I've found that many of my readers have attached themselves to Riana's brother Shooter. Though he's not a Bennett, he has stolen many hearts and I made sure to start a bit of his story too except his book will be standalone. We learn more about his background and where things go with him and Lexi. I've added a quick preview and remember these excerpts are not the finished edited versions and are subject to change.
SHOOTER
Glass shattered piece by piece into the SUV as shots rang out. There wasn’t any way to tell where they were coming from since the front and back windows were now caved in. I pushed the button to recline my seat and take cover at the same time. A swish sound, along with a powerful breeze came my way with a bullet flying past my nose, barely missing me, “SHIT!” I whispered.
My shirt suddenly became drenched with sweat, heart thumping and singing along with the tunes playing from the firing guns. I fumbled looking for my pistol. It was too dark to see anything; the only visible lights were coming from the street post. “Rock get the fuck down!” I shouted while the bullets continued pouring in. His voice was to no avail. I glanced up, tilting my head to the side to look over at the passenger seat. There he laid slouched over in all black, mouth ajar, blood dripping down the sides of his cheeks. I shifted my gaze to the dime size hole on the side of his head and lost it.
Everything became a blur. I grabbed both sides of his face, pulling him closer, shouting, “Fuck! Come on Rock. Not today, I can’t do this…” I wailed with pain. I touched along his neck feeling for a pulse but it wasn’t there. I checked his wrist but couldn’t tell because my own heartbeat from within myself overshadowed everything. I shook him uncontrollably until his body slumped over on top of me. I pushed him back into the seat. He was gone and his tongue dangling from his mouth was a clear indicator.
When I finally located my pistol, I hopped out the truck. I shut the door and instantly the streets felt empty and the only sounds were from mother nature itself. The ground was wet from the non-stop rain Atlanta experienced. We were on a side street with no houses, no stores, no anything. I searched around looking for a clue as to where my target went. I didn’t know how many people were behind this so I went to the trunk. Since I was in Rock’s car, I knew he never stayed without several straps so the options were endless. I decided a simple handgun would do better than running around with a rifle, so I pulled out the Glock and slid it behind my waist. Faint footsteps staggered to my left and I took off in that direction landing into an alleyway.
Rock asked me to roll with him to Crimbleton, an area in Atlanta that people stayed clear from. He wanted to meet his homeboy Boone but tonight I expressed how uneasy I felt. Now here I was stuck in a situation I wasn’t prepared for.
I crept slowly waiting to hear whoever make a mistake. It was practically pitch black, the only thing visual was the reflective check mark on the side of my all black 93 Air Max.
“Aye pussy nigga?” My voice echoed, bouncing off what I assumed to be a big metal trash bin in front of me. “You better kill me because if I live to make it to you, I’m spilling your fucking brains out motherfucka!”
The sound of a gun cocking back clicked behind me, “What you say? Repeat yourself with this gun pointed to your head,” a deep raspy voice growled.
“Nigga I ain't changing what I said, you heard me the first time.” I fussed, making a bold decision to spin around into his direction now facing him directly head-on.
Sure, enough it was Boone. He was a giant, at least 6’4 and easily weighing over three-hundred pounds. It looked like he’d put more weight since I’d first seen him. His shoulders were broad as hell, stomach showing, hanging over his jeans and he was black as hell. “Lil nigga I hear they call you Shooter, right?”
I looked up, squinting my eyes while creasing my brows. “What? You know what they call me. And if you smart enough you would take your shot because if I bust at you, I won’t miss.”
He laughed which made me more furious. I barely lifted my shirt and quickly pulled the chrome beretta out the front of my pants. Gripping the handle with one hand over the other, I pointed it towards his face. This time we both had guns aiming at our domes.
“Chill I was aiming for Rock. I have nothing against you. Rock owed me and he knew how this would go down if he came up short. And as far as his sister is concerned, Nando assaulted her not me. In this game it’s all about getting even and if I was you, I’d stay out of it. This is a grown man’s game.”
Within seconds, I aimed quickly at his hand firing one shot, causing his gun to fall to the ground. “Oh, my fucking God,” he screamed, kneeling down to recover his gun, but I kicked it the moment he got halfway. I saw the blood oozing from his hands and that was the first time I felt relieved. I was glad to cause him pain but what he felt wasn’t nearly the half of the throbbing sensation he left me with from losing my friend to some stupid shit.
“You know the streets call me Shooter for a reason, right? I shoot with precision and every aim to target results in devastation. You shoulda killed me,” I snickered, “but you didn’t.”
“Wait, you gon kill me over that cracker? He guffawed, “you’re bout to murder me over a white motherfucker that gives no shit about you? Man, you trippin,” he mumbled.
“Naw nigga, Rock and I go way back to when we were eight and that same white boy loyal as fuck. Your snitching ass cut from a different cloth. You black like me but you a rattin ass nigga. You two aren’t the same. Remember that!
“You know black lives mat—,” he tried to finish but I swiped the gun down parting his lips and shoved it into his mouth.
“Shut-the-fuck-up! Black lives ain’t matter when you killed, Nate, Roscoe, or all the rest of the niggas on the street. Rock was my brother and when it comes to him, hell yeah I’ll smoke you til you turn into dust motherfucka.” I noticed daylight creeping in as the back of his head leaned further against the brick wall.
As I got ready to squeeze the trigger, Boone’s hands swaddle my wrist but my grip was too firm. If one thing I learned from seeing shit hit the fan was anyone would do their best to stay alive but Boone underestimated me. He didn’t think I had it in me. Hell, I didn’t either since I’d never kill anyone before. In the streets I was well respected, people knew I wasn’t no snitch and I was no drug dealer either. I knew the game but I was the man people came to if they needed me to knock someone off. I’d do the dirty work and get them down but never taking God’s place to end their life. I taught people lessons but no one could ever prove that it was just a story in the streets but it was all true.
Without saying another word, I squeezed the trigger causing his blood to splatter in all types of directions. What should have been a big sounding blow was minimal since the shot fired was inside his mouth. His lifeless body fell to the ground and I repositioned again making sure I finished him. I refocused the pistol to his chest, cocking it back and squeezed the trigger slowly. On release, the fire and light illuminated the tip of the muzzle causing smoke. I felt the immediate pressure jolting my arms from the recoil of the gun. The shells flew back against me, and the sounds of them dropping on the ground echoed through the alleyway. “No matter the color, we all bleed red motherfucka.”
* * *
Soft hands inched over my naked chest, startling me out my dream that I kept reliving for the past ten years.
“Shooter what’s wrong?”
I rubbed my eyes then turned over to the sensual voice speaking to me. I opened them and in view was a cute Latina chick with a small pointy nose, wild curly hair spread all over my plush pillows and surprisingly her make up was still intact. She held a smirk and continued caressing my body. “You were talking in your sleep, tossing and turning. You had me worried.” She sat up with concern in her eyes, “Are you okay?”
I took in a deep breath knowing I couldn’t tell her that I killed someone when I was seventeen years old. It was in the past and though I wasn’t in the streets doing stupid shit, nothing could ever erase that pivotal moment for me. I rubbed her thighs inching my way towards her sex in hopes she’d let it go. “I’m good Lexi, just a bad dream.” I pushed myself up, kissing her forehead. Then I made my way out the bed, grabbing my iPhone off the dresser and into the bathroom.
*END OF EXCERPT*
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