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“My initials ain't S.I.C. for nothing Nigga.”– Spencer Chance.

Spencer stood on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge as he amusingly watched his henchmen dangle “Budda” a once loyal street lieutenant.

“I’m sorry Spencer, I’m sorry,” Budda cried in hopes that Spencer would have mercy and allow him to live.

“Where’s my money Budda?” Spencer asked as he removed his .45 from his waist and loaded a bullet into the chamber. “Pull that mutha fucka up,” he shouted as he laughed aloud. Spencer looked Budda dead in the eye as he used his gun to wipe away his tears. “Now I know you didn’t mean to cross me and because you’ve been such a loyal little nigga and made me so much money I’m going to let you live, but if you ever cross me again…” He paused then looked at the other four men who stood spectating with smirks on their faces. “I might not be so fucking forgiving, you feel me?” he completed.

Budda nodded his head in agreement because he was too choked up to speak.

“Now about the money you owe me, you’re going to pay me back, with interest… Right?” he aggressively insisted.

Budda’s eyes widened as he didn’t respond, but seeing the fearful look in Spencer’s eyes caused him to quickly gather himself and take advantage of the opportunity at hand.

“Yes, yes thank you Spencer, I love you man,” he replied shaking and emotional.

On bended knee Budda pleaded with Spencer as if he was God and he had just granted him access into Heaven. He snatched his feet from Budda’s grasp, hoping to save his Gucci loafers from the flow of his continuous tears. He turned his back and walked away but before he got into his candy apple red Cadillac convertible he shouted “The Penthouse we got to celebrate… Budda's alive.”

Displaying an abundance of theatrics with his hands and facial gestures, his face exhibited forgiveness and joy but the true contents of his heart and thoughts were filled with deadly revenge, and just like God whatever Spencer thought was soon to become a reality.


Later that night Spencer and his entourage enjoyed the pleasures of expensive liquor and half naked women as they sat in the VIP section of the Penthouse, a strip club in D.C. Every man including Budda was given stacks of one hundred dollar bills to splurge on the women. As the night became the wee hours of the morning, he suggested that they continue the party at a nearby hotel.

He signaled for Juan the club’s owner, when he arrived Spencer informed him that he wanted to hire ten of his finest girls for an overnight assignment. Juan laughed and quickly rushed off to retrieve the women. On the outside Juan appeared to be an honest man, with a smile of gold and the gift of gab. One would have never suspected that he was involved in human trafficking in his native homeland of Mexico City.

He returned with the requested women, all varied in height, color, shape, and size as they stood before Spencer as if they were on a show room floor. He quickly glanced at the women admiring their individual beauty. He then called for Budda to come over, when he arrived Spencer said “Pick one, anyone; it’s on me my man.” Budda’s eyes lit up as if he were a kid in a candy store.

Carefully eyeing each woman he picked the second to the last in line. “Her, I want her,” he said anxiously and eager as he felt a slight hard on forming in his cargo shorts. “Well her it is,” Spencer countered as the woman stepped out of line and walked over to him, recognizing that he was in charge.

Budda stepped up and said “What’s your name baby?”

“Juicy,” she replied seductively.

She was moderately attractive with large breast, a double wide ass, a tad bit on the heavy side, and just how Budda liked his women, raunchy. Spencer allowed his entourage to claim the remaining women before he paid the $4,600 tab, and left the club.

He pulled up to the $700 a night W Hotel, reached inside the glove box, and retrieved a large envelope containing the finest of Kush. He proceeded into the hotel lobby and checked into the Penthouse suite.

Once he reached his destination, accompanied by his entourage he made sure things were ok, then left his men to their pleasures.

He exited the Hotel and got into his car. Sitting there starring into the distance, he picked up his iPhone and called Whispers.

Whispers was one of the Council’s oldest and most elite hit men. He was known for his straight razor abilities and his raspy voice. He had been abused physically and sexually by his father as a child. When he was seven years old he shot his father after he found his mother beaten and unconscious on the kitchen floor. Before his father took his last breath, he grabbed Whispers and slit his throat with a razor, damaging his vocal cords forever. After this Whispers became a professional with the very weapon that almost claimed his life.

