Dirty DNA 2: 'Til Death Do Us Part (G Street Chronicles Presents) by BlaQue

Author:BlaQue
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: urban fiction, love, bookclub, urban lit, sex, lies, suspense, scandal, kwan, gstreet, urban books, fast paced, goodreads, urban, relationship, drugs, hip hop fiction, wahida clark, street lit, deceit, michaelbaisden, maintenance man, drama, tstyles, action
Publisher: G Street Chronicles
Published: 2013-02-21T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Reaction Band

“Drop That Thang”

Dread

Crack and I were on I-85 north heading back to the DMV. He had rented a piece of shit Camary that wouldn’t draw any attention to the Feds. So far everything was working out in our favor. We didn’t speed, and we didn’t even twist up any of that good Georgia bud we had packed away in our bags. We were trying to get back home without any incidents or issues.

I thought it would have been better if we left during at night to avoid the cops; but Crack insisted that we leave during the day so when we finally arrived in the DMV it would be well after midnight. We were pretty much on schedule when I checked the dash. It read 10:12 p.m. and we were due to touchdown in DC in about two hours.

I tried calling NiQue again, and every time I got her voicemail it made me want to fuck her up. I needed her to know I was on my way home and I wanted to make sure there weren’t any cops posted up outside of the house. I would hate to get caught before I found out who was trying to fuck up my life.

Crack was cruising listening to some demo of some young cats that were trying to get put on. I had my game face on and was anxious to get home and handle this shit. I wasn’t a sucker by far, and the media was making me out to be not only a sucker, but a murderer too.

“You aight man?” Crack asked.

“Yeah. I’m aight. Just ready to get home and handle this shit.

“Have you heard from your girl? How is she holding up?” Crack asked keeping his eyes trained on the road.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I haven’t heard shit from her.” As I answered Crack I couldn’t help but wonder myself what NiQue was doing, and how my daughter was. I hadn’t heard shit from them since all of this shit started.

We had had been driving for almost seven hours and were about to hit Richmond when I heard the sirens and looked back and saw the lights flashing in the rear view mirror. Panic surged throughout my body.

“Oh shit! We weren’t speeding or anything. Maybe they are pulling us over on some bullshit. Just let me do the talking and don’t say shit!” Crack said pulling the car over to the side of the road.

Being from the hood, he was already prepared for the routine. He slowly reached in the console between the driver and passenger seats and obtained his wallet along with the rental car paperwork as the officer approached the window.

“Good evening officer. May I ask why you pulled us over?” Crack asked calmly.

I tried to avoid eye contact with his cracker ass. My appearance was a cop magnet. I looked like what most people would classify as thug, hood or ghetto. It was times like these that made me wish I didn’t have these dreads, expensive clothes, jewelry and most of the attitude of a street nigga.

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