Secrets of a Hood Wife and a Rich Goon

1. What It Feels Like

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE

Toni coughed, then gagged as her head spun, but she managed to sit up on soft carpet.

Head hanging, palms pressed into the rug, she caught her breath and used the back of her hand to wipe her mouth.

Finally, her eyes blinked open, but everything was kind of blurry, so she quickly shut them as her stomach turned.

The last thing she remembered was being out shopping with the kids.

Then… Frank. Something happened to him. Shaking away the images only brought back more, and suddenly, Chai’s smug face appeared.

“Oh, God. My babies!” Toni whispered, eyes shooting open as she tried to adjust to the fluorescent lighting in the room.

“They’re fine,” Chai huffed from somewhere in the soundproof room.

Toni knew it was soundproof because she couldn’t hear anything around them.

Eyes flickering, she found herself on the floor beside a twin bed.

Across from her, Jou Jou and Breeze slept soundly.

She watched long enough to make sure their little chests were rising and falling before her head swung toward the door.

Bitch. Arms folded in her black logo print two-piece Gucci suit, Chai examined her nails like she’d been standing there all along, waiting for her to wake up.

“When I’m done with you, you won’t be, bitch,” Toni growled, adrenaline coursing through her like kryptonite.

Throwing her head back, Chai erupted with laughter before pushing herself off the dresser.

“Cute. Where was this energy when you were playing Cinderella for me and Uma?” she mocked. “Or did Bull put that battery in your back?”

This time, Toni laughed. Chai was so bitter. Such a fucking hater. All that pretty, and she was still ugly inside.

“You’re such a fucking bottom feeder.” Toni sat up and moved to press her back against the side of the bed. She was starting to gain some of her strength back.

“Hmm, I think you’re forgetting to look in the mirror when you say that. You’re a bird, Toni. You ain’t even got the good sense to use what you have to get what you want. You keep thinking that meek, sweet act is going to get you what you somewhere—”

“It got Bull,” Toni noted, smugly studying Chai, who suddenly had no words. “And that’s what you’re really mad at, am I right? You thought you would swoop in and be able to charm him with that whole exotic persona, but we both know that underneath that, you ain’t nothing but another hoodrat.”

“Bitch, I will kill you!” Chai stomped toward Toni, snatching her hair by the roots and dragging her to her feet.

The minute she did that, Toni’s fist rammed into her face with two staggering punches.

Chai lost her footing in her heels, giving Toni the advantage.

Chai couldn’t get a swing in because Toni used all her strength to spin her, tossing her into the brick, knocking the wind from her.

The metal door clicked, then opened, and a handsome figure rushed inside to break them apart.

“Yooo, this ain’t no MMA shit. The fuck!” Arms spread between the two, his gaze gamboled between both women, out of breath and pacing as if they were ready to go another round.

Pausing, Toni studied his stature and mannerisms as his familiar eyes raked over her slowly. His face was new to her, but she recognized something in that voice and that stare.

“Midas, you better get this bitch before her kids bury her!” Chai attempted to charge at Toni again, but the six-foot-two stranger placed himself between them.

She now had a busted lip, and a leaking nose.

Meanwhile, Toni didn’t have a scratch on her as she stood there panting, waiting for the bitch to jump froggy.

“Go get cleaned up and let Boss know shit is secured,” he instructed.

Reaching up to touch her nose, when she saw blood on the tips of her fingers, Chai’s dark glare landed on Toni once again.

“This ain’t over, bitch. Don’t get comfortable,” she threatened on her way to the door.

Shaking his head, Midas watched after her until she secured the door behind her. He faced Toni, but contempt clouded her expression.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

His tongue swiped across his lips, and intrigue danced in his captivating irises. Throwing his hands up in surrender, he dragged his hand down his beard. She studied his lean, but muscular frame in all black with locs in need of a retwist pulled back in a low ponytail.

“I’m not your enemy, shorty.”

“Me and my kids are locked in a room God knows where. Please don’t insult my fucking intelligence.”

“Damn.” His neck jerked, and he revealed a smile with a bottom row of nothing but platinum and diamonds. “Spicy. I like that shit. No wonder Bull couldn’t resist smashing his brother’s bitch.”

