Dirty Tricks

Book 2: Schemes Series

by Kiki Swinson, Saundra

Genres: African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

"Stay Scheming"
Kiki Swinson

Karlie Houston is broke, betrayed - and running from a bounty on her head. Turns out the real owners of the payday loan office she ripped off weren't cool with her idea of employment bennies. With her lover and friends gone, she's forced to take refuge with her cold-hearted grandmother. But with enemies closing in, Karlie's last chance to flip a killer script is ticking down to slim, none - and dead.

"Who Can You Trust?"
Saundra

Struggling bank teller Porsha has no time for Cinderella fantasies. She's working overtime to keep her tragedy-struck family off the streets. But her new boyfriend, Game, is smart, seductive - and sure-thing successful. So why not work his rock-solid plan to steal from her bank? All she's got to lose is more than she can possibly imagine.

Release date: August 29, 2017

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 368

Sample

“Shit. Not again,” I mumbled under my breath as sweat beads as big as raindrops ran a race down my forehead and dripped into my eyes. I tried to blink them away as quickly as possible to keep my burning eyes from being closed too long. No second could be spared. I couldn’t afford to take my eyes off the piece-of-shit traitor in front of me. I am not sure if it was the anger or the shock or both that had my knees knocking together, but whatever it was, my entire body trembled like a leaf in a wild storm. My heart thrummed so hard I felt like it was sitting outside my chest. I sucked in my breath and squinted. My nostrils flared on their own.

Be tough, Karlie. You’ve been through worse, I told myself. I had certainly been through some shit over the past six months. My life had always been full of challenges, though. Nothing ever came easy for Karlie Houston. Not even childhood, when shit is supposed to be carefree and fun. I can’t remember a time in my life that was free of cares, worries, drama, and just plain old bullshit.

I sometimes wondered why God was punishing me all the time. Abuse, poverty, death, and destruction were the words that summed up my existence.

“I’m not playing with you.” I had finally found my voice. But I was immediately mad at myself because my voice was trembling like a scared child, and I couldn’t make it stop. I could see the amusement light up his ugly face.

“Oh, you think it’s funny? You must think I’m some punk bitch. But I’m telling you now, I will do it. I swear to everything I have left and everything I ever loved . . . I will do it. I don’t have shit else to lose,” I said through my teeth. That was the truth as plain as I could say it. I had nothing left to lose.

The muscles in my arms burned as I kept them extended in front of me, elbows locked, grip tight. The bastard shook his head dismissively and smirked at me like he didn’t take me seriously at all.

“What? What you gon’ do?” He chuckled evilly. All that was left was for him to stick his tongue out at me, stick his thumbs in his ears, and twist his hands like kids do when they tease each other. Fire flashed in my chest. I had never taken too kindly to being teased.

“Watch and see,” I said, shifting on my feet.

“You ain’t gon’ do shit, that’s what. You all talk. You always did think you were smarter than everyone else around you . . . family and friends. Somebody must’ve lied to your ass, little girl. I’m not one of those simple-minded niggas you can game into doing your dirty work or get over on. You might have had some of those lames by the balls, but me, I’m one step ahead of your ass. You think I don’t know how you tried to set me up? Huh?” he spat, with his face curling into the most evil snarl I’d ever seen. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought I was standing face-to-face with Lucifer himself.

“I never liked you, Karlie. All these years, there was always something grimy about you, your trashy-ass mother, and that little bitch sister of yours that I didn’t like.”

He was still speaking, but suddenly I couldn’t hear him anymore. Did he just mention my sister? Did he just go there? He knew that was a sore topic for me.

My nostrils flared and I swallowed hard. How fucking dare he say something about Miley? I had always been fiercely protective of my sister, but now, I felt more of a need to defend her name and her honor.

“Shut the fuck up about her,” I growled almost breathlessly. “Don’t you ever say anything out of your rotten-ass mouth about my sister. You bitch-ass nigga. I swear I will blow your ass away. I don’t care who you are.”

I could feel my chest heaving. My jaw rocked feverishly as I tried to hold on to my composure. I didn’t want any more bloodshed. I really didn’t. That was the only reason he was still alive. I was tired of death and destruction around me. But that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t do what I had to do. Especially if it meant the difference between me coming out of this alive or him leaving in a body bag.

“Oh, does the truth hurt?” he snarled. “You don’t like anyone to tell you the truth? You don’t like to hear that you and your sister were two scandalous bitches that got everything y’all deserved? From the time y’all were kids doing sneaky shit to get over, stealing money, stealing food, I knew y’all would grow up to be just like your mother . . . a piece of shit.”

“Shut up,” I said in an eerily calm voice. My voice completely contradicted the raging inferno burning inside me. I don’t know why I was so calm, and that scared me more than he did.

Unlike mine, his extended arm didn’t waver or shake. His aim was steady. Sure. Purposeful.

