Hood Misfits Volume 4

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Shawn “Enzo” Banks and Bianca “Angel” Smith are back with a plan enveloped in vengeance. After dealing with Micah Tems, a man who was bent on turning Enzo into a monster, both Angel and Enzo were forcefully thrust into the seedy corrupt world of the streets again, effectively falling into Micah’s plan.

With time ticking away and Enzo’s desire to keep his career and family intact, he will fall into darkness and embrace what he fought so hard not to be: the son of the Devil.
Can Angel keep him from turning into the very thing she ran from? Can Shawn’s family keep both Angel and Enzo safe while going head to head with Micah? When fame, money, and status are what they need to survive, just how far will they go to keep hell in their rear view?

Step back into the world of the Hood Misfits, because in war, sometimes blood is all that can save you.

Welcome to the endgame.

Release date: January 26, 2016

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

After Candace sucked my dick and swallowed any chances of her having my children, I got up and went to shower. I’d never had a nut as painful as the one I’d just had. That nigga, Enzo, had stuck a wire hanger up my pee hole when it was scalding hot and that shit had fucked me up. For days he’d tortured me in an old, abandoned house after he had other members of the Nightwings turn against me to help him with his plan. He’d caught me slipping one time, but he wouldn’t again.

As soon as the warm water hit my body, I let out a yell and punched the wall. Enzo had done a number on me and I intended to make that motherfucker pay. With everything I had left in me, he would pay.

It was just by fate that Enzo’s little brother Drew didn’t tie me back up the way Enzo had after the last day they had tortured me. A twist of fate, luck, and a crackhead had saved me from death at the hands of an Orlando. My history of beef with the Orlandos went back a long way. I’d never forget the way they singlehandedly destroyed my family in one day. I’d never been a man to cry and whine over my circumstances, but when a man took away lives like they meant nothing, something had to be done.

A knock came on the bathroom door as water rushed over my body like a waterfall. The crib I was in wasn’t the normal place I laid my head, but because I wasn’t into trusting Candace as far as I could throw her—actually I could throw that bitch farther than I could trust her—I wasn’t about to have her take me there. The bathroom was small. The granite countertop was only big enough to hold my toothpaste, toothbrush, and shaving kit. The mirror was a regular small square with a medicine cabinet built into the wall behind it. There was a small window that had no curtain, only off-white blinds, and the toilet was rickety when you sat on it. The place in its entirety was small, almost claustrophobic, but it was a good place to be incognito. When I wasn’t Micah Tems, the Nightwings’ top sponsor and team manager, I was Micah Tems, the special agent in charge of ridding Atlanta of their major criminal enterprises.

“Yeah,” I yelled out.

“You okay?” she asked me.

“I’m good. Give me a minute.”

“Okay, but I just talked to Gina.”

That got my attention. Shawn “Enzo” Banks had been a thorn in my asshole. Once Damien Orlando had been killed—supposedly by a group of Hood Misfits—all my hard work at infiltrating his crime faction, DOA, seemed to have been for naught. The operation I’d been heading up for years seemed to be on the verge of collapse until I’d convinced my director that there were others out there who still needed to be taken down. It had all been a ploy to stay connected to DOA any way I knew how. Since Dame, Dante, and their father, Lu Orlando, had all been taken down, I knew I was one step closer to getting the streets of Atlanta safe again.

While I knew there were other criminal enterprises that I needed to get rid of, like the African Queens, the Latin Kings, Russian cartels, and other big names like the Kulu Kings, I knew of one other Orlando who could be a tyrant if let loose on the streets of ATL. He was Enzo. Phenom was another one on my list who I had a sneaking suspicion about; and he was just what his name alluded to. He was so skilled and talented at what he did that no law enforcement had ever been able to catch him with his hands dirty. He didn’t exist. While his name was always floating through the streets, one had yet to see exactly what he looked like. Anyone we’d thought was him turned out to be just another dead end.

