Her Husband, My Savage

By Charmanie Saquea

If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it's yours...right?

Eight years after moving away from her hometown of Miami, Cherokee is back home to take care of her sickly grandmother. While trying to stay low and off the scene, she puts all her focus into her job and her family. That is, until the man who broke her heart many years ago unexpectedly walks into her life once again.Along with his right-hand man, Dillinger Rivera has the streets on lock. He's just weeks away from getting married to his beautiful fianceè Carmilla and couldn't be happier. Nothing can knock him off his square, until his first love Cherokee steps back on the scene with some secrets that change Dillinger's life forever.

Santos has been trying to walk the straight and narrow with his longtime girlfriend A'Layla ever since she left him due to his infidelity. When she took him back, he vowed never to hurt her again and had been holding true to that until one secret he had kept buried comes back to bite him in the worst way possible. When Santos finds out that Layla has a few secrets of her own, will they put an end to what they've built for over a decade, or will Santos fight tooth and nail for the only woman that has ever had a place in his heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Royalty Publishing House
• Release date: Mar 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9781648400582

Book preview

Back in 2010

Iwalked up to the rundown house, shaking my head at the predicament I was in. Never would I have thought that I would be eighteen years old and chasing a nigga down, just so I could get some understanding of what the fuck was going on in our relationship. It had been two weeks since I last saw or heard from my so-called boyfriend, Dillinger, but since he acted as if he couldn't answer his phone, I was pulling down on his ass.

After knocking on the door, I wrapped my arms around my body and checked my surroundings, feeling a little paranoid.

Oh, shit. What up, Cherokee? You looking for Dilly? Santos, his best friend, asked.

I stood there, looking at him like he was stupid, because he knew why the fuck I was here. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even be caught dead over here, but since my nigga was acting dumb, I had to dumb down as well and get on his level.

Umm, alright, Santos said as he peeked back in the house. Stay right here. I'll go get him.

I just rolled my eyes, still not bothering to respond as he disappeared back in the house. Moments later, Dillinger walked his stupid ass outside. It was amazing to me how even though I couldn't stand his ass right now, I still thought he was the sexiest man on the earth. His eyes were low, red, and chinky, so I could tell that he was high as a kite right now.

What is you doing? You know I don't like you over here, he fussed.

So this is what we’re doing now, Dillinger? I questioned, ignoring everything he just said. I haven't heard from you in how long? But it takes for me to pop up on your ass, and then you have the nerve to have an attitude?

I couldn't believe him; this nigga had a lot of fucking nerve. If anyone had the right to have an attitude and be spazzing, it would be me.

Dilly, I… oh.

I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek, damn near drawing blood to help keep my composure. I was two seconds away from slapping the smirk off this ditzy bitch’s face, as she backed away in the house, and Dillinger’s stupid ass as well, as he stood there looking stupid as fuck. If looks could kill, both of their parents would be planning funerals right now.

Oh, I get it now. Do you, nigga, I told him as I turned to go back to my car.

Cherokee! Bae, wait, damn! Dillinger yelled as he grabbed my arm and turned me around to face him again.

Fuck you, Dillinger! Fuck you! You ain't shit. You can't answer my calls or texts, but you laid up in the trap with this bitch! I spat as I swung on him.

He had me so fucked up that it was crazy. Here I was, going through a hard time in my life, and the one person that I needed to be there for me was out in the streets being a damn dog. I always knew he wasn't shit, but I never thought that he would stoop this low.

I'm sorry, Cherry. Look, baby. I'm fucked up right now. I’m trying to learn how to deal with the fact that I just lost my baby, and I'm taking this shit the best way I know how, he said, sounding pitiful.

So instead of coming to talk to me, you would rather fuck off in the streets and mess with these hoes? Think about how that makes me feel, Dillinger. I lost my baby as well. You're supposed to be there for me, but you can’t because everything matters but me, like always, I told him.

I was so used to coming last when it came to Dillinger that I really felt stupid for thinking that, for once, I would be a priority in his life. Especially since he claimed he loved me so much, and I'd just suffered a miscarriage two weeks ago with our first child. I didn't want to say it out loud, but I partially blamed Dillinger for me losing my baby.

I was and still am under so much stress, thanks to him, that my baby just couldn't handle it. Since Dillinger was always ripping and running the streets, I was terrified that something bad was going to happen to him. I feared that he was either going to get locked up, or worse, end up dead.

