Flawless 3: The Finale Read online

  “Why you just don’t give ole’ girl her shit then? What’chu still hangin’ onto it for? Be done with her ass so you can make room for somethin’ new…” Apollo licked his lips as he stared lustfully at her thighs. Those thick mothafuckas had his mouth watering; he was tempted to bite her just because.

  “I’d have to pay movers and get a U-Haul truck and right now I just can’t afford all that.”

  Apollo dug in his jeans and tossed a hefty wad of cash on the coffee table in front of them. “Now you can.”

  “I…I can’t take that. I feel weird taking your money. We barely know each other.”

  “We’ll get to know each other.”

  She hesitated. “I…I don’t know.”

  “Take the money, Liberty. I’m confident you’ll put it to good use.”

  In a gracious attempt to appear humble, she peeled off two Franklins and handed the rest back to him. “Thank you. But I don’t need all of this.”

  Since he didn’t want it back, Apollo didn’t take the cash. “Yo’ humility is cute and all, but I gave it to you for a reason, bay. Take the money.”

  Liberty was grateful because she was so behind on some bills that she’d collected shut off notices. “Thank you.”

  “Now what’chu gon’ do for me?” he asked.

  Liberty did an automatic double take. She didn’t expect for him to flip the script on her. “Excuse me?” she asked, disgusted. “I don’t turn tricks.”

  “I didn’t think you did. Plus, I don’t pay for play. I was actually hopin’ I could get a home cooked meal or somethin’. I ain’t had one of them shits since a nigga been out. And yo’ thick ass look like you can throw down.”

  Liberty laughed, relieved that he wasn’t as forward as she thought he was. “I do a lil’ somethin’ somethin’. I’ll see what I can whip up,” she said, heading to the kitchen.

  When she walked past, Apollo slapped her juicy ass. He couldn’t even control himself.

  “Stop it,” Liberty squealed. So maybe he was a little forward, but the man was fine and she couldn’t deny that. As she opened the refrigerator and peered inside, she couldn’t help but think Apollo just might give her a run for her money.

  Outside of Liberty’s home, Alexandria “Trip” Duvall sat parked in her Camry with a scowl on her face. At first, she was only upset with her ex because she had her shit but now her problem was the nigga she’d just watched enter the house.

  Who the fuck is this cat, Trip wondered. The grip on her steering wheel tightened as she pictured the two of them fucking.

  If Liberty thought she was being a bitch now, she couldn’t wait to show her just how foul she really could be. Her ex had life messed up if she thought she was going to sit back and watch some dude claim her spot. She and Apollo were in for a rude awakening.

  I loved this bitch and she put some mothafucking dick over me? Hell nah! All the freak shit I did to her body just for some nigga to come behind me?

  Trip tried to calm down but there was no letting this shit go. She couldn’t.

  Filled with rage and jealousy, Trip slammed her foot on the accelerator and drove straight towards her home full speed.

  BOOOOOOOM!

  Trip plowed her Toyota Camry into the side of the house, ripping through Luke’s bedroom.

  11

  Liberty jumped and screamed when she heard the ear-shattering sound. If she didn’t know any better she’d think she was in the middle of an earthquake or explosion.

  “Fuck was that?” Apollo asked, grabbing his pistols.

  “LUUUUKE? Oh my God! Luke?” she cried.

  Liberty took off running towards her younger brother’s bedroom with Apollo following suit.

  Meanwhile in her car, Trip touched the center of her forehead where a tiny cut had formed. Blood poured down her face, dripping off her chin into her lap. After crashing her whip, she smacked her shit hard against the steering wheel.

  Clouds of smoke erupted from her trunk. It would take extensive work to repair the vehicle.

  Trip was dazed from the collision, but she still had enough energy to climb out the car and limp off. She knew what was going through her head when she crashed, but now that the damage was done, the only thing she could do was panic and run.

  “Luke?! Luke, what happened? Are you okay?”

  Luke and Tiffany were banged up pretty bad and covered in debris, but luckily they were still alive. By the time Liberty and Apollo made it to his bedroom, Trip was long gone. Yet the fact that she’d left her car behind was a dead giveaway to who the perpetrator was.