Finding out Enzo was an Orlando wasn’t that hard for me to do. I knew the kid was an Orlando as soon as I’d laid eyes on him. Strange enough, when Dame was alive, he’d kept a close eye on the boy like he’d known too. After a little DNA test, courtesy of the fact that people tend to spit gum out anywhere and never think anything of it, I found out that he was indeed an Orlando. The way Dame would pass off the torturous acts to Enzo led me to believe he’d known something, even if it was just a hunch.

There was no way Damien hadn’t looked at that boy and seen something, I thought as I started replaying things that had happened under Dame’s rules. People had always joked that the boy was Dame Jr. with the way he would carry out acts in Dame’s basement, which some had started to call the Underworld. Enzo, Trigga, and Big Jake: the three hood niggateers who no one wanted to see coming for them. While Trigga had been silent like a predator, Enzo had taken a public liking to offing others. He took way too much pride in the work he used to put in when it came to putting down an enemy.

I quickly stepped out of the shower, water dripping all over the faux, linoleum flooring, and snatched the door open. Candace jumped back like I’d scared her with my abruptness. I’d asked Candace to get her daughter to talk to her and bring her boyfriend, Big Jake, along. Jake and Enzo were close and I’d use any means necessary to draw Enzo back into the fire again.

“What did she say?” I asked her.

When Candace started to shake her head I knew I’d have to find another way to get what I wanted. I growled out in frustration and slammed the door in her face.

“You don’t have to be a dick, Micah,” she yelled at me from the hall. “I tried, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She hung up in my face.”

I drowned Candace out and finished my business in the bathroom. With any luck she would be gone when I stepped out. Luck was on my side. When I walked out of the bathroom Candace was gone. I didn’t bother to dry off. I lay across the bed and let my mind wonder back to a time when I was an innocent ten-year-old little boy. Fucking Orlandos were going down once and for all. They would no longer snatch young girls and boys off the street to be pawns in their debauchery.

I reached over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. I pulled a picture out that I kept close to me at all times. I looked down at the smiling faces of two kids. They’d grown up poorer than the poorest, but they were as close as siblings could get. The young girl smiling, holding her little brother in her lap—even though he was as tall as she was—would always be missed. Erica had been only sixteen when Lu Orlando took her like she had belonged to him.

I’d never forgive myself for her being taken as she was.

That day, Mama and Daddy had to work late and Erica was supposed to cook dinner. I was a bad ass kid at the time. She had cooked rice and bacon, the only things we had left. Our neighborhood was one of the poorest. There was no other way to put it. Vacant houses sat on our block, boarded up. Crackheads decorated the block like street signs.

Kids rode around on makeshift bikes with two different kinds of wheels. Had been to the dump and found pieces of bikes myself and put one together. That was how down in the dumps most of us were around there. I typically ate whatever Erica put in front of me since it was she who took care of me most nights when Mama and Daddy had to work. But I’d been eating rice and bacon for two weeks by then. We had cereal but no milk. So I whined and whined for cereal until Erica finally gave in.

“Okay, okay, Micah. Damn it, li’l boy,” she snapped, pretending to be angry; but I knew she wasn’t.

I was only ten, but my big sister had spoiled me. She got me anything I wanted. I used to ask where she was getting all the money from, but she just told me to mind my business. Erica made me promise not to tell Mama and Daddy that she had been sneaking out late at night and then coming back home before anyone could miss her. So I didn’t. She dressed me, threw my coat on and a wool hat over my head, and then we headed out the door to walk to the corner store. A snow white BMW pulled up as we walked into the store.

“Ooohhh, bingo,” I called out, making Erica laugh.

My sister had the prettiest laugh of any girl I knew. We always played the bingo game, where if we saw a car, whoever said “bingo” first owned the car in our minds.

“Wait, that’s not fair, Micah. You didn’t give me time,” she cajoled.

“So? I saw it first and that ride is slickkkk, sis,” I replied, trying to sound like the cool kid I wasn’t.

She giggled. “Okay, okay, what if I told you I could get you a ride in that car?”