“Yo Whispers handle that,” Spencer stated calmly.

“Okay,” Whispers replied in a low raspy tone.

Whispers had clandestinely entered the suite and after ending the call he started down the semi lit hallway of the penthouse. As he approached the last door on the left the sound of a woman moaning filled the atmosphere. He silently opened the door, removed his pearl handle blade and stood over the couple as they obliviously continued their sexual escapade. With a smile on his face and a blade in his hand he leaned over the couple and softly stated “It’s time to die.”

Whispers took hold of Budda’s long locks as he began to plead for his life. “No Whispers, No, don-…” Before he could complete his statement Whispers sliced him from ear to ear. Blood splattered across the wall, the exquisite headboard, and the young woman’s screaming face. He then moved toward the woman as she also pleaded for her life.

“No, please,” she cried as she retreated toward the wall.

He reached out and embraced her, “Shhh,” he whispered as he slid his blade into her chest and through her heart. He loosened his grip and laid her on the bed as the small blood stain quickly spread across her chest. Her eyes were wide open as she slowly slipped into eternal rest.

Whispers exited the hotel suite, removed his cell phone, and dialed the last number that called his phone. “It’s done,” he stated then hung up the phone.

Outside the hotel Spencer sat pondering Budda’s betrayal and the outcome of his actions, then stated aloud “My initials ain’t S.I.C for nothing nigga,” after which he sped off into the night.

Welcome to Relentless Ties, the first of a Trilogy…

Chapter One

“You can take a man’s life but you can’t take away his legacy.”

– Bobby Chance.

Spencer sat in his cream Italian leather chair as he aimlessly starred out the window. To the common eye he was day dreaming but in reality he was thinking back to a time when everything was okay. “Spence, Dai-Dai, Kail,” he heard as he thought of his father “Bad Ass Bobby Chance.” Bobby was an O.G and he came from a family of professional hustlers and hit men.

Bobby’s father started out bootlegging liquor and ended up a rich man when he introduced heroin to the metropolitan area in the 70’s. Bobby had been taught first hand by his father and everything he learned he passed on to his son Spencer. Spencer was the oldest of three children, a natural born leader, and perfect for the dope game. As he sat there reminiscing he could see his father in their large well landscaped yard as he played with his children.

Although Bobby was known as a crime lord on the streets, behind closed doors he feared God, and was a loving family man. Spencer remembered the days when his father would ask his children what they wanted to be when they grew up. Mahkail his younger brother would always say “I want to be a lawyer and put away bad guys.” He didn’t realize that in society’s eyes his father was the bad guy.

From a young age Mahkail was money motivated and purposed himself on anything that brought him pleasure and financial gain. Young Spencer would reply “I want to be a hustler and have lots of money.” His statement brought the Council’s members to laughter as they stood by listening. Bobby’s best friend and Spencer’s God father Frank replied “It’s okay when people respect you, but when they fear you now you really got the power.”

Spencer’s father looked at his best friend of twenty years in disgust then focused his attention back on his young son. “Son I want you to aim higher than that,” he urged. Deep inside he knew that Spencer had made up his mind and whatever he put his mind to he was going to do.

Finally he would ask his baby girl Dai-Dai, but the response she gave was always dark and sinister. “Daddy I want to do magic, I want to make people disappear,” she said with the look of a born killer in her eyes. Dai-Dai was different from Bobby’s other children, from an early age she wasn’t afraid of anything or anybody. She enjoyed sweet revenge and welcomed every opportunity to exhibit her demonic thoughts.

Bobby held his daughter close, never replying, but knowing that one day he would have to deal with what she was feeling inside. Spencer sat there with a half-smile on his face and tears in his eyes as he thought of his father’s powerful, and organized leadership and how he reigned over the D.M.V with such dignity and class. He thought about the respect his father had gained and how even that couldn’t shield him from his untimely demise.

He then recalled the gloomy day his father was murdered and a telephone conversation he overheard. “What mutha fucka, do you know who I am?” Bobby shouted as his words echoed throughout the halls of his luxurious custom built mansion. As he screamed threats and vulgarities through the phone he realized that the person on the other end had prematurely ended the call. Outraged at the blatant disrespect he slammed the phone on the desk causing it to shatter in multiple pieces.

