Taken by a Real Gangsta Romance

© 2019

Published by Leo Sullivan Presents

www.leolsullivan.com

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

Contents

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Joelle Foster

Romello ‘Predator’ Grant

Secret Thompson

Secret Thompson

Romello Grant

Sheena Allen

Joelle Foster

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Joelle Foster

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Romello Grant

Sheena Allen

Joelle Foster

Romello Grant

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Secret Thompson

Romello Grant

Joelle Foster

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Romello ‘Predator’ Grant

Secret Thompson

Romello Grant

Sheena Allen

Joelle Foster

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Romello Grant

Secret Thompson

Romello Grant

Joelle Foster

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Romello Grant

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

Sheena Allen

Joelle Foster

Keep up with Kelly Marie

Other books by Kelly Marie

Get Lit!

Join Our Mailing List!

Coming Soon From Leo Sullivan Presents

Di’Aundrie ‘Konvict’ Miller

A hhhh, Konvict, wait! this bad ass shorty screamed while trying to push me up, but I slapped her hand away from my stomach and pushed even deeper.

Nah, shorty, you wanted the dick, now take it.

I can’t! She grunted, and I smirked.

A nigga loved when a bitch cried for the dick and couldn’t take it. They always underestimated me, and I loved showing them that I was that nigga all round. I had shit in the streets on lock, I had more money than I knew what to do with, and I had all the bitches on my dick hard as fuck.

And this sexy as fuck brown skinned shorty was my latest victim.

I grabbed her thighs, pinned them down to the bed, and continued to beat my dick into her. All she could do was take the shit with her mouth hanging open.

Fuck! I threw my head back and grunted before pulling my dick out and filling up the condom. Damn, shorty. I panted as I stumbled back away from the bed.

She looked up at me with a smile and moved her sweat soaked hair away from her beautiful face.

If you have a condom on, why do you still pull out when you cum? she asked.

I watched her sit up and smirked.

Just a habit, sweetheart. I winked and went into the bathroom to flush the condom.

Despite wearing a condom, I made sure to always pull my dick out when I nutted. Those motherfuckers broke or bitches liked to tamper with them. I was too damn paid, fine, and smart for someone to trap me with a kid. Kids were definitely something I wanted, just not yet. Not while I was at the height of my life.

At twenty-nine, I was living my best life! I was on my way to becoming the biggest kingpin New York had ever seen. I was taking the streets by force, and whoever got in my way, I was putting the fuck down. At six foot three, I weighed 240lbs. Bitches said I had that caramel complexion. Whatever the fuck that meant!

My hair was low with the waves, and I had a low beard. I had chinky eyes like my mother and a broad nose. My lips weren’t too thick, but they weren’t thin as fuck either. My arms, chest, and back were covered in ink.

I was your typical bad boy, and I didn’t give a fuck.

Do you have to go? she asked with her lip poked out as I walked back into the bedroom and fixed my clothes.

As I stared at her, I couldn’t for the life of me remember her damn name. She told me when we met a few days ago at the club, but all I heard was that she was into me and wanted to meet so I could fuck. Her pussy was good, and her head game was better—that was honestly the only thing I needed to know. Her name didn’t matter because she was just another number in my phone that I could call when my balls felt heavy.

Sorry, I got moves to make. Too much money out there for me to stay inside. I hit her with a smile.

She laughed and shook her head at me. Don’t you think you have enough money?

I had to throw my head back and laugh at that.

You can never have enough money, shorty. See you around. I grabbed my shit and turned to leave.

Akeela.

I turned to look at her.

I’m sorry?

My name… it’s Akeela.

I smirked and rubbed a hand down my chin because she had caught on to me not remembering her name. Shit, I felt a little bad because it wasn’t the first time we had fucked. But, like I said, I didn’t care to remember a chick’s name, just what her body was like and how her pussy felt.

I knew that I could do better but fuck it. These women didn’t demand for me to be better—like remembering their names and shit—so, I didn’t see the point in bothering.

Giving her one final wink, I walked out of her apartment.

People called out my name as I made my way down to my car. I made sure to check out a few bitches on my way. Akeisha, Akayla or whatever her name was, she wasn’t my bitch, and there was enough of me to go around!

When I caught sight of a bad ass dark skinned chick, I made sure to hand her my card before jumping in my car and speeding away. It had been a minute since I had seen my parents, so I made my way to their house. I had bought my parents a house in Woodmere, Long Island, within a year of taking over the streets. It was a damn struggle getting them to take it because they weren’t about that street life like I was, so they didn’t want anything that had to do with it.

I didn’t inherit my empire from my pops, uncle, grandfather, or no shit like that. In fact, my entire family was law abiding, church going citizens. I think the only time they ever saw drugs was on television! So, how the fuck did a pastor’s son end up being the biggest kingpin ever? Simple answer is lust!

There was this shorty who every motherfucker—within a ten mile radius—wanted to fuck. Shorty was the baddest bitch I had ever seen. Smooth, caramel skin, long natural hair, slanted eyes, button nose, high cheek bones, thick, shapely lips, and a fucking body that looked like it was made somehow. She was the first chick I ever had a wet dream about. I just knew she was haunting every nigga’s dream.

I wanted her so badly, but I knew I didn’t stand a chance like I was. From the niggas I saw around her, I knew she was into ballers—motherfuckers with money longer than the Hudson River. And my Pops being a pastor didn’t afford us a lavish life; just a comfortable one. No regular job around was going to give me money like that either.

So, that’s when I turned to the streets.

From living in the same neighborhood since birth, I knew who all the dope boys were. I was friends with one and asked him to put me on. People laughed when they heard that the pastor’s son wanted to be a kingpin, but I soon showed them that I was more than just a pastor’s son, and I started making a name for myself.

