Forever a Hustler's Wife (24 page)

Stanka had been happy when Yarni met Des. Although Des was almost seven years older than Yarni, he knew that the man would take care of her. If he could’ve handpicked the man he wanted his precious niece to marry, it would have been Des.

The garage Stanka was parked in was pretty big. It could hold about eight cars easily. A few years back, it had been the auto mechanic’s shop owned by his old friend Gee, before the drug task force had found out that more heroin than engine work was being done, and closed it. A junkie named Bootsie got caught boosting to support his smack habit and decided to help himself and the police at the same time, and Gee had ended up being sentenced to two hundred months by a federal judge. Stanka went to visit him at least twice a month to keep him up to speed on the latest on the streets, so he wouldn’t be in a rush to play catch-up whenever he touched down again.

What’s taking Des so long?
Stanka thought.
This place is starting to get cold.

Just then someone honked the horn of a foreign car twice, paused for a second, then honked again. Stanka raised the door of the old shop’s entrance, and Des drove in. Stanka shut the door behind them. “What took you so long?”

“When you called, I was in Dinwiddie taking care of Rico. I got here as quick as I could,” Des answered. “Where’s the package?”

“In the back.” Stanka never moved off the hood of the car. He simply lifted his key ring and hit the trunk button. When Des looked at what his wife’s uncle had brought him, a smile took over his face.

“How does it feel riding in coach, playboy?” Des said to a tied-up and gagged Marvin Sledge. “Oh, where are my manners? I bet it’s hard to talk with all that shit in your mouth, huh? I’m not in the mood for listening to no pussy motherfucka begging no way, so we gon’ just let you stay that way for now.”

Marvin was terrified. For the past four hours, he had been held hostage in the trunk of Stanka’s car. Marvin had literally been caught with his pants down while getting a little head from his secretary. Although Marvin had pissed his pants long ago, at least he was still alive. For now, anyway.

“I’m beat,” Stanka said. “What do you want to do with this piece of shit?”

Des would’ve liked to spend the next forty-eight hours torturing the perverted bastard, but he had more important things to do.

“I guess it’s his lucky day. I’m kinda busy myself,” Des said to Stanka.

Is it possible that these barbarians are gonna let me go after all?
Marvin thought. If they did, he swore that he would change his womanizing ways. But not before he made these two savages pay for what they had done to him.

Des removed the .40 caliber handgun from his back and palmed it. He could smell the fear gushing out of the pores of his contorted prisoner. “Marvin, I wish we had time to really get to know each other, but I’m a busy man. You know how it is.” Des spoke as if he was talking to a new acquaintance. “But there’s one thing I’d like to know. How can a man go to college and law school, graduate at the top of his class, have everything he could possibly want, but be so stupid as to get himself killed over something he can’t possibly have?”

The two shots from Des’s mini cannon rang off close together. The first bullet caught Marvin in the middle of his forehead, killing him instantly. The second found its mark in the corner of his left eye.

“Give this trash a permanent home in the bottom of the James River with the rest of the garbage,” Des snarled. “By the way, what do I owe you?”

“Consider it an anniversary present.”

CHAPTER 33

Divine Intervention

D
riving down the street, Des had almost reached the church when the blue police lights flashed, indicating he needed to pull over.

As soon as the officer was about to get out of the car, he got a call in on his radio. A more serious offense was in progress, and he was only a quarter of a mile from the location. With Des and his traffic violation being the less important of the two situations, the officer threw his hand, signaling Des to go on as he jumped back into his car, turned on his siren, and sped off.

Recently, Des had been pondering whether there really was a God. He had never been a real religious man, even more so now that he was making so much money off his church. He believed every man created and controlled his own destiny, and that if a man was depending on the intervention of a so-called higher power rather than on himself, then he was in for a rude awakening.

As Des pulled his brand-new bulletproof Allure into his reserved parking space at the church, he smiled. The Bible said God helps those who help themselves. He cut the engine off the world’s first personal protection luxury utility vehicle and looked around for Slim. It was 7:45
P.M.,
and Slim was supposed to meet him at the church at 8:00 to go over some business. Des hit the release button on the glove compartment and grabbed the Bible that Yarni had given him.

He put the book in the breast pocket of his three-quarter-length Ronald Isley mink jacket. He had an identical one that he had sent to an armor specialty shop to have a bulletproof lining put in, but he was still waiting for it to come back. He never underestimated the desperation of the other guy.

Feeling a chill in the air when he stepped out of his $200,000 vehicle, he pulled the jacket tighter around him. The weatherman had predicted the possibility of a dusting of snow; winter had arrived early this year.

Where the fuck is Slim?
he thought.

The church took up half of the block, and the way his congregation was growing, he would need a bigger one very soon. Des didn’t doubt that his congregation would be more than willing to give to the new building fund he was making a mental note of starting. Hell, some churches have had their congregation giving to a building fund for years, with no intention of ever building a bigger church.

Des cautiously made his way up to the package he saw sitting outside the church door.
Ms. Mary,
he thought, smiling, when he peered into the basket without touching it. He would know that pound cake anywhere. Ms. Mary had been giving him pound cake twice a week for the past few months. Des picked up the treat, already tasting the mouth-watering cake, then searched his key ring for the proper key to gain entry into the building.

