailed a yellow cab. He whipped out his phone to call his niggas. He had a major proposition for them — one he knew there was no way, they could refuse.

# Chapter 12

Tre stood outside of Pat's house and took a long swig of Hennessy straight from the top of the bottle. He swallowed the bitter liquid quickly then breathed deeply from his mouth to get rid of the foul taste stuck on his tongue.

Tre tightened the lid back on his bottle and shoved it in the pocket of his khaki shorts. He peered down the street for a few minutes before he spotted the swift moving vehicle headed towards the house. It was Drew and Spice. It was about time. After leaving The Chateau, he had headed right over and had been waiting on them over a half hour.

Drew and Spice pulled alongside of the curb in front of the house and waved for Tre to hop in. Tre complied. The cool air in the car was welcoming in comparison to the brutal July heat outside. Before Tre could get comfortable in the backseat, Drew came straight with it.

"What's up nigga?" he asked curiously. "You call us out here on some urgent shit talking about you had a major lick for us. Run it down."

"Damn," Tre exclaimed. "I just stepped foot in this bitch."

"Well we don't have time for the pleasantries nigga," Spice sarcastically added. "What the fuck is up. You said it was major, so spill," he added. "And it better be better than that bullshit lick we did the other night," he argued, referring to the West side home invasion that only produced them around $500 a piece.

Tre sighed. He knew he was selling his soul to the Devil for this one.

"Well as both you niggas know. My Pops is a heavy hitter out here."

"Yeah, and?" Drew asked.

"Well he's leaving the game. He focusing on building his business and shit." He paused. "So, because of this he planning to cop his last load in a week," he said referring to the Heroin his father distributed in the city. Although Antonio had not stated that at dinner, Tre had overheard him already making plans to pick up from Pedro the following week.

"Now, being as though him and his connect been doing business since I was a fucking lil nigga in diapers, I know he gon throw him sumn extra. This shipment is going to be _large_."

"So, what the fuck that gotta do with us," Spice asked, wondering where Tre was headed with this.

"We're going to take it," Tre stated calmly, surprising everyone.

"Wait a minute nigga. How the fuck we gonna pull that off?" Drew asked. If it sounded too good to be true, it usually was.

"Trust me, we can pull it off, and we will. You see, these niggas are old school. They have the same routine and think shit is sweet cuz they got bread. Every two weeks my dad picks up from the nigga — right from his crib. He keeps it there because he don't gotta worry about police raiding his spot because he got a handful of those crooked ass mufuckas in his pocket. The shipment comes in a day before my Pops goes and grabs it. We're going to intercept that shit before he goes and picks up, that way, we take everything that's there, and we redistribute it to niggas who copping from someone else at a much lower price."

"How the fuck we gon get in the nigga crib if he moving major weight like that? His shit probably tighter than Fort Knox."

"Not at all. I've been to his house numerous times. He has a bunch of niggas around during the day, but at night he relies on just his alarm system."

"That's fucking crazy?" Spice said, looking over to Drew. If what Tre was saying rang true, then their lives would change in a matter of weeks. There would be consequences behind their actions, but they weren't worried. They would handle anything that came their way, and ultimately rule the streets.

"Cool. I'm with it," Drew stated.

"Me too," Spice agreed.

"Bet. We on that shit asap. I'll show you niggas where he rests, and you two lay low on the spot to become familiar —"

"Nigga we live and breathe for this shit. Just text the address," Spice stated firmly, cutting Tre off. He wanted Tre to know, he wasn't calling any shots. Never had, and never would.

Drew on the other hand, sat quietly pondering in his thoughts. He wondered what made Tre come off that type of information. After all, in a way, he was crossing his father too. He knew Tre and his father had that "love hate" relationship, but he never would have thought it would come to this. He wanted to ask, but figured he would do it a different way, another time. In the meantime, he would keep an eye out on Tre. If he would cross his father, he would cross anyone.

* * *

The next day, Drew and Spice rode by the address Tre had provided them with to peep out the scene. Tre was right. It would be easier than taking candy from a baby. Pedro had very little security around his crib. They saw extraordinarily little movement around the large home at all. Tre told them Pedro was very selective with his clients, but the activity around the home seemed uncharacteristically slow for a drug king-pin. They were expecting a scene more along the lines of Scar-Face.

"There he goes again," Spice said, as they watched Pedro come out of the home dressed in a black robe and slippers. He nor Drew could believe that a man of his status was so easily accessible. Money and arrogance could surely make some people stupid.

Taking the binoculars from Spice, Drew looked through them. He passed them back once he too saw Pedro.

"If what Tre really saying is true, then this could be the mother-load." Drew's excitement grew as he talked.

Spice nodded in agreement. "With the work and bread we snatch outta here, we on," he added. A well-known trick in the city, he thought about all the bitches he would fuck when he came through pushing some crazy shit. Perhaps a Lamborghini.

Drew on the other hand, had other plans. Since Antonio was stepping down, he knew they could easily take over the East, however, he had no desire to run half the city with his idiot, whore-chasing cousin.

" _On_ ain't even the word," Drew agreed. "In a few months' time, we'll be kings." He was sure of it.

Laying down the binoculars, Spice asked, "You ready to roll? We been out here for hours and this nigga ain't doing shit but taking out trash and setting out fucking dog food."

Drew agreed, and they left, only to return every day for a week. For that week, nothing else mattered. Scheming on a man like Pedro, was like finding a gold-mine. Tre had really come through this time.

# Chapter 13

**Present Day**

Over in the closet, Spice's eyes lit up like Christmas lights when he saw the old, green trunk safely nestled underneath the dozen rows of designer shoes. With excitement fueling him, he inserted the key into the chamber.

Before he could push open the heavy top to the chest, the faint sound of a door swinging, along with subsequent running down the hall, stopped him in his tracks. The sound coming from the pitch-black hallway, caused Tre to also stop abruptly as he was walking out. Drew, who had been standing by the bed next to a restrained Pedro, also appeared stunned by the noise. As the sound neared, Anna and Pedro started to squirm, wiggle, and shake to get out of their restraints. Their muffled attempts to yell caused Drew and Tre to grow alarmed. Someone else was in the house, but it was too dark to see who it was, _and_ what they were carrying.

The rapid footsteps grew dangerously close and a shadow appeared by the door. Fear gripped Tre and without thinking, he frantically drew his gun. Before Drew could yell for him to stop, he fired through the door. The running immediately stopped, and the sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard.

Tre lowered his gun and the image was clearer, the shadow and person now visible.

"Shit," Tre cried out, with panic immediately inflicting him. They were fucked.

"What happened," Spice yelled in a panic. He had run back from the closet after hearing the single gunshot.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tre cried, as he dropped the gun and crouched down next to the seemingly lifeless figure. It was Christopher, Pedro and Anna's seven-year-old son. Tears began running down Tre's face as he stared into Christopher's innocent, dark-brown eyes. He had been hit in the chest and a large pool of blood was forming on his shirt.

"Fuck,' Tre cried as he frantically looked at Drew and Spice in panic. He had no idea what to do. Christopher was still breathing, but barely.

"Get something to stop the bleeding," Spice yelled to Drew.

He quickly snatched down a shirt that was hanging in the closet nearby and rushed it over to Tre, who was still holding Christopher. Lifting his shirt to find the wound, Tre pressed it against the dime sized hole in Christopher's chest; however, the bleeding persisted. A minute passed, and his breathing stopped. His chest fell still and the three grew silent.

Drew glanced at Spice and then said to Tre, "We gotta go Tre. He's gone, and if we don't leave soon, we fucked."

Tre didn't bother to respond. Either way, they were still fucked —big time.

Drew tapped Spice to go round up the drugs and cash from the safe before looking over at Pedro and Anna. Tied to the bed and helpless, all they could do was look on to the floor at their slain son. There tears were unseen and their cries were hushed, masking an unbelievable pain so deep, that it would leave one breathless. The pain they felt was indescribable. Pedro closed his eyes. He wanted to die, for if he lived, he vowed vengeance on each person involved. His misery and agony would be shared all through the city. He didn't even have to say it; Drew, Spice and Tre already knew.

Pillow case in hand, Spice soon returned with the goods they had come for. The three wasted no time fleeing the house in attempts to stay one step ahead of the mess they created.

* * *

"Yo fam! What the fuck happened in there?" Spice asked Drew, once they were away from Pedro's house and somewhat safe on the expressway leading back to the hood. He never saw Tre shoot, he only heard the sounds and then the shot.

"I don't fuckin know," Drew exclaimed, still in disbelief over the scene that had just unfolded. "Lil nigga just came out of nowhere running down the hall." His voice trailed off.

"And I panicked," Tre admitted quietly from the backseat. "It was dark — I couldn't see shit. I didn't know who it was." Tre paused. "I forgot all about Christopher," he revealed.

Drew stared straight ahead and shook his head. That was a vital piece of information that Tre accidentally omitted. That error would surely cost them if anyone found out if it was them.

"How the fuck you forget some shit like that Tre?" Spice yelled out in disbelief. "If we had known that shit, we would've grabbed his ass soon as we ran in the crib. Fuck!" he yelled.

Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Drew to pull over, so he could Tre's stupid ass and leave him on the side of the highway. He was far from soft but he didn't have time to be going to war with a Mexican Kingpin like Pedro. He could have them touched from all angles with the amount of money he had. Dope-boys, stick up kids, and even crooked cops would bring him their heads if the price was right. The streets would no longer be safe.

"Spice just calm the fuck down," Drew added. "What's done is done and we just gon have to handle it, if and when the time comes. First off, he gotta figure out who took his shit. For all he knows, it could've been anybody. Right now, we chill, split up the bread and wait to move this work," he instructed.

He turned and looked over in his rearview mirror at Tre, who was visibly shaken. "Tre, now's not the time to bitch up. You made a mistake, shit happens. Don't say shit to anyone, especially not ya Pops. We gon chill for a while and see what this nigga Pedro finds out. We deal with the shit how it comes."

Everyone nodded in agreement as Drew continued down the highway to his and Spice's grandmother's house. That was the only place they felt safe enough to divide the cash they had took. The drugs would remain in the stash until it was safe enough to move. None of them sure of when that would be. For all they knew, they should prepare for war.

# Chapter 14

Tre pulled up to the parking lot of Tiffany's condo and quickly turned off his borrowed car. He had gotten it about an hour ago from one of the several females he was seeing. He hadn't long left Drew and Spice and his nerves were still rattled. At this point, he knew no other person to turn to. He knew he wouldn't be able to face his father right away, so he didn't even bother to go home.

Sighing loudly, he wondered what he had gotten himself into this time. Images of Christopher's dead body flashed through his mind and he quickly took a deep breath and shook his head to rid himself of them. Although he felt guilt behind Christopher's death, he told himself he would not let his emotions consume him. He had to make sure he remained on point, just in case shit hit the fan.

He scooped his book bag off the passenger seat and clutched it tightly in his palm. It contained around $60,000 in newly acquired cash that he wanted to put to good use.

Hopping out of the car, he quickly peered around once more before making his way up the steps and through the corridor of the brightly lit hallway. He knew he would be safe at Tiffany's. It was in a gated community and one had to have a key code to enter just to be greeted by security.

As he approached Tiffany's unit, a brown-skin cat, with low cut, curly hair walked out and was now facing the door. Tre stared him down but couldn't place his face. He however, did look familiar.

* * *

Rico kissed Tiffany on her cheek as he stood at her doorway preparing to leave. He had only stopped by for a few hours but had to leave since he had business to tend to. As he turned to walk off, he saw a familiar face — his adversary approaching. He froze in his tracks. He never forgot a face and it was definitely the kid that had started the shit in the club. How the fuck he found him was unknown.