  This crazy ass bitch done really lost her damn mind.

  ***

  “I want they mufuckin’ heads cut off and delivered to me! Every single fuckin’ one of ‘em! Not they hand! Not they foot! Not they dick! They MUFUCKIN’ heads!” Desmond yelled. His fist pounded against his steering wheel in between each sentence. After losing $2.5 million in stolen drugs and cash, he was desperate for a gruesome payback.

  Apollo plugged one of his ears as he listened to Desmond rant. He tried to make out his words with the wailing sirens in the background. One problem had seemingly been switched out for another.

  At the moment, Liberty was filing a police report and Luke and Tiffany were being wheeled off on a stretcher. Thankfully, the physical damage was minimal.

  “You know all you gotta do is tell me how you want it done and it’s done,” Apollo said.

  Desmond was on some straight Game of Thrones shit. Someone was definitely fucking with him, and he wouldn’t rest until he buried their asses. Disconnecting the call, he lit up an L and inhaled aggressively. A mother’s heart would soon ache after news reports flooded the media. Somebody was going to pay for the stolen narcotics and blood shed. Someone was going to die. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

  Desmond pulled down the mirrored sun visor and stared at his reflection. The game was wearing him out; he even noticed a gray hair on his head. His enemies had him under a ton of stress lately, but their moment would only be short-lived. Desmond would make sure of that shit.

  He circled the block two more times to calm down before finally pulling in front of Kim’s home. She was sleep in bed when he walked in, undressed and climbed in behind her. Softly wrapping his arms around her warm body, Dez pulled her close to him. Kimberlyn was probably the realest thing in his life. But there was no doubt in his mind that she’d leave if she ever found out just how vicious and barbaric he really could be.

  ***

  A week later, Apollo linked up with some GD niggas who informed them of the nefarious street gang who was set on bringing them down. Apparently, the Heartless Felons had been bragging all throughout the hood about the Vegas lick. Their cocky asses didn’t even have enough sense to keep shit under wraps. The last thing they were worried about was a clap back. They thought they were untouchable because of their street cred, but sadly they were mistaken.

  Apollo came six-deep to the projects J.R. lived at. Ironically, The Gardens was the same place that Desmond killed Omar, after discovering that he was protecting Ava.

  The corner boys hanging outside the projects quickly dispersed before the men reached the building. No one wanted to be around when a body hit the pavement.

  J.R. was the first and only name given up after Apollo found and tortured his cousin. Therefore, J.R. would be his first victim…but Apollo had ways to make his punk ass talk.

  Screwing the suppressor on his pistol, he jogged up the stairs to the second level and stopped outside of J.R.’s door. One of his hittas kicked that bitch open like SWAT, and the chick sitting on the sofa started screaming.

  J.R. was in the kitchen when he tried to run—but Apollo quickly put a hollow point in his calf muscle. He fell to the floor, cradling his injured leg while crying in pain.

  J.R.’s girlfriend tried to run, but Apollo’s niggas chased her down and beat her ass like she was a nigga in the street. They didn’t live by the book. They lived by their own set of street codes.
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  “Don’t kill me, man!” J.R. tried to crawl, but the more he moved the more he bled.

  Apollo approached him with his gun still aimed. When J.R. lifted his hand to shield his face from any oncoming blows, Apollo grabbed two fingers and broke those mothafuckas.

  “AAARGGGHHHH!” J.R. howled in agony.

  His girlfriend had just been dragged off to the bedroom, kicking and screaming. The corrupt, young niggas would probably run a train on her ass, but Apollo didn’t give a fuck about that bitch.

  “Tell me who you runnin’ with, and I might just spare yo’ punk ass.”

  Beads of sweat formed on J.R.’s forehead. He involuntarily trembled from the painful swelling in his hand. He could hear his girlfriend crying out for help in the back room, but there was nothing he could do for her. Hell, there was nothing he could do for himself. Apollo told him that if he ratted out his niggas he’d let him live. But J.R. could look him in the eyes and see that he was bullshitting. A killer could recognize another killer.

  With nothing left to lose, J.R. began reciting the Golden Rules. “A Felon shall never snitch. No exceptions.”

