Gangsta Divas (32 page)

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Authors: De'nesha Diamond

BOOK: Gangsta Divas
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51
Ta′Shara
“S
hhh, baby. Stop crying,” Profit says, gathering me into his arms. “Everything is going to be all right.”
I close my eyes and allow him to pepper the top of my head with kisses. As much as I love the warmth of his body, I can't stop my tears from washing his chest. “I think I made a mistake,” I blurt out.
Profit pulls back and looks at me confused.
“Maybe I should go back to the Douglases. I never wanted it to go down the way it did. They have done so much for me. They believed in me when no one else did. I can't help but feel there has to be a better way to handle this situation.”
Profit gently places his hands on both sides of my face and then tilts it up so that he can look me in the eye. “You're just upset.You had a bad dream. It's going to be all right.”
“Yes, but—”
“No buts.Your folks don't understand us. They don't
want
to understand. They're too heated over what they
think
they know.”
That doesn't make me feel any better.
“Look, baby. We'll just give them some time. They love you, they'll come around.”
“I don't know. I've already put them through so much.”
“Give it time.” Profit kisses the tip of my nose and then releases me and I lay my head back down against his chest so that I can breathe in his scent. I'm still tryna get used to lying in his bed—in his house—on Ruby Cove. It's another world over here and every Vice Lord I've crossed looks like they'd rather put a bullet in my head than to speak to me.
“Give them some time,” Profit keeps telling me, but I don't think I'll live long enough for any of them to accept me. But there's a part of me that says “fuck them.” I'm not here for them. I'm here because my place is beside my man.
Profit presses me back against his cotton sheets and feeds himself from my hungry lips. His hands are as soft as feathers as they drift down the side of my body and roam over the curves of my hips. Some ugly images try to surface, but Profit's tenderness keeps them at bay.
Days ago, I thought that I could never be intimate with a man again. I couldn't imagine my body wanting a man to enter where there had been so much pain. But here I am, unable to get enough of all that Profit has to offer. I'm drunk from the taste of him and the feeling of him stretching me open has me high.
We're not fucking.
We're making love—on a level that I never knew existed.
He understands me. He loves me. He
is
me.
We are one.
I lose track of time as each stroke drives me closer to insanity. The tears rolling from my eyes go from sadness to joy. I never want this to end. I never want to climb out of this bed, out of his arms—ever again. The whole world can go to hell with all its heartaches and pain.
When our lips finally rip apart, Profit buries his head in the crook of my neck. He can barely hold back his release. I can tell by the way his body tenses that's he waiting for me.
My body quakes. In no time, I'm digging my nails into his back, thrashing my head among the flat pillows. My breath trips up in my throat while out of habit I try to restrain my cries.
“Don't hold back. Let it go,” Profit pants, reminding me that my foster parents aren't about to bust in the door. I'm free to fully express myself.
Two strokes later, I'm screaming at the ceiling with an explosive release.
Profit follows my lead and releases a roar that almost blasts my eardrum open. I can feel his hot seed explode within me. He collapses until he catches his breath.When he rolls onto his side, he pulls me along with him into a nice, warm cuddle. I don't mean to fall asleep, but I must have because in the next second, I am opening my eyes and the room is pitch dark and Profit's light snoring buzzes in my ears.
Smiling, I ease my head back and gaze up into Profit's face. He looks like a sleeping angel. He's so handsome and peaceful that I don't want to wake him. I wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him fifty years from now.Will we be just as much in love then as we are now?
Your love is going to turn your gangster into Prince Charming and you'll ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after.Ain't that the fairy-tale bullshit that you keep telling yourself?
Reggie's voice rings in my head while I wrestle with my emotions. How in the hell am I ever going to get out of this city when I'm in love with a man who is married to the streets?
But I can't let him go.
“I love you so much,” I whisper, stretching up my neck and brushing my lips against his.
“I love you, too,” Profit answers.
“You're awake.” I gently smack him on the shoulder. “Big faker.”
He laughs as his long, black lashes flutter open. “Frankly, I thought I put you out for the count. This must mean that you're ready for round two.” He rolls me onto my back and starts peppering my collarbone with kisses. “I could make love to you forever.”
“Don't talk about it—be about it.”
“You mean like this?” he asks, gliding easily through my pink walls. Round two becomes an Olympic sport. Each of us tests the limits of our stamina and endurance. It doesn't take long for sweat to drench our bodies. By the time we collapse it's from exhaustion and dehydration.
“Damn, girl.You're like a drug.”
“You took the words right out of my mouth.” We share a laugh and then just smile at each other.
“I'm so happy you're here,” Profit says, cupping my face. “This is where you belong.”
An image of Tracee and Reggie flashes in my mind and my smile melts from my face.When I attempt to drop my gaze, he holds my head in place.
“Give it some time,Ta'Shara.”
I nod even though the situation still doesn't feel right.
I made a mistake.
“Fuck, T. Don't say that you
really
want to go back,” he says, jumping right into the conversation I'm having inside my head.
“I don't want them to hate me.”
“They don't hate you,” Profit says. “If anything, they hate me. I'm the thug that soiled their perfect daughter.”
“I'm
not
