Still The Baddest Bitch Read online

  “Yo ma, we gotta get out of here,” Qua insisted, grabbing Semaj by the arm.

  “Hold up. Dis bitch is tryna kill me and I gotta end dis shit before she become successful the next go ‘round,” Semaj spoke, standing at the threshold of the door.

  “Yeah, I know, but we can’t do shit right now, but get da hell up out of here, before the cops come,” Qua shot back, looking out into the lobby.

  When Semaj went into deep thought, it didn’t matter where she was at, she just froze. She didn’t want to blow her chances of exposing Nikolai, and she definitely didn’t want to give her the opportunity to retreat back to her homeland. Although she wasn’t the boss over in Russia, she was well connected and loved by just about everybody. Even if the members from the 16 Tent wanted her killed, if she made it back home, her people wouldn’t give her up. Semaj knew that and wanted to avoid it.

  “They can’t leave,” Semaj said, snapping out of her deep thoughts.

  She looked out into the lobby and saw a couple police officers walking up to the desk. She stepped back into the ballroom, pulling her gun from her back pocket. Qua closed the door and looked at Semaj with curiosity, wondering what she planned on doing with the gun. He had forgotten all about her last comment.

  “If Nikolai leaves now, we’ll probably never see her again,’’ Semaj said, cuffing the gun in her shirt.

  She began wiping her fingerprints off the gun then when she felt like she was done, she stuffed it down into one of the flowerpots against the wall. Qua did the same thing before they both left the ballroom.

  “How do you plan on keeping Nikolai here? She and every other Tent member have their own private jet. She can leave whenever she want to and that’s if she hadn’t already bounced by now,” Qua reasoned, as they walked towards the lobby.

  The elevators were in the lobby area, so as they walked by, Semaj looked over and saw Raul and Julio’s bodies lying there. Several police officers’ were on the scene, already taping it off.

  Once outside, Semaj stopped, turned around and faced Qua. “We gone have to do it by force,” she said, answering his previous question.

  “By force? Are you serious?” he asked, making sure he heard her correctly.

  Holding Nikolai hostage was almost equivalent to putting a bullet in her head. The 16 Tent had strict rules against actions like this and none of the members were exempt from the punishment behind not having a valid reason for the action.

  “You know that if you do this...”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said cutting him off.

  Semaj was well aware that if she went through with this, she didn’t have any other choice, but to bring forth the proof of Nikolai’s attempted assassination. If she couldn’t do it, the rest of the Tent members would kill her as a result of her actions. Death seemed a little harsh as the punishment, but these rules and regulations were put in place for a reason.

  Semaj understood that and was willing to put her life on the line, in order to bring forth the truth. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice, anyway. If she didn’t get her out of the way soon, Nikolai was gonna end up killing her, anyhow. So, at this point, she really didn’t have any thing to lose.

  Chapter 1

  Underground King

  Alex stepped into his attorney’s office to discuss what his number one priority always was: business. When he sat down, their eyes locked and there was complete silence for the first few seconds. This was Alex’s way of setting the tone of the meeting. His silence spoke volumes. This might’ve been his attorney’s office, but he was the head nigga in charge, and nothing got started until he decided it was time to speak. Alex felt this approach was necessary. You see, after all these years of them doing business, attorney George Lofton still wasn’t used to dealing with a man like Alex: a dirt-poor kid who could’ve easily died in the projects he was born in, but instead had made millions. It wasn’t done the ski mask way, but it was still illegal.

  They’d first met when Alex was a sixteen-year-old kid growing up in TechWood Homes, a housing project in Atlanta. Alex and his best friend, Deion, had been arrested, because the principal found 32 crack vials in Alex’s book bag. Another kid had tipped the principal off and the principal subsequently called the police. Alex and Deion were arrested and suspended from school. His mother called George, who had the charges against them dismissed, and they were allowed to go back to school. That wasn’t the last time he would use George. He was arrested at twenty-two for attempted murder and for trafficking cocaine a year later. Alex was acquitted on both charges. George Lofton later became known as the best trial attorney in Atlanta, but Alex had also become the best at what he did, and since it was Alex’s money that kept Mr. Lofton in designer suits, million dollar homes, and foreign cars, he believed he called the shots, and dared his attorney to tell him otherwise.