  Apollo couldn’t believe the silly ass nigga thought he was playing. Without warning, he shot J.R. in his other leg.

  Spit flew from his mouth as he cried out in pain. The bullet had torn right through his kneecap. If Apollo didn’t kill him that night he would never walk the same.

  “It look like I’m fuckin’ around?” Apollo yelled. “Where’s the mufuckin’ money? I know ya’ll ain’t blow through two mil that fast.”

  J.R. surprised him when he started laughing maniacally. “A Felon…shall never discuss business…among outsiders,” he struggled to say. He was losing blood incredibly fast, but his will was one of the strongest Apollo had ever seen.

  All of a sudden, his GD niggas emerged from the bedroom. One fumbled with buttoning his jeans. J.R.’s girlfriend was no longer screaming.

  “I got the nigga’s phone,” one said, holding up his Galaxy. J.R had a plethora of photos and videos inside of him and his fellow Felons.

  “Grab this mufucka. I’m tired of playin’ games,” Apollo told them.

  The Gangsta Disciples picked up J.R. and forced him over the kitchen counter. For years, they’d been beefing with the Heartless Felons, so it was privilege to kill one of them.

  “Hold that pussy ass nigga down,” he said. Apollo took his time looking through the kitchen drawers. He found a rusty meat cleaver inside one of them.

  J.R. struggled beneath the men, but it was pointless considering his condition.

  “I guess you’d rather die for them niggas too, huh,” Apollo said.

  “Fuck you!” J.R. spat.

  Grabbing the sharp utensil, Apollo slowly made his way over to him. It would take a couple hacks, but fuck it. The meat cleaver would still get the job done.

  “Any last words?” Apollo asked.

  “I’ll see yo’ faggot ass in h—”

  J.R.’s sentence was cut short after the cleaver severed his head.

  12

  “Yo’ pretty ass. I can wake up to this mufucka everyday,” Desmond told Kimberlyn. The sun had just peaked over the horizon when he opened his eyes and saw the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. The sight of her was so breathtaking that he’d almost forgotten that he’d recently loss $2.5 mil.

  Kimberlyn blushed while laughing. “Even with sleep in my eyes and puffy lips? You know my lips always swell up in the morning.”

  Desmond smiled. “Especially then, baby.” Leaning in to kiss the girl of his dreams, he realized she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

  “You hungry? I wanna cook breakfast for my queen.”

  Desmond was feeling a little better, since he knew his man was on the job. He was especially pleased with the photo Apollo had sent him last night. After decapitating the thief, he and his boys had J.R. and his girlfriend’s bodies tossed in an incinerator.

  “Oh, so you cook now?” Kim laughed.

  “For you, I’ll try.”

  “Oh God!” she howled with laughter. “I don’t need my house burning down again!”

  After horse playing in the sheets, Desmond sucked her pussy ‘til she came, before setting off to the kitchen. An hour and a half later, she smelled the heavenly scent of cinnamon French toast and Applewood smoked bacon. Her senses led her barefoot downstairs to see the mess he was probably making. Much to her surprise, he was in the kitchen whipping it up like Emeril Lagasse.

  “You wasn’t playin’, huh?” she asked.

  Desmond had just finished making the last omelet when she walked in. “You already know. The best for the best.”

  Kimberlyn gave him a peck on the lips before taking a seat at the kitchen island. Desmond made their plates and joined her. Meanwhile upstairs, Dana was blowing his phone up nonstop. He hadn’t been holding up his deal of allowing her weekend visitations.

  “The mothafucka still ain’t answering his phone!” she said to her girl Monica. The two had been friends since their college days. One seemingly didn’t move without the other. They were back in L. A., and Dana was sick with it now that he had full custody of Destiny. “I gotta half a mind to just fly out there and snap on his ass.”

  She and Monica were sipping Mimosas in her backyard near the pool. It was a nice, sunny day outside, but unfortunately her life felt like the complete opposite. Although Desmond still paid all of her bills, car note, and tossed her cash on a consistent basis, she was miserable. She missed her baby girl and she missed her man. There was once a time when they were the perfect, ideal family. It felt like they had been ripped from her without a moment’s notice. He probably has my daughter calling that bitch Kim mommy, she thought. Oh, how sweet it would be to ring that yellow bitch’s neck!