Cherokee—

I can't do this anymore, I cut him off before he could finish saying what he wanted to say.

Dillinger stepped back, looking at me like I had just slapped him in the face.

What you mean? What you tryna say? he asked, clearly pissed off.

I'm saying that even though I love you, it's not enough for me anymore. You don't want to do right by me, and I'm tired of the silly little games. This is obviously not what you want, so I'm letting you go, I told him.

Dillinger let out his signature chuckle that let me know that he was trying to keep his cool, before running his hands down his face and stepping further away from me.

Fuck it, then. I'm not about to beg you to do shit. Have a nice life.

With that, he turned his back on me and walked away to go back in the house. With a crushed and shattered heart, I retreated back to my car. I was so broken and confused. For the past four years, Dillinger had been all I knew. There was literally nothing in this world I wouldn't do for him, but the love was not mutual on his part. I was tired of being in a relationship where it seemed that everything was so one sided.

I had goals and a future, and as painful as it was, I was just now realizing that future did not include Dillinger in it.

Eight years later

Ipulled into the secluded road that led to the place where the drop was supposed to be going down. It amazed me at how far I had come in the past few years. Just eight years ago, I was nickel and diming, doing little petty errands with my boys for all the big-time hustlers, and now, my name was ringing bells in these streets.

Everybody knew who the fuck Dilly was. The hoes loved me, and the niggas either hated me or wanted to be down with the kid. This shit didn't come without a few sacrifices though. I'd lost a few people near and dear to me. Some of them ain't even dead; they chose to walk away because they couldn't handle the struggle that came along with this life, but I'd never wish ill on ‘em.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I glanced down at the time and noticed that I was a few minutes early as always. I always liked to come to the scene a little ahead of time to scope it out and make sure wasn't no funny shit going on that would cause me to abort the mission. Moments later, my boy Santos pulled up in the spot.

I pulled out my gun, cocked it, and placed it in my lap. Santos was the one who was actually taking care of the drop. I didn't trust nobody if you weren't one of my day one niggas, so I was here to have Santos’s back and put a bullet in one of these other niggas’ domes if need be. As I was chilling in the cut, my phone vibrated, letting me know I had a text message.

San Boy: You got my back?

Me: ‘Til we six feet under.

After reassuring Santos that I was here, I put my phone up and continued to look for anything out of the ordinary. People could call me paranoid all they wanted to, but I didn't get to where I was by being a lackadaisical nigga. I had always been on my P’s and Q’s, and just because I was at the top didn’t mean that was going to stop.

That was a lot of niggas’ downfall; they worked hard to get to the top, then they got this mindset that they were invincible. They started to get too comfortable and started fucking up, and as soon as they did that, they’d get taken out. I did everything in my power to make sure that was not my story. I wished like hell I would let another nigga reap the benefits of what I put my blood, sweat, and tears into.

I sat up in my seat as the truck with the shipment on it pulled up to the warehouse. I placed my hand on the gun and watched everything unfold intently. Santos helped to unload our product and handed off the money without incident, and the suppliers went on about their business. I went ahead and put my gun up, happy that I was able to go through another smooth transaction without having to use it.

I eased out of my spot and drove my way around to the front of the warehouse and went inside to meet with Santos.

I don’t know why you be having me dealing with them Spanish speaking fools, knowing damn well I don't know what the fuck they be saying when they get to speaking that shit. I thought I was going to have to kill they asses for plotting on me, he complained.

This is coming from a nigga whose name is Santos though. I chuckled.

"Correction, last name, and you're the one that's Puerto Rican."

My dad was half Puerto Rican, but that don't have shit to do with me. Moving along, nigga. Let's get this shit taken care of so we can get it out to them little niggas so it can hit the streets, I told him just as my phone started ringing.

I pulled it out my pocket and quickly silenced it after seeing who it was. I slid it back into my pocket, looked back up, and was greeted by a goofy smile that was plastered on Santos’s face. I shook my head at him and went to ignore him because I wasn't about to entertain any foolishness that was about to come out of his mouth.

"That must be wifey. Oh, excuse me. I mean, the wife," he said, being funny.

I cut my eyes at him and shook my head as I turned my attention back to what was in front of me.

