The Last Kings (15 page)

Before he could finish his statement I'd had enough. I wasn't going to sit there as he basically rejected me again. And this time, I hadn't even thrown myself at him. It felt as if my heart was being ripped out of my chest, and I couldn't handle it. Besides Ray, Tyler was the only other man I'd ever been close to, so his words cut me deep. I pushed away from the table and ran out of the restaurant, not caring that I bumped into a man carrying two trays of food and caused him to drop everything in his hands.

“Sadie!” I heard Tyler call behind me, but I ignored him.

I just wanted to get back to the safeness of my room inside of the penthouse. The vacation couldn't be over soon enough. As I ran through the crowded strip, I knew one thing was for certain. I didn't want to see Tyler until we got back to Detroit. He had killed all hope. Business was all there would be between us now.

Devynn sat in the back of Lace watching the crowd go crazy over one of their best girls, Purp, wiggling her ass with little effort from her hips. The club was packed for it to be the middle of the workweek, but Devynn wasn't tripping. The more thirsty niggas, the better. She glanced around her and saw the bartenders pouring up drinks for a server to take to the VIP section of the strip club. Lace was a big thing in Detroit because, unlike Amore, which was more business savvy, the doors to Lace opened to a wider range of clients. Lace wasn't Magic City, but the bitches working there were as cold as ice. They ranged in all colors and sizes, giving Lace enough flavor needed to satisfy any man's taste.

Lace saw its share of high rollers. Whenever anybody big came to town, Lace was where they were, especially on Saturday nights. It was definitely poppin', and Devynn was feeling the vibe. The music was bumping, and every working girl was on the floor either popping their asses or their pussies in the faces of anybody with cash in their hands.

As the colored strobe lights flashed, Purp had a large audience surrounding the stage while she pranced around, dancing her heart out. Devynn stared at her and listened to the crowd go crazy when she lifted one of her legs up high, grabbed her ankle, and dropped into splits. The stage filled with money, and the bitch even picked up a few bills with the muscles of her ass cheeks, while bouncing up and down still doing the splits. Devynn's eyebrows raised, impressed with the show Purp was putting on. She averted her eyes from the stage and from the table where she was seated. With her drink, she could barely make out Adrianna in the crowd. She was making conversation with a few men at a table, who, Devynn had noticed, were being a little stingy with their wallets. She was smiling at them and laughing flirtatiously. Devynn smirked, knowing what she was doing. Adrianna was a beautiful Latina woman, and very likable. It was hard to deny her any want or need; she just had that type of personality. She was like Poison Ivy.

After a few more moments of talking to them, Adrianna grabbed two Beckys, Bubbles and Candy, for the table of men to have fun with. Devynn knew that those girls were into some freaky shit. It was a definite whenever they were put on a job, somebody's bank was going to get broken. Once they introduced themselves and made themselves at home on the laps of two of the men, Adrianna began making her way toward the table Devynn was seated at. When she saw Devynn shaking her head, she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face.

“Give them five minutes and I guarantee you, them niggas are going to be emptyin' every content in their pockets,” she said proudly.

“Whateva,” Devynn told her in her heavy New York accent, popping a piece of gum in her mouth.

Adrianna shrugged her shoulders, causing the half shirt she wore to raise and expose the golden sarcophagus forever branded on the side of her toned stomach.

“Where the fuck is Mocha's ass at?” Adrianna asked, looking around the crowded club to see Mocha's familiar face.

“I don't know. I told her ass to come. You know she's on her own fuckin' time.” Devynn leaned back in her seat, ignoring the eyes of men staring at her.

Devynn was a beautiful chocolate-skinned woman. Her cheekbones were high, and although skinny like a model, she had a little something behind her to hold. Another drink appeared in front of her unexpectedly. She just waved it away back to whatever low-life sent it. She sipped the drink she already had, knowing that none of the thirsty men in that club would ever be lucky enough to take her home. Devynn's heart was cold as ice, and because of that, she wouldn't even entertain any of the men who had even enough guts to take a whack at any type of relationship with her. With the business she was in, she knew dating anyone was risky. Money was her only motive, and if love never came, she'd have a room full of diamonds to comfort her.

