Stone Cold Liar

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance

Synopsis

“Urban erotica has never been hotter!” —Nikki Turner

Her billionaire family's scandalous secrets are as big as their fortune. But consummate con-mami Mink LaRue plans to play them all for the ultimate high stakes…

As a newly-minted Dominion family heiress, Mink has new golden moves to snag even more of the family fortune. Trouble is, her hidden love games with seductive uncle-by-marriage-only Suge have them at bad-news odds—and more than her heart is in dirty sexy trouble. When the family patriarch is shot, Mink is up against a crossfire of old Dominion rivals, blackmailers, and elegant scammers out to take them down for good. What she needs is a surprise ally—her identical twin Dy-Nasty. But her scheming sibling's conniving threatens to end Mink's moneyed ride and ace her into lockdown. With disaster only one lie away, Mink has to flip the script on enemies she never saw coming—and turn her diamond-honed hustle into the supreme weapon…

“Noire’s versatile storytelling keeps the urban erotic genre hot!” —Kiki Swinson, bestselling author of the Wifey series

“Noire knows all about street slang, scams, strip clubs, and fierce sex bouts...This is top-of-the-line street lit.” —Library Journal on Natural Born Liar (starred review)

“If you love a little nastiness, Dirty Rotten Liar is a book you’ll hate to miss.” —New Pittsburgh Courier

Release date: September 1, 2015

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

Just when I thought my slick Harlem hustle was a wrap and it was time to worm my way back into the rotten core of the Big Apple, life hit the pause button and put the track on rewind so I could back my grind up and get it pumping all over again! No pain, no mothafuckin’ gain was the song floating around in my head as me and Big Suge got buck-naked and alligator-wrestled around in his big ol’ bed.

“Yeah, right there, Big Poppa!” I moaned as he licked my cinnamon nipples then flipped me over so he could hit it up from the back. He slapped my right ass-cheek with his big old bronco-busting hands and hot sparks shot straight through my coochie as my booty jiggled in his palm.

Suge was packin’ man-meat by the truckload and I arched my back and presented him with my very best gift. He slid his thick fingers from my clit up to my spine, then aimed the head of his monster dick at my spot and got to digging me out like he was on his way to China.

We fucked like two long-lost lovers who hadn’t seen each other in years, and there was way more than just some regular sex going on between us in that bed.

“Fuck was you going?” Suge growled as he gripped my ass and dug me out like we were in a big bang contest. “You was tryna leave me, Mink? Huh? You was fuckin’ tryna leave me?”

“Hell no!” I screeched, arching my back and clenching my booty cheeks as he bucked his hips and deep-drilled the hell outta me. Run back to New York and leave all this Southern-style black snake back in Texas? Sheeiit. My legs were gapped open wide, ass pointing at the ceiling as slobber ran outta my mouth and dripped from my chin. “I wasn’t going no damn where!” I babbled like a mothafucka. “I swear to God I wasn’t!”

Suge amped shit up about ten notches as he rammed his big dick up in my guts hard enough to make my throat sore.

“Oooh, goddamn!” I shrieked, spreading my legs wider and taking that meat like a natural pro. “Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn!”

“This is it right here,” Suge grunted behind me as he bucked his hips and got all up in my nana. “Work that booty, baby!”

Fifteen minutes later I had nutted twice and was purring like a kitten as I slobbered all over Suge’s arm. I felt real damn lucky to be in his bed and back on his good side because some kinda way in the midst of all my schemes and ganks, shit had gone wrong, wrong, wrong for me down in the Great State of Texas and my boo-thang Suge had gotten sick of my ass!

I mean he had shut me and my drama all the way down when I got in my feelings and started acting real ill in front of one of his ex-girlfriends.

You ain’t stupid but you jealous as fuck and you’re insecure too, and when you fuckin’ with a nigga like me that’s even worse.

He had that shit right too because for the first time in my life Mink Minaj was jealous! That’s right. Me, Harlem’s number one stunna was salty over some other chick and walking around with my ass on my shoulders! I couldn’t stand watching her thirsty ass throw them moves down on my boo, so I had decided to cut my losses and put a padlock on my heart.

I had been on my way to the airport planning to get the hell outta Dodge, and I’d asked the limo driver to slide me over to Suge’s crib so I could say one last good-bye. Suge had stood in his doorway looking like a big scoop of chocolate chip ice cream and eyeballing me as warm Texas rain beat down in buckets between us.

I can’t even lie, my lil hoodrat heart-string had snapped in half when he backed up and closed his door in my face, and I had just told my driver to leave when the door opened again and Big Suge walked outside in that thunderstorm and scooped me up from the back of the fancy whip. And now we were upstairs chillin’ like a mothafucka after having the kind of wild makeup sex that could set the sheets on fire and burn the whole damn house down.

