Around the Way Girls 10 Read online

  Around the Way Girls 10

  Ms. Michel Moore, Marlon P.S. White, and Racquel Williams

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  NOT WITH MY MAN

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE ULTIMATE REVENGE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CUTTHROAT DIVAS

  CHAPTER ONE - London

  CHAPTER TWO - Ajanay

  CHAPTER THREE - Sheika

  CHAPTER FOUR - London

  CHAPTER FIVE - Sheika

  CHAPTER SIX - Ajanay

  CHAPTER SEVEN - London

  CHAPTER EIGHT - Ajanay

  CHAPTER NINE - Sheika

  CHAPTER TEN - London

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - Ajanay

  CHAPTER TWELVE - London

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - Sheika

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - London

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - Ajanay

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Sheika

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - London

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Ajanay

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - London

  CHAPTER TWENTY - Sheika

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Ajanay

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - London

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Sheika

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - Ajanay

  EPILOGUE - London

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Not With My Man Copyright © 2017 Ms. Michel Moore The Ultimate Revenge Copyright © 2017 Marlon P.S. White Cutthroat Divas Copyright © 2017 Racquel Williams

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6228-6771-4

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

  Submit Orders to:

  Customer Service

  400 Hahn Road

  Westminster, MD 21157-4627

  Phone: 1-800-733-3000

  Fax: 1-800-659-2436

  NOT WITH MY MAN

  by Ms. Michel Moore

  CHAPTER ONE

  “All right, y’all, strap up! Let’s do this!” Holding a gun in one hand, he eagerly used the other to pull a mask down over his face so you could see nothing but his street-hardened pupils blinking every so often. “Remember, everybody, stay safe. And if you have to kill one if these sons of bitches inside to make sure you get back home to your family tonight then so be it. Shoot the shit outta a motherfucker! We’ll deal with the fallout later.”

  “What in the hell.” Sasha was startled. Her eyes widened. The thunderous sound she’d rapidly heard three times caused her to jump out of her skin. The loud commotion was followed up by multiple strange voices shouting. Instantly, her heart raced. Strangely her feet couldn’t seem to move. She was frozen in fear of the unknown. Her home-cooked meal with special ingredients had been interrupted and she was helpless.

  “Search warrant, Detroit Police Department. Let me see them damn hands. Search warrant. Hands in the air, now,” the first officer entering the dwelling loudly demanded after his colleague rammed the front door. He was ready to kill if need be. If Sasha or anyone else who was behind the door they were taking put up any sort of opposition then so be it. The occupants’ blood would be on his hands, blood he’d happily take full responsibility for if need be.

  The rest of the brigade dressed in black stormed across the threshold, the door barely attached to one hinge. The last officer inside the otherwise quiet bungalow caused the solid oak door to break all the way from the frame. Just like that, it came crashing to the floor, causing another ear-splitting sound to bounce off the walls of the house.

  “Oh, my God, what is this? What do you want? What did I do?” Sasha pleaded for answers. Dumbfounded in front of the stove preparing spaghetti, she prayed as the tears started to flow. Still holding the black handle of the skillet in hand, Sasha fought to make complete sentences. Shocked and confused, she was almost at a loss for words as the small army of tight-laced boots trampled throughout her entire house, guns drawn. Sasha wasn’t expecting this unforeseen drama on her day off, or any other day for that matter. This occurrence, out of the blue, was nothing she was familiar with even though her husband was loyal to the street life.

  “Get on the floor. Get down and get on the damn floor now. Right now,” the cop shouted, pointing his department-issued revolver at her head. “Hurry up. Ain’t nobody playing with you. Now move!” Seconds away from pulling the trigger he felt his own adrenalin pumping. It was go time and he was ready to put in work.

  Rushing up to the thin-built female, he roughly grabbed her forearm. With one move, the trained officer of the law snatched Sasha away from the stove. Everything was moving so fast she couldn’t catch up. She wanted to tell him they had the wrong house, but she couldn’t. Before she could protest any further and even explain she was pregnant, he was slamming her face first onto the kitchen floor.

  Seemingly on purpose, portions of the ground turkey she was browning on the stove tumbled down as well. When some of the spicy seasoned meat landed dangerously close to Sasha’s face, also getting entangled in her weave, no one said, “Excuse me.” No one cared about the hot skillet that vindictively followed, melting a circular spot on the vinyl beige tile. If Sasha felt violated, disrespected, or slighted, so what? It was what it was to the Detroit Police Department Narcotics Taskforce. The comfort and security she was accustomed to having in her own home was of no concern to them. The joyful reality of just finding out she was almost two months along with child was not an issue to them at this point, even if they did know. Sasha Eubanks was merely one of two people residing at an address being raided. All that mattered to the taskforce was executing the search warrant and securing the premises.

  Sasha’s arms were swiftly pulled behind her back. She could feel her shoulder blades almost snap. The overzealous male cop then pressed his knee into her lower spine after holstering his weapon. The expectant mother screamed out in total agony as he applied more pressure. “Please! Please, stop! Stop! You’re hurting me. My arms are hurting. Please, Officer, please stop!”