My eyes widened. “For real?” I asked, beaming with excitement.

“Yes. I know the man who owns it,” she bragged.

I looked up into my sister’s face. Most people mistook her for a white girl because of how light she was and the texture of her hair. She had golden triangle-shaped earrings in her ears. The Gloria Vanderbilt jeans she had on my parents couldn’t afford. In fact, nothing she had on my folks could afford, but she was getting it from somewhere.

My eyes got even wider. “You do?”

She nodded. “Yeah. His name is Lu.”

I frowned. “What kind of name is that?”

She giggled. “A nice one. His name is Lu Orlando.”

“The bad, bad man? Daddy and Mama said for us to stay away from anybody with that last name.”

Erica kneeled in front of me with a frown on her face. “Mama and Daddy just misunderstand them like everybody else. Lu’s a good guy. Look at me,” she quipped then held her arms out. “Ain’t I fly? Who you think gives me money to get you all that stuff you got?”

I was confused. “The bad man gives it to you?” She nodded and I didn’t really understand. “Why? Mama and Daddy say he ain’t no good for the hood.”

Erica tsked. “Don’t listen to them, bighead. He’s good people.”

Just as she said that the BMW’s back windows slowly rolled down.

I’d never forget the day I first laid eyes on the men who would forever change the dynamics of my home life.

“Erica, let me talk to you for a second,” a man with coal black eyes called out to my sister.

Even at ten years old, I could feel the air get colder around us, but Erica smiled then stood.

“Stay right here, Micah, okay? Don’t move,” she told me before walking over to the car.

Before she made it to the door, the back door opened and out stepped the tallest men I’d ever seen before. Both men were built like statues. One was the older version of the one who had called my sister over. Women gawked, but started to walk faster. Men cringed and refused to make eye contact with them. Both men were dressed like they were going to church or something. That was the only time I’d seen men in their good suits like those men were.

“This is my father, Caltrone,” the younger man said.

My sister’s cheeks flushed red and she dropped her head a bit before glancing back up at the older gentleman. While the man’s face was stoic, the way he was gawking at my sister’s overly developed body made me feel some type of way. I knew they were too old and she was just a kid.

“Nice to meet you,” Erica told him.

All he did was nod, but the younger version of the man carried a slick smirk. He grabbed Erica by one hand then spun her around as if showcasing her for the older man. I was confused because she was all too happy to do it. For the first time, I felt like I didn’t know my sister.

“So, I need you and my father to get better acquainted. He’s only in the States for a few days until he goes to Cuba. Think you can hook my old man up with your specialty?”

“I can do anything you want me to do,” Erica answered.

Specialty? What’s that? I thought.

The younger man nodded toward me. “Seems like you have a tagalong,” he said.

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Oh, that’s my little brother, Micah. I was going to get him some milk for his cereal,” she told him.

The younger man reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash so big that I openly gawked and walked a little closer. I’d never seen that much money.

“Get rid of him,” the younger man told Erica as he held the money out to her. She nodded and eagerly took the money.

Erica turned and rushed back over to me. She kneeled down again. “Hey, I gotta do something for Lu. Think I can just buy you something quick out of here and then take you back home?”

I was still busy looking at all the money in her hand. “Why the bad man give you all this money?” I was loud and didn’t even realize it.

“Shhh.” She placed her hand over my mouth then glanced over her shoulder. “Just come on, Micah. I have to make money so we won’t be hungry and poor. You can’t tell Mama and Daddy though, okay? Don’t ever tell them, no matter what, okay?”

I foolishly nodded and followed my sister. I was just an eager kid, happy to please his sister and happy to see all of that money. Erica rushed inside of the store and bought me anything I asked for: candy, chips, cookies, juice, some chicken they already had cooked, and a little action figure toy I wanted. I was a happy kid.

It never occurred to me that as my sister walked me back home, that would be the last time I would see her alive.

She quickly fixed me a plate of leftover rice to go along with the chicken. “Hey, I have to leave now, okay?” she told me.

