The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(51)

Drying his blunt with a Zippo lighter, T-Walk took a moment to ponder his situation. He quickly decided that his beef with Blake was not worth losing $250 million. He wanted that money just as bad as he wanted Alexus.

“I’ll apologize,” he said. “It ain’t no big deal. I didn’t mean for that to hit the Internet in the first place.”

Just as the lawyer’s smartphone started ringing, Alexus uncrossed her legs and then re-crossed them, and T-Walk got a brief glimpse of her clean-shaven *; its plump lips were glistening with moisture.

Phone to her ear, Attorney Bostic suddenly shrieked, “Ooh, Jesus. My sister’s in labor?! Girl, I am on my way. Be there in less than an hour.” She hopped up from the sofa, snatching up her Prada bag and briefcase in the process. “Alexus, I’m sorry, but I have to get on the highway immediately. Kia’s having the baby.”

“Go ahead,” Alexus said, her emerald eyes trained on T-Walk. “I’ll drive myself to the airport. My Ferrari’s in the garage. Call and let me know how she’s doing.”

T-Walk put fire to the end of his blunt and drew in a cheek-bulging mouthful of smoke. Sucking it into his lungs, he watched the lawyer rush out the front door. Then he glanced at the camera that was mounted above the door and said, “Where’s your security team? Usually they’re everywhere.”

“They’re watching from the camera room.” Alexus leaned forward and grabbed a remote control from the glass-topped coffee table. She aimed it at the camera, pressed a button, then pointed it at the 150-inch flat-screen television and turned it on. Three rows of seven different camera feeds appeared on the screen. Only one of the rectangular boxes was black. “Well, they were watching from the camera room; now it’s just me and you.”

Smoke curled up into the air from the glowing end of T-Walk’s blunt as he filled his chest with another potent cloud of Kush. “Last year, you told me Blake had taken a paternity test for King Neal. You said the results proved that Blake was the father. Were you telling me the truth?”

A dramatic pause ensued. T-Walk’s smartphone was lighting up and vibrating on his hip, but he wasn’t about to answer it. He was anxious to know if King Neal Costilla was his or not; the phone call could wait.

Alexus sighed and readjusted her modest ponytail. “I… I don’t know,” she stuttered. “Not having it done was Blake’s idea. He didn’t want to take the test. We’re getting it done this weekend for sure.”

‘Damn,’ T-Walk thought, ‘I might have kidnapped my own son.’

Gazing at his ex through a haze of thick smoke, he reflected on the day he and three other men—Squirm-G, Lil Ant and Lil Regg—had kidnapped the baby from Earls’ Jewelry in downtown Chicago. Tasia had set it all up for him. She’d talked Alexus into letting her babysit King Neal, then she’d allowed him to be taken from her after Trintino and his goons had gunned down four Costilla family bodyguards.

Alexus shattered T-Walk’s reverie by uncrossing and re-crossing her legs again. This time he was certain she’d done it on purpose.

She dug in her purse and pulled out a box of Magnum condoms.

“I picked these up on the way here,” she said, getting up. She walked slowly toward T-Walk. “Let’s get some frustration out before we do any more talking. I haven’t had my daily dose of dick today.”





Chapter 30

“Drive faster!” Blake shouted at Nona.

He and Kenny were sitting in the backseat of Fly’s drop-top Caprice. He was holding his gold-plated AK-47, and Kenny had the AR-15 with a 120-round drum.

The suspicious Buick sedan remained five car-lengths behind them as Nona raced the old-school Chevy down 16th Street, veering the big-rimmed convertible around other vehicles and street-crossing pedestrians.

“What are they chasing us for?” Nona asked nervously.

“Just drive.” Blake said. “Make a left on Drake and park across from the corner store. Mercedes, call Alexus and let her know she was right about Jenny.”

Mercedes didn’t listen to him; instead, she ducked down in the passenger seat and began whispering a prayer. She had no idea of what was going on, but she’d seen Blake whisper something to Kenny as they had gotten into the car, and now the two Vice Lords were holding assault rifles, constantly glancing at the dirty Buick that was speeding up the street behind them.

“Sent some muhf*ckas to murk my bitch?!” Kenny grumbled heatedly. “Don’t even trip, I got ‘em.”

The candy-painted Chevy zipped swiftly along the two-way street, through a seedy ghetto that had recently undergone a two-hundred-million-dollar renovation, courtesy of Costilla Corp. Although the neighborhood was still replete with drug-dealing gang members, the houses, apartment buildings, and businesses—previously boarded up and dilapidated—were now thoroughly revamped and new-looking. With the top down, Blake noticed everything.

As Nona sped past Redbone’s on the corner of 16th and Trumbull, Blake spied a white Hummer H2 on big chrome rims parked at the curb in front of the gentleman’s club. Something occurred to him, but he quickly dismissed the thought; he was too focused on the rapidly approaching Buick.

Just as Nona was nearing the Drake Street convenience store, two of the Buick’s passengers dipped their upper bodies out the rear windows. Their faces were covered from the nose down by black-and-yellow bandanas, and their guns—a Tec-9 and a .45 caliber pistol—were pointed at the lime-green Chevy. At the same time, Blake and Kenny rose up and squeezed the triggers of their fully-automatic assault rifles.