  “Don’t do that shit,” Monica said, interrupting her dark thoughts. “That’s exactly what he and the courts want you to do. Then you won’t get to see Destiny period.”

  “I’m not even seeing her now,” Dana complained. “I swear that mothafucka treats me like I’m the shit on the bottom of his kicks. Always walking all over me—and you know I ain’t start that fire.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Monica said, even though she had her doubts. “Look, you my girl and I’mma be one hunnid with you. If you want Destiny back then you gotta get Dez back. Cuz right now…” She handed her iPhone to Dana so she could see the selfie he just posted with Kim on his IG. “He so far up that bitch’s ass it’s unreal!”

  It was sickening in Dana’s opinion. Her stomach lurched at the sight of him cooking her breakfast. She’d been with the mothafucka seven years, and not once had he ever done that for her. Dana was always the one slaving in the kitchen, sucking his dick, and doing whatever else he wanted to keep him satisfied. The sad thing about it all was that she’d do it again—in a heartbeat.

  “You want him back, right?”

  Dana didn’t stall with her response. “I do. I miss the fuck outta him. I shouldn’t. But I do…”

  “Alright then, bitch. You better start pulling them tricks out of your sleeve.”

  Dana smiled, because she certainly was willing to do whatever it took to get him back. But first she had to wedge him and Kimberlyn apart. Luckily, she had all types of ratchet schemes in store for them.

  “You’re right,” she told Monica. “It’s time I got my family back together.” By the time Dana finished with Kim’s bitch ass she would undoubtedly be a thing of the past.

  ***

  “Ain’t know you had that in you,” Kim said once they’d finished breakfast. Desmond had definitely proven his culinary skills that morning. “Thank you. It was amazing.” Collecting the plates and silverware she dumped them into the kitchen sink and ran water. “Guess I’ll do the honors of washing the dishes.”

  Desmond walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. “Do the honors of lettin’ me drop this dick off in yo’ back.”

  Kimberlyn giggled and tr
ied to push him away. “Boy, stop. What if Jordan comes in here—”

  “He’s sleep. We got a minute,” he said, pulling down her boy shorts.

  “Oh, so now you a minuteman?” she laughed.

  Desmond ignored her crude sense of humor as he yanked her bottoms down and bent her over the kitchen sink. “You talk a lot of shit. You know that?”

  Kimberlyn gasped when he slid deep inside.

  “Actin’ like you don’t want this dick. Why this shit so creamy then?”

  Desmond stroked it from the back at a fast and even pace. One of his hands gripped her ass while the other held her shoulder as if he were steering her; controlling her.

  In the midst of lovemaking, Kimberlyn subconsciously looked out the window and noticed the blurred, rapid movement of a figure. Her heartbeat skipped when she realized someone was outside her home. Maybe one of Dez’s niggas is on standby. If that were the case then why was he in her front lawn?

  After noticing that Kim was no longer as into it, Desmond ceased. Putting away his wet dick, he said, “I got a few moves to make. I might be free this evening though. I wanna take you and Jordan out. Maybe go catch a movie or some shit.”

  “That would be nice,” Kim said, straightening up her clothes. “Thanks for breakfast. And thanks for coming through. I know I haven’t shown it lately, but I have missed you.”

  Desmond pulled her close and kissed her. “Answer yo’ phone tonight, aight.”

  After dressing, he left with her a little cash to buy her and Jordan something nice to wear, and then he left. Kimberlyn basked in the scent of the cologne he’d left behind. For fifteen minutes, she lay in bed fantasizing about a future with him. When things were cool between them life was perfect. She prayed it stayed that way.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Knock.

  Kimberlyn quickly jumped out the bed and grabbed her phone. She assumed Desmond would call to tell her he’d left something behind. Skipping down the stairs, two at a time, she jogged to the front door. Without thinking, she swung it open expecting to see her man. However, nothing could’ve prepared Kim for the sight of Cool standing there in the flesh.