Toni inched forward, and he backed up with his hands up again.

“Whoa, my bad.” He chuckled. “I don’t want no smoke, just what a nigga heard.”

“Well, you don’t know shit. Don’t speak on me, Bronx, or Bull.

Everything ain’t what the fuck it seems, and it’s a hell of a lot more to the story than anybody fucking knows or even has the right to know.

All that matters now is Bull is my fucking husband, and his opps are my opps.

So, who the fuck are you, and what do you want? ”

“Damn, no lie, that shit just made my dick hard.” He bit his bottom lip and grabbed his semi hard dick.

“We’ve secured the packages,” a low, even voice said from behind Braxton Andrews.

Swallowing the whiskey he’d just inhaled, he turned and found Chai sauntering inside, holding an ice pack against her jaw. She’d cleaned her bloody nose, but it was starting to swell now too.

“How is she?”

“I’m gonna kill that bitch.” She flexed her jaw and applied more pressure with the ice pack. Their sedatives will be wearing off soon.” Chai paused in front of his desk and ran the tips of her first two fingers along the smooth cherry wood finish. “What’s next?”

“You played your part. You can go.” Braxton took a pull from the Cuban cigar between his fingers and exhaled.

Sneering, Chai scoffed, perfectly threaded brows drawing together in confusion.

“Go? But, I thought—”

“You aren’t paid to think, Chai! You’re paid to do what the fuck I tell you!” Braxton hissed, startling her with his urgent, callous tone. “You need to move accordingly. I will take care of this situation from here. Are we clear?”

“As glass.”

Turning, she marched toward the door and nearly bumped into the tall figure making his way inside. Licking his lips, Midas looked her up and down, eyes lingering over her ass in her black leggings.

Ice grilling him, Chai stomped out, and he shook his head with lust bouncing around his eyes. He stroked his chin, stopping in front of Braxton’s desk as he tipped his glass of whiskey to his lips and swallowed.

“That’s a bad bitch right there, even with a busted lip,” Midas St. James declared, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “And Bulls’ wife. Shorty got hands.” He laughed but gained no response from Braxton. “So, what’s the next play, Boss? You sure you ready for what comes next?”

Braxton lifted his dark eyes to meet Midas'. Like Oracle and Eazy, he’d known this one since he was a youngin’ getting in trouble every turn he took.

Bull and Bronx assembling a crew based off their individual talents was the best thing any of them could have done.

Braxton benefited greatly from it. Not a completely reckless crew, but there were times when ego, pride, and even pure greed got in the way of a job.

“Been ready,” Braxton insisted, studying the cigar between his fingers. “Bull set this in motion. Nobody told him to come home and interfere with a damn thing. Nigga wanted to play captain save a hoe, and now he’s gotta learn a hard lesson.”

“Crazy.” Midas shook his head. “After everything we been through, I hate it’s come to this.”

“Hate the game, son. It is what it is. A casualty is a necessity. Ain’t no other way.

Bronx wanted to go against me. My own son double-crossed me, and he paid the price.

Bull ain’t obsolete from this shit either.

” Braxton brought the cigar to his lips once again.

“I’ve been waiting four years to put him in his place.

He made the mistake of showing his hand with Toni and those kids. A man’s family is always his weakness.”

“Unless that man is you,” Midas tittered, and Braxton shot him a glare.

“That shit supposed to be funny?”

“Not even a little bit, Boss.”

“Get the message to Bull. Send him the picture of Frank. He’ll reach out,” Braxton ordered.

“Copy that.” Midas bowed out, letting himself into the hallway of Braxton’s massive home.

He had no idea as he passed the small arched hallway leading to a private bath that Brenda was nearby, ear hustling.

Stepping from the shadows, she watched Midas exit through the front door before going to confront her husband.

Brenda was a lot of things, and not all good.

She’d be the first to admit it. She supported her husband over her sons, even when he was dead wrong in his treatment of them.

He was never a father, more like a dictator.

The do as I say type, or else. Bull or Bronx didn’t have a chance to be themselves or explore anything that they might give a damn about.

It was always Braxton’s way or no way. Bull went to jail for Midas years ago, and he disappeared.

As far as she knew, nobody had seen or heard from him until now.