One thing for sure — he was always ready and trained to go. Tiffany was right behind him preparing to see him off. His thoughts raced frantically, and he pushed her back slightly, with the intention of drawing his gun.

"Shit," Tiffany hissed after peering to the left of her door to see what had stopped Rico. She said it loud enough for him to hear her, but not Tre, who was still approaching.

"That's my brother... I guess now is the time you two meet," she said with an apprehensive smile. She hoped Tre wasn't rude.

Rico was shocked. _Her brother_. He would have never thought that. Tiffany was in a class of her own, and so was the clown ass, tough guy wannabe that was approaching them. Rico didn't say another word. He wasn't sure how the situation was going to play out. He knew Tre would probably recognize him, but he hoped that on the strength of Tiffany, they could talk it out as men. The situation could turn ugly if Tre forced his hand.

"Wassup Tiff?" Tre asked, once he got to the door. He glanced at Rico. "Who dis?" he asked.

"Ummm, Rico this is Tre, and Tre, this is Rico. The guy I've been talking about for the past couple months," she said, introducing the pair.

Rico stood quietly in mental awe. He couldn't believe that Tre really didn't recognize him.

"Wassup fam?" Rico said. The moment was surreal to him.

"Wassup," Tre responded with a light nod, seemingly uninterested. He had a lot on his mind and was literally on the verge of a mental breakdown. Tiffany was surprised by Tre's lackluster mood and was eager to find out what was on his mind _and_ what brought him to her place at such an unconventional hour.

"You look kind of familiar. We met before?" Tre asked, glancing back at Rico and trying to quickly place his face.

"Na, but if you're a brother of Tiffany's, then you're one of mine," Rico stated. He wanted to end the encounter on a good note. Now wasn't the time for Tre to come to his senses and realize where they had met.

"Listen bae, Ima hit you up when I get to the crib," Rico said to Tiffany. "Tre... nice meeting you," he added before walking off down the hall. The whole time he walked, he discreetly glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one tried to creep him. He trusted Tiffany, but Tre — he didn't trust him no further than he could spit.

# Chapter 15

Tiffany took a seat on her couch. She was in shock over what Tre had just revealed to her. She couldn't believe what he had just said. It couldn't be true.

"Jesus Christ, Tre? Are you out of your mind?" she asked in disbelief.

Just when she thought Tre couldn't fuck up more than he already had, he proved her wrong. She rubbed her temples to ease the tension she felt forming in her head. She looked at Tre for an explanation.

"I fucked up. I know. But I need you to keep quiet about this. I need to lay low," he admitted desperately.

He had told her about robbing Pedro and that things had went haywire. He needed to stay there for the night, as well as hide his money until he found somewhere else to put it.

"Tonight Tre. That's it. And then you have to find a way to fix this shit. You can't bring that bullshit over here. You better hope — better yet, _pray_ , that Pedro doesn't find out it was you. If he does, it's going to be a fuckin shit storm."

Tiffany got up from the couch and walked off. The drama never ended with Tre. As much as she loved her brother, her father was right; he was a fuck-up. She didn't even bother to get into a long conversation about why he did what he did, and why he chose to do it to Pedro. It was pointless.

Tre was selfish, and he was going to drag everyone down behind his bullshit. Some things, people just shouldn't do. There was no morale guiding Tre. That flaw, along with his greed was sure to ruin him — or worse, ruin their father.

* * *

Antonio sat quietly on the couch as he watched his two children enter the front door of their home. Although they were far from perfect, he thanked God for them. He was still stunned by what he had found out just moments earlier.

"You okay Daddy?" Tiffany asked, looking at Antonio strangely before placing her purse on the console table next to the entryway. Antonio was sitting on the couch quietly, staring off into space, with not a stitch of electricity on around him. She figured something had to be up.

"Remember Pedro?" he quietly asked them, finally making eye contact.

"Yeah of course," Tiffany answered. She already knew what he was about to say. She kicked off her shoes by the door and prepared to join her father on the couch.

"Well someone robbed him and murdered his son," he replied solemnly.

Tiffany instantly felt weak. "Oh my God," she exclaimed with a gasp before quickly covering her mouth with her hand. She didn't even bother to look at her brother. He had deliberately left out the most important piece of his sick ass puzzle — the fact that Pedro's son had been murdered in their botched robbery. This was bad. _Really fucking bad._

"Damn," Tre exclaimed, growing uneasy. "Do they know who did it?" he asked, faking empathy. Tiffany shot her brother a look of death as her father turned to face him. Tre saw it, but he didn't care. He had to know exactly how much Pedro already knew.

"Not yet, but they will. They took a lot of drugs and they will surface soon. The streets talk... And when they do, they will also bleed."

Tre swallowed the hard lump that had formed in his throat. He had no idea what the fuck he had just got himself into. Mentally, he wasn't ready for it. He was quickly learning that with real shit, came real consequences.

"The funeral is in a few days. Viewing is tomorrow. Be prepared to go and pay your respects."

Both Tiffany and Tre nodded quietly. Tre didn't even bother to protest since he knew that his father would have it no other way. There was nothing more left to say. From that point forward, all everyone could do was wait and see how the chain of events unfolded.

* * *

"Tre if this shit gets out."

"Lower your fucking voice," Tre demanded, looking around nervously. Their father was right in the other room.

"Fuck you Tre," Tiffany growled, stepping into his face so he could hear her better. "If you think I'm lying to Daddy for you, then you're fucking retarded," she added.

"Tiff," Tre begged, as he looked into her eyes. Fear shown in them. She wasn't sure what he was actually afraid of; the pending consequences from Pedro, or their father.

"You can't say nothing to anyone about this — and I mean anyone. Not even Dad."

"I will not lie for you Tre." Tiffany took a seat on her bed. She felt ill and wanted to lie down. No good would come of what had transpired. She predicted chaos in the very near future.

"Please Tiffany. You don't have to lie. Just don't say nothing," he begged.

"Tre," Tiffany said slowly. She rubbed her forehead in frustration before looking at her brother.

"You have no idea what you have done do you?" she asked. "You murdered his _son_ ," she said angrily. "His _son_ , Tre. He will see to it that everyone involved will pay. And he will find out who did it. It's only a matter of time. And when he does," she paused. "It will probably be a fucking war — a war that you, not Drew, and not fucking Spice, are ready for. Pedro has ties to people you wouldn't believe. He's richer than you think and a lot more powerful than you think. You fucked up big time," she said solemnly. "Not even Daddy is going to be ready for this shit. And you want me to leave him blind to what's taking place around him. I won't do it Tre. You tell him. Or I will," she threatened. "He has to know."

Tre swallowed hard. "I'll tell him. Just give me a few days," he agreed.

# Part II
# Chapter 16

The voice was unforgettable, and for a moment, Pedro felt as if he were reliving Christopher's last moments. It felt like a hazy case of déjà vu. With his thoughts racing wildly, Pedro peered into the eyes of the man with that unforgettable voice. His heart rate began to accelerate. He remembered those eyes... _and that voice_... He would never forget that voice. It was one of the same voices that spoke before his son was murdered. He had no doubt that he was standing before his son's killer.

Tears of anguish began to burn Pedro's eyes and quickly ran down his face. His expression changed from that of sadness and grief, to anger and pure hatred. Tre continued to stare blankly, oblivious to the fact that he had been discovered.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss. If there's anything I can do," he said, before extending his hand for a shake.

Slowly releasing his grip from his wife's arm, Pedro's chest began to heave while the tears continued to run. It was then that he saw red — then black.

Without warning, Pedro lunged at Tre with the viciousness of a rabid dog. He swung wildly, landing several blows against Tre's head and chest, before finally resting his hands tightly around his neck. Tre, who had been caught off guard, was no match for the older man who seemed to possess abnormal strength due to his rage. Gasping for breath, tears from pressure formed in Tre's eyes as Pedro tried to literally choke the life out of him.

Family and friends in attendance did their best to intervene between the two. It had caught everyone off guard. No one questioned his actions. They simply thought he was having a nervous breakdown from the traumatic ordeal of losing his son. It took three people to pull Pedro off Tre, who was now red and coughing profusely while leaning against a built-in bench at the funeral home.

"Fucks going on?" Antonio asked angrily. While Tre talked to Pedro, he had made brief conversation with a few people he had had met through his mentor. The small talk he had engaged in caused him and Tiffany to stray away from Tre. Antonio now wished he had kept his son by his side. He had saw the commotion and rushed over to see what was going on. From the looks of things, his son had been attacked.

Pedro was now on the floor being restrained by five people. He had given up on trying to fight his way back to Tre. He now just lay on the ground crying. His pain was raw and Antonio had never seen a man so strong, in such a weak mental state.

"Tre what happened? Are you ok?" Antonio asked, as he looked down at his son.

"I'm good," Tre responded, still hunched over and struggling to catch his breath. "He just jumped on me... For no reason at all — shits crazy." He rubbed at his neck and stood up. He was ready to get the hell out of there.

Seeing Antonio over his son, Anna went over to try and smooth things over. She liked Antonio and didn't want any bad blood between him and her husband. For all she knew, Pedro had lost it and it was all just a big misunderstanding.

"Antonio honey, I'm so sorry," she said sadly, as she took his hand into hers. She looked weary and ten times older than the last time he had saw her. "Pedro is taking this so hard." She choked back tears. "We all are. But he, he's breaking down. He's going blank and lashing out as everyone... I am so sorry." She reached up and hugged Antonio. He reciprocated.

"Please forgive him. Give him a few days and he will be back to his normal self. Expect him to call with an apology for Tre."

Antonio nodded. He was still angry, but he didn't allow Anna to see it. She too was broken, and he understood. He understood Pedro's anger. He knew he would feel the same way if it were one of his own kids. Antonio decided he would let it go. He had known Pedro for many years and loved his friend; however, that would be the first and the only time he lay a hand on his son, as no one came before his family. Bullets would fly first.

# Chapter 17

"That was fucking crazy. What the fuck just happened?" Antonio asked aloud to no one in particular. They were now in his car and heading away from Christopher's viewing — turned circus. That was the only way to describe it.

"I don't know," Tre said in response, while ignoring the ugly look his sister was giving him. He knew she wanted to tell their father what was _really_ going on. Tiffany felt like Tre was putting her in a very difficult position. While she longed to protect her brother, she hated that her father was blind to the events unfolding around him.

"Dude just lost it," Tre continued.

Loosening his silk tie from around his neck, Antonio sighed. "Yeah. I probably would have lost it too if something had happened to one of you two," he admitted.

"Word," Tre said. That was all he could think of. Although he felt sorry about what happened to Christopher, he wasn't going to comment much on it to avoid implicating himself.

Tre looked over to Tiffany. She looked worried. He was going to have a talk with her as soon as they got back to the house. Since finding out Christopher had been killed in the robbery, she had been pressuring him with ultimatums: tell their father, or she would. He had been keeping tabs on her to make sure her and their father weren't ever alone together long. Since the robbery, Antonio had been keeping them super close and hadn't even been allowing Tiffany to go back to her condo unaccompanied.

"This is exactly why I'm out," Antonio argued.

After Christopher's death, Pedro had stopped movement completely. The streets were dry, and Antonio figured that he would bow out graciously. He didn't even want a new shipment. He was done.

"The streets have love for no one," Antonio added. "I've seen some the realest nigga's die in them — a jealousy, a beef, a female. One of many reasons you can easily be killed. I'm done."

Antonio wasn't worried about money. He had lots of money tied up in the streets, and once he collected it and added it to what he already had tucked, he was good.

It was then and there that he decided, he was truly and officially done.

# Chapter 18

"Tre you've gotta tell Daddy about what happened. You no longer have a choice in the matter. You either tell him or _I_ will," Tiffany threatened later that day after their father had dropped them off to his house. Antonio told them he had some things to handle so as soon as he left, Tiffany wasted no time confronting Tre about confessing his wrongs.