Brimming with frustration he exited his home office and gathered his things in preparation for his trip out of the Country. He had planned to visit the Dominican Republic in hopes of gaining a new drug connect, thus giving him the leverage for a potential takeover of the entire East Coast. Before leaving he hugged and kissed his beautiful wife Paula in an attempt to reassure her that things were going to be okay. She held him tightly and said “Honey I don’t want you to go, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Paula was reared in the church and often had accurate spiritual premonitions, alike the one she saw the previous night about her husband’s demise. “Listen Pretty nothing’s going to happen to me, besides you think I’m going to leave all this for another man?” he said jovially. “I’m serious Bobby,” she replied. “Listen if anything ever happened to me, and it won’t… I’ll always be right here,” he insisted as he pointed to her heart and tears filled her eyes.

Looking over at his three young children he walked over, embraced them, and kissed each on their foreheads reaffirming his affection, and promising to bring them something back when he returned.

Spencer followed closely as his father walked out the front door and toward his bullet proof Mercedes Benz. “Daddy, I want to go with you,” he cried. Bobby walked over to young Spencer, placed his strong hand on his shoulder and stated “I’ll be back before you know it son, but while I’m gone you’ve got to be the man of the house and take care of your mother and sister. Do you think you can do that?” Spencer was doubtful that he could fill his father’s shoes in his absence, and was completely hesitant but he nodded in agreement anyway to please him.

Bobby kneeled down so that he and his son was eye to eye and said “Listen son you can take a man’s life but you can’t take away his legacy, you understand?” “Yeah I understand Daddy,” he replied smiling as his face was still wet from tears.

Bobby stood up, fixed his Burberry tie and walked over to his car. He winked his eye at Spencer, got into his car, and drove down the circular driveway as his young son stood watching.

Spencer turned to walk into the house but before he reached the steps he was knocked off his feet from the impact of the loud blast that sounded behind him. He stood up and ran as fast as he could toward his father’s flame engulfed car. Before he reached his destination he felt the detaining hold of one of his father’s henchmen, Whispers. He struggled to break free, eager to rescue his father from the burning car but it was no use.

Bobby was gone and his family would never be the same. The chaos that followed the explosion left Spencer’s mother on the lawn sobbing, a sight he would never forget. “No God, why didn’t you listen, no not my husband please,” She cried as her children looked on with their eyes laden with tears. As Spencer was overtaken by his emotions and totally incognizant to his current surroundings he didn’t hear the constant beeping of the telephone.

“Mr. Chance,” the woman stated in a soft voice via the intercom. She was one of the on duty housekeeper’s at the Chance estate.

Entrapped in his painful thoughts he slowly came too and wiped the residual tears from his face.

“What is it Michelle?” he asked as he held the button on the phone.

“Judge Mullins is on the line Sir. Should I take a message?” she asked.

“No I’ll take it,” Spencer urged as he was eager to speak to him regarding his take on the drug war that was potentially on its way.

Judge Avery Mullins was an old friend of Spencer’s father, and had been on the Council’s payroll since he was a defense attorney in the late 70’s. He would contact Spencer with any information that concerned him or the Council and warn him of any pressing dangers.

He lifted the handset, pressed the line that was blinking, and said “Judge Mullins, How are you?”

“Well I’m probably a lot better than you are right now considering your current circumstances,” He replied.

“What you mean?” Spencer questioned.

“I got a bad feeling about your connect. Something’s just not right. I think you should ditch this guy and move on. I know it may hurt business for a while but it’s worth avoiding a war.”

“Look I’m not afraid of no wet back ass Mexicans, we can take them mutha fuckas anytime, anywhere,” he shouted in anger.

“I know that son but is it really worth the bloodshed? And besides if anything ever happened to you your mother would be crushed. Look I’m not trying to tell you how to run your business, and I know you’re not afraid but take your time and think this one out,” Judge Mullins urged.

“Yeah okay, thanks Unc,” Spencer replied reluctantly.

“Anytime nephew, take care,” Judge Mullins replied then ended the call.

