A Billion Dollars in Blood Money: The Lick That Started It All

By LeKeithen S. Harris

This book is about six people whose minds are strictly on the money and will stop at nothing or allow anything or anyone to come between them and their come up. Smoke, K-9, Toe-Tag, Smooth, Bag-um, and Keisha take you all on a journey thats impossible for any of you to ever forget.
So if youre not ready to witness the treachery, murder, and mayhem-this book is not for you. If youre not ready to witness the true definition of getting it from tha mud in blood-then this book is not for you. And if youre not willing to go all out and let your gangsta rep for itself on your mission to get paid-this book is not for you.
But if youre about your business and your heart is built like that; and your gangsta plus your swagger is Presidential, Bona-fide, and Official-this book was written strictly for you.
And thats real talk!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479740048

LeKeithen S. Harris

Well theres not too much I can say about myself except that I am just one of many voices thats crying out in the wilderness. Just hoping and praying to one day be heard by anyone with an ear that can hear my voice. Because it is what it is with me and only tha real gonna feel tha real. And all that you need to know about me is that Im as real as these everything issues and struggles that we all face in life. And like Ive said before, its not about where you from, its all about where youre at and where you plan to go from there.

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Copyright © 2012 by LeKeithen S. Harris.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2012920088

ISBN:                    Hardcover                  978-1-4797-4003-1

                              Softcover                    978-1-4797-4002-4

                              Ebook                          978-1-4797-4004-8

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

~ Acknowledgements ~

Epilogue

~ Acknowledgements ~

First and foremost I would like to start this thang off right by giving God and his son, Jesus Christ a special Thank You because if it were not for them I wouldn’t of survived all of the storms I’ve been through in my life.

I want to give a shout out to the woman I am dedicating this book to and love and respect more than this life time will ever allow me to show, my mother, Marian Harris, who has supported me and had my back at all times and has stood by my side since the day I was born, so a very special thanks and shout out to her.

Shouts out to my three sisters: Jennifer, Stephanie, and Teshiana and all their kids. Shout out to the entire Harris Family, Luv ya Tiffany a.k.a. Lady-T, keep doing yo thang out there in Detroit. Shouts out to my grand-maw and grand-paw James and Dorothy Walker and the entire Walker family. Shouts out to all the Bushnells and all my cousins, aunt, and uncles. Shouts out to all my fallen soldiers and road dogs in prison or resting in peace. Shouts out to my entire family spread out all over the globe, much luv.

I want to send some special shots out to my prison family that’s on lock with me and holding it down like tru G’s do. Starting with my dog fo-life, Dishon Williams a.k.a. Twin, but to me, the Maybac Benz, much luv. My dog James Adams, better known as the Race Horse 99, much luv. My dog John Goss a.k.a. Dough Boy what’s crackin home G’s up. My dog Michael Sampson a.k.a. Push up Mike. My hommie, Jonathan Smith a.k.a. the Governor much luv to him and a very special shout out to his Aunt Joyce, you’re truly one-of-a-kind. My dog Laquince Lockett a.k.a. tha tree of life, what it do baby. My boy Vandell Smith a.k.a. Rev, what the business is Hommy. Shouts out to Rodney Bryant, Omar, Chris Johnson, Christopher Charles, Weslely Funderburk, Eddie Carter, Shuan Williams a.k.a. 7th Ward Hard Head, My dog Larry Stampley a.k.a Young Gloves and the next Iron Mike on tha rise assassinating dudes in that ring with pure speed and power out of this world. Shouts out to Tim MacCraker, Jeremy Gaspard, Brian Ernest, Low-down, Kendall Smith, lil-George, Harold Valentine, I would like to send a very special shout to the extremely talented artist that designed my book cover, Luiz Rameriz, you really did the damn thang, and to everyone I didn’t mention much luv and I gotcha in my next book. And last but definitely not least, I would like to give a special-special shout out to all the critics and haters who didn’t want to see me make it and become a success much luv to you all because the underdog couldn’t of done it without all of you. So take a picture of the true definition of the word success.