The scene from the viewing at the funeral home was like a stain in her mind that, as much as she tried to, she couldn't seem to erase. What made the situation worse was seeing her Dad looking like a deer caught in headlights, oblivious to what was taking place right in his own circle and city.

"Listen Tiff. Pedro just lost it. He couldn't have known it was me because it was three of us. We all had on masks. There's no way he knows. Besides, he had all his nigga's in the building. Don't you think that if he knew it was me, he would've had me touched right then and there?" he asked, trying to reason with his sister, and convince himself as well.

"Well obviously something was up since he choked the shit out of ya ass," she replied snidely. Tre wasn't fooling anybody. She knew Pedro just like he did, and judging by the way Pedro reacted, he had to suspect Tre in some way.

"Whatever," he said waving his sister off. Tre no longer wanted to discuss the matter. He was already embarrassed by the incident, and she wasn't making it any better throwing in his face the fact that he had been choked out by an old-head.

"I don't want to hear shit you gotta say Tre. You either tell him — or I will. I'm not going to sit around and let Daddy walk around blind —"

Tiffany's ringing cell phone in the next room interrupted the argument between her and her brother. Tre was glad. She was getting on his nerves with her constant pestering. He had enough on his mind, and she wasn't making it any better by putting more pressure on him.

Upset, Tiffany walked off to answer her phone and tell whoever it was she didn't feel like talking.

"Hello," she asked with an exaggerated huff, after snatching her phone off the kitchen counter.

"You have a collect call from — Rico Ortega, an inmate at Wilton County Detention Center."

Tiffany's heart pounded in her chest as she gripped the phone tightly to her ear and waited for the automated message to play out. She instantly began to worry and wonder what happened for Rico to be locked up. After letting the recording play out, she pressed zero and answered the phone.

"Rico baby what happened? Are you alright?" she asked as soon as the call connected.

"Hey babe, I'm good. I got bagged last night on a bullshit charge," he responded, glad to hear her voice and happy she had answered from the unknown number. He had been locked up since last night and although it was late in the afternoon, it was the first call he had been able to make.

"Damn Rico. Are you gonna get out?" she asked, not truly understanding what was going on.

"Yeah, I'll be out in a few hours. I'm just waiting to see the commissioner, so I can get a bail. Soon as I get that, I'll call my people and they'll come pay that shit.," he assured her.

"Ok good babe. Is there anything I can do? You want me to call anyone for you?" she asked, wanting to help out her man.

"Na. I'm good. I'll take care of everything. You just be ready to see me when I get out of here later."

He appreciated her desire to help, but he wanted her to stay far away from his world. A part of him wanted to build with Tiffany and grow old with her, but the other part of him knew he wasn't even close to being done with the streets. When he was ready to settle down, he knew he wanted it to be with Tiffany, and he also knew he wanted their life to be as normal and legit as possible.

"Ok Rico... I love you," Tiffany said for the first time with sincerity. Just the thought of losing him had her emotional.

"I love you too bae," he responded. He had for a while, but never had the courage to say so. "I'll hit you up as soon as I get out of here."

"Okay," she said, before hanging up. She placed her phone back on her desk and sighed. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. She walked back into her living room and saw her brother sitting on the couch. She wasn't done with him.

"Who was that?" he asked. Tiffany looked around strangely.

"Umm, last time I checked, my phone rang, not yours. It was — none of your business," she said sarcastically.

"Whatever," he replied nonchalantly.

"And back to ya ass anyway. Like I said before. You either tell Daddy, or I will." Tre looked over at her with a blank stare.

"I mean it," she continued. "Tell him, or I will," she repeated with finality.

"I fucking heard you the first time. Damn," he snapped. "I'm gonna tell him. You just be quiet and don't say shit to him. I'll do it my way." She was getting on his nerves. She didn't have to keep saying the same shit over and over. He also didn't appreciate her threatening to rat him out.

"Yeah, whatever. You just do it soon," she replied before getting up and walking out of the room.

# Chapter 19

'Pedro baby, are you sure?" Anna asked with a sniffle. She took a seat on the nearby leather couch and placed her hand against her chest to indicate her shock from the news. She was at a loss for words. Still stricken from grief, she didn't' know how much more she could take. Everything that was happening around her was beginning to make her weak: her sons' sudden death, her husband's erratic, and violent behavior, and now this.

"I'm positive Anna," he said. "It was his voice. I will never forget those voices... And then I looked into his eyes. He was one of them. It was him. I know it," he said with finality. "Ellos pagarán!" he yelled out unexpectedly in Spanish. That meant, " _they would pay."_ He would make sure of that.

He took a seat at his desk and sat quietly for a minute, pondering in his thoughts. He had to calm down and think things through before he started making phone calls. His main concern, which also happened to feel like a big, dark cloud looming over him, was the question of whether Antonio was involved. He didn't want to believe that he was. He had watched Antonio grow into the man he was today. The man that he knew was loyal and had integrity. He no longer knew what to believe. In this day and age, cash was king, and people were no longer who they proclaimed to be. Pedro wanted to pour himself a drink but decided against it. He wanted to have a clear head when he made his decisions.

"Call nuestro sobrino," he said, referring to their nephew. It was Anna's late sister's son, but Pedro had too, watched him grow up from birth. He also happened to be his top lieutenant. He trusted him with every detail of his business and knew that he would also be the one to quickly and quietly resolve this issue. He was literally Pedro's secret weapon. His nephew wasn't well known, and he was also very discreet and quiet when it came to handling business. His most important characteristic that made him invaluable was the fact that he was half-Spanish, born to a Mexican mother. He was also the African American offspring of a drug-dealing Navy Commander who got both of them killed in a drug ambush behind his shady dealings.

With his creamy light brown skin and his ability to past for a full-fledged black person, it made his nephew extremely versatile. He could speak fluent Spanish and arrange deals with high-ranking drug cartel, as well as run a strong team of blacks, who in this city, ruled the streets — or so they thought.

"He wasn't at the service and I want to know why," he stated before grabbing a Cuban cigar off his desk. He hadn't been in the house long and it was already his second one.

"I tried to call him earlier, but his phone was going to voicemail," she responded wearily.

Staring off into space, Pedro spoke slowly. "I am going to avenge Christopher's death. Everyone involved. Everyone who knew... will die."

The coldness in his light brown eyes revealed to Anna that he meant every word he spoke. The Pedro she knew and loved, was normally sweet and jovial. The man in front of her now, was angry and vengeful. He had become the murderous Pedro that he did his best to shield her from. She had heard stories and she knew he had a dark side, but never had she witnessed it.

"Pedro please," Anna begged as she got up from where she was seated on the couch. She walked over to her husband, took his hand, and slightly knelt so she could look him into his eyes.

"There has been enough blood spilled. We have enough money to move back to Mexico and live like royalty for God's sake. I already lost my son... I don't want to lose my husband too." She wiped away her tears and waited for him to respond.

"My mind is made up," he said before breaking away from her grip and getting up from his desk to make the call himself. A cloud of death would soon fall over the city. He would make sure of it.

* * *

Antonio had just dropped off his kids and was now pulling up to the parking lot of his new office building that was in the heart of downtown. He had recently signed the lease and was now working on furnishings, signs, and his new business logo.

Pulling into one of his three reserved parking spaces, Antonio wasted no time exiting his car and heading into the single story building. He had come for a very important reason and was eager to see if his hard work had paid off for him.

After locking the doors behind him and securing the alarm of his new building, Antonio headed to his office. It was situated in the far corner of the building. Tiffany's office would be in the opposite corner. She was like his second pair of eyes and the way they were situated, they would be able to see everything that was going on. Once he entered his office, he made sure to immediately lock the door behind him. Although his security company had already installed his state-of-the-art system, he had long ago formed a habit of locking the door behind him when he was engaged in business. He never wanted to give someone the opportunity to barge in on him.

Antonio walked over to the couch that lined half of his office wall. A few days ago, it sat in his home office, but today, it now aligned his wall and sat to the right of his desk of his new building. That same regular looking, blue couch also happened to have a built-in safe underneath the cushions. No one would ever suspect. His purpose for coming to his office tonight was so he could sit down and count the cash he had on hand. It had been a while.

Forty-five minutes later, after carefully counting stacks of $10,000, Antonio had about $85,000 in cash. He smiled. Although it wasn't a lot compared to how much work he had moved over the years, he was happy. He had property and businesses that continued to generate him income, as well as a vacation home, his private residence, and several cars. He had tons of assets that included an IRA , as well as stocks, bonds, and trust funds for his kids. He figured once he picked up all his cash tied up in the streets, he would have around $125,000. His intention was to tuck that into an offshore account and let it grow since his lifestyle was funded off the income generated by his business.

After securing his money back into his safe, Antonio headed home. As he drove, the scene at the funeral continued to play in his mind. Although he hadn't witnessed Pedro touch his son, it still disturbed him that it had even happened. He wanted to call Pedro and find out what was going on; however, he figured he would show his respect by giving him some more time to mourn is son. He knew at some point they would have to sit down like men and discuss what had occurred. Antonio was a man just like Pedro, so out of respect, some sort of explanation would have to be given for his sons' assault. It was only right.

# Chapter 20

As soon as Antonio returned from his office and got settled in, Tre took a quick shower and managed to slip out of the crib unnoticed. Although his father had eased up some, he still monitored both he and Tiffany's every move. Tre didn't have time to argue with his father and didn't feel like answering his questions about his whereabouts. He turned his phone on vibrate and hopped in his Cadillac SRX to head to the hood. He was happy; he had just gotten it back that day. The body shop had done a great job of repairing the car. He couldn't even tell that it had been before riddled with bullet holes.

Earlier, Drew had texted Tre and said they all needed to meet up for something important. That's exactly where he was on his way to. Tre knew it pertained to one of two things: money or drugs. The cousins were eager to flood the hood with the dope they had seized. Although Tre was also ready to make some real money, he wasn't too fond of the idea of moving stolen dope so early. Shit was still hot, and patience was a virtue in the matter. If they did move, they had to do so strategically and cautiously. The wrong move, and Pedro would be hip. While Drew and Spice didn't have shit to lose, he had a lot.

Picking up his phone he decided to call Drew to see exactly where he was. He figured he had a minute or so to burn while he sat at a stale red light waiting for it to turn green.

"Yo, what's popping?" Tre asked, as soon as Drew answered.

"Aint shit, just waiting on you nigga," he said while he continued to serve the fiends hand to hand that were lined up. The increased activity on the block was crazy and he couldn't wait until Tre arrived, so he could see it first-hand.

"Well I'm on my way now. I just got my whip back. Yawl nigga's in the hood?" Tre asked, still waiting patiently for the blood red light to change.

"Like mailboxes and stop signs," Drew replied.

"Bet. I'm on my way. I be there in ten," Tre stated before hanging up.

When Tre got to the hood, the shit was booming. He had never saw that amount of activity on that block before. He knew something was up. Fiends were coming down the block left and right to cop from the back of Pat's house. They had actually formed a line; it was surreal.

Tre parked his red Cadillac on the side of the house before hopping out and heading over to where Drew and Spice were posted in the back. As soon as he walked up, both cousins smiled widely before hopping up to greet him. At this point, befriending Tre was the equivalent to a winning lottery ticket. He had come through. The block was pulling in thousands from the dope they snatched from Pedro. The quality was top-notch and dope fiends from the entire hood were finding their way to them to cop.

"Damn my nigga. You finally came out of hiding," Drew said to Tre jokingly. Although they had spoken to him, they hadn't seen him since the robbery took place.

"Fuck both of yawl," he replied. "I see yawl got shit clicking out here! What's good?" he asked while peering around at the scene.

"Fa sho," Drew responded. "Instead of sitting on that work, we decided to break some of it down and see how it move on the block. As you can see, the shit speaks for itself."