I nodded. “Okay, where you going?”

“To take care of something.”

“When you coming back?”

“Later tonight like always. Leave the window unlocked for me like last time, okay?”

I nodded once again as I bit into the chicken. “You going with the bad man?”

“He’s not a bad man, Micah.”

“He looks like one. Only bad men look the way he do, like Mama said.”

Erica just rolled her eyes and shook her head as she stood. “Lock the doors, okay? And hide this in our secret spot,” she told me as she handed me half of the stash of cash she had.

I nodded eagerly because Erica had told me she was saving up enough money to take me to Universal Studios in Florida. She grabbed a bag she had put some extra stuff in. I ran to look out of the window to see the white BMW waiting by the curb. Just as Erica was walking out of the house, my daddy’s small green Toyota truck was pulling up. The truck made a lot of noise and was barely running, but it was all we had, all we could afford.

“Go in the house, Mena,” my father ordered my mother as he stepped out of the truck and slammed the rickety door.

My mother was petite and short. Most people didn’t know she was deaf in one ear. It had come courtesy of physical abuse when she was a child. Her big ’fro swayed in the wind as she took one look at the car and rushed inside.

Pops was a prideful man. He was dark skinned, the color of chocolate, and had eyes that could scare the God out of Jesus. While he was nowhere near as big as the two bad men in height, his pride made it seem that way. Pops rushed up to stop Erica as my mama rushed into the house like a woman who’d just seen a ghost, completely ignoring the car. My mama locked every door behind her and ordered me to my room. I rushed up the stairs to my room, only to run back to my window to see my father trying to drag Erica back in the house.

“No, Daddy, stop,” she yelled. “Let me go,” she screamed as she bucked and kicked.

“I will not let the streets have you, if I have to lock you in the house myself. Do you realize what you’re doing?” he yelled at her, his baritone loud enough to cause neighbors to come out and see what was going on.

Erica fell to the ground, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, I’m trying to do better. I’m sick of this place and I’m sick of you. I’m tired of all the damn rules and the curfews. I’m tired of only having one thing to eat for weeks at a time. Tired of having to see Micah tape the bottom of his damn shoes and Mama patch his jeans.”

Pops didn’t care about the car sitting behind them or the men in it. When Erica stood and tried to rush past him again, he snatched her back. Although he was as tough as nails, I could tell he was hurting from my sister’s words by the way his face frowned and his shoulders slumped a bit. The back door of the BMW opened again and out stepped one of the men: the younger one I’d seen earlier.

“Why don’t you leave the girl alone?” the bad man asked my father. “She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

My father let Erica go and turned around to face the man who was trying to lure his daughter away from home. “And why don’t you just get the fuck off my property? You may own every other motherfucker around here, but you don’t own me and mine,” my pops stated.

There was a look on his face that said he was seconds away from going head-on with the man. My pops’ fists were balled by his sides as he stepped closer to the bad man.

“I’m going to need you to back up off my person. I feel threatened,” Lu told my father. His upper lip twitched, but his hands never left his pockets as he stood there casually.

“That ain’t all you gon’ feel.” My father stood his ground. Didn’t back down at all. Lu’s eyes turned to slits as he smiled coolly. “You don’t scare me, Lu. Never have, nigga, and you never will. You think throwing money at a girl child is cute, nigga? It ain’t, and you won’t get my baby girl. You won’t.”

“Already had her, nigga,” Lu taunted him, then shrugged. “Sweet, tight piece of pussy, too. So good gotta introduce my old man to it.”

Before I could blink, my pops had taken a fist to the bad man’s face, rocking him backward. My mama was yelling for my father not to do it. From my window I could see people staring on in shock at my father, who dared to go up against an Orlando.

“No, Michael, no,” my mama screamed and tried to run outside.

“Stay in the house, Mena,” he yelled back at her as she opened the front door. “Go in the house and stay.”

She backed into the house again. “Michael, please come in the house, please,” she pleaded as she closed the screen door.