  Alex noticed that what seemed like a long period of silence made Mr. Lofton feel uncomfortable, which he liked. Out of habit, in order to camouflage the discomfort, his attorney always kept bottled water within arm’s reach. He would cough, take a swig, and lean back in his chair, raising his eyebrows a little, trying to give a look of certainty, though he wasn’t completely confident at all in Alex’s presence. The reason was because Alex did what many had thought would be impossible, especially men like George Lofton. He had gone from a knucklehead, low-level drug dealer to an underground king and an unstoppable, respected criminal boss.

  Before finally speaking, Alex gave an intense stare into George Lofton’s piercing eyes. They were not only the bluest he had ever seen, but also some of the most calculating. The latter is what Alex found so compelling. A calculating attorney working on his behalf could almost guarantee a get out of jail free card for the duration of his criminal career.

  “Have you thought over what we briefly discussed the other day?” Alex asked his attorney, finally breaking the silence.

  “Yes, I have, but I want to make sure I understand you correctly. You want to give me six hundred thousand to represent you or your friend, Deion, if you are ever arrested and have to stand trial again in the future?”

  Alex assumed he had already made himself clear, based on their previous conversations, and was annoyed by what he now considered a repetitive question. “George, you know I don’t like repeating myself. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Are we clear?”

  “So, this is an unofficial retainer.”

  “Yes, you can call it that.”

  George stood and closed the blinds, then walked over to the door that led to the reception area. He turned the deadbolt, so they wouldn’t be disturbed. George sat back behind the desk. “You know that if you and your friend Deion are ever on the same case, that I can’t represent the both of you.”

  “I know that.”

  “So, what do you propose I do if that was ever to happen?”

  “You would get him the next best attorney in Atlanta,” Alex said, without hesitation. Deion was Alex’s best friend—had been since the first grade. They were now business partners, but the core of their bond was built on that friendship, and because of that, Alex would always look out for Deion’s best interest.

  “That’s all I need to know.”

  Alex clasped his hands and stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking that maybe it was a bad idea bringing the money to George. Maybe he should have just put it somewhere safe, only known to him and his mom. He quickly dismissed his concerns.

  “Okay. Where’s the money?” Alex presented George with two leather briefcases. He opened the first one and was glad to see that it was all hundred-dollar bills. When he closed the briefcase he asked, “There is no need to count this, is there?”

  “You can count it, if you want, but it’s all there.”

  George took another swig of water. The cash made him nervous. He planned to take it directly to one of his bank safe deposit boxes. The two men stood. Ale
x was a foot taller than George: he had flawless mahogany skin—a deep brown with a bit of a red tint, broad shoulders, very large hands, and a goatee. He was a man’s man. With such a powerful physical appearance, Alex kept his style very low-key. His only display of wealth was a pricey diamond watch that his best friend and partner, Deion, had bought him for his birthday.

  “I’ll take good care of this, and you,” his attorney said, extending his hand to Alex.

  “With this type of money, I know you will,” Alex stated without flinching. Alex gave one last lingering stare into his attorney’s piercing eyes. “We do have a clear understanding…correct?”

  “Of course. I’ve never let you down and I never will. That, I promise you.” The men shook hands and Alex made his exit, with the same coolness as his entrance.

  With Alex embarking on a new, potentially dangerous business venture, he wanted to make sure that he had all his bases covered. The higher up he seemed to go on the totem pole, the costlier his problems became, but Alex welcomed new challenges, because he had no intention of ever being a nickel and dime nigga again.