"I see it's popping... But don't you think it's a little too early to be moving that shit?" Tre asked wearily. He was all for making money, but he wasn't trying to write his own death wish. "What if Pedro or someone else finds out we moving his shit?" he asked.

"Fuck Pedro," Spice answered without hesitation. "Right now, we going hand in hand, so the only way he would know some shit is if one of these dope fiend mufucka's tell him — and that aint gonna happen. They too busy trying to get their next fix. We got the best shit out in these streets. The purest. And from what I heard, Pedro ain't delivering no work right now. The streets are dry as fuck."

They spoke freely and paid no attention to the fiends surrounding them. They were all either: high, sick or desperate, if not all three. They were only worried about one thing: getting their next fix.

"True story," Drew continued. "They coming back left and right — with any and everything. We got a new TV in the crib, a computer, air conditioner. Shit, one of them mufucka's even came with a fucking fish tank full of water — _and_ the fish," he laughed. "You know I hopped on that shit. Put that shit right in Pat's crib. Try to spruce up that raggedy mufucka," he added with a chuckle.

"Yeah aight, whatever," Tre said, not particularly amused. "So, when you breaking down the bread?" he asked.

"Nigga. Chill the fuck out," Drew stated with a frown. "You gon get ya fucking cut. Soon as we off all this shit, we gon split it three ways."

He looked over at Tre and thought, _he should be lucky he was getting anything._ He wasn't a hustler and knew nothing about drugs despite the fact his dad had hustled for years. He wasn't doing shit but was still ready to hound them about some paper.

"Bet," Tre said finally cracking a satisfied smile. Money was his language.

"You know this the start of the takeover," Drew said with a sinister smile.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tre asked, looking to Spice who too, was smiling.

"Nigga we bout to take the city over," Spice said confidently.

"Yeah aight," he responded nonchalantly. Although they left out of Pedro's house with several bricks of Heroin, they didn't find the rest of the work. He must have had the rest of the shipment tucked somewhere. The way the night unfolded, they didn't have time to search for the remaining product. A couple bricks of dope and $100,000 in cash wasn't enough to take over the streets. Nigga's like Pedro, take shits on that.

"You'll see nigga. Wit ya pop gone, the East will soon be ours. Soon we'll be moving enough work to start supplying them niggas on the West too. We just gotta find a plug. For now though, I'm about to close shop," Drew said, as he served the last of customers. The others would just be without.

"Tomorrow, ima hand this block over to some lil niggas. Spice done already put a team of youngin's together who on board to get this money. And we already got some shit lined up with this nigga name Jimbo. A nigga I used to go to school with that got a trap house out here on the East. The spot he got won't interfere with our shit, plus he good peoples and right now the price and quality he getting isn't up to par. We can definitely give him a better deal once we move this shit and secure a plug. We out though. Bout to head to Starlite's. You wit it?" Drew asked Tre.

"Hell yeah," he said, not really feeling it.

Tre felt like they should be laying low since they had just done major dirt only a few days ago. From what he saw, the money and come-up was going to Drew and Spice heads; nevertheless, he half-heartedly went along with the plan. He hadn't yet told the two about his encounter with Pedro at the viewing. He knew they would clown him big time and he wasn't trying to hear the jokes about getting strolled on. He figured at some point soon, he would have to let them know that Pedro might know a little more than they thought.

* * *

The call from Rico finally came to Tiffany around eleven at night. After informing her he wasn't far and she would be the first stop he was making after leaving his home, she hurried to take a shower. She was glad he was safe and wanted to show him how much she missed him. Rico had also missed her and had temporarily ditched his plans he had made with a couple of his lieutenants and Latisha to meet up at Starlite's. They could wait; Tiffany came first.

About an hour had passed and Tiffany had stepped out of the shower and was now lotioning herself down with one of Victoria's Secret's signature scent's, Love Spell. Once done, she unwrapped her wavy hair and then proceeded to finger comb it to add volume. She slipped on a sexy black, La Perla lace teddy that hugged her small frame in all the right places. She looked down at her four-inch Jimmy Choo stiletto's and smiled. She went to the mirror and admired her attire, smiling in approval. She had to admit, she looked good enough to eat. It was all or nothing, and she hoped Rico liked it.

After dimming the lights, Tiffany rummaged through her linen closet to find some fragrance to add to the air and enhance the mood. After some extensive digging, she managed to find a few candle sets she had bought from Bed Bath and Beyond. Luckily, they were all the same color. After careful application, red and white candles adorned the coffee table and lined the floor from the entrance, all the way to the back where her room was. The smell of strawberries and vanilla wafted through the home, creating an exotic and pleasant scent.

While she waited for Rico to text his arrival, Tiffany went and set her music system to her favorite album by Trey Songz: Ready. While she let the veteran R&B crooner serenade through the house, she went and took out a glass bowl and cut up some fresh strawberries she had just bought. She looked around her refrigerator and spotted some whipped cream to top them with. After spreading a generous layer of cream across the berries, she placed the bowl by her bedside, along with the bottle of sweet, red wine she had already been drinking on, and two glasses. As soon as she sat down the glasses, she heard her phone ding lightly from the kitchen counter. She went to check it, and just as she suspected, it was Rico announcing he was heading into her building. She walked briskly to her room and grabbed her robe to throw on. She wanted to surprise him later.

When Rico finally arrived at the door and was let in, he was taken back by the sound of romantic R&B music filling the air, as well as the effort Tiffany had put into the night. He was surprised since he wasn't expecting anything from her out of the norm. They had never been fully intimate. Kissing, cuddling, and sexual frustration is what their relationship consisted of. Initially attracted by her beauty, he had grown to love her as a person. She was smart, caring, and everything he wanted in a woman. Tiffany didn't care about his money; she just wanted him for him. She encouraged him and did her best to uplift him despite knowing that he was in the streets. Their lack of intimacy hadn't run him off; he got sex on the regular, so he was cool. Nevertheless, he was becoming excited by the mere thought of being with her.

"Damn bae, all this for me," he said, as he looked around with an appreciative smile. He watched in awe as rows of candles flickered softly through the house.

"Yea. I missed you," she admitted, as she leaned up and gave him a long kiss, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

Rico smiled again. He knew this night would be different for sure. The kiss she gave him spoke volumes. It was needy; it was desperate; it was passionate.

Breaking her tight embrace, Tiffany took Rico's hand and with a mischievous grin, led him to her room.

"I gotta surprise for you?" she said seductively. The wine was having its way with her mind-state and that is exactly what she had planned. She had already had two glasses and her confidence level was at an all-time high. She had some serious plans for Rico tonight.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Rico asked. He certainly had some ideas.

"Go sit and wait for it," she said with a smile, ushering Rico to her bed. He wasted no time following her demands.

"I'll be right back," she said, as she walked off.

Rico kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the large bed. His heart was beating in his chest and the felt the muscle in his pants begin to throb with it. He waited patiently, looking to the door for Tiffany to return. While he waited, he noticed the song abruptly change. He listened. It was still Trey Songz, but he was now singing about making love for the first time.

_You looking to good. What 'chu standing over there by yourself for? Won't you come over here..._

A few seconds later, Tiffany appeared at the door. Rico looked at her and his jaw dropped. She was stunning. The lace piece she had on highlighted every curve that existed on her body. He could even see her nipples peeking through the stretchy fabric. He felt himself stiffen even more. He wanted her bad.

Tiffany's creamy skin glowed against the candle light, making her appear exotic. She looked like a princess. Rico looked down to her feet and felt himself become concrete from the sight of her perfectly polished white toes peeking through her strappy caged sandal booties. He looked back up at Tiffany and stared. Her soft, wavy, black curls dangling past her shoulders. Trey's melodies continued to wade through the house and it was like the lyrics were written especially for him. It was exactly how he was feeling.

_Ya hair long. I just wanna pull it. Baby wait a minute. Don't be timid. Don't be shy. You so fly. I just wanna take you on a ride._

"Surprise," she mouthed, as the music continued to play. Rico didn't respond. He just motioned for her to come to him. She complied and sauntered sexily to him, being careful to take her time. She didn't want to rush the moment. Rico moved to the edge of the bed and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned down and kissed him, before gently pulling away. She smiled and poured him a glass of wine and then proceeded to dig out a few strawberries to feed him. He looked at his woman lovingly and knew he could get used to coming home to her every night. Without a doubt, he was in love with her. His mind briefly shifted back to her brother. _Her brother_. She alone was enough for him to squash the beef. If it meant a chance at a future with her, then he was willing to let it go.

After kissing on one another and continuing to hand feed each other strawberries, the two talked, laughed, and sipped on wine until they were feeling nice and well past tipsy. Tiffany flirted non-stop until Rico was fed-up and could no longer take the teasing. Feeling hot and like he was ready to explode, he leaned in and gave Tiffany another kiss, this one longer and more passionate. She didn't fight back her desires. She had been waiting for him to take charge. He reached under her and firmly cupped her soft behind to pull her closely to him. Her lips parted slightly, the excitement in her chest slowly seeping through them in short, hot breaths. She touched him. Her fingers digging desperately in his skin. Her body immediately began to ache in spots she never knew pain could exist in. Rico released her and climbed on top of her. His mouth grazed her neck and the sizzling heat he produced, along with his desperate pants, caused Tiffany's skin to tingle. She wanted him to conquer her, and she wanted it badly.

Tonight, was different. She was no longer in control. He was, and she loved it. She closed her eyes gently and imagined what it would be like for his lips and tongue to explore every inch of her. Just as she had become consumed in her thoughts, Rico wasted no time showing her. He gently pulled down the sides of her lingerie and teased her breasts with hungry sucks and long, wet licks. Her chest heaved as she tried to control herself. Her pussy ached almost painfully. It was begging to be touched, begging to be kissed, and begging to be penetrated.

Rico continued to kiss her sweetly from her forehead, to her chest, down to her toes. He paid special attention to every corner of her body, being fair and leaving nothing neglected. As he explored her, she had managed to free herself from the clothing holding her body captive. She was now naked, and Rico smiled. While he smiled in admiration at the beautiful sight before him, he also smiled that he could now fully have his way with her. He kissed her stomach... Then her thighs... And finally made his way to her center. When his warm, slippery mouth finally met Tiffany's love nest, she almost exploded. She felt like she had died and gone to heaven. She dug her fingers furiously into the sheets. She needed something to hold onto since her body was about to let go. The feeling was intense, and she soon felt her body give way, collapse, and cave into the bed.

Tiffany embraced the feeling that Rico provided and gave herself to him that night. It was magical. Fighting the dizziness and weakness her body now felt, Tiffany tried to get up so she could return the favor, but Rico would not let her. He used his body to keep her from moving. He had switched things around on her completely. She had started it off all about him,and he was going to finish it, focused completely on her. Rico undressed and took his time entering her. He wanted the night to last, for her sake, and his. Her tight, wet canal welcomed his manhood and there was a moment he almost gasped. Tiffany moaned softly. She had been waiting for this moment and he felt heavenly inside her. Rico looked down at her in awe. He loved her, and she felt so good to him — so warm. They were a perfect fit. Her sugary walls dripped nectar and gripped Rico tightly while he stroked in and out of her in pure bliss. She was everything he imagined. Everything he had hoped for. For him, that moment sealed the deal. When he came, he thought about marriage, children, and having Tiffany in his life forever.

Tiffany too, was overwhelmed by the feelings Rico created within her. When they were finished, Rico held her tightly, and without speaking it, the two vowed that they were one. She was all for him, and he was all for her. Rico was willing to cut off any female he dealt with to prove that. Tiffany didn't even have to ask. He loved her, and he was going to show her.