Boooom!

He felt the pain of the impact before he ever even heard the single shot from the sniper’s rifle.

The highly skilled marksman was well disciplined. He’d waited for hours in an abandoned building across the street. One well-placed slug to the heart of his mark and his job was well done. After he witnessed Des crumble to the ground, the executioner picked up the spent cartridge and made his escape.

Des opened his eyes.

If this was Hell, then he must’ve been here before, he thought. He reached toward the pain in his chest with his right hand. There was a hole in his jacket the size of a quarter. When he probed the inside of the jacket to further investigate the injury, he found more than what he was searching for: He found a miracle. The Bible that Yarni had given him had absorbed the shot.

Almost speechless, Des looked up to the sky. All he could think was that indeed there was such a thing as a higher power, and he was going to stop playing with God, who had spared him so many times. This time he took heed. At that moment his entire life changed—nothing would ever be the same for him. It was a new beginning.

There was no doubt about it, God was watching over Des…but so were the
Feds
!

Acknowledgments

Usually acknowledgments are all about naming names, but first I have to acknowledge the one being that is behind this entire project: God Almighty.

Father, in the name of your son and my Savior, Jesus Christ, I thank you for keeping my cup running over with blessing after blessing, and for giving me the creativity within my spirit to produce work that I can be proud to share with readers around the world.

My God, you are the Creator of all things, not to mention my protector as I walked through the valley of the shadow of death during this literary journey. It was you, God, who always loved me, comforted me, showed me the way and sent me everything I needed to make this yet another masterpiece to add to the library of Nikki Turner Originals.

I don’t want to take anything away from the many people who have served a great purpose in my life or who have been with me throughout my literary career—through both the ups and downs. For those in particular who, when I felt as though I was suffocating, didn’t mind using their lungs to keep me moving so that I could breathe life into this project, words can’t acknowledge you enough. But how I see it today (minutes before my final deadline) is that each and every one of those individuals, and you know exactly who you are, were angels on loan to me from the Father. So again, I have to thank Him for designing you, but I do also thank my wonderful angels for being obedient to God’s word and instructions, and coming forth to share this with me, wanting nothing in return but to see me succeed.

Again, this isn’t about naming names because I didn’t want anyone who didn’t see their name on the marquee to feel that their time and existence meant nothing to me. If you are one of those people who are scanning the credits for your name, then you are not one of those genuine individuals who God called to minister to me in my time of need; and there were many. You know who you are (my family and real friends) because I’ve told you time and time again.

There are some people who left footprints on my heart and may not have even known that they were putting in God’s work. Ecclesiastes 3:1 states that “for everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” Although it was hard for me to grasp that people come into our life for a season, then after they have fulfilled their calling we have to let them go, I’ve learned to not be sad, but to understand that they’ve done God’s work and it’s time for them to move on to the next project that He has for them. I’ve accepted that it’s not about what Nikki wants, but it’s about what God wants for Nikki. And I just thank God for giving me the opportunity to allow this little light of mine to shine in the lives of many.

There are a few angels in particular that I must name: my two wonderful children, Kennisha and Timmond. You two are God’s biggest blessings to me. Elouise Perry, thanks for loving me as your own. Paulette Williams, in spite of Hurricane Katrina turning your world upside down you somehow kept mine on level ground. Ms. Carol, you came into my home as a nanny for my children and Biggs, but ended up loving me as your daughter, and my children as your grands. Thanks for having such a great spirit of discernment to hear what God wanted you to do. I know it’s tough, and hard work, but you are so appreciated.

A special thanks to Antonio “Tone” Tarver, for understanding that our crafts are parallel. I can never thank you enough loaning me your $5 million house and personal trainer to get me mentally focused on this book. I’m always here for you. Kia, thanks for believing in my vision. Lenny, thank you for your kind words of encouragement as I wrote this book. Robinette, thanks for being the force behind me, going through all my submissions at my office. I truly appreciate your devotion to me and my dream.

Kermit Gresham of Gresham Photography of Richmond, thanks for bringing your talent to the table and allowing it to bless me and my fans. I will never forget how you did a photo shoot within forty-eight hours for this book cover. Manaya, the cover model, thanks for being the beautiful face to grace the cover of this book! Zane and 50 Cent, thank you to you both for your mentoring and for the great blurbs endorsing my book.

To my dear friend Stanford Dorsey: You have always been only a call away when my spirits are down, and within minutes you have me charged up and ready to conquer the world. I love you for the person you are and I know our friendship is one of God’s special blessings.

My editor and agent, you both have been such huge support systems for me while I wrote this book. Thanks, Marc, for that night of getting all those people to call me to inspire me, and Melody, for your patience and your solidness as you stood behind this project. I can never thank you enough.

To everyone reading this, I thank God for leading you to my books over and over again. I truly appreciate your undying support! Thank you!

And last but not least, my own special inspiration, who inspired Yarni’s Des: You definitely know you are an angel in my life and you have the tattered wings to prove it from the battles you’ve fought for me, to see to it that I came through.