It was hard to believe that so much had changed in my life in such a short period of time. Me and my girl Bowlegged Bunni Baines had come to Texas looking to turn a quick dollar and we had ended up knee-deep in a family full of billionaires. With dollar signs in our eyes, us two lil Harlem pole scrippers had messed around and found ourselves getting caught up in one crazy misadventure after the next, and we had worked our shady game until our pockets were full and swole.

But life as a hood-rich oil socialite wasn’t crackin’ up to be everything that I needed it to be. Between my hating-ass adopted brother Barron, my ratchet-ass identical twin, Dy-Nasty, and trying to come to terms with the fact that my mama had fed me a big-ass lie for my entire life, I got blindsided and smacked with a dose of reality that took me right down to the mat. And when my uncle-bae boo Suge got fed and blasted me outta the water for talking shit to his banana-shaped Asian ex-girlfriend who had a big-shot lawyer’s degree, I was ready to blow my top.

It was all too much, even for a tough ghetto slicksta like me, and when it was all said and done Mizz Mink was left in her feelings and looking stupid in the face. Without telling a soul, I had decided that it was time to bounce up outta the dirty South and head back into more familiar beat-ass territory, so I called my welfare-queen ghetto-fabulous Granny up in Harlem to tell her I was coming home! But before I could get the words outta my mouth good, her trifling ass was hitting me up for some cash.

“Look, I got a real important bill to pay, Mink. Be a good girl and send your old Granny a couple of dollars before you get on that airplane, okay darling?”

“But I’m getting up outta here tonight, Granny. I’ll pay the bill for you as soon as I get home, okay? The plane ride is only a few hours long.”

“But what if it crash?”

Bill my ass. Granny was slick as motor oil and she was a big-ass liar too. If I sent her some money I knew she was just gonna shop it up and drink it up, but I got on the computer and went ahead and sent her some ends anyway.

“Mink!” Granny had called me thirty minutes later from Western Union. “Two thousand dollars? Where you get all this money from, baby?” she wanted to know. “You ain’t down south slangin’ no dope, now is you?”

Uh-uh. I wasn’t about to tell nan’one of those lying-ass LaRues that I had lucked up on a million-dollar fortune. Them trifling yellow fuckas woulda rolled up on the mansion ready to tie the whole family up and shake us down. Instead, I lied and told Granny that I had hit the number for a nice hunk of change, and that I had just felt like sliding a couple of racks to her.

Still in my feelings, I had told Granny to go ahead and tear Aunt Bibby off a few dollars too. Not too much, just a few. I was still kinda salty with my aunt for not telling me the truth about the lie I’d been living sooner, but I was also grateful that she confirmed that not every damn thing Mama had told me was a lie. I might not’a been Jude Jackson’s real daughter, but I would always be Moe LaRue’s child, and even though I would never forget how Mama had driven me into the cold-ass Hudson River and tried to kill me, I still loved her. Faults and all.

Besides, I was raised to be the loyal type, and even though Aunt Bibby said I was stupid for doing it, I had bought Jude Jackson a beautiful headstone for her grave that simply said, “Mama.”

Truth be told, I would prolly never understand why I had been abandoned by my real mother, but now that I had been through a lil something with a man myself, I could see how a weak-minded woman could let a dude knock her off her square. But life has a way of pulling its own little ganks on you. And now, as I laid in Suge’s bed sweaty and fucked out, I put all thoughts of Granny, Mama, and everybody else outta my mind. The only thing I had on the brain right now was taking me a lil nap, then waking up next to my man and going in for round number two so Suge could come at me again and bang my lights out.

Completely out!

Election night had the whole city buzzing, and even though all the votes hadn’t been tallied yet, Rodney Ruddman’s cocky ass was sitting in his office at the Omni Hotel doing lines and feeling just like a winner.

As with the other candidates, this wasn’t a money thing for him at all. Hell naw. Ruddman was the CEO of the multi-billion-dollar corporation Ruddman Energy. He was an oil baller and had plenty of cash, but what he was lusting for was the vast amount of power and control he would have at his fingertips if he won the race for chairman of the Texas Railroad Commission. Putting his name on that position would give him the ability to make suckers like Viceroy Dominion get down on his crusty knees and kiss his fucking ring. Or face his fucking wrath.

Ruddman had dressed up nicely for the occasion tonight by stuffing his bulging stomach into a black and white tuxedo made from the finest fabric that money could buy. His shoes had been specially made for his wide, flat feet, and the uber-expensive watch on his wrist was one of only three like it in the whole world.

