Invincible: A Novel

A NOTE FROM NIKKI TURNER

My Dearest Readers,

Thanks once again for all your undying support over so many years. Without you none of this would be possible. So, to give back, I feel it’s only right to continue introducing you to great new books, and let me be the first to say: This book you are holding in your hand is going to far exceed all expectations you may have.

Styles P had already mastered the music game, so I knew his book would be a treat. I had been a fan of Styles and the Lox long before I was approached to publish his book under the Nikki Turner Presents umbrella. I knew he was a wonderful lyrical talent, but I honestly had no idea that the international rapper, artist, actor, dad, and dog breeder would put the same passion into this book that he regularly puts into his music.

In the very early stages of work on
Invincible
, Styles mentioned to me that he breeds dogs, and I shared with him the tragic story of my Yorkie, Mr. Biggs, whom I’d just lost. He told me that I needed a pit bull in my life and once he found one with the right temperament, he was going to give me a puppy. I didn’t think much more about it until months later, when he called to tell me he had the perfect dog for me. I was shocked. I didn’t take him seriously at the time, nor was I really the pit bull type of girl, either. I accepted the dog, and Glitz has totally won my heart over. So, I have to thank Styles for adding such a great addition to my family.

Now, as the process continued, I would ask Styles how the writing was coming, and he’d respond to me that he was writing—ON HIS SIDEKICK! In all my days in the writing game I’d never encountered anyone who had written a
chapter
on a Sidekick, let alone an entire
book
. I thought it was the craziest thing ever, but when he sent me the first few chapters, not only was I sucked in, but I found an entirely new level of respect for him. His story was such an amazing read, and after finishing it, I felt that
Invincible
is what urban fiction is really about—an action packed gangsta film with characters who stay with you long after you turn the last page.

After you put down this book, I know you’ll agree that Styles P is an amazing talent, and you will be sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for part two.

So, without further due, I present to you …
Invincible
.

Enjoy!

Much Love,
Nikki Turner

Title Page

Dedication

Foreword: A Note from Nikki Turner

Prologue

Chapter 1 -
Trust No One

Chapter 2 -
Bad News

Chapter 3 -
Standing Tall

Chapter 4 -
Man Down

Chapter 5 -
Gangstas Ride

Chapter 6 -
Awake

Chapter 7 -
Plots and Plans

Chapter 8 -
Mitch and Monster

Chapter 9 -
Cheating Death

Chapter 10 -
Pure Evil

Chapter 11 -
Help on the Way

Chapter 12 -
Mary-beth’s Back

Chapter 13 -
Flying Bullets

Chapter 14 -
Bit of Truth

Chapter 15 -
Pop Off

Chapter 16 -
Can’t Run, Can’t Hide

Chapter 17 -
Gambling Man

Chapter 18 -
The Right Side

Chapter 19 -
For the People

Chapter 20 -
Back to the Beast

Chapter 21 -
Smart Men

Chapter 22 -
Small World

Chapter 23 -
Mr. Invincible

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Copyright

Jake couldn’t help but feel like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His legs had given out, and he felt like an animal being led to slaughter. The stench from the back of the cop car and the pain in his wrists and shoulders from being cuffed so tight was unbearable. What little faith Jake had in mankind had just disappeared.

Two men robbed Kim and his store and took what was his ($$$$$), and yet
he
was the one in the back of the police car. Sure, Jake knew it was foolish to go and shoot the robbers, but deep down he understood that what comes around goes around, and he had done enough dirt to last for two lifetimes. The wiser thing to do would’ve been to let the robbers bounce without giving chase, but he just couldn’t control himself.

Maybe it was his past that drove him to squeeze the trigger, but as he fired his gun and felt it kick and saw the flame from the barrel, he knew exactly where he was headed—p-r-i-s-o-n. In his world, there was no such thing as fair play—not from the thieves, not from the police, not from women, not from family or so-called friends. As far as Jake was concerned, only God could be trusted. Jake learned at an early age not to trust anyone else, a lesson he learned from the so-called closest people in the world to him: his parents. Jake’s father was a crackhead and his churchgoing mother never seemed to care what he did or which streets he ran, making Jake question her love. His uncle was cool but had introduced Jake to some shit a child shouldn’t be involved with, leading Jake to believe as he grew older that in life you’re always gonna need somebody else, but all you really have is yourself.

The back of the cop car made it clear to Jake that he was headed back to hell and his gut feeling told him only God could help him now.

TRUST NO ONE

Except for minimum activity the dorm was mostly quiet at this hour. There was no chatter among the mostly new faces, no questions from cats awaiting sentencing, no more trading war stories or survival tips—the smell was the only thing that was loud. It was a little after three in the morning and the drugs-infested, gang-riddled jail had taken on an almost serene glow when Jake dropped to his knees to pray. At times like this it didn’t matter that he felt his prayers were never answered in the past; old routines were hard to break. Jake slowly rose from his praying position, allowing his eyes to scan the dorm; most everyone appeared to be asleep. The tier gave off its usual cacophony of noises for this time of the night: loud snoring, fart trumpets, and sounds of nightmares of terror coming from
some of the guys who were probably locked up for the first time and scared shitless.
How the fuck did I get myself back in this position again
, Jake thought. Then the realism of the situation punched him slam in the face: His lifestyle put him here. In order to make himself feel a fraction better he rationalized that everything happened for a reason and God knew better than he what those reasons were. But he still asked God the same thing he always asked when he was in a fix: “Please get me out of here,” followed by the other shit he always said: “I swear I’ll chill this time!”

After waiting patiently for the CO to make his ring, Jake shoved his index finger into the hole he had made inside of the waistband of his boxers and fished out a neatly rolled stick of kush. He licked it, lit it, took a few quick pulls and held the smoke in his lungs as long as he could. When he finally exhaled, he got a bottle of baby powder and blew three handfuls of it into the air to cover the smell before concealing the remainder of the spliff back in its hiding place.

Jake looked around one last time and was cool about his surroundings. He lay down in his bunk and went to sleep with one eye open!

BAD NEWS

“Jake Billings!” It was CO Frazier yelling from the front of the dorm. “Jake Billings,” he repeated. “Come get your mail before the garbage gets it.”

Jake walked to the CO desk with a little pep in his step because he knew CO Frazier would do exactly what he said he would do. When he got to the desk, Frazier tossed the mail at him along with a do-you-want-a-problem-motherfucker look. Jake picked his mail up off the floor and kept moving; he knew better than to feed into the corrections officer’s bullshit. He didn’t need any extra problems right now. He’d been in jail for five days and hadn’t gotten in contact with anyone yet. To keep it one hundred he wasn’t expecting any mail in the first
place; he was waiting on a visit from his girl so he could put her up on what he needed to get out of there.