It was 6:00 am when the words, Every dog has his day, woke Smoke from his sleep. Smoke with the swiftness of a cat aimed his custom-design 45 in the direction of where the words were spoken; and was relieved when he saw his favorite actor, Al Pacino, in one of his favorite movies of all-time, Scarface, on his 90 inch Plasma screen. Smoke cursed out loud and said, I’m too fuckin paranoid! Then he listened as his role model spoke to his enemy saying, You know what a pig is? A pig is a man who don’t fly straight. And Smoke smiled as his man Scarface busted a cap in the mothafucka across from him who was scared shitless from the words spoken by the one he had betrayed. Smoke turned off the T.V. and took a long hot shower, then jumped fly as his boy Smooth would say, then called his nigga Toe-Tag, and told him to meet him at tha spot at 8:00 am. Being that it was still early and he didn’t have anything else to do, Smoke decided to do what he did best which was thinking about money and smoking the best Purple Haze money could buy—allowing the clouds he blew to take him away like Calgon.

Toe-Tag, Bag-um, and K-9 were at the spot each deep in their own thoughts smoking Haze and each drinking a fifth of 151 Bacardi, when Smooth came walking through the door looking just like that nigga in New Orleans they call Baby, the head of Cash Money Millionaire’s, stunted out as usual, mobbing like an mu-fucka with his ice shining like stars and his attire a custom-made Armani suit with custom-made loafers to match. What it do my niggaz? Smooth asked as he approached. What the fuck da business is? he asked, as he gave his niggaz a pound. Toe-Tag stood up and said, Ain’t nothing my nigga, we just chillin out getting our heads right while we wait on Smoke who’s already 45 minutes late, but other than that we just doing our thug thang, ya feel me?"

Now K-9, the quiet one of the pack and extremely dangerous when provoked, was always down for whatever when it came to murder and mayhem but above all money He received the nickname K-9 because when it came to finding where niggaz hid their dope and stashed their money, he was a Vet, and not only that, K-9 was a creature when it came to tracking niggaz down that were hiding out somewhere after robbing banks for millions, laid back living the good life off anotha nigga’s shit they stole.

Now Bag-um is the one without a soul—a loose cannon. Just like Toe-Tag, their nicknames came from the way they cleaned up after themselves when they fucked niggaz up in ways that made horror movies seem behind the times. Between the five of them, their body count came to the sum of a whole graveyard in which they all had accumulated state to state in cities all over America.

Toe-Tag would tag-um as he would always say with his favorite weapon of all times, which was an all chrome machete he never left home without and would chop his victims into pieces which he called, Kibbles and Bits, then Bag-um would gather up all the body parts and place them in a body bag and would bring them to his brother, who’s nickname was Gravedigger, to dispose of. Gravedigger was just as fucked up as his brother Bag-um, but he didn’t indulge in the things his brother did. What he loved the most about being a gravedigger was all the expensive jewelry he got to keep from the dead motha fuckaz as he threw each individual body part in the final resting place of the bitch ass niggaz who he said wouldn’t be needing the bling-bling where they were going anyway.