Spencer was left to think about his conversation with Judge Mullins, and how he was going to react to the information he received. On one hand he could fight the Mexicans and let the winner take all or he could simply walk away and sever all ties peacefully. He had an important decision to make, one that could potentially start one of the most deadly wars the streets of D.C. has ever seen…

Chapter Two

“If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”- Al Green.

Mahkail signaled for the valet to fetch his moonstone metallic 760Li BMW. As soon as his car arrived he handed the valet a $20 bill, hopped inside his car, and sped off. Pulling up to the Marriott Hotel located in downtown D.C., he dashed out of the car eager to get his weekly meeting started. He entered the luxurious hotel, walked up to the receptionist’s desk and stated “Hi I’m meeting my wife here and she said I could pick up the key at the front desk.”

“Oh sure Mr. Mustafah,” the receptionist stated with a heavy Jamaican accent.

“By de way me from de Ewarton area, which island you from?” she asked as she flirted with her eyes.

“Oh well my father was from Jamaica but… I was raised here,” he said in a very unconvincing tone. He then snatched the room key and swiftly walked toward the elevator. Arriving on the 12thfloor he stepped out and began searching for room 1233. When he reached his destination he opened the door and was immediately seduced by the smell of lavender and cream. He continued through the grandiose suite in search of his sole purpose for being there. He walked into the bedroom and his attention was immediately captivated by the sight of burning candles and the fresh rose pedals that accented the heart shaped bed.

“Put your hands up mutha fucka, and don’t move or I will shoot,” sounded a feminine voice from behind.

He turned around and saw Fatima and her striking beauty standing there in a red, lace lingerie set.

“Why you always playing girl?” he asked as he grabbed her by her petite waist and pulled her close.

She leaned into his embrace, placing her face and lips adjacent to his and stated “You know I love you boy.”

After which she kissed him passionately, pressing her body against his causing his nature to rise on contact. Mahkail and Fatima had become quite found of one another since meeting in a café in Georgetown several months prior. Wednesdays had been reserved for their weekly meeting, which was a cover up for their sexual encounters. Mahkail’s busy schedule as the new prosecutor in the District Attorney’s office and Fatima’s role as the first lady to Jamaican drug lord Jolice Mustafah left them with very little time for sexual encounters and even less for public meetings.

Mahkail was totally unaware of the fact that he was treading very dangerous waters by having an affair with Fatima. Mustafah was known to be a bloody man of murder and if he found out about his wife’s extra marital affair there would surely be bloodshed.

After performing intense cunnilingus on Fatima, Mahkail positioned his body on top of hers with her legs wrapped around his waist; he inserted his rod into her throbbing womanhood and went to work. She moaned erotically as he continuously stroked her G spot causing her vagina muscles to contract repeatedly as she overflowed with passion. Continuing to pleasure her until her core shook and causing his body to create an orgasmic eruption. He climaxed allowing his seed to flow freely. With no regard for their actions and completely abstracted to the potential consequences they lie in bed as they were basking in the afterglow.

“I bet your man can’t do like that?” he boasted as he panted from sexual exhaustion. He starred at Fatima waiting for her response, hoping that she would stroke his ego and say that he was the best she ever had.

“Nobody can do me like you baby,” she replied with an odd look on her face.

Physically she was with him but her mind was envisioning her husband bursting through the door and slaying the man she was quickly falling for.

“Tima, Tima,” he called repeatedly in hopes of pulling her out of the daze she seemed trapped in.

As he buttoned his Kenneth Cole shirt he continued to stare at her wondering if the feelings he felt were reciprocated. He was known as a ladies’ man and never really wanted anything serious but with Fatima it was different. He was falling for her fast and even though he knew she was married, in his heart she was all his. Fatima was a beautiful Jamaican goddess, also mixed with Hawaiian she was medium brown with curly black hair, and alluring hazel eyes.

She was the daughter of the “Paradise Island Kingpin,” Ike Iona who detested Mustafah because of his dark complexion and resented his daughter’s decision to marry him against his wishes. Ike owned a plantation on the island of Honolulu where he manufactured and packaged heroin for distribution throughout Hawaii and the U.S. He was powerful and his beautiful daughter was his princess. Whatever she desired Ike gladly provided.