“Nah, I’m going to tell it. You don’t think y’all got what was coming after years of scandal?”

I swallowed hard again, but the lump in my throat just wouldn’t go away. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I was going to have to kill this nigga. I could feel it all down in my bones. It was going to be him or me.

“All I want is for you to leave. We can call it fair. You did some shit and I did some shit. It’s a draw. You walk away, I walk away. End this. Nobody has to get hurt. Ain’t nothing else to prove.” I still spoke calmly, another last-ditch effort to end this shit without death. My insides were going so crazy—churning stomach, racing heart. I felt like I’d throw up any minute. This wasn’t my first time facing down death, but that didn’t make it easy to deal with. I had watched everything and everyone around me get destroyed. Suddenly my sister Miley’s face flashed through my mind. Her sweet smile. Her laughter. Even her annoying nagging when she was being spoiled.

I could also hear my boyfriend Sidney’s voice in my ear . . . I love you, baby. Just be careful. Let me take care of you. He used to say that all of the time.

I felt my knees buckle a little bit. If I could have just lain down and curled into a ball and cried for hours, I would have. Some people would say what was happening at the moment was karma for some of the things I’d done in my lifetime, but I say fuck karma—everything that happened and what was happening now was because of evil motherfuckers like the one I was standing in front of at the moment. I had learned the hard way that evil exists in human form, and I was surrounded by it. I was confronted by it. It was a part of my own family. And I was going to either destroy it or be destroyed by it.

“So what’s it gonna be, Karlie? Giving up?” he asked, his gun pointing right at my forehead.

“Hmph,” I scoffed and bit down hard into my bottom lip. I adjusted my grip on my gun, which was now pointing directly at his heart. “Nigga, please. You better give up. You better try and end this if you know what’s good for you.”

He shook his head.

It was a standoff. A duel. A draw. One thing was for sure, at least one of us was not going to walk away from this.

“End this? Nah, baby girl. You can’t start some shit and then think you can just end it. See, in the streets and in life, when you start something, you ain’t got no choice but to see it through,” he replied. Then he cocked the hammer on his gun.

“A’ight. Suit yourself, motherfucker,” I spat, sliding my right pointer finger into the trigger guard of my Glock. He laughed again, an evil cackling laugh that caused tight goose bumps to crop up on my body.

“I’ll see you in hell, bi—” he started to say. That was enough . . .

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

I fell backward. My ears were ringing. Neither one of us uttered another word. The smell of the gunpowder immediately settled at the back of my throat. I coughed. I gurgled. I was suddenly freezing cold and then hot again. I couldn’t breathe.

How did it all come to this? Why? Why me?

That was the last thing I remember thinking before the darkness engulfed me.

Three Months Earlier

“Karlie. Karlie, wake up!”

“I’m sorry, Miley!” I screamed as I jumped out of my sleep and whipped my head around frantically. My chest pumped up and down so fast I had to cough to catch my breath. My eyes slowly began to focus and I took in my sister’s face. The scars on her left cheek and the healing gash over her right eye brought me back to reality. Miley had been through a terrible ordeal, but she had survived.

“Hey. Hey. You were dreaming,” Miley said softly, concern creasing her face.

“Oh my God,” I gasped, placing my hand on my chest. I looked around my hospital room again to make sure I was really dreaming. The nightmares of our experience were relentless. They came every night. I couldn’t close my eyes without thinking about what had happened to us. It was the reason we were holed up in the hospital now. A near-death experience was an understatement.

“I’m right here. What are you saying sorry about?” Miley said, touching my hand gently. “We are here together. I thought you would be excited that they moved me to your room. That means I’m much better. No more ICU, no more close monitoring. I am on the mend, big sis. That’s good news,” she continued.

I finally relaxed against the pillows on my bed. She was right. It was good news. I looked at the remnants of the cuts and bruises on my sister’s face and the sling that still held her arm and sighed loudly. Of course the guilt came crashing back down on me. It was a miracle Miley was alive after the torture she’d endured. I’d always known my sister was strong, but now I knew for sure she was a fighter . . . a damn warrior.

“I’m happy you’re here, Miley. We are lucky to be alive, and I’m actually overjoyed you’re right here with me,” I assured her, parting a weak smile.

“Good, because I came to get on your nerves as usual. I will be right up your butt until they let us out of here,” she joked, limping over to the other bed. I let out a halfhearted chuckle, but deep down inside I was still dealing with my guilt over what had happened to her. It had been my idea to set up the EZ Cash payday loan store I worked at to be robbed. At the time, with our bills mounting, no prospects of getting any real money, and exposure to all of that cash on a daily basis, it seemed like a foolproof, solid plan that would net us enough cash to pay off some of our debts and get us straight for at least a little while.