He ran his hand over his face, wiping away traces of white powder from his nose as he prepared to return downstairs to the media room where an election-watch party was being held in his honor by his donors and supporters. He had slipped away and come upstairs alone to get his head right, and it wouldn’t be long before his staff noticed his absence and came looking for him. Ruddman glanced at the wide-screen television screen that sat before him. Right now the race was a tie between him and that bastard Viceroy Dominion, but with several precincts still out he genuinely felt like he could pull in the win.

Ruddman clicked off the television then leaned over the small silver tray on his desk and snorted his last line of white powder. As much as he would have liked to kick back and enjoy the thrill of his victory by himself, it was time to go downstairs and rejoin his campaign team. He wiped at his nose again, then reached inside a drawer and retrieved a crystal decanter, then poured himself a stiff one in his favorite glass, sipping from it as he walked toward the foyer. Feeling lifted and humming a tune, he had just stepped out of his office when a young thug wearing a black hooded sweatshirt slammed a fist in his chest and drove him backward as he bum-rushed the shit outta him.

“Fuck you going, old man? Get your black ass back in there!” the young thug barked, muscling Ruddman backward and shoving him against the reception desk.

“What in the world?” Ruddman muttered as he tumbled backward in panic. “What the hell is going on here?”

The young thug slid his hood off his head revealing his face, and at the same time he reached around and withdrew a glistening silver pistol from the small of his back.

“Surprise, surprise, you lying muthafucka!” Zeke Washington growled as he aimed a chrome Smith and Wesson gat straight at Ruddman’s thick neck.

“Zeke? What the hell are you doing, son?” Ruddman barked in disbelief as he raised his short T-rex arms in the air. “You come your ass in here pulling a goddamn gun on me after the way I looked out for you? I thought we had a deal?”

“We had a deal, but your ass lied!” Zeke snarled.

“What the hell did I lie about?” Ruddman sounded like a cowardly lion who was about to shit up his five-thousand-dollar tuxedo.

“I know all about you and your slick fuckin’ deals, Ruddman. You was quick to drop a dime on Viceroy’s shit, but according to dat shiesty nigga Wally Su you was sliding him some big lettuce leafs under the table to forge legal documents too!”

“I was not!” Ruddman bellowed, swelling up all indignant and shit.

“Bullshit!” Zeke barked on him. “I seen copies of the old checks, my nigga! They came from your company and had your fuckin’ signature on ’em! Fuck with me and I’ll have them shits sent to the goddamn newspapers! You was down for the whole ride, you fat muthafucka! Them same bitches who took my father down are the ones who helped you get filthy fuckin’ rich too!”

“So what?” Ruddman barked, feeling himself. “Every goddamn body was scraping and scrambling back then! This is a dog-eat-dog business, it’s just that your father couldn’t bite hard enough or chew fast enough! But I told you how to get his money back! If you had just did what the fuck I said then you and your mother could be sitting pretty right now because I gave you an instruction manual on what to do!”

Zeke gun-checked him. “You told me that Viceroy wasn’t gonna live long enough to see this fuckin’ election, and not only is that muthafucka still here, he’s about to fuckin’ win it! You was way off base with this whole damn setup! That bastard don’t care that I got my father’s papers! His ass ain’t scared to go to court! That grimy fucka told me he was gonna give me an important job with his company and then tried to stick me in the goddamn mailroom!”

Ruddman frowned. The mailroom was exactly where he would have put the kid too.

“Look, Zeke, what the fuck are you really doing here?” Ruddman asked quietly, a cunning and deadly glint emanating from his beady eyes. “If you’re going to rat me out over those old bribes to Wally Su, then why haven’t you taken your story to the airwaves and sold it to the highest bidder yet? And if you have a problem with how Viceroy ass-fucked your daddy, then why aren’t you over at his place waving a gun up under his goddamn nose?”

“Oh, don’t worry my nigga,” Zeke barked. “I came to blast a hole in your grill first, but Viceroy’s black ass is on deck next!”

“But why do you want to shoot me? Yeah, I admit it. I knew what was going down back then and I made a lot of money behind it. But what the fuck did I do to you?”

“Don’t play stupid, nigga. All this shit was your fault from the gate,” Zeke accused. “You came at me like this shit was a sure-shot and I was gonna get paid. You was just tryna use me so you could get some play off Viceroy, but you fucked up, homey! I ain’t my daddy. Don’t nobody ride my dick for free! You shoulda known better than to underestimate a hungry nigga with dust in his pockets and nothing to lose.”