# Chapter 21

When Tre parked his Cadillac in the parking lot of Starlite's and stepped out with his team, he was happy that he had worn something presentable since he didn't know he would end up there. He looked down at his lay and brushed off some stray lint on his blue, denim Robin's jeans. He was simply dressed, with a plain black Polo shirt, and a pair of high-top all black Maison Margiela's. Even though he was plain, he still looked like money with a lone, large gold Herringbone chain resting in the middle of his chest. Of course, everything courtesy of Antonio. His father was the reason he shined and looked like he was winning.

Drew and Spice however, had went all out, buying brand new Polo gear to party at the shabby club. Not used to having access to large sums of cash, they were spending their recently acquired money like it grew on trees.

After paying the bouncer's $400 so all three could carry in their guns, Tre, Drew and Spice found themselves in the clubs' VIP section. Although it wasn't much in the small club, it still spoke volumes for the trio and solidified their newly acquired baller status. Lined off with velvet rope on the second floor, the VIP section was visible from the front entrance. Three sections of white u-shaped couches and coffee tables were the only thing that separated the private spaces in VIP but that didn't stop Tre, Drew, and Spice from having a good time.

Bottle after bottle, blunt after blunt, the three enjoyed the obvious perks of having money in the privacy of VIP. Across the room also in VIP, Latisha quietly tapped one of Rico's young boys on the arm. "Yo Boobie, those the nigga's that hopped on Rico a couple weeks ago," she said carefully eyeing the trio.

"Where?" he asked looking around.

"Right across from us. I remember the brown skinned dude. He was the one that tried to holla. The other two were the ones that jumped on him," she said still looking at them.

Latisha was ghetto fabulous. Off her looks alone, she had set many nigga's up and was as grimey as they came. After being hit in the face by Tre, she gave zero fucks about casually pointing him out to be murdered. After spotting the two, Boobie got up to discuss the move with his team. Latisha sat and waited. She knew as soon as the club let out, shit was going to get real. She couldn't wait.

"Yo Chubs," Boobie said, after walking over to him in the corner and tapping him on the arm. After Latisha pointed out Tre and his crew, he got up and went to see how Chubs wanted to proceed with the information.

"Hold up ma," he said to the shorty he was talking to.

"Wassup?" Chubs asked Boobie. He was about to slide out with the freak, so he wanted him to make it quick.

"Let me holla at you real quick," Boobie said, giving Chubs the eye. His face was serious, indicating something was up.

Without saying a word, Chubs walked away from the girl and stepped off to the side to rap to Boobie. Although Chubs was short, Boobie was shorter, so Chubs leaned down closely towards him, so he could hear whatever it was he needed to speak with him about. Boobie too, was one of Rico's right-hand men and already knew the situation with Drew, Spice and Tre.

"What's good?" Chubs asked. "Something happen?" he asked.

"Na, but you remember the nigga's that got at Rico a few weeks back. Well they over there," he said, before silently peering across the room so Chubs could spot them as well. He quickly spotted the trio enjoying the festivities of the night. Their guard was clearly down, and they seemed to have no cares at all. They looked the same as they did the night at the convenience store. That was until he released his clip on they asses.

"What chu trying do?" Boobie asked. He was always ready for wreck. They weren't super deep. It was only him, Chubs, and Paulie. Rico had invited just those three out and was supposed to show up later himself. Latisha had signed off for his bond earlier, so he could be released. He said he had some business to take care of but would meet up with them later that night. So far, he had been a no-show. Their numbers didn't matter to Boobie though; three cannons were better than three hundred bullets. They were little niggas, but they were thorough enough to wipe out a whole neighborhood.

"Right now, it's a no go. Rico said to wait. He not trying to war with them right now," Chubs said glancing over at the trio. Rico's demands went against everything Chubs believed in. He wanted so bad to bang on them then and there, but Rico was the boss.

"Aight," Boobie said, expressing his hesitance to proceed in that manner. Letting them rock out untouched just didn't sit well with him or the team, but what Rico said was law. Boobie went to walk off, but Chubs tapped him.

"I hear what Rico saying, but if dem nigga's show out, we gon give em dat act right," he said, before patting his waist to indicate he was strapped.

* * *

It was 3:40 am and Starlite's had just announced last call for alcohol when Tre, Drew and Spice decided they were ready to go. They had picked up three freaks and were about to head downtown to The La Quinta Hotel for a smut session. It was Spice's idea of a nightcap, with him even agreeing to foot the entire bill for everything.

"Yawl can follow us over the teley," Spice instructed the four girls as he palmed and squeezed at ones' wide, but plump ass." She was Spanish and had light brown eyes and wild, curly hair. She had been the life of the party and Spice knew she probably was the wildest, biggest freak of the bunch.

"Ok boo. The La Quinta right?" another of the three girls asked.

"Yeah," Drew replied for him with a grin. He didn't usually do freaks, but she was definitely the one he wanted. He had been on her top all night and wanted to make sure he was the one who ended up digging out her insides. Although skinny, she had big breasts and danced like she sure knew how to drop it down on not just a metal pole, but a real pole.

"That's $250, right?... A piece?" the older girl of the trio confirmed. She was brown-skinned and was the prettiest of the bunch. She had that "money over everything" mentality. She wasn't really feeling the nigga's her and her crew were leaving with, so she wanted to make sure she was getting the promised amount. Her box, head, and tricks didn't come cheap.

"Yeah. You gon get ya money. Stop tripping. And for $250 you better be able to do something with that mouth you keep talking shit from," Spice stated. He wasn't playing either. He could go get a little dirty hood bitch to freak out for $50. The only reason he was paying the price they requested was because all four were pretty and said they were from out of town. They were in the VIP section, so he assumed they were about a dollar and weren't broke hoes. They certainly didn't look like it. And frankly, he was excited to be able to fuck on some badder hoes.

"You'll definitely get ya money's worth sweetheart. Soon as I get to the room and touch my paper," she said with an eye roll and a smirk. They weren't new to this.

"Well green means go," Tre stated. He wanted her sassy ass for sure. As much shit as she talked, she had better put on a show. He intended to fuck her so hard she begged for mercy. He loved making examples out of shit talkers. Ass smacking, choking, and hair pulling were all fair game. He was on his Future shit: _he ain't have no manners for no sluts. She was gon get two thumbs in her butt._ Tre laughed to himself at his own joke as he took his last shot of Hennessy. He put down his empty glass and they all made their way towards the entrance with the girls leading the way.

After the last call was announced, many of the patrons began gathering their things to depart. With only twenty minutes left before the lights came on, the party was essentially over. The path to the entrance was congested and with Spice being intoxicated, he began to rudely squeeze past people to hurry out.

"Yo watch where the fuck you going," a short, stocky guy demanded angrily after he was pushed to the side and bumped by Spice.

Out of reflex, Spice spun around to say something but was met with a familiar face. It was Chubs. Spice's eyes did a quick scan of Chubs surroundings. He had a couple of niggas with him and he was also with the light-skinned bitch that was at the club the night the brawl took place. Spice knew that it was the worse place to come face to face with Chubs, but he was always prepared for gun battle — crowded club and all.

* * *

Chubs didn't realize his enemies were headed out the same time he was and he was surprised when the person that bumped him turned around to respond to his statement. He usually wouldn't have given a fuck; however, tonight was different. Rico had said to fall back on murdering the three nigga's standing in front of him, and that would prove to be costly. He hadn't been paying attention to the location of his nemesis' since he figured he would be heading out before everyone with the freak bitch he had been talking to.

As soon as Spice looked back, he looked around and immediately drew his gun. Spice had already made a vow to himself that when he saw Chubs, it was on sight. He knew that Chubs would be on the same type time when the opportunity presented itself. In the ghetto world he lived in, it was _kill or be killed_ , so he lived by the motto of _squeeze first_ to avoid the latter.

Spice didn't have to say anything. As soon as he reached, he looked back at Tre and his cousin, who already knew what time it was after Chubs opened his fat ass mouth. All three of them had their guns out in a matter of seconds. It wouldn't be like the first time when they were caught off guard and unprepared. This time was different. They had the upper hand. With Spice pushing past everyone in a hurry to leave, he was in front of Chubs and his crew. Drew and Tre were right behind Spice, essentially on the side of Chubs and his team. They were literally, almost surrounded.

The first bullet squeezed from Spice's gun, ripped through the chamber and missed Chubs head by inches, shattering rows of bottles behind him at the bar. The second shot aimed at Chubs came from Drew, who managed to hit him underneath his armpit as he struggled to withdraw and lift his own weapon.

"POW! POW! POP! POP" were the sounds of gunfire erupting in the air from multiple guns as Chubs' team and Spice's team opened fire in the small club. With nowhere to run, frantic patrons hit the slippery club floor in sheer terror, while others screamed, ducked, and dived behind bar stools and under tables.

The dark club had become an instant war-zone and resembled a hood version of The Wild West. Chubs and Boobie had run and jumped over the bar for cover, while Paulie lay crouched in a corner doing his best to hide behind a bar stool. He had been hit in his shoulder and could tell that his arm was also broken. He knew if he tried to fire back he would likely be unsuccessful and would also probably end up dead instead of just wounded. Being caught off guard had put the three of them at a huge disadvantage. If they managed to make it out of the club alive, Rico would not be _asked_ , he would rather be _informed_ of their intent to war with the East Side. There was no way they could let actions like this be ignored.

Paulie watched as Latisha lay on her stomach on the floor across from him. Both her legs were broken from where people trampled over them as they ran for safety. As soon as gunfire erupted, people began to push one another to get out of the way. Latisha had fallen during the panic and now lay curled up on the floor writhing in pain. She couldn't even move so she used a chair to cover her head. She had no idea the night would end up this way. Glass shattering, bottles dropping, bullets ripping through everything they came in contact with, and pounding feet were all she heard as she covered her ears and screamed, praying that the nightmare would soon be over.

As Spice, Drew, and Tre continued firing, they backed and stumbled their way towards the exit. Teeth clenched, and fingers on their triggers, they released every bullet loaded in their guns. Spice used his screaming Spanish companion as a human shield while he forced his way out of the club safely. All three men were in kill mode and continued to fire until their guns were empty. As soon as the hot July air could be felt on their backs and they could see the orange glow from the city street-lights, they then knew they were alive and safe. Thus, they went into flight mode.

Spice released the Spanish freak with a push causing her to fall over. At that point, she didn't even care. She was happy to be alive. The three men ran full speed back to Tre's car. They tore through the parking lot, engine full throttle, and tires screeching over the pavement.

# Chapter 22

"Are you sure?" Pedro asked Andrew, one of the few local dealers he supplied. He too had worked with Pedro for many years and was extremely loyal to him.

"Positive. The young nigga Jimbo has been buying from me for a minute. He came to me a few days ago and said there was some nigga's trying to move a couple," he said referring to kilos of Heroin. "Only a few nigga's around here can supply on that level. These niggas weren't from out of town; they were local. He said he went to school with one of them. While he couldn't recall his government name, he did know he goes by Drew in the streets. When I asked around, he's part of a little trio of nigga's that be on the East. Two of them are true street nigga's and the third is not from around there. I'm willing to bet money, that's Antonio's son," Andrew said, giving Pedro more than an earful.

Right after the robbery, Pedro called and asked his dealers to keep an eye out on anyone trying to unload bricks of Heroin in the immediate and surrounding areas. He knew whoever had robbed him would be trying to get rid of the drugs in exchange for cash. After recognizing Tre's voice, he began to inquire about his friend's son. Things were all starting to make sense and Pedro felt like Antonio either orchestrated the robbery or knew about it. If he did either, he damn sure put on a great show of pretending to be hurt and angry over the situation. One way or another, they were going to be the first to be dealt with.

"So, he copped from him?" Pedro asked, referring to Andrew's client, Jimbo.

"Yeah. Boy said it was good shit too. Just got it from him first thing this morning. I got up out of my own bed and went to look at the shit. It definitely looks like yours," he added.