Smoke finally showed up at 9:00am, an hour late, looking just like the Devil himself in an all white, Steve Harvey tailor-made suit, sporting enough ice to send chills through every mothafucka in the room. Toe-Tag said, I thought you said you’d be here at 8 am my nigga? Smoke answered, Yea, but something came up all unexpected. What the fuck, is this 21 questions or something? Smoke asked, clearly getting aggravated with his boy for questioning him for being late. Toe-Tag quickly replied, Naw my nigga it ain’t even like that. I was just fuckin around with you that’s all. Smoke said, Well, now that the playin is out of the way, let’s get down to buisness, Smoke didn’t crack a smile because his mind was on the money and when it came to money, Smoke was all about business and when he was in business mode, death was always right around the corner for anyone who wasn’t about going all out to get paid. You could tell Smoke had something serious to tell when he said, Say my niggaz listen up. What I’m about to tell y’all stays between us and it will shine au little light on my reason for being late. Toe-Tag, I’m sorry for how I reacted to you questioning me, I was trippin off what I’m about to share with y’all right now, so we straight? Toe-Tag nodded, Yeah my nigga we straight. Smoke continued, Cool, now ya’ll listen up. Right after I got off the phone with Toe-Tag, I received a call from my connect in Mexico and he told me that the one billion dollars that I sent to him never made it, and I know for a fact it did. Smooth asked, How do you know that it made it there, when your man clearly sayin that it didn’t? Smoke replied, Because Keisha that works for the F.B.I. sent me photos of my connect and the person I sent the money by, shaking hands and shit, and my connect looks happy as au mothafucka and the bitch ass nigga I gave my money to looks glad. Toe-Tag inquired, Well did you holla at the bitch ass nigga that you sent the money by? Or better yet, do you even know where he at? Smoke stated, I tried to call that mu-fucka but the phone recording kept saying that the number was disconnected. To answer your second question, no, I don’t know where his bitch ass at but I knew where he was suppose to be staying when he came back. So I went to the address he told me he would be staying but his neighbor said to me as I was about to knock on the door, that he had been came home but left as fast as he came with two big duffle bags and he hadn’t seen him since. Bag-um interjected, Say my nigga I know you don’t want to hear this shit but you got played son and that bitch ass nigga done hauled ass! So my question is simple, how the fuck you want to handle this shit? Smoke said, There’s only one way to handle it and that is to kill every last one of them and the first stop is Mexico. So K-9, get on yo job my nigga and the rest of ya’ll strap up because it’s about to be a whole lot of bloodshed, and au bunch of motha fuckaz going to meet their maker. Smoke picked up his cell and dialed Keisha’s number. Keisha answers, Hello? Smoke says, Keisha, I’m on my way to Mexico now and when I get back we gone take a long vacation, and plan the life we’re going to live with our daughter that’s growing in your stomach. So stop worrying and get you some rest because you know what the doctor said about you stressin and shit. Keisha replied worriedly, I just don’t want to lose you behind no bullshit that’s all. Our daughter was our sign to change the way we live and to start over with a clean state so we can be a family. Smoke remarks, Keisha, I know and I promise you that once I take care of this business and tie up all the loose ends we’re going to leave this God-forsaken place for good and live the life that I’ve always promised you I’d give you. So just be cool and trust me, ok? Keisha said, all right, but you be careful ok? Smoke replied, all right, and Keisha one other thang. Keisha said, What’s up? Smoke answered, If I’m not back in a week I’m going to send someone to pick you up and their going to bring you to the airport and their going to fly with you to Jamaica where you will be given a set of keys to a house. That is where I will meet up with you at, all right? Again Keisha worriedly asked, What are you talkin about? Smoke, who was losing patience, replied, Look Keisha I don’t have time to explain so just do what I’ve asked and everything will be just fine, OK? Keisha sighed and said, Ok, I love you. Smoke said, I love you too. Now let me go handle my business so I can come on home, OK?

After Smoke ended the call, Toe-Tag said, Damn my nigga I didn’t know you and Keisha still kicked it on that level. If I heard you correctly, you about to be a daddy, Son! That’s cool my nigga, I’m happy fo ya fo-real. Smoke grinned and said, Thanks my nigga, but on the up and up, when we kill all these bitches and we get all our money back, I think I’m going to lay low for a while and start a family. Ya feel me? But it was something about the way Toe-Tag answered. Yeah my nigga I feel ya, that made Smoke wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him.

Smooth, K-9, and Bag-um were fast asleep when Toe-Tag finally pulled up to the hotel they would be staying in for two days tops Smoke who was starting to doze off woke up when he heard the door close on the car and woke up Smooth, K-9, and Bag-um to let them know they had made it and it was time to put in some work. Toe-Tag came back to the car as they were getting out and said he already checked them in. So we got our shit which was nothing but a change of clothing and the rest hardware—enough to start a war and cause a lot of destruction in Mexico to the ones who fucked with our money. After we all got settled we decided to get a little something to eat so we ordered room service and ate until we couldn’t do anything else but sleep. The next morning we all got straight and started our morning off with au few blunts of haze and shots of Tequila to place our minds’ on the tasks ahead. Smoke finally spoke up, Well, the plan is simple. We split up and snatch up all the bitch ass niggaz family which shouldn’t be too hard hog-tie um, and bring them all to our favorite spot we used to like to fight our pits, ya’ll remember? Together they all smiled and said, the dungeon.