“Well, hopefully, she hurries the fuck up,” Adrianna said, the look on her face implying that Mocha needed to be there.

Devynn studied Adrianna's outfit and noticed that she was a little dressier than usual. Instead of the usual skinny jeans on Adrianna's thick lower half, she wore a pair of black leggings. On her feet were a pair of badass nude pumps that crossed at the ankles. Adrianna even had a little bit of makeup on her already naturally beautiful face.

“Is Ray going to be here?” Devynn asked, and the tomato redness that overcame Adrianna's entire face was her answer. “I knew you liked that nigga. I see you checking for him all the time. His dick must be something if it got you dressing for him.”

“Shut up, bitch, you don't know my life! No, he's not going to be here!” Adrianna snapped, but she knew instantly how untrue her statement was.

She and Devynn had been a team for four years before The Last Kings. Vinny found them, starving and hungry, in the streets of New York. At that time, their only means of survival was hitting a few licks and sticking a few no-names up. The money never lasted long with their lavish spending habits, and they were often stuck in situations where they had to go without for days at a time. Vinny came into their lives and saved them, and all he asked in return was loyalty. He had to be sure he could trust them, so he gave them a target to hit. They had never killed anyone before, but for what he was offering them, they would have taken anyone out of the game. After they successfully had removed the target, Vinny took the two of them under his wing. They moved work underground in New York to not get the attention of the current boss of the city at that time, but did, however, infiltrate his cartel. Vinny needed the name of the connect, and they got it. A short while after informing Vinny of the name they heard, that same name appeared in the news. The man's body was found burnt to a crisp in his Audi. There was suspected foul play, but nothing was ever proven. The girls didn't ever ask what happened, but they knew then that the Italian Mafia was nothing to fuck with. When Vinny came to them with the proposition to be a part of maybe the biggest cartel known to the States, they hopped at the chance, dollar signs flashing before their hungry eyes. Their first meeting with Ray was a few weeks before the meeting at his home.

Devynn saw immediately the spark in Adrianna's eyes as they listened to Ray inform them of what they would be up against. Devynn herself couldn't deny that he was the epitome of a boss. He carried himself like he was made of money. When he spoke, the education he harbored was the truth. It intrigued Adrianna because she had expected a hood nigga like the ones she'd dealt with in the past. She knew then why Vinny invested so much in Ray. At just that first meeting with him, she had more faith in his operation then she'd had in anything for herself in her whole life.

“Mmm-hmm,” was all Devynn said. Normally, she would have warned Adrianna about the decisions her heart made. But after two failed attempts at love, she hoped her girl had grown some fuckin' sense. “D and Amann coming?” she asked Adrianna instead.

“They were supposed to have been here already too,” Adrianna said, the color slowly coming back to her face.

Devynn opened her mouth to speak, but just as she did, the three of them all sauntered into the club at the same time. One hell of a coincidence. Mocha walked in looking ravishing as always with her hair pulled back neatly into a ballerina bun and a skintight black dress with the sides cut out. Her face held a smug expression. She knew she was late, but she didn't care.

“Wassup?” D said once they were all at the table. “This muhfucka is popping tonight!”

“I don't give a fuck how popping it is, I'm missing out on money to be here,” Amann looked at Adrianna with a look that could kill. “You think the nigga is gon' show?”

“I scoped the muhfucka out before we pulled in. I ain't see nobody suspicious,” D said.

“When they ran in Taste, it was real messy,” Devynn said. “They were some amateur niggas. I'm not from here, but I could tell they weren't from here either.”

“You hear their voices?” Amann asked.

“Naw,” Devynn shook her head. “But we need to figure out who the fuck these niggas are.”

“No,” Adrianna disagreed. “We need to figure out who sent them.”

“The feds know what happened?” Mocha asked.

“Of course them muhfuckas know. You know somebody had to call their asses. By the time they got there though, there weren't any bodies to be found, and they didn't have a warrant to look around. We moved all the money here just until the drop is made.”

“You know them niggas are mad,” Mocha said.

“Yea,” Devynn agreed. “But until Tyler comes back, it's best not to get on their bad side.”

“Do you think they might try to hit Lace?” Mocha asked Adrianna.