That was all Pedro needed to hear. It had been signed, stamped, and sealed.

"Say no more. I'll handle everything from here."

* * *

Pedro took a small sip out of his glass before picking up his phone and checking the time on it. It was 10:00 am and he had called his nephew an hour ago. He had declared the matter to be of the utmost importance and had told him to drop whatever he was doing and get there.

Pedro had been up all-night replaying everything that had led up to this point. The one thing that stuck out the most to him and kept replaying in his head, was his last meeting with Antonio and how he stated he was done after the last package. As much as he wanted to believe that Antonio wasn't involved, he knew there was no way he couldn't be. It pained him that he had to take the route he was about to take. The sound of his doorbell chiming loudly throughout his home paused his thoughts.

"Pedro!" Anna yelled, as she ushered her nephew through the door with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Hey baby," Anna said with a smile, while still holding on to her nephew's arm so she could get a good luck at him.

She hadn't seen him in several weeks and had been worried about him. With the lifestyle they lived, anything could happen. He too, was also happy to see his aunt and noticed she looked frail and weary.

"Hey Auntie. I am so sorry I missed the viewing," he added sincerely.

There would be no funeral for Christopher in the states. His body was going to be flown back to Mexico where he would be buried amongst family. Pedro and Anna eventually planned to move back to their home country and would reunite with him in the future.

"It's okay baby. We were just worried is all. I was just glad that you were alright," she added. She led the way to Pedro's office in the back of the house. She made small talk as she walked through the spacious home barefoot.

"After what happened, there was no way we could go through with another service for Christopher here. It was hard enough to see my baby boy lying in a casket, and with Pedro taking it so hard... It's just too much. The viewing ended up being a disaster. We just no longer know who to trust and your uncle just lost it in there."

"What happened?" he asked with concern.

Anna sighed. "I'll let your uncle tell you," she replied just as they arrived at the door.

"I'll be in the dining room," she said before walking off, so he and her husband could have some privacy. "Come see me before you leave. I'll wrap up some food for you to take with you."

"Thanks Auntie," he said with a smile before going into the room to speak with his uncle.

"Nephew," Pedro said solemnly as he entered the room. He could tell his uncle hadn't slept well lately. His appearance was disheveled and he had bags under his eyes. Judging by his somber expression and demeanor, he knew it was going to be a serious conversation. He closed the door behind him. He walked over to his uncle's desk and sat across from him. He could tell he was angry and wasn't sure if it was because he had missed the viewing, or because of something else.

"What's going on Unc?" he asked.

"I found out who's responsible," Pedro said. His nephew already knew the situation, so he didn't even need to elaborate further.

"Who?" he asked curiously. Whoever it was, was a dead man.

"Antonio and his son Tre," Pedro stated sternly revealing his anger.

With a look of disbelief, he asked, "Unc... are you sure? He's been your friend for years. I mean, how do you know this?"

Slamming his fist down on his desk in anger, Pedro glared at his nephew. His tone was ice cold. "Are you questioning me now?" he asked.

Doing his best to ease the tension, he responded. "Unc I've never questioned you... ever. And I won't start. I'm sorry. On my life, if that's what you want, then both of them are dead."

Pedro eased back in his seat and sighed before rubbing his temples in frustration.

"How did you find out?" his nephew asked, still in disbelief that Antonio had something to do with it. Antonio had always been a stand-up guy. He didn't know much about his son since they had only met once at a party when they were younger. With a little digging, it wouldn't take much to carry out the request his uncle had made.

"Don't ask any questions, just fucking listen. Those Punta's did it, and I know for sure. Now I need this done loud and messy to send a message that this type of shit won't happen again. Now you wanna be a boss and takeover, here's your chance. I'm going to fly your auntie away from all this for a couple weeks. When I come back, those motherfuckers better be dead. If they aren't, I'll bring in someone to take your place and let them takeover... _while you watch_."

"Say no more. It's done," he agreed. He had worked hard for the spot he was in. It didn't come easy just because Pedro was his uncle. He had earned it. No one was going to take that from him. He got up and gave his uncle a hug before leaving.

As they embraced, Pedro quietly said, "Make sure it's a message that the streets won't forget."

# Chapter 23

Tiffany moaned softly and rolled over so she could wrap her arm around Rico. To her surprise, the space next to her was empty. Rico was gone; however his sweet, but masculine scent still lingered. Tiffany was on cloud nine as she thought back to the night they had just shared. Rico had been so gentle with her and it felt like more than just sex; this was love. She wished she could have woken up to him; however she knew he had business to take care of. She now remembered him whispering to her this morning that he had to leave for something important.

She smiled to herself before pushing her body up in the plush, king-size bed so she could get up and get herself together. She usually didn't sleep in this late. Her alarm clock read 10:30 a.m. The lively melody from her ringing phone cut her thoughts short. She picked it up; it was her father.

"Hi Daddy," Tiffany greeted her father.

"Hey sweetheart. I need you to come by the house. I need to talk to you," Antonio said seriously. Judging by his tone, Tiffany knew something was up.

"Is everything okay Daddy?" she asked, growing worried. "Is Tre alright?" she asked. Usually when Antonio was upset, it pertained to something with Tre.

"Yeah, his dumbass is alright. And we'll talk about everything once you get here," he stated.

"Okay. I'm going to take a shower and I'll be there shortly." Still on the phone, she immediately got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Her father had her full attention and she was now curious as to what was going on.

Alright sweetheart. See you soon. Love you."

"Love you too Daddy," Tiffany responded.

* * *

Tiffany shut the door of her father's house and wasn't surprised to hear the loud, intense argument taking place in the living room. She sighed. It would never end. Throwing her keys down on the table next to the door she headed in to see what was going on now.

"What were we supposed to do? Let the nigga just dump on us like he did the last time! We didn't have a choice," Tre argued. He was doing his best to explain to his father why he had been at the scene of another shoot-out with his crash dummy friends.

"Every time you go out somewhere with them, it's always some shit Tre! When you gon learn?" Antonio asked angrily. "Dem nigga's is going to get you killed!" he yelled. "What if someone points the finger at you saying you were involved. Money don't always make shit go away Tre!"

"Man whatever. Fuck this," Tre muttered before storming off through the large home. He was done going back and forth. He didn't give a fuck what his father had to say anymore. He was a grown ass man and he was getting his own money now off the dope Spice and Drew were moving. His only path now, was up.

Tiffany watched as her brother stormed through the house towards his room. She shook her head but didn't even bother to call for him. She knew the robbery had gone to Tre and his friend's head's. Here he was with some stolen money and drugs, thinking he was Antonio Tough-Guy. She loved him without a doubt, but this situation was going to have to unfold in an ugly manner for him to see the light. Just as she was about to walk into the living room to talk to her father, her phone rang. She quickly pulled it out of her small Dior bag. It was Rico.

"Hey babe," she answered quickly.

"Wassup wit you? You busy?" he asked. He could sense she was tied up by the way she answered the phone.

"Yeah, I'm uh at my dad's. Him and my brother going at it," she said. She didn't go into detail. She would only share small details of her life with anyone, Rico included. She had grown up to never say much, especially about herself or family. She hoped that would one day change, as she saw a future with Rico.

"Ok. Well I'll make it quick then. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go out to eat tonight. Maybe see a movie," he suggested.

"Yeah sure. I'm wit it," she said with a smile.

"And maybe soon I can meet that dad of yours," he added.

"I think that can be arranged." She was ready just like he was. She wanted Rico in her life and figured it was now or never. "I'll let you know when he's free. You just be ready."

After disconnecting the call, Tiffany tucked her phone back in her purse and headed back towards the living room to speak with her father. Just as she went to sit down on the couch, Tre was walking out and heading towards the door.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Antonio asked angrily, standing up. He had a scowl on his face that suggested he was about two seconds off Tre's ass.

Smacking his teeth, Tre ignored his father, but still muttered under his breath, "I'm a grown ass man."

"What the fuck you say?" Antonio asked, running up on him. He grabbed him by his Polo t-shirt and spun him around so hard, Tre stumbled. Tre snatched back. He didn't say a word. He just gave his father a hard stare.

"Oh, you grown huh?" Antonio asked testing him. He dared him to say it again. His fists were balled at his sides. If he uttered another word, Antonio intended to stretch him out. He was sick of his son's shit.

"Well since you're grown, get ya shit and get ya grown ass out my house," he demanded.

Tre shook his head from side to side and looked at his father in disgust. In his eyes, his father was overreacting and him being in a shoot-out was a necessity to survive. He did what he had to do.

"I don't need it," he said referring to his things. He turned around with an arrogant smug and walked out the door.

Antonio walked back into the living room and sat down. He breathed heavily, and his head was beginning to pound.

"Daddy," Tiffany called to him softly from the other couch, snapping him out of his angry trance. "What happened?"

Antonio took a deep breath. "Tre was in another shootout. This time at a club. From what I heard, the police have no suspects, but of course, the streets talk and I heard he was involved. A couple people were shot, several people were hurt, and the club was destroyed," he explained. "I've had it with Tre. I no longer know what to do... If I do nothing, he will end up getting himself killed. If I continue this route of arguing back and forth with him, he's still going to end up killed because he doesn't listen. Either way, I'm going to be a stressed and nervous wreck. I sometimes dread answering my phone. I'm scared I'm going to get a call that Tre's been murdered. At this rate, it is not a matter of _if_ it'll come, it's _when_. It's come to a point where I ask myself: do I wash my hands of my only son, or do I continue to try in vain?" Antonio stared off out the window. He truly didn't have the answer.

Tiffany sat solemnly and silent on the couch. She didn't know what to say. Tre was indeed hard-headed, and he was beyond helping. She did know that she was now scared and needed to talk to Tre. She wasn't sure if this shoot-out had something to do with Pedro, but if it did, she needed to tell her father what was going on. From the looks of things, Tre hadn't yet.

* * *

Rico sat at the table of his stash house and absorbed all the information he had been delivered in the last few hours. He was fuming, and he partially blamed himself. Both Paulie and Chubs had been shot, while Latisha was in the hospital with two broken legs. While Paulie and Chubs had been released from the hospital this morning, Latisha would be in for about a week and would have to go through extensive rehab. Rico sighed stressfully. He had made the wrong call and his entire team had made him aware of that. He was not only embarrassed, he also felt guilt behind the injuries that resulted from his judgement. He had arranged the night at the club, and then didn't even show. He had been too caught up with Tiffany and his uncle's affairs, that he let his team down. While he didn't regret the night he spent with his love, he did regret that he had ordered Chubs and his team to stand down. He also didn't regret putting things on hold while he went to his uncle. That was his family and that is where his loyalty was trained to lay. What he did regret was the fact that he hadn't responded to any phone calls and hadn't even bothered to check the text messages niggas from his team had sent all last night and this morning. If he had checked, he would have been informed of what had taken place way sooner. Here it was the afternoon, and he was just hearing about what happened. He had clearly underestimated the three niggas from the East, but he damn sure would not let that happen again. It pained him that he would have to proceed with more violence. Just hours ago, he had been seriously contemplating squashing the beef with Tre.

"So, what's the game plan boss?" Boobie asked slightly annoyed. He had been the only one uninjured in the shoot-out and had called Rico dozens of times after it happened.

"We go to war," Rico replied. "And we gon tear dem nigga's asses up."

"That's all I need to hear," Boobie said, glad that Rico was finally with the program. If they had got at them like everybody wanted to, the attack never would have happened. No one spoke it, but Rico was definitely to blame.

"Gather nigga's up and tell them to meet here for a meeting around midnight. That way, we can let everyone know what's going on and to be on point. Anybody that crosses paths with any three of them fuck nigga's — they body em. A few of us can ride down on their block tonight after the meeting. I'll let you know the details later," Rico stated. They were going to war and he had to prepare everyone properly.

