Nikki (G Street Chronicles Presents) by George Sherman Hudson

Author:George Sherman Hudson [Hudson, George Sherman]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fiction, motivation, love, bookclub, essence, urban lit, sex, lies, Suspense, scandal, education, Erotica, womens fiction, zane, movie, gstreet, eric jerome dickey, Romance, urban books, fast paced, Music, connie briscoe, Series, goodreads, Urban, kimberla lawson roby, relationship, drugs, short story, reshonda tate billingsley, street lit, deceit, African American, michaelbaisden, Thriller, mystery, gstreetessence, victoria christopher murray, Contemporary Fiction, Drama, tv, action, maintenance man, ericjdickey
Publisher: G Street Chronicles
Published: 2013-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Bleep! Bleep!

The ringer rang twice, signaling that someone was entering or exiting. I lifted my head off the pillow, looked over at the bedside clock, and saw that it was almost 4:30 in the morning. Fiz had come in with me when we’d left the club around 3:00, so I figured something had come up and she’d left out without me hearing. All my assumptions went out the door when I looked up and focused on the masked man standing in the middle of my bedroom floor, holding a big black pistol.

“Don’t fuckin’ move. You scream, and I’ma kill your muthafuckin’ ass,” he growled as he stepped into my room and pulled the door closed behind him.

I sat there, speechless, looking at the man’s single gold tooth in the bottom of his mouth. My whole body started to shake uncontrollably. “Please just get what you want and leave. I got money over there on the dresser, almost $3,000. Please don’t shoot, man! That’s all I got.” As I pleaded with him for my life, flashbacks of my parents’ senseless murder crossed my mind.

The man grabbed the money I’d made from tips and off Booney and stuffed it in the cargo pockets of his black fatigues. I knew Fiz was most likely knocked out cold from the long night at the club, so there was no point in hoping that she would save me. The man did a quick scan of the room, then started searching more intensely.

“Don’t make a fuckin sound,” he whispered, pausing to point the gun at me. When he was sure I’d be quiet, he started searching again.

The first place he looked was under the bed. I was glad I’d emptied the shoebox and hidden the money inside the lining of my old, raggedy leather jacket that hung in the back of the closet.

He grabbed the shoebox and opened it. When he saw that it was empty, he was instantly angry. “Where’s the rest of the money? I ain’t playing wit’ yo’ ass either!” he said with rage in his voice.

My heart dropped. The only other person who knew I had money in the shoebox was Fiz. I thought about that for a minute as the man waved the gun around. I refused to believe that my girl would sell me out, but I wasn’t sure what else to think. “That’s all I have. I swear! Please!” I cried out loudly, hoping Fiz would wake up and interrupt the man’s mission.

“Shut the fuck up!” he spewed, sticking the gun directly in my face. He started frantically searching the room, and after coming up empty, he snatched the blinds from the window and used the cord to tie my wrists and ankles. Heated, he stormed out of my room and closed the door behind me.

I silently prayed as I lay across the bed, trying to free myself.

* * * * *

“Hey!” he spat, nudging Fiz with the gun, trying to wake her.

Fiz brushed him off sleepily, unaware that the man was in her bedroom.

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