their daughter . . . and I'm far from being perfect.”
“You're wrong. I've seen how they look at you. How they care
for
you. In their eyes you are their daughter—and you are perfect.”
Tears race at a clip down my face. “Then I
have
to go back.”
Profit closes his eyes with open anguish.
“Please don't be mad at me,” I beg. “It'll just be for a little while—long enough for me to convince them how we truly feel about each other. They'll come around. It's like you said. They're just heated right now.” I hold my breath while Profit shakes his head.
“I don't believe this shit,” he swears, pulling back.
“This doesn't change how I feel about you—how I feel about us.”
“If your parents have their way there will never be an ‘us.'”
“Then they won't get their way—but I'm sure I can get them to come around. We just have to go about this another way.”
Profit grinds his teeth. “All right. If this is what you
really
want to do, then I'll take you back.”
“You're not angry, are you?”
“What do you think?”
“Don't be. I love you. It's all going to work out. I promise.”
“Look. I'm not going to force you do anything.You want to go back then I'll take you back.You want me to wait for you, then I'll wait. In the end, I'm always going to be here for you,Ta'Shara.”
Tears spill over my lashes.
“Thank you, baby.” I brush another kiss against his lips and then watch him turn away from me to climb out of the bed. As he does so, my already broken heart finds a few more pieces to shatter.
While we shower and dress in complete silence, I'm too afraid to speak and he's looking like he doesn't want to hear anything else I have to say. I don't think he's angry as much as he's heartbroken.
Profit loads my bags back into the car and then avoids meeting my gaze when he climbs in behind the wheel. I stare out of the window and listen to the soft whirl of the car's air conditioner as we coast off of Ruby Cove. When I think I'm about to break down, I feel Profit's hand cover my own.
“It's cool, baby. I understand you gotta do what you gotta do. I'm just disappointed, but I'll get over it.”
“It'll only be for a few weeks.”
“And if they
don't
come around?”
I pause, hoping that it doesn't come to that. “Then it's their loss—but I have to give it a try.”
“I'm going to hold you to that.” He tosses me a wink and a smile, but before I have a chance to return it, it melts off his face. “What the fuck . . .?”
I turn my head to follow his gaze only to get the shock of my life.
Big, bright orange flames shoot up toward the black sky while red and white lights strobe in front of the place where my house is supposed to be.
No. No. This is some mistake. We have to be on the wrong street or something. That's not my house.
But then the tears come and my vision goes to shit. “Stop the car.”
“Ta'Shara, baby—”
“STOP THE FUCKING CAR!”
Profit slams on the brakes while I bolt out of the door. “TRACEE! REGGIE!” I take off running toward the house.
They're not in there. Please, God. Don't let them be in there.
“TRACEE! REGGIE!”
“Ta'Shara, wait up,” Profit yells. His long strides eat up the distance between us even as I shove my way through the city's emergency responders.
“Hey, lady.You can't go in there,” someone else shouts and tries to make a grab for me.
As I draw closer to the front porch, Profit is able to wrap one of his powerful arms around my waist and lift me off my feet. “Baby, stop.You can't go in there.”
“Let me go!” My legs pedal in the air as I stretch uselessly for the door. “TRACEE! REGGIE!”
Profit drags me away from the growing flames.
Men in uniform rush over to us. I don't know who they are and I don't care. I just need to know one thing. “Where are my parents? Did they make it out?”
“Ma'am, calm down. Please tell me your name.”
“WHERE ARE THEY?”
“Ma'am—”
“ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!”
“C'mon, man,” Profit says. “Give my girl something.”
The fireman draws a deep breath and then drops a bomb that changes my life forever.
“The neighbors reported the fire. Right now, I'm not aware of anyone making it out of the house. I'm sorry.”
“NOOOOOOO!” I collapse in Profit's arm, and he hauls me up against his chest so that I can sob it out. I wail as my very soul is being ripped out of my chest. As I tighten my arm around Profit's neck, I'm able to make out a familiar car through my fat tears.
“Oh. My. God.”
“What?” Profit pulls me back, but I can't take my eyes off of what I'm seeing.
He turns and follows my gaze. I can feel his entire body tense.
There, across the street sitting behind the wheel of a burgundy Crown Victoria, is LeShelle. A slow smile spreads across her evil face. She forms a gun with her hand and then pretends to shoot at us.
We're next.
Dear Reader,
 
I want to take a moment and thank everyone for embracing my
Divas
series. The warm response has been both surprising and overwhelming. When the idea came to me to write about the female gangs in my hometown, I never dreamed that the story would take on such a huge life of its own. What was once thought to be a trilogy has grown to become a full-fledged hood soap opera. When I sat down to write
Gangsta Divas,
I had every intention to end the series, but then I blew past the word count and was only halfway through the outline I'd set for the story. After too many sleepless nights, blown deadlines, cuts, adds, more cuts, and trying my editor's patience to the max, I had to accept that the series has to continue. So I hope that you will continue this journey with me.
Also, I want to take a moment to make clear that I do not advocate, condone, or encourage the behavior, lifestyle, and violence my fictitious characters engage in. Though some storylines are inspired by real headlines and personal experience, and a good dose of creative liberties, this series is meant for entertainment purposes only—not unlike books about vampires, serial killers, and magical wizards.
I hope that you enjoyed this latest installment and I look forward to your responses.
 
Best of love,
De'nesha Diamond

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