She hadn't even gotten the words out of her mouth before Adrianna nodded her head toward the door, reaching for her waist. Entering the strip club was a group of men ranging in all ages, and they didn't look like they were there to enjoy in the festivities of half-naked bitches prancing around. Nobody but the five people at the table noticed the newcomers, and the crowd was so thick that it was hard to make all of them out, but Team Mula already knew what was up. The way the intruders moved through the crowd of people was snake-like, and Mocha could tell by the way they were dressed that Detroit wasn't their home. What niggas would wear Tims to the strip club in the summertime?

“A thirsty nigga can smell a dollar from a hundred miles away,” Adrianna said, standing to her feet.

“These niggas don't know who the fuck they're fuckin' with!” D exclaimed, infuriated, grabbing for the metal on his hip. “How the hell they even get in?”

Before they knew what was happening, the men dispersed, covering all ground in the club and began opening fire. At first, people thought it was a hoax, and they cheered. But once bodies began dropping and blood splattering in the air, the commotion began. The crowd became a frenzy of butt-naked bitches and wannabe ballers frantically trying their best to get out of the club. All exits were covered, so no one was going anywhere. They all split up and took cover as bullets rained all around us.

“Help!”

“Oh my God!”

“I don't want to die, man!”

There were several screams being let out as more bodies dropped.

“Get down!” Amann yelled to Mocha, and he shot his pistol over her, killing two of the shooters.

Fuck this,
Mocha thought. She reached and grabbed the pistol she kept strapped to her thigh and began firing too.

“There they go!” she heard somebody yell, but that didn't stop her from using her extended arm to dead them.

No mercy,
she thought as she blew off the top of one of their heads close range.

Adrianna and Devynn were already on it too. Devynn had her twins out, and Mocha witnessed her pistol-whip a nigga, and then blow his brains out all over Purp and Candy. The two of them were so scared they were trembling. Before Mocha could yell for them to get to their secured entry headquarters under the club, half of Candy's head was blown off. Purp was so startled, she jumped to her feet to run, but her body soon was embedded with at least twenty rounds. Her body jerked on the ground trying to hold on to any little piece of life she had left. The four of them held their ground until their own people finally got there and swarmed the club. The gunfight seemed to last forever until the intruders finally seemed to realize that The Last Kings had them outnumbered. But by then, it was too late. They hadn't thought their plan all the way through, and it wasn't going to be over until all of them were dead. Devynn squeezed both of her triggers until they clicked empty, and when they were smoking, she was finally able to hear that there were no more shots being fired. The strobe lights just gave that effect. She stood up and looked at the bloodbath before her and saw there were at least fifty dead bodies, a few of their own laid out.

“Let's go!” D yelled to Mocha, Adrianna, Amann, and Devynn.

The parking lot outside was almost as chaotic as the scene that had just taken place in the strip club. Cars were hopping curbs just to get the fuck out of there.

“It's only a matter of time before the feds get here,” Mocha said, pulling out her phone to call Ray. “Ain't no way a cleanup team can pull that shit off! It's like fifty dead muhfuckas in there!”

“I know.” Amann stood back and shook his head. “We ain't got no choice but to let the shit ride.”

“Sí,” Adrianna said. “I have to stay since I know them fuckin' pigs are going to need to speak to me. I'm about to go and get rid of the security footage. Devynn, get Mocha home safely. Amann and D, call Ray and let him know what's up. Tell him his blocks aren't safe and neither are any of his businesses. Two in one day?”

“Something ain't right,” Devynn said as they all walked quickly toward their vehicles leaving Adrianna behind.

Nobody said anything, but it was a fact that they all felt the same way.

“Today is drop-off day . . . before everything hits Amore,” Devynn continued. “Those niggas had to have known that . . . but—”

“Not one nigga made a move for the money,” D finished for her.

Devynn nodded her head, and Mocha shook hers.

“What were they trying to prove then?” Mocha asked, opening the door to her BMW coupe.

“The way them dudes came in execution style said it all,” Amann said over his shoulder getting into his Corvette parked on the opposite side of Mocha's vehicle. “They were trying to send a message. Of what? Now,
that's
the question. I ain't recognize not one of them cats.”

They all nodded, agreeing. Those men couldn't have been from Detroit. The city respected Ray too much to even dare to do that shit. But who?