Fatima crawled across the bed until she was directly in front of Mahkail, standing on her knees she perfected his Kenneth Cole tie as she looked into his eyes and said “I Love you Mahkail Chance.” It was as if she read his mind, affirming her love for him while he was questioning it in his mind. Fatima loved her husband Mustafah but through the years he had cheated numerous times and had many children outside of their marriage that he claimed openly.

She desperately wanted to be a good wife and give Mustafah the one thing he always desired, a son with her. However she had been diagnosed with an irreversible tubal disease which left her barren. Mustafah resented her for this and often said that she was beautiful but of no use to him because she could not have his son.

Mahkail kissed Fatima on the lips and whispered “If loving you is wrong, I don’t want to be right,” then left the suite.

As Fatima stood in front of the hotel waiting for the valet to retrieve her car she didn’t notice that one of Mustafah’s henchmen sat across the street waiting and watching her every move.

Chapter Three

“They want it so bad they’ll eat their own skin to get it.” - Spencer Chance.

Spencer sat at the cherry oak table looking at his six henchmen, and his baby sister on his left. He stood to his feet and began walking the room as he illustrated his point through his body language and hand gestures.

“Gentlemen I’ve brought you here today because I want to give each of you a firsthand opportunity to get in on the new venture I have planned for the Council. “In the 70’s my Grandfather made heroin his new found fortune. My father then took what his father taught him and used it to perfect the coke game thus affording all of us the freedom to live the lavish lives we live. And now it’s our time.”

Spencer removed a small glass vial from his Armani slacks, and placed it on the table. Dai-Dai and the Council members looked at the crystal like substance in awe as they wondered what it was.

Dai-Dai picked up the vial and asked “Man what the fuck is this?” Spencer snatched the vial and replied “This is what’s going to set the Council apart from the rest.”

“What you talking about Spence?” Dai-Dai further questioned.

“I’m talking about us starting a revolution and making a fortune as we do. Many of you worked with my father, and I say worked with him instead of for him because in order for a leader to be successful he has to have great men behind him.”

As Spencer’s words permeated the hearts of those present he hoped that they would be as supportive and loyal as they had been to his father. The room was silent and everyone began to see Spencer in a brand new light, instead of them seeing him as Bobby’s little boy they saw him as the man that would lead them to bigger and better things. He planned to take them completely out of the coke game and into a whole new arena. Many of them had watched him grow up and still saw him as a little boy, but things were quickly changing.

“This is Crystal Meth and much like crack it takes a hold of its victims but on a whole new level,” Spencer insisted as he held the new wonder drug in his hand.

“How does it do that?” Whispers asked in a scratchy voice.

Spencer walked over and stood behind him as he placed his hands firmly on his shoulders and said “Whispers they want it so bad they’ll eat their own skin to get it.”

As everyone was drawn to his words it was obvious that he had their undivided attention.

“Now that I have your attention let’s get down to the particulars,” he added as he took his seat at the head of the table, a seat that for many years had been reserved for the commanding officer of the infamous drug cartel known as the Council.

“I spoke with Adolfio and he informed me that the price of our shipments will soon be going up considerably. I’ve arranged a meeting so that we can discuss the new prices and where the Council and the Saldado stand,” he advised.

Adolfio was the head of the Mexican cartel known as the Soldado. The Soldado supplied cocaine in large quantities to various organizations. For many years they gained leverage by using hard ball tactics to extort those who did business with him. They were feared by most because there were so many of them, and because of this Adolfio was known as Mr. Untouchable.

“I expect that the results of this meeting will not be favorable but I’m working on a new connect as we speak, meanwhile we will still carry out business as usual and if anybody makes the mistake of thinking that we’re done…”

He paused and surveyed the room to make sure everyone was listening.