  “Shut the hell up, lady, and do as you are told. Stop trying to resist and things will go a hellava lot easier for you.”

  Trying desperately to catch her breath, Sasha
was glad she’d mopped earlier considering the side of her face was being smashed down and practically becoming part of the floor. Feeling the plastic ties being tightened around her tiny wrists was more than she could take. “Please, please, please,” she managed to mutter in between the sobs. Tears poured out of each corner of her still wide eyes. Wanting to wipe her face, unfortunately the happy homemaker couldn’t.

  “Keep running that drug-dealing mouth of yours and you gonna get more than a knee in your back and being handcuffed.” The cop made sure she saw he was not for showing any sympathy. “Now shut your damn mouth; that’s my final damn warning!”

  From floor level, Sasha helplessly watched her perfectly kept home being turned upside down. The loveseat and chair were flipped over and the rear material torn off both. The cushions on the couch were sliced open and a few antique vases smashed. Callously, the living room and dining area curtains were snatched down from the rods as if someone could actually be hiding behind the sheer panels, ready to pounce.

  As her personal items were being trashed, Sasha remained silent. Normally feisty and outspoken, she had no choice. She had been warned multiple times to keep her mouth shut. If she didn’t, she’d run the risk of being marched onto the front porch and stretched out on the grass until they’d finish sweeping the house. Not wanting to be paraded and put on display for her neighbors’ ridicule, Sasha sucked it up. She asked the Almighty to give her strength while calling the over-the-top cops everything but the child of God in her head.

  “Yeah, we got one good to go secured in the back,” a voice proudly yelled out.

  “We all clear in the basement.”

  “All clear on the upper level.”

  One by one, hearing taskforce members check in with each other, the cop towering over Sasha smirked. He was content. None of his team had been injured upon entry and there had been no gunplay, deadly or otherwise. Now that the entire house was deemed officer friendly it was time for phase two to be put in effect. Using one hand he grabbed Sasha’s wrist, making the plastic ties tighter. Not caring about the excruciating pain the female claimed she was in, the cop jerked her upward until she was back to her feet.

  “Please, Officer, please. My side is hurting.” Her tears never once let up as she continued to beg for mercy.

  “Didn’t I tell you to shut your damn mouth?” Hell-bent on doing his job with as little emotion as possible, he stuck to proper protocol. Yanking her up from the floor, he roughly guided her into the living room. Sasha was instructed to take a seat on the couch that was missing all of its cushions. Taking longer to move than the officer wanted, Sasha was verbally assaulted, along with getting knocked in her shoulder. Once more, the terrified female was urged not to speak until spoken to.

  Sitting on the far corner of the couch near the fireplace, Sasha heard her husband’s voice getting louder. Focusing on the hallway, seconds later he appeared, being manhandled by two policemen. Not as accommodating to authority figures as his wife, Mario was going berserk. A two-time felon, with countless misdemeanors also under his belt, he’d been down this road before and he knew his rights.

  “Sasha, don’t say shit to these grimy, rotten motherfuckers.” He struggled to break free from the same type of plastic ties that held his wife. Seeing how the taskforce had destroyed his living room, Mario grew even more enraged. “These sons of bitches ain’t got shit on me, bae; they ass just out here in these streets fucking with people like me and you in our house minding our own damn business. Old nothing-ass lames. That’s why all the real ones be out here dumping on y’all coward asses, putting something hot in y’alls’ heads.”

  “Yo, homeboy, didn’t I tell your wannabe-tough ass to calm the fuck down in there talking that rah-rah bullshit?” One of the cops shoved Mario in his back, causing him to stumble over the coffee table. When he fell to the floor, his jaw felt the brutal impact of another officer’s fist sucker punch him. “Now slow your dumb ass down before you catch these hands from me; for real, too.”

  “Catch these hands? Who, me? Oh, so dig that, you wanna try to beat on a guy when they at a disadvantage all tied up, huh? You and me both know you only with that ho shit because I’m fucked up right about now.” Mario’s face started to immediately swell as he spoke. He frowned, trying to show his hands from the backside; but he couldn’t. “If we was out on the block and I wasn’t tied up it’d be on. I’d bust that ass for real, no questions asked, toe to toe. I ain’t like Mike Brown. I don’t just growl. I bite!”

  As if on cue, all the cops within earshot laughed. Veterans and rookies alike had that same conversation almost word for word with every thug they were about to lock up. They’d heard that same line numerous times. Mario and the way he was stuntin’ for their sake was amusing, if nothing more.

  However, for Sasha, now slumped over on her side begging for God’s mercy, wasn’t shit funny. She was hysterical; her lower abdominal was aching and her fingertips were growing increasingly numb. She’d counted at least eleven strangers in her home, most covering their faces. None seemed to be listening to her constant pleas for help. When they finally got Mario to be quiet long enough, they had him sit on the couch next to Sasha.