Yeah. She so pressed to try this new wedding planner she found or whatever. She already done fired three of them muthufuckas, talking about they just couldn’t meet her demands. I told her ass flat out, this is it. You fire this one, and I’m going to fire yo’ ass and call off the wedding, I spat.

I didn’t even know if bridezilla would be the word that I would use to describe my fiancée, Carmilla. She was just extra as fuck and too damn much. If things couldn’t go her way, she literally threw a fucking fit and caused chaos. I was surprised I had even made it three years without walking down the aisle yet. If she’d had things her way, we would’ve gotten married the day after the proposal.

The hell you laughing at, dude? I’m serious as fuck, I told Santos, who was just dying from laughter.

I know. That’s why the shit is so funny. He continued to laugh.

Shut yo’ clown ass up, man. I chuckled a little.

On some real shit though, Dill. You really going through with this? I know I asked you that before when I first found out about the proposal, but you sure you wanna go through with this? Like, is she really the person you can see yourself spending the rest of your life with? Santos asked me with a straight face.

Was my relationship with Carmilla perfect? Not by a long shot, but it definitely had come a long way. We had been through a lot together in the past two years, and I could honestly say that I loved her ass.

Yeah, man. If not, I never would’ve proposed to her, I told him.

Santos just nodded his head and continued with making sure everything checked out. I knew by that, he was resting his case and leaving the subject alone, and I appreciated it. Everybody doubted my relationship and love for Carmilla just because we came from two completely different backgrounds. I was born and raised in the streets, and everything that I had, I got it out the mud, whereas Carmilla’s family was what you would call prestigious. Her daddy was a judge and spoiled his daughter to no end, so everything was handed to Carmilla on a silver platter. She was bougie as fuck and had never been to a hood a day in her life.

To be completely honest, Carmilla and her dad had no idea of what I really did for a living. To their knowledge, I was an honest businessman who owned multiple successful businesses. Even though that was true, the shit was used as a cover up to clean up my dirty money, but they didn’t have to know that.

What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.

Alright, let’s get this shit out to these little niggas so it can hit the streets, Santos said, pulling me from my thoughts.

I made sure everything was put up and in order before following Santos out of the warehouse. Now that business had been taken care of, it was time for me to hit the streets and get my day started.

Pushing my glasses up on my face, I gripped my pen in my hand as I quickly wrote down everything my new client described she wanted for her wedding as she flipped through the pages of the many bridal magazines.

I know this is a lot, but I need to be assured that you can handle this adequately and precisely. I don’t have time for some half-ass wedding. The countdown is on, and I will have no problems getting rid of your ass if I’m not pleased, she spoke.

I slowly lifted my head up from my notepad, once again, pushing my glasses up on my face. I gave her a little smile before flipping my hair over my shoulder.

Uhh, Carmilla, right? Yes, that’s it. I cleared my throat. You contacted me, so I’m more than sure you did your research on me. With that being said, you should know that your requests are simply minor compared to what I’m used to. If you have any doubts that I can handle this adequately and precisely, as you say, then you know where the door is, I let her know with my smile still on my face.

One thing I was not was cocky, and I had never been one to toot my own horn, but this bougie bitch had me fucked up. Before moving back home to Miami, I had worked with countless stars and big names in California, to give them the wedding or event of their dreams. This shit she wanted me to do was very juvenile compared to what I was used to, and I could plan this wedding in my sleep.

I was just saying, this is stressful for me, and I don’t want any mistakes. She changed her tone.

Understood, was all I offered her.

I got up to get some more books so I could show her some more ideas of things that she might like. Since she walked through the door of my establishment, she had been bragging about this tall, dark, handsome, and rich fiancé she had. According to her, he never told her no and would be the one cutting me a nice check when it was all said and done. So I was definitely going to make sure she and her husband-to-be got their money’s worth.

So how many guests did you say you planned on inviting? I questioned.

About five hundred at the least. She beamed.

Nodding my head, I took note of that in my notebook.

Just as I was about to say something else, the bell chimed, indicating that someone had walked through the doors.

Here comes my husband now, she said, gushing.

What the fuck, Milla? I told you I had shit to do! You need to be wrapping this shit up. I told you to have yo’ homegirl come get you anyway.

I pursed my lips to the side and discreetly shook my head. I was too ashamed to look up with the way he was going off, and he wasn’t even talking to me.

"Dillinger, I told you I needed to get in with her as soon as I could before she got booked. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want a half-ass wedding, and I know you don’t want to