“Don’t hesitate to rock their ass to sleep. Now I expect that we will see some troublesome times but we‘re a family and together we can continue to reign as we always have. I have a shipment of Meth coming in this Thursday and I will have each of the lieutenants distribute the product in their respective districts. Once the fens get a hold of the samples, we’ve got them and once we’ve got them they’ll never let go. But the Mexicans will try everything they can to destroy us-

“We won’t let that shit happen,” Bone shouted as he interrupted Spencer before he could finish his statement, hoping that he would see the loyalty in his eyes and promote him because of his heart. Bone had been running dope and putting in work for the Council since he was nine years old. His mother Katherine “Ms. Kitty” Carter was Bobby’s lady back in the day before she got hook on heroin and overdosed. He promised her that he would take care of her son and he was a man of his word. Bone’s father was never revealed and because he had been on his own for so long the Council was the only family he had known.

“Thanks B, anybody want out if so now’s the time because from here on there’s no turning back,” Spencer said firmly as he scanned the room for signs of doubt. Once again the room fell silent as everyone contemplated his words.

“Okay then, thank you for your time gentlemen,” Spencer added as he concluded the meeting and the Council’s members began to exit the room.

Dai-Dai walked up to Spencer with a puzzled look on her face and said “Yo Spence you sure you know what you doing?”

Spencer looked at his baby sister and replied “I’m sure Dai-Dai,” and for the first time in his life he had lied to her.

With a look of disbelief on her face she replied “I hope so Bro cause if not we’re going to lose a whole lot of soldiers and I ain't about to lay down without killing me some mutha fuckas on my way. What we need to do is stop playing games with them bitches and show them what we’re made of Bobby Chance style,” she said with malice in her heart and sinister written all over her face.

“Dai-Dai we ain't got to show people shit; they know who we are and what we’re made of. But this ain't about ego tripping; it’s about making a power move. Gramps made a power move, Daddy made a power move, and now it’s our turn. If things go the way I plan the Council will have the dope game on lock and nobody will dare wage a war against us, but we’ve got to stay focused and stick to the plan,” he instructed.

“Yeah alright, I hear you. I’m going to holla at you later I got a little V.A. business I got to take care of, you feel me?” she said with a sly grin on her face as she slightly exposed her radiant teeth.

“Oh yeah I hope I get to be an uncle from this business you taking care of,” he replied sarcastically.

“You’ll get pregnant before I will nigga,” she shot back jokingly.

Dai-Dai had always been a tomboy and she had recently come out to her family about her sexuality but she knew Spencer would never judge her. She dapped him up then left the family estate.

Spencer headed to the Chance family’s illustrious kitchen to have breakfast with his mother.

“Hey Ma,” he said greeting his mother as she continued to prepare breakfast with her back to him.

She turned around and saluted her oldest son with a kiss.

“Hey sweetie,” she said then continued to prepare scrambled eggs, turkey bacon, home fries, and grits. Even though Spencer was the only child that remained at the Chance estate she cooked as if she was cooking for an army. When the meal was complete she placed two colossal plates before Spencer and herself, and they begin to eat. She stopped eating and looked at her son in admiration as he sat there resembling the spitting image of his father.

She gently placed her left hand that sparkled with the six carat diamond ring that her husband had given her on Spencer’s face. Looking into her beloved son’s eyes she confessed her love for him by saying “Spencer I love you so much, you remind me of your father, and if anything ever happened to you I don’t know what I would do.”

“Ma nothing’s going to happen to me, I promise,” he insisted sincerely in an attempt to comfort his mother’s thoughts. Tears fell from her eyes as she placed her hand over her mouth and tried to contain her overwhelming emotions. She was reminded of the fateful day her husband was killed and how similar his last words were to Spencer’s.

“Ma I know you’re worried and to you I will always be your little boy, but I’m a man now and I’m capable of handling myself.” He reached over, grabbed his mother’s hand and said “I just need you to have faith in me and my ability to uphold Daddy’s legacy.”

“Son, I have complete faith in you and you’re right you will always be my little boy.” She released an exhaustive sigh as she prepared to share her feelings with her son.

“Honey I worry because I know how vicious this game can be. I’ve watched so many people I love die, including the love of my life. I’ve never gotten over your father’s death and I’m so afraid of what could happen to you. I know you think you have everything under control but there’s no controlling this game, it blesses whom it wants and curses whom it wants. I’m not trying to tell you what to do but please have a plan b.

Spencer silently nodded in agreement as his mother left the room with her head down.

Coming Soon Relentless Ties 2...

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