“Daddy, no,” Erica cried when she realized our father wasn’t listening to our mother.

Lu found his balance and then reached behind him. When he brought his hand back around, in his hand was a silver gun, the biggest gun I’d ever seen. I knew what was about to happen before my pops had any idea. I knew I should have said something or even run downstairs, but I couldn’t move. Fear had me glued to where I was. While my father’s back was turned, the man in the white suit walked up to my father and pulled the trigger, hitting my pops in the back of the head. My mama’s screams blended with Erica’s as she fell backward. Erica’s eyes were wide with fright as she screamed louder and louder.

“Daddy,” she cried and then, in a hurried crawl, made her way over to his limp body.

I could tell she hadn’t been expecting that to happen. I could see that by the wild look of panic in her eyes. I heard my mama running back down the stairs in a frenzy. As Erica tried to pull our father into her arms, the man walked over to his body and emptied more of his clip into my father’s back. With each shot that rang out, Erica’s body shook and trembled like it was she who was being ripped apart by bullets. My eyes widened. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe. My throat swelled as I watched my mama rush outside then fall to her knees as a shot to her chest from the same gun hit her. Her body slumped over and fell next to my father’s.

As Erica tried to run back into the house, the man grabbed a handful of her hair and tossed her back down the front steps. He snatched Erica up from the ground then shoved her into the back of the car despite her struggling. I finally was able to move my feet and I rushed outside. I knew I was running fast, but it felt as if I was moving in slow motion. It took me forever to make it to my parents. By the time I made it outside, all I could see were the taillights of the car driving away. Tears streamed down my face as I watched my mama struggle to breathe. Nobody did anything. Nobody came to help.

Even though my mama survived, she was never the same. She ended up dying six years later of a drug overdose. I’d been orphaned long before then anyway. Rumor had it they found my sister’s body weeks later. My mama refused to go even identify the body and I was too young to do so.

I never forgave myself and I never forgot the Orlandos. Maybe if I had just eaten the rice and bacon my sister would have never walked to the store. Then maybe, just maybe, my family would still be alive. A few hours later, I sat in the locker room of the Nightwings, dressed to impress in a suit that would always tell my role of being the team manager for the Atlanta Nightwings. My PR rep had already been working in the media to explain my absence. There was nothing like a serious car crash to explain my injuries and sudden disappearance. I looked around at the players in the room. They all had a look of greed in their eyes.

“So what’chu saying is all we need to do is either fuck this nigga up in practice or let him get fucked up on the field and the dough is as good as ours?” a player asked.

Just that quick I was back to being Micah Tems, the Nightwings’ manager. I took on the persona I’d been playing for years and smiled even though the pain in my face was almost unbearable. I casually pulled some Vicodin from the pill bottle and popped three, then slid the bottle back in my pocket.

“I’ma say it like this: whichever one of you motherfuckers take this nigga’s legs from under him and make sure he never gets back up gets all the dough you see in this silver suitcase,” I answered. “I want this nigga to never think he has enough fame and power to walk away from the Nightwings, you feel me?”

I could see money signs flipping in all those niggas’ eyes as they greedily eyed the suitcase. I knew the ones who were on my team and I knew the ones who needed a little convincing. That brought my attention back to the one tied down to the gray folding chair in the middle of the room. Dragon was sitting there surrounded by the men on the team who were in my back pocket. He and Enzo were the closest on the team. You could tell by the way he protected the boy when he ran the ball. If Enzo got the ball in his hand, he was end zone–bound and part of that was thanks to the man blocking for him: Dragon.

“So, you rethink my proposition, my man?” I asked him as I tilted his bloody face up to look at me.

I wasn’t surprised that he spit in my face.

“Fuck you, nigga,” he barked out. “You still on your own.”

I chuckled then shook my head. “Nah, see, anything I do or ask, I always have a backup plan for if niggas like you get to having a conscience and shit, feel me?”

I snapped my fingers and the back door opened. In walked a litt. . .