“But—”

“Shut the fuck up and turn on a TV up in this bitch,” Zeke snapped.

Ruddman led the boy back to his office and did as he was told. The local news was predicting that almost fifty percent of the precincts were reporting and the race was still a dead heat.

“Don’t worry, Zeke, this situation will take care of itself,” Ruddman said. “You don’t wanna do anything drastic that you’ll end up regretting later on. Believe me, I wanna smash Viceroy just as bad as you do.”

“Nah, nigga,” Zeke cocked his pistol as a wave of anger rushed over his heart. “That’s where you’re wrong. Your fam wasn’t jerked out of millions of dollars and an oil empire, muh’fucka. Minez was. You didn’t have to watch other people living the life that was meant for you. I did. You just can’t make bullshit promises to a nigga like me and then don’t keep them! I don’t give a fuck which one of y’all rich bastards wins this election. All I’m tryna do is even the score for my daddy, and as far as I’m concerned, both of y’all grimy muthafuckas gotta go!”

It was a warm breezy night, but GiGi Molinex had put the top down on the oil-black Maserati anyway. The radio was blasting Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night,” and GiGi was murdering that shit, singing off-key at the top of her lungs as she sped down the highway with the wind whipping through her fiery-red hair.

On her right, her chocolate-bunny boo-thang Barron was chilling beside her in the passenger seat of his own whip. He looked shook in the face and tight in the ass, but GiGi kept right on singing because she didn’t give a damn. After a whirlwind romance where she had worked her way into his head and lured him into her honey trap with her superior sex game, the ebony and ivory love birds were sneaking out of Texas together and riding off to parts unknown. Or at least unknown to one of them.

“You okay?” she yelled at him above the music and the sound of the wind.

He nodded grimly and GiGi smiled inside. This jungle-fever-having mark had been all in her face and hanging off her bra strap for weeks, and now that their little Texas two-step was about to become a permanent hustle his mug was twisted like he was having second thoughts. GiGi jerked the steering to the right and peeled off into an exit lane and shot up the ramp. Her tires squealed as she braked at a traffic light, and Barron seized the moment to break his silence.

“Yo,” he said, turning down the music as he faced her. “Exactly what type of party are we going to again?”

GiGi almost sneered, but she caught herself and plastered on her winning smile. This shook motherfucker, she thought bitterly. She wasn’t feeling that bitch-tremble in his voice and that uncertain look on his face was not cute either. In fact it was ugly as hell and it made him look soft and weak.

“What do you mean what type of party?” she said brightly in her best chipper-little-white-girl voice. “It’s a party-party, but does it even matter? Let’s just hang out and have a little fun tonight!”

Barron shrugged. “I’m down to hang out, but I’m just saying. It must be a pretty decent spread if it’s on this side of town.”

GiGi giggled inside. This idiot-ass multi-billionaire was about to get nice and fucked up. Barron was a gold-digging white woman’s dream, and after laying her smooth pussy game down on him it hadn’t taken much convincing to get him to turn his back on his family and align himself with her. With his father pissing him off left and right and making him feel like a dumb-nut, convincing Barron to blow Dallas and ride shotgun across the state line with her had been a pretty small feat.

“Of course it’s a nice spread. I told you I’m taking you to meet one of my good friends, and all of my friends are prosperous,” GiGi responded as she pumped the gas pedal and revved the engine. “Tess throws the most epic parties in the state of Texas, and tonight is going to be major.”

“Well, you know the election is being held tonight,” Barron said quietly. “Since I can’t be at the watch party with the rest of my family I wanna try to catch the coverage on television. My pops seems to think he has a good shot at winning this thing.”

“Tah!” GiGi flicked her manicured hand at him and rolled her eyes as she turned the music up again and hit the gas. “Goodness gracious. For once can you forget about your father, Barron? I mean, I’m getting sick of hearing about that ancient old dude. Didn’t you tell me you wanted to blow this shitty gig and be your own man? That’s why we agreed to take this journey together in the first place, remember? Besides, you’re tired of your father treating you like a little flunky, aren’t you? He doesn’t appreciate you! It’s time for you to start living your life for yourself, Barron, and the first step is to get turnt up at Tess’s party tonight. Just look at it like a farewell bash. We’re about to say adios to all your old drama and hola! to a life that’s exciting and new!”

GiGi was laying her smooth-tongue hustle down on him nice and thick, but she could still see the worry-wheels turning around and around in Barron’s head. She sucked her teeth in disgust. This motherfucker was a mama’s boy down to the bone. He loved his family and carried their problems on his shoulders. But fortunately he loved him some white. . .