Kane was a very big Pit, the connect, whose name was Mr. Ricardo, kept tied at his mother’s house. Toe-Tag had been hoping that the bitch would be dead by now being that it had been awhile since the last time he had seen the dog, but the motha-fucka was still alive and kickin. Toe-Tag peeped the scene and didn’t waste any time lowering his ski-mask down over his face and headed straight toward Kane with his machete in hand. He could’ve just shot Kane with the 45 he had fully loaded with a silencer, infra-red beam, and an extended clip filled with hollow-point bullets; but he couldn’t deny himself the pleasure of choppin Kane to pieces and he did just that. After Killing Kane, Toe-Tag had blood everywhere. He was now amped and ready to complete the task at hand. He crept up to the back of the house belonging to Ricardo’s mother and glanced through the window. He didn’t see any movement so he proceeded and sliced through the phone card to the right of him. He retrieved his 45 from his waist, stepped back, gave the back door a hard kick, and ran in. To his surprise no one seemed to be home. After walking through the house and searching every room, he decided to leave and come back later, until he heard a car pull up in the driveway. Toe-Tag moved swiftly to the side window and peeped the scene, and he saw a girl that couldn’t have been any older than 18 and a man that looked to be around 40, fondling her ass as they made their way to the door. Toe-Tag stood directly to the side of the door and raised his machete prepared to strike as soon as the couple entered the house. The door opened and the girl came in first not even noticing Toe-Tag standing there the man she was with was so caught up in the moment he didn’t either and that one mistake cost him his life. Without any hesitation, Toe-Tag swung his machete relieving the man’s body of its head and before the girl could even get out a good scream, Toe-Tag hit her with a fast upper-cut to the chin, knocking her unconscious and sending her to the floor, making his job easier than he expected.

Bag-um was growing more impatient by the second as he stayed crouched behind a hedge bush waiting for the victim to be to show up because he was the key to the success of this mission, none other than the man Smoke trusted with his one billion dollars—Mr. Marcus Reed. Bag-um had known all along about the whereabouts of Reed because he was the one who came up with the plot to take Smoke’s money. You see, Bag-um was in love with a woman he couldn’t have and that woman was Smoke’s girl, Keisha. Bag-um had met Keisha before Smoke. Keisha never told Smoke but her and Bag-um use to fuck around every now and then until one day they got into an argument which led to their separation. The argument was about her wanting them to leave town together and starting a family, but Bag-um wasn’t trying to hear that shit. Next thing he knew, Keisha was fuckin his man Smoke brains out. Even tho he didn’t expose Keisha when he walked in on the two of them fuckin, he secretly began to have ill feelings toward his boy because he had actually fell for the bitch hook, line, and sinker. When he tried to talk to Smoke all he got in response was, Keisha ain’t your concern home-boy. She’s mine. So he began plotting from that moment on. He even tried to holla at Keisha to try and make her see his point of view, but she gave him shade and left to pursue her dream of becoming an F.B.I. agent. Smoke paid for all her dreams to come true and he hated him for that because deep down inside, he wished that it was him.

It was around noon when Marcus Reed finally pulled into his driveway. He had been in the strip club all night trickin with the dancers, saying to himself, It ain’t trickin if you got it, and he damn sure had it, compliments of that nigga Smoke. Reed was exhausted when he made it home and all he wanted to do was take a long hot shower, go to bed—but as fate would have it, Reed’s wants would change in the blink of an eye. Reed walked to his front door fumbling with his keys. As soon as he inserted the key into the lock and turned it to unlock the door, Bag-um stepped up behind him and placed the cold steel of his Desert Eagle to the back of Reed’s head and with a twisted smile said, Hello Reed, long time no see.