After hearing his conversation with Braxton, it shattered what was left of humanity inside of her.

Had she heard him right? Was he the reason Bronx was dead?

All this time, she’d bought into his theory that Toni set him up with some rivals, and that’s what happened to Bronx.

Now the puzzle pieces were beginning to come together, and she didn’t like what was forming.

She didn’t always agree with her husband or his tactics, so she preferred that he keep her out of shit.

Trusting him meant letting him lead the ship, and until now, she believed he was steering them in the right direction.

“Brenda.” Braxton’s expression fell. “I thought you were taking a nap.”

The truth was, she’d passed out after a day of shopping and wine tasting. Brunch with the girls put her on her ass, so she came home to sleep it off. Listening to Chai talk shit and slam the front door is what stirred her from her sleep.

“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like.”

Scrutinizing him, Brenda suddenly didn’t know who the hell she was looking at anymore.

“You know… I never deemed you a saint, Braxton.” Blinking slowly, she stepped past his desk to grab her own drink.

“I know you always had your own code. Andrew’s code.

I never questioned it, and I always let you lead, even when I knew I should have stepped in, especially when it came to Bronx and Bull. ”

“Bronx and Bull.” A hard grimace darkened his face. “Miss me with that mama shit, B, real shit. Those boys been accessories to you since the day they were born!”

“That’s not true, and you know it! You even dictated my relationship with them!

Making it hard to have a conversation because they felt like they couldn’t trust me!

I told you things in confidence, and you just had to betray that like I’m not your wife!

” She slammed the decanter down after filling her glass with gin.

“You talk that family and loyalty shit when the truth is, it only applies to the ones around you. You get to do whatever the hell you want.” She sucked a few sips of gin into her mouth and paused.

“You want to talk about loyalty? Bronx was about to double cross me. He intervened on a lucrative deal with some people that I still fucking owe, and they want to collect. We recovered the one painting from Bronx’s place that night.

” Braxton held up his index finger. “There are still four other paintings out there, and I need them yesterday! Bronx don’t know what the fuck he set in motion.

That’s what got him killed. When you’re in with these type of motherfuckers, they don’t care about you, your family, or your fucking dog! ”

“I want to know everything.” Brenda knelt to retrieve what looked like a book from the bottom shelf of a built-in bookcase nearby.

She usually kept a stash in some part of the house, so Braxton wasn’t surprised.

He watched her sit across from his desk and lift the lid before spinning the combo into the lock mechanism.

A small tray with a couple ounces of cocaine in a mini-Ziploc and a cut up straw inside among other party favors.

“Bronx violated and had the audacity to cross me! As far as I’m concerned, I don’t need to elaborate on anything else.”

“He’s your son,” Brenda reminded him.

“He was a traitor!” Braxton slammed his glass on his desk, and splashes of whiskey hit the wood.

“You can sit there and dress that up as some familial bullshit all you want! The fuck am I supposed to do when a muhfucka finds out my own flesh and blood betrayed me, and I let him live! It was bad enough Bull was all the way across the country, defying me.”

“So, you had our son killed?” Brenda lifted her eyes from the box and met her husband’s across the desk.

“I had an opp removed,” Braxton corrected through gritted teeth.

Nodding, Brenda picked up her tray where she’d arranged two lines and a three-inch straw. She snorted one line, then another, and Braxton stood tall.

Picking up the mini nine-millimeter inside the box, she raised it swiftly. Taking two steps back, Braxton opened his mouth to challenge her, taking a couple of steps back, but his wife squeezed off before he could speak.

Pow! Pow! Pow!

Three shots. All to the chest. He jerked unsteadily until his back hit the bookshelf behind him. Both of his arms moved as if he was trying to conceal his wounds while his mouth hung open, gasping for air because no words would form.

Lowering the smoking gun, Brenda dug a black cigarette from her stash box and sparked the tip before standing.

Braxton crumbled behind his desk and tipped over onto his side when he hit the floor.

His wife strutted behind the desk and stood over him as one of his hands clawed at the ground.

She let off another round into his skull and took a drag of her cigarette when she was done.

“May you never rest in peace.” Stepping over him, Brenda knelt and searched his pockets until she came across a ring of keys.