"Why you just don't send the young boys to do it?" Boobie asked. He felt that Rico was bigger than the street beefs. They could leave that to their lil goons and youngins.

"Naaaa. It started with me so ima let them niggas know; there's no pussies over here. This shit is personal, and I'll never hide behind my men. They want Rico, they gon get Rico."

"You da boss," Boobie said with a smile. If Rico wanted to hold court in the streets, then so be it. Besides, he was always down for a 187.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Tre parked his car on the side of Pat's house and quickly hopped out. As usual, business was still booming and drug-addicts were scattered sporadically up and down the block. Their dirty, disheveled appearance would scare away the average person; however to any hustler, they were dollar signs.

"Yo Pee," Tre called to one of the young boys who was manning the block for them. He couldn't have been no more than sixteen years old. He had a brown baby-face and probably only weighed about 140 pounds soaking wet. With his nappy, gangster style cornrows, he resembled a young Snoop Dog.

"Wassup?" Pee responded, only briefly taking his eye off the feenin junkie bitch in front of him. Heroin addicts were notorious for their sheisty and treacherous behavior when dope was involved. Pee had already once been the victim of a snatch and grab, and he wasn't about to let that shit happen again.

"You see them nigga's Drew and Spice?" he asked, as he greeted the young boy with a quick hand slap.

"Yeah they up the street with them freak ass sisters, Tina and Tiffany."

He pointed up the street to a shabby, two story yellow house; however, there was no need to point, Tre knew exactly where they lived at. They were the neighborhood freaks and he too had fucked both.

"Good looking," Tre said as he walked off, leaving Pee to continue his tasks of serving doped out junkies and making money for the team.

Tre didn't bother to knock when he entered the sisters' house where Spice and Drew were chilling at. It was essentially their hang out spot. The girls were young and the trio came and went as they pleased. When he entered, the girls were on the couch half-naked in panties and tank tops, while Drew and Spice were counting wrinkled and balled up money at the hand-me-down, 80's style dining room table.

"Wassup nigga?" Drew asked Tre as soon as he walked through the door. Spice threw him a head nod and continued to count.

"Aint shit. Had to jet from my Pops crib. That nigga heard about the shit at Starlite's and he tripping. Told me I had to get out and all that," he said, still in disbelief. "Prolly wasn't nobody but that old ass, nosey ass Frank that told him. His old ass always running his mouth," Tre complained. Store-owner Frank knew everything that went on in the hood, and he was one of Antonio's main resources when it came to gathering his information. Antonio tried his best to keep his source a secret, but Tre knew.

"Damn," Drew responded.

"It aint' about shit. I'm just gon stay with my sis for a few days until he calms the fuck down.

"Man, why ya pops been on that soft shit lately?" Spice asked, finally finished counting the stacks that now lay neatly in front of him. He had lived on the East for years and had heard stories about how Antonio used to air blocks out and terrorize the hood. He guessed time and age had made him pussy.

"Man, that nigga washed up," Drew mumbled. He certainly wasn't on the same time from back in the day.

"I don't even know what's going on with my dad for real. He older now and I guess he on to better shit. He trying to run his business and he ain't hip to how shit goes down in the streets now," Tre shrugged.

"Yeah, well fuck all that nigga. We got some shit to handle tonight anyway," Spice argued. He looked over to the sisters who were still watching television on the couch. "Yo. Yawl get up and go upstairs real quick," he demanded. "We got some important shit to talk about that aint for yawl ears."

Like the hoodrats they were, they quickly got up and went upstairs. It didn't matter that it was there crib. They let Drew and Spice do whatever they wanted. They ran the spot. While they all spoke freely in front of junkies, they didn't do that with average females. Bitches were nosey, and they repeated everything.

"I found out where that fat ass nigga Chubs chill at. We gon air the block out. We hitting any fucking body that's out there. You wit it?" he asked Tre, quickly testing his gangster. Tre had truly come a long way. He went from being a soft ass square, to busting his gun in a crowded club with no hesitation.

"No doubt," Tre quickly agreed.

"Say no more. Meet us back here tonight around midnight. All black."

"Bet," he said, before heading out.

Tre figured he would ride over to Tiffany's to get some sleep since he hadn't managed to do so last night. As he walked down the street his phone rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he checked it and it just so happened to be Tiffany. He hit ignore. He didn't feel like hearing her shit, besides he would see her later at her crib. He had a mission to prepare for.

# Chapter 24

It was around midnight when Tre parked his car near a bush behind Pat's house. Dressed in all black, he crept silently down the block to meet up with his team. They told him they would be in a gray Impala. Tre spotted the newer model car quickly since Drew's arm was dangling from the window, waving for him to come over.

"Get in nigga," he said, once Tre got close on the car. The locks clicked and Tre hopped in quietly. He was a little nervous, but knew he couldn't bitch up or show any signs of weakness. Beef came with the life of the streets.

"Who car is this?" Tre asked out of curiosity.

Spice looked back with a grin and responded. "One of my bitches rented it from Enterprise for me."

"Here you want some of this shit?" Drew asked before passing back a half smoked blunt of gas. Tre quickly reached for it. He needed it for sure. Between dealing with the beef with Chubs crew, and his sister and dad bitching at him all day, he needed to relax his mental state.

The drive to the West didn't take long at all since it was late and there was no traffic. There would be no lingering around. They were going to ride down on the block and quickly air it out. It was that simple. Spice and Drew knew that it wouldn't be long before Chubs and Rico's team came gunning for them. They weren't going to even give them the chance.

As they crept down the dusty, dirty blocks of the West side of town, they soon approached the residence they were looking for. As they peeped the scene on the street, their adrenaline kicked in and they grew excited. The block was live. There were about six or seven nigga's standing around the house; in addition to Chubs and Boobie. There were also a bunch of addicts strewn up and down the block. If they knew what was best for them, they would run when they saw the car approaching. Once the shots started to ring out, any and everyone was a target. No mercy would be shown.

Drew crept down the block slowly and stopped right in the center of the street, midway through. Spice and Tre gathered their loaded automatic weapons and put them in the proper position. Spice had copped the guns earlier from a nigga he knew. With their new-found financial status, they were able to upgrade their weapons. Gone were the normal semi-automatic handguns. They would carry those for general purpose. For a street battle such as this, they were rolling with automatic pistols, such as the MAC-10 and TEC 9. Spice and Tre each held one respectively.

Drew slowly rolled down the window. They watched as Chubs pointed towards the car and the nigga's started to back up. Spice knew they were suspicious and would soon reach for their own gun's. Seizing the opportunity, he yelled.

"Now! Go!"

Drew sped down the block and towards the house with his wheels spinning, as Tre and Spice aimed their weapons out of the window and opened fire on everyone. They didn't care who they hit; if they were in the way of bullets, then luck just wasn't on their side. Drew slowed the Impala down right as they got close to the house. The panic that shown on everyone's face excited Spice. He laughed and yelled out undetectable words. His face was maniacal as he leveled and waved his gun from side to side, to hit everyone in his path.

Chaos erupted on the streets as people did their best to flee the flurry of bullets being released. Bodies began rapidly falling from gunshot wounds. Just as the carnage was unfolding, Rico happened to be turning down the block to attend the late-night meeting he had called. He literally had stumbled upon the drive-by. It was more like a massacre that was unfolding right in front of his eyes. Dread rushed over him as he watched members of his team run and scatter frantically, while others hit the ground wounded. He watched as orangish-yellow sparks flew from the gun barrels and shell casings rapidly ejected and hit the pavement. The occupants of the Impala continued to fire shots as they sped away from the scene and up the street.

Rico quickly retrieved his weapon from his console. He stepped on the gas and rolled down his window to return fire on the car that had just opened fire on his team. The bullets that flew from the barrel of his gun shattered the back window of the tinted car and produced multiple holes through its body and interior. Drew, Tre and Spice weren't prepared for the return of fire and were stunned when the bullets ripped through the vehicle.

"Aaaahhhh fuck! I'm hit," Tre yelled in agony, right after a bullet shattered the back window. The hot bullet hurt like hell and somehow managed to produce pain all over his body. He had no idea where he was hit, he just knew he had been.

"Fuck!" Spice yelled, looking back at Tre who was now curled up in pain and bleeding profusely in the backseat.

"You gotta get me to the hospital," Tre begged. He was beginning to panic. He'd never been shot before. He didn't want to die.

"We can't take him to no fucking hospital with all these guns and bullet holes in here. They'll call the police," Drew stated firmly while looking over at Spice. He was doing his best to stay calm and come up with a reasonable solution to their situation. He wasn't about to get booked just to get Tre medical attention.

Everyone was aware of the risks before they strapped up and went on the mission. He didn't want to say, " _fuck Tre and his bullet wound_ ," but at this point, he almost had no other choice.

"Take him to his sister's. She'll know what to do," Spice said. Drew quickly agreed to that. It was still risky, but it was a lot better than going to the hospital. Tre rambled off the address and they began the race to Tiffany's.

# Chapter 25

"This shit fucking hurts man," Tre moaned as he lay stretched out in the back seat, blood running down his arm and soaking into the tan cushions. Blood was also all over the front of his shirt, so Tre still had no idea where he had been hit. His shoulder hurt, _but_ so did his chest and back.

"Just hold on nigga," Spice said as Drew raced downtown to Tiffany's condo. He made it there in record time and got through the gates after Tre rambled off the entrance code. Luckily security was making their rounds and didn't notice the bullet riddled vehicle enter the complex.

Hopping out the front passenger side door, Spice ran to the back of the car and snatched the door open to help get Tre out. Drew had also jumped out to help. He looked around nervously and paranoia plagued him. He had begun to sweat profusely, and his stomach was doing somersaults.

"My key's in my pocket," Tre said referring to the spare keys his sister had given him after Christopher had gotten shot. Tre was in pain and he was starting to feel dizzy.

"Shitttttt," he moaned as he tossed and turned his head against the seat in agony.

Spice and Drew quickly looked around once more before cursing out loud. Drew knew that they were taking a significant risk by dropping Tre off in the ritzy neighborhood, but at this point, they had no choice. Their focused shifted to moving quickly. They had to get rid of the guns and car. Seeing the coast was clear and no one was around, they pulled Tre out of the car and carried him as quickly as they could to Tiffany's front door. Drew carried his feet, while Spice carried his bleeding torso. Once they got to the door, they sat Tre down on the pavement against the wall and dug in his pocket for his key to Tiffany's condo. After retrieving it and opening the door, they carried Tre in and laid him on the couch.

"Tiffany!" Spice called.

As soon as they heard her office door creek open and her footsteps approaching, they took off through the front door and back to the car. They knew she would know what to do and help get her brother some medical attention. They had to get the bullet-riddled car away from the building before some nosey neighbors saw it and called the police.

Tiffany walked into her living room angrily. She had recognized Spice's voice and wanted to know why the hell he was in her house, let alone yelling. As soon as she saw her brother bleeding on the couch, her heart felt like it flew from her chest. The sight of so much blood on her only sibling was enough to send her in a panic.

"Oh my God!" she screamed, as she threw her hand to her mouth and gasped. Terror and dread consumed her at once, but the love she felt for Tre instantly overpowered those feelings. She immediately sprang into action to help him.

"Tre baby, what happened," she asked, her voice trembling and chills running through her. She prayed he responded.

"I got shot," he replied painfully. "Get a towel and help me take off my shirt. We gotta see where I was hit," he instructed.

Tiffany ran from the living room frantically before stumbling into the bathroom and grabbing a towel from the linen closet. She returned sobbing, tears streaming from her face. She was doing her best to remain calm but the scene before her was overwhelming. Her phone was nearby on the coffee table, so she reached and grabbed it to call her dad. With her hands shaking, she voice-dialed him. As soon as the call connected, she sobbed into the phone. Antonio knew something was terribly wrong.