Kinya slowly began to regain consciousness and as she opened her eyes she noticed that she was tied to a bed. Her hands were above her head and her legs were spread apart. The worst part was she was completely naked. Kinya was still a little discombobulated and the throbing in her head didn’t make things any better. While she tried to make sense of all this, all of a sudden Toe-Tag came through the door completely naked with his machete still covered in blood. Then it came to Kinya all at once what had happened and fear like none she had ever known came over her. Toe-Tag said, I see you finally woke up huh? I was beginning to think that I would have to enjoy this party alone being that the first few nuts I busted were straight. Now that you’re awake the next few nuts I will truly enjoy, so let’s get this party started, shall we? Before she could say a word, Toe-Tag was deep off inside her tearing her pussy to shreds. As he fucked Kinya and beat her pussy unmercifully until she couldn’t take it anymore, she tried to cop duces with her attacker but being that her mouth was covered with duct-tape, she couldn’t do nothing but take that beating and pray she didn’t die in the process. Toe-Tag had bussed his third nut and was tearing her asshole up working on his fourth when he realized all of the time that had passed. He began to pound away as hard and deep as he could until he released inside of her ass and rolled over and began to speak to her as if she was already dead.

Reed jokingly said, Say Bag-um, man I’ve been tryin to contact you. Shut the fuck up and open the motha-fuckin door before I blow yo fuckin thoughts out the top of yo fuckin head, commanded Bag-um. Ok, Ok, man. Just calm down and give me a chance to explain. Reed pleaded. Whap! Bag-um slapped Reed upside the head with the pistol. Shut the fuck up and if you open yo motha-fuckin mouth again its curtains. Now I’m going to ask you one question and all I want to hear is one answer. Where the fuck is my money?! Bag-um shouted. Bag-um man, just let me explain, implored Reed. Whap! Whap! Whap! Bag-um struck Reed upside his head 3 more times and watched him piss in his pants as he screwed the silencer onto the pistol. Now I’m going to ask you one last time, Where the fuck is my money? Reed answered, It’s not here man, but I can get it for you in a couple of days. Bag-um angrily replied, What the fuck you mean it ain’t here nigga? Where the fuck is it at? Reed said, If you kill me you’ll never know but if you let me live and take me to the airport right now, I’ll call you and tell you where it’s at. So do we have a deal? Bag-um laughed and said, You know what Reed? You obviously got me confused with someone else, so fuck ya deal, fuck you, and fuck tha money! You must of forgot who the fuck I am and my status in this here life we live. Pop, Pop, Bag-um shot Reed in both legs and said, you’ll never live to spend the money and I’ll live to find another way to make it. Since you didn’t want to talk I’ll just settle for your screams instead. With that said he began to let off one shot after another in each of Reed’s legs. He reloaded and went to the kitchen and came back with a box of salt and poured it all over what was left of Reed’s legs. Then he shot him in his head after he passed out and left to find his next victim.

Smoke told Keisha, I know I said I’d be back in a couple of days but I still ain’t got my money and I damn sure ain’t leaving until I get it. So stop bitchin and just get on the fuckin plane and wait for me at the house. Keisha replied, Baby, I’m not the enemy and I’m damn sure not the one who lost yo money. But I am the bitch that’s been by your side since day one, and I’m also the bitch that’s about to have your baby. So excuse me if I’m showing some concern or worrying too much about you. But if that’s the way you want to treat me for caring, then fuck it. You can stay gone as long as you want. Just know that I don’t plan on waiting around too long and may not be here when you get back since you seem to care so much about yo money and not enough about me or our unborn child to come home and leave that bullshit behind you. Smoke apologetically said, Keisha, look I’m sorry, Ok? I’m just stressed out because that money was our fresh start at a new life and my ticket out the game. You can’t expect me to just let that shit go. Now, fuck that! I’m gettin mines and if you can’t understand that then do what cha got to do because if you gone be with me you gone be with me all the way. If not, hey, it is what it is. So do us both a favor Keisha by just trusting me and doing what I asked you to do and I promise you it will all be worth it in the end. With that said Smoke ended the call.

Smooth was enjoying his large seafood platter when K-9 came walking through the door. With that insane look on his face that Smooth was all too familiar with which told him K-9 was upset or aggravated. Either way you looked at it, Smooth knew it was about to be some shit. K-9 made it to the table and sat down across from Smooth and said, Nigga, how the fuck can you just sit up in this mu-fucka and eat all this fancy shit when we suppose to be out snatchin mu-fuckaz up and tryin to find the money that bitch ass nigga took from us, huh? Smooth said, "Man we been out here looking fo these motha fuckaz all day and still