At first, the robbery planning and execution had seemed to go smoothly. Miley and I had insider information about the stores, the operation times, the safes, the surveillance cameras; all of the necessary things a stickup crew would need to know. I also thought then that my boyfriend Sidney and his crew were the right dudes for the job. Boy, was I wrong.

Too bad I didn’t find out until much later. With my help, Sidney and his friends had actually pulled off the perfect heist. We had stolen enough cash to do everybody involved a world of good. But you know what they say, right? What can go wrong, will go wrong. Oh yeah, the part that I planned—the robbery—went down smoothly. Well, I mean as smoothly as a robbery could go. It was the aftermath that went awry.

The whole crew counted up the money afterward and decided as a group we would fall back from spending it until the police heat after the heist died down. We decided to stash the money in different places. Smart, right?

I thought so until things slowly began to fall apart. “No honor amongst thieves” is an understatement. First, each one of Sidney’s friends started popping up dead. Somehow, their identities were made known. I thought it was their stupid bragging, but then again, nothing was as it seemed at that time. I do know their murders scared the living shit out of me and Miley.

Next, Miley and I were kidnapped and beaten almost to death. Then my sister and I were miraculously saved by a detective who we had thought of as the bane of our existence during the whole time we were hiding the money, but who turned out in the end to be our savior. Truthfully, I am shocked that we are both alive. When I arrived at the hospital, I was told they didn’t think my sister would make it. I was in bad shape myself, but I prayed and prayed to God that my sister’s life be spared. My prayers had been answered. Weeks later and here we are . . . alive. Still a little beat up, but alive nonetheless.

“What are they saying about the use of your hands?” I asked Miley, trying to change the subject and get my mind off the past.

“The physical therapy is helping, and I’m praying soon I will get some of the feeling back,” she replied as the nurse helped her settle her things into the space across from mine.

“At least I don’t have to be stuck on that critical unit anymore. The doctors said the electric shocks could’ve done irreparable damage to my heart and other vital organs, but thankfully, they didn’t,” Miley said. “I’m lucky as hell.”

I closed my eyes and turned my face away from her. I knew in my heart my sister would really never be the same. If I was having nightmares about our ordeal, I was sure Miley needed drugs just to get to sleep.

Within a few seconds, I felt Miley climbing into my bed next to me. I moved over slightly. Miley hugged me tight. I felt warm inside. Not warm enough to erase the guilt I felt, but a warm comfort that only my sister and I shared since being left by our mother as kids. I was responsible for Miley then, and I always took that role seriously. Even now.

“Karlie, please stop blaming yourself. I was down with everything too. I knew exactly what I was getting into, and I didn’t back down. None of this is your fault. Besides, you were just as beat up as I was, and I’m just glad we are alive. Alive and together. That’s all that matters to me,” Miley said softly, giving me another squeeze. I smiled a little bit. We lay there for a few long minutes. I know her mind was racing with thoughts just like mine. We would definitely have to rebuild our lives. And I had a gut feeling that it wasn’t going to be easy either. Nothing in our lives had ever been easy. And to my dismay, I would soon find out that nothing had changed.

Miley and I had been in the hospital for two more days when Dr. Dubois, our main attending doctor, walked into our room and interrupted our ratchet TV watching.

“Ms. Houston.” Dr. Dubois nodded at me first, then turned slightly to face Miley. “Ms. Houston.” Miley and I both stared at him expectantly and said “yes,” almost in unison.

“I think it is safe to say you are both well on your way to full recoveries. I think it is time to break you both out dis joint,” he said using awkward Ebonics as a dry joke at the end of his statement.

“Yes. About time,” Miley chimed in a few seconds later, raising her good arm in the air. “We’ve been ready to get up out of here,” she said.

She wasn’t lying. Miley and I had been talking about how our life was going to be after we left the hospital. We definitely couldn’t go back to our old apartment. Detective Castle had already told us it was way too dangerous. We didn’t have the money from the robberies, so it wasn’t like we could just go cop a new spot to live. After the cops saved our lives, we of course had to give up the cash. It was all part of the cooperation that helped us stay out of legal trouble. It wasn’t lost on the detectives that we had set up the robberies, but the murders had overshadowed our responsibility in it. Our cooperation sealed the deal.

I got an instant headache just thinking about it all. Shit, our circumstances were worse now than they were before the heist. Forget about a job. Our faces had been plastered all over the news, so there was no way any business in the Tidewater area—or any area, for that matter—was going to hire us. Hustling was out of the question. We had tried that once when we were teenagers. It hadn’t gone so well. We had made too many enemies way too fast in that business. Besides, Miley was way too flashy and I was way too impatient and leery for all of that looking-over-your-shoulders and figuring out who had your back versus who was going to stab you in it.

“I guess that’s good news,” I said, trying to fake my excitement about getting released from the hospital.
. . .