"Daddy, Tre's been shot!" she yelled before he could say anything. "He's here and he's bleeding everywhere! Please come Daddy!" she wailed into the receiver.

"I'm on my way!" Antonio responded quickly. Dread washed over him. He had no idea what was going on, but he would find out as soon as he arrived. He prayed the entire way there that his son was okay.

* * *

Antonio made it to Tiffany's in ten minutes flat since her condo wasn't far from his own home. He must have run every stop sign and stop light to get there. After running through the parking lot and into the building he was shocked to see his son lying on the couch with his chest covered in blood. Antonio immediately took over.

"Tre. Son. Where were you hit?" he asked sternly. He knew it was vital that he didn't panic. It wouldn't help the situation. He had to remain calm.

"My shoulder," Tre responded.

While Antonio was in route, he and Tiffany had taken off his shirt and found the spot on his body where he had been hit. Tiffany, who was returning from the bathroom with another towel, walked around the corner just in time to see her dad leaning over Tre.

"Daddy, here's another towel," she said sobbing, before handing the dark blue towel to him.

"Let me look at it," Antonio told Tre. He had to see how bad the bullet wound was.

Antonio lifted the blood-soaked towel from Tre's shoulder and observed the wound. He carefully lifted Tre forward towards him to see where the bullet had exited. He didn't see anything. Antonio sighed in relief. It was just a graze. At around three inches long, the graze was deep and nasty. Luckily for Tre, the bullet had not fully entered his shoulder.

"It's just a graze," Antonio informed him. "You're gonna be fine... But how did this happen Tre?" he demanded to know as he looked his son in his eye. He put the towel back over the wound and applied pressure to slow down the blood loss. Tiffany stood behind her father thinking the same thing her father had just asked; how did this happen? More than anything, she was happy Tre was okay.

"I told ya ass to stop fucking with those nigga's in the hood," Antonio argued.

Tre moaned in pain as well as irritation. Now was not the time. Here he was, bleeding profusely and his dad wanted to preach. He now wished he had been shot in his ears so he wouldn't have to hear shit his father had to say.

Tre went to respond with a stutter. He was about to lie, but Tiffany abruptly cut him off.

"Tre tell him or I'm going to tell him," she demanded. He already knew what she was about to do. Enough was enough. The lies would end today.

"Tiffany please, not now!" he yelled, becoming angry.

"Not now, my ass! What the fuck is going on?" Antonio demanded to know, looking back at Tiffany. He gave her the look of death. She now had no choice.

"Tre, Drew, and Spice robbed Pedro and killed his son, and now Pedro got nigga's trying to kill him," she blurted out. As awful as the revelation was, she felt like a weight had been immediately lifted off her chest.

Disregarding his injured state, Antonio hauled off and smacked the shit out of Tre. Tre winced in pain, while the sound caused Tiffany to jump.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Tre!" he yelled furiously. Antonio got up and began to pace the room in a panicked state.

"You dumb muthafucka — you about to get us all killed."

Antonio stared at Tre in disbelief. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. _His own son_. Right then, everything was starting to become clear to Antonio; Pedro's behavior at the funeral, the shootout in the club, the unanswered calls to Pedro, and now this shit. It was just too much to digest. Antonio sat down on the couch opposite of Tre. He had to collect his thoughts and think for a minute.

Antonio glared over at Tiffany. He couldn't believe she too was in on this. She had helped Tre conceal his wrong-doings instead of informing him.

"I can't believe you," he said in disappointment. Not his baby-girl too. "You knew about this?" he asked in disbelief.

"I'm so sorry Daddy," Tiffany cried. The look Antonio gave her broke her heart into a thousand pieces. She hated to disappoint her father. She was only trying to protect Tre.

"Tiffany Just don't say anything else," he demanded. He didn't want to hear shit either of them had to say at the moment. To leave him blind to what was going on around him was the worst thing they could have done. They obviously had no idea how much danger they all were in. Once Pedro gave the word, their deaths were imminent. Tre and his friends had literally went on a suicide mission.

Tiffany turned around and stumbled out of the living room towards her bedroom in tears. Before she could plop down on her bed and cry into her sheets, her phone rang from the bathroom where she had left it when she ran to get another towel for Tre. She was about to ignore it but went to retrieve it anyway. She planned to shut it off for the rest of the day. They had to get Tre over to the hospital and she didn't want to be bothered. She grabbed the ringing, vibrating phone off the sink and looked down to see it was Rico. Although she wanted to see him, now wasn't the time. She answered it while she did her best to control her voice and hold back her sobs.

"Hey baby, I gotta call you back, it's a lot going on right now," she answered with a sniffle. She sat up in her bed and used the back of her hand to wipe at her running nose.

Rico could tell Tiffany had been crying and something was wrong. "What's wrong?" he asked. Although he wanted to express his concern for her, he too had a lot going on and was desperate for a safe place to rest his head for the night. He knew there was no better place than with her. Fleeing from a street that was now littered with dead and wounded bodies, he was paranoid and desperate. He was going through it. Everyone in front of the house he had just left, was probably dead. There had just been too many bullets, and so much blood. He did his best to remain positive, but he knew in his heart that most, if not all his men were gone. It pained him that he couldn't even stay, as he knew the street would soon be blocked off and swarming with police.

"My brother was shot and we're about to take him to the hospital," she sobbed.

"Listen bae, everything is going to be okay," he said while peering around nervously. He said it more for himself then anything, since he was also trying to convince himself that as well.

Rico knew he was playing with fire since he knew he was the one behind Tre being shot. He figured he was in the clear since Tre's stupid ass still hadn't connected the dots. Tre didn't remember Rico's face and still had no clue he was in a relationship with his sister. Stupid was the only way Rico could describe him. The only thing that Tre knew was that he and his crew were beefing with the West side. He was actually glad that one of the bullets he'd sent, had hit Tre's ass.

"I'm pulling up to ya house now. I'll see you in a minute," he said abruptly before hanging up. He didn't wait for her to respond. No matter what she said, they both needed each other and he refused to take _no_ for answer.

"Who were you talking to?" Antonio asked Tiffany in his deep voice, startling her. She had no idea he had come behind her and had overheard her conversation.

"It was my boyfriend Rico. I was trying to tell you about him," she said, as her voice trailed off softly.

Lately their conversations had been about Tre and business. Tiffany and her life had been pushed to the back burner.

Antonio peered at Tiffany and walked off back in to the living room. "Whose Rico?" he asked Tre. Tre looked at him perplexed.

"I don't know," Tre responded quickly with an irritated look on his face. It seemed like a dumb ass question, especially since he was still waiting to be taken to the hospital for the stitches he so desperately needed in his shoulder.

"You dumb ass!" Antonio yelled out of nowhere. How the fuck don't you know who your sister is dating? — You're lucky I don't shoot you my fucking self," he continued to argue.

Tre wanted to ask him, how come he didn't know who the fuck Rico was? It was just as much his responsibility as her father to know who Tiffany was seeing. However, the way Antonio looked at it, Tiffany was going to be more open to discussing her private life with her big brother, rather than her father. Tre was too wrapped up in his own bullshit to worry about anyone but himself.

"What the fuck am I going to do about Pedro?" Antonio asked aloud to no one in particular. He sat back down on the couch with a look of defeat on his face. His son was going to be the death of him, literally.

Now in the bathroom, Tiffany did her best to clean herself up so she could go meet Rico outside. He had just texted his arrival a few seconds ago. As she walked out the door, Antonio started gathering up Tre so he could take him to a nearby hospital for stitches. He didn't give a damn what either of them said from that point on; all three of them were going to have to lay low. If Pedro was really the one responsible for Tre's attack, it was only a matter of time before he succeeded in killing him. He knew how Pedro moved, and if it was a hit out on Tre, there was also probably a hit out on him as well.

# Chapter 26

Rico quickly hopped out of his Mercedes and speed walked into Tiffany's building. As he made his way through the hall, he saw her heading out to greet him. She looked distraught and the sight of her made Rico's heart melt in his chest. He needed her just like she needed him. Without a doubt he loved her. He just wanted to hold her, hug her, and take away whatever pain she was feeling. The irony behind the situation was that, he also happened to be the one who was causing her pain.

"Rico," Tiffany cried. She walked slowly and weakly to him. Her tear stained face had streaks of blood across them and her clothes were soiled from trying to help her wounded brother. He felt a twinge of guilt, but then remembered that her brother was the reason behind his team being gunned down. He loved Tiffany but gave zero fucks about her brother. He genuinely wanted him dead.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know. He won't really say. The bullet grazed his shoulder," she cried. "It's just too much. I was so scared that he was gonna die. There was so much blood." She buried her head briefly into Rico's chest. She finally looked up at Rico.

"I guess now's the time you can quickly meet my dysfunctional ass family," she said with a sniffle before using the back of her hand to wipe at her wet face. "My dad's here. Come on," she said, leading the way into her condo. Rico immediately became alarmed. He hadn't expected anyone to be there.

As Antonio helped Tre up and they headed out the doorway, they came face to face with Rico and Tiffany. Tre stared at Rico and because his mind was in a chaotic state, he instantly remembered where he knew him from. The night they met, had been the same: chaotic. It was the lame ass nigga from the club. The same nigga that had just been the leader of the team that had just nearly killed him when they returned fire. The name finally sunk in. _Rico_. It was the same Rico he and his team were going to war with.

As Tre locked eyes with Rico; so did Antonio. Antonio too, instantly remembered Rico. It was little mixed Ric, Pedro's nephew. Tiffany couldn't have had a clue. Pedro surely had sent him to murder his son. He wasn't about to let that happen.

Rico didn't miss a beat as he saw Antonio come out of Tiffany's condo. Everything now made sense. Tre and Tiffany were Antonio's kids. He couldn't believe he didn't peep this sooner. When he had met Tiffany at his uncle's party, she said that she was there with her father. He never knew it was Antonio! Nor did he pay attention to the significance of the name of Antonio's son when his uncle ordered them to be murdered. He was just as clueless as Tre was!

He looked back to Tre, who was now ice grilling him. He had been recognized in two ways. Shit was getting worse by the minute. He had orders to kill Antonio and his son. He wanted Tre dead anyway. He had murdered most of his team. With the new-found revelations swirling their thoughts, all three men reached for their weapons.

# TO BE CONTINUED

**Love & War 2 available NOW.**

# DREAMHOUSE PUBLICATIONS

Visit dreamhousepub.com for more titles!

# ALSO BY MESSIAH RAYE

# ALSO BY SHONTAIYE

### Contents

  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. About the Author
  5. Synopsis
  6. Part I
  7. Introduction
  8. Chapter 1
  9. Chapter 2
  10. Chapter 3
  11. Chapter 4
  12. Chapter 5
  13. Chapter 6
  14. Chapter 7
  15. Chapter 8
  16. Chapter 9
  17. Chapter 10
  18. Chapter 11
  19. Chapter 12
  20. Chapter 13
  21. Chapter 14
  22. Chapter 15
  23. Part II
  24. Chapter 16
  25. Chapter 17
  26. Chapter 18
  27. Chapter 19
  28. Chapter 20
  29. Chapter 21
  30. Chapter 22
  31. Chapter 23
  32. Chapter 24
  33. Chapter 25
  34. Chapter 26
  35. TO BE CONTINUED
  36. DREAMHOUSE PUBLICATIONS
  37. ALSO BY MESSIAH RAYE
  38. ALSO BY SHONTAIYE
  39. Full Page Image
  40. Full Page Image
  41. Full Page Image
  42. Full Page Image

  1. Title Page
  2. Contents
  3. Copyright
  4. About the Author
  5. Beginning
  6. Introduction
  7. Also by Sky Black