  “Why don’t you sit your punk ass down next to your little crybaby girlfriend and relax? Let us do our damn job in peace.”

  “First of all, she’s my wife, idiot, not my girlfriend,” Mario angrily fired back, still ready to go a couple of rounds. “And, second of all, guess what? Fuck you and your damn job.”

  Once again the same renegade cop with a temper ran up from the rear of the couch. Slamming his closed fist into Mario’s mouth, this time drawing blood, he smiled. The force of the blow caused the blood mixed with salvia to splatter on Sasha’s face and shirt. Mario grimaced, still being a soldier, while Sasha cried.

  Minutes later, two of the men searching the basement came upstairs. Acting as if they’d hit the four-digit dollar straight and dollar boxed, the mini-celebration started. Tossing a small, unzipped duffle bag on the coffee table, Mario looked dumbfounded as huge amounts of various pills came spilling out. He turned his face toward the wall, wishing that when he turned his head back the bag and all its illegal contents would have disappeared. Of course that didn’t happen. Mario looked back to now see not only the bag and pills, but his rainy day stash shoebox.

  “Damn, hell yeah. There’s the freaking headshot right there,” the lieutenant on duty announced, elated they hadn’t been on a dummy mission and wouldn’t be returning to the station empty-handed. “That along with the money that was located in the shoebox in the rear bedroom should be good enough to get your smart-talking ass locked back up. Then let’s see who the tough guy is when you facing the judge.”

  Mario was forced to think quickly. The good day he’d had flicking a shitload of pills off had just gone all the way south. Caught red-handed, he had a serious screw face, much to their overall enjoyment. There was nothing that these police and several others would like to see more than him being returned to prison, caged up like an animal. Mario was not naïve to the system. The hardcore criminal knew the next time any judge laid eyes on him in their courtroom they were going to be banging him hard. “Man, fuck all that you talking about. Them pills ain’t mine. Not them or that damn money. That shit ain’t mine. Y’all faggots trying to set a young, innocent brother up.”

  “Oh, yeah, is that right?” the officer who’d body-slammed Sasha to the kitchen floor spoke out while grinning. “Then why don’t you tell us all whose stuff this is? Solve the mystery for us all, please. We’re waiting to be enlightened.”

  Mario was desperate. He didn’t want to go back to prison, not today, tomorrow, or ever. Even though he could jail it if need be, eating cook-ups and walking the yard was not on his agenda. The hardened criminal was on the edge of being lost and buried in the system for years to come. He couldn’t wrap his head around the thought.

  Before Mario knew it, he’d blurted out the unforgivable: “You know what? Them is her
s. Them her pills and the money. It must be, ’cause I ain’t never seen the shit before in my life.” Mario turned his body the best he could and looked over at his teary-eyed wife. The street thug showed no emotion. He was more than ready to throw Sasha under the bus if it meant he could walk away from this charge. “Damn, bae, where you get that type of money from? You been holding out on me or what?”

  “Come on dude, is you really about to say fuck your girl like that? You’s a real piece of work.” All the other officers agreed, looking at Mario with contempt.

  Sasha, of course, felt the same as the police: the very men who’d mistreated her and had just destroyed her home. Without a second thought, she gave her supposedly loyal, devoted husband the side-eye as well. Oh, hell naw. Did he just say that? How could he? I’ve told him to get all these pills out of the house. He knows you never supposed to shit where you sleep at; hardheaded, lying-ass dummy got us both messed up. Now he’s here trying to mess me over. Still in pain, she lowered her head in disbelief. Mario had promised to love, honor, and cherish her the rest of their lives. Now here he sat, basically saying fuck her freedom and fuck her life. “Mario, really, how could you?” she sadly mumbled, turning her lowered head in disgust.

  In the midst of all the unexpected turmoil that was taking place, Sasha closed her beet red eyes. In denial, she fought hard to tune out her terrible reality. Somehow, someway, she found a way to transport her mind back in time. Before the suspected female drug dealer knew it, she was reliving the day she met the now foul-intentioned Mario. Sasha and he were as different as night and day. Everyone, including them, always wondered what made them start dating, let alone decide to get married. The tighter she closed her eyes, the clearer those days became.

  She and her best friend, Kat, were hanging out at the park after the Summer Jam concert. There was stop-and-go traffic around the strip. Every expensive car, rimmed, custom-painted truck, and wide-tire motorcycle you could imagine was in the constant parade around the bend. Sasha and her sidekick had been enjoying the late-evening goings-on and they were only minutes from getting in Kat’s Ford Tempo with a huge dent on the driver’s side door. It may have not been the best vehicle parked that night, but the two of them were content. It’d gotten them to the concert and to the park, and it was about to get them home. Dressed all in white, Sasha and Kat slowly strutted toward the car, hoping more than a few dudes wearing Nikes, wife beater tops, and sagging jeans would look their way.