It destroyed the relationship I had with my parents because, in their eyes, I was shaming them and God. Thoughts of stopping did cross my mind at that time, but by then, I had found myself getting addicted to the fast life, the money, and the bitches who suddenly wanted to know my name. I soon forgot about the shorty I started up for and I became something out in the streets. My Pops used to say that I just wanted to be known as a convict instead of a man of God, so that’s what I decided to call myself—Konvict!

It wasn’t long before I was known as the man on the streets and forgotten as the pastor’s son. A few short years later—and after getting rid of the same guy I worked under—I became that motherfucker. I had been holding it down ever since with my right hand man and younger, half-brother, Romello. He was my mother’s son.

The motherfucker was a skilled killer after being in the marines as a teen. He got kicked out for fighting too fucking much, though, but he kept up with his training. Romello, or Predator, as we called him, was not a nigga to play with. He could track down any motherfucker and their whole fucking family—right down to the great, great Grandmother—and he would wipe them out like they never existed.

The nigga could be nice—well, only to the opposite sex—but when he was quiet, that wasn’t a good fucking thing. Meant the nigga was planning how he was going to kill you. The only problem I had with the nigga was he stayed chasing pussy! The fool was obsessed with bitches, and I always told him that pussy was going to be his downfall. But shit, at twenty-five, he was young. Pussy was the only thing on his mind, despite him having a whole ass baby mama, but that was his story to tell.

I know y’all must be wondering if my parents are married, then how the fuck is he only my mother’s son?

My parents met in high school, fell in love, and had me. When I was two, they broke up and got with other people. My mama met Romello’s pops and had my brother. But by the time he was a few months old, his pops died in a car crash. My dad made sure to be there for my mom and brother. Sometime later, my parents got back together after my dad’s new relationship ended. They got married when I was ten and have been together ever since.

Romello calls him dad, but he has his father’s name. Something he wanted to keep to remember him. We were a close family—or we used to be until I became Konvict—but being the type of people my parents were, they still loved me.

I used my key to get inside the house, and my nose led me to the kitchen.

Ohhh, it smells good as hell in here! I said, and my mother turned to look at me.

What I tell you about saying hell? Don’t make me forget my religion and beat your ass.

I shook my head at her. You can say ass, but I can’t say hell?

She went to hit me, but I dodge around her. I chuckled and then went to greet my pops.

How you doing, old man? I asked him.

Never better.

We took a seat, and I looked at my parents, who were acting funny.

What? I asked because I could just feel that they had something to say.

Tell him, my mother said, and my father sighed.

Tell me what?

It um, seems that a few members have found out what you do and have left the church, my dad said, and I frowned.

He was the pastor over a new church.

I can’t see how they found that out, Pops, unless they were buyers. I chuckled.

I made sure to keep my street life away from my parents’ lives. The last thing I wanted was for them to be caught up in my bullshit!

Do you have to joke about everything, Di’Aundrie? This is serious, my mother snapped.

And I was serious too.

My dad sighed. I just wish you would stop with all this, Di’Aundrie. You’re better than that.

I scrunched my face up. Why, because your people found out? I’m sorry, Pops, but I am who I am!

And then you got your brother involved, my dad added, and I had to laugh at that.

Pops, Rome is a grown man. I didn’t make him do anything.

If they only knew he was encouraging the shit!

I didn’t come to fight with y’all, so I’m about leave, I said and stood to my feet.

This wasn’t a conversation that I hadn’t heard before, but today, my temper was set differently. It was better to leave than to disrespect my parents.

Okay, we don’t want to fight with you either. Just know I’m praying for you—Romello too, my dad said.

I nodded, hugged my parents, and left before shit got real.

Just another day in my life.

Since my parents were with the shits, I went to fuck with Romello at his studio. He was a bad ass music producer with people paying out of the ass just to work with him. My brother had skills. The nigga said he was working, but I knew he was just there running game on bitches. And when I pulled up and went inside to see more bitches than niggas, I knew I was right.

I moved a bitch out of the chair and took a seat. When she tried to sit on my lap, I gave her a look that said, don’t try me, and she quickly backed up.

Romello killed himself laughing when the girl stormed out.

How you just gonna move her out of her seat like that and get mad when she wanna sit on you? he asked, and I shrugged.

I wanted to sit down. What the fuck you wanted me to do? Stand?

Rome laughed and shook his head at me.

We were brothers, but you couldn’t tell by looking at us. While I was the image of our mama, he looked like his dad. Same dark chocolate complexion and eyes that looked black. Rome had dreads that hit the middle of his back—shit he started to grow once he was kicked out of the marines. And just like me, he was inked up. My brother was slimmer than me at 180 lbs, and he stood at six foot one.

The nigga was a pretty boy, and all the bitches loved his baby ass face. Since he was thirteen, the nigga had been diving into pussy, and then he got his girl pregnant at only sixteen! Our mama was mad as fuck, especially because his girl was eighteen at the time, but my little brother did what he had to do and stood up to his responsibilities. He helped me run everything, but he was my hitta too. Any problems I had, he dealt with it.

I chilled with my brother until I couldn’t take the stupid bitches he had around him.

Nigga, come walk me out, I said and stood to my feet.

He got up too.

Are you leaving, Romello? This chick asked, looking like she wanted to cry, and I shook my head at her.

Nah, I’mma be back. He winked.

And then we left the room.

Nigga, you fucked that bitch too? I asked my brother when we stepped onto the elevator, and he sighed.

My brother had a problem and liked pussy too much despite having a whole ass family at home. It was like the more I talked to him, the more he did what he wanted.

He looked at me, and I shook my head.

You need to get your shit together, Romello! What about Sheena, nigga?

I love Sheena—there’s no doubt about that, but I can’t stop, nigga. I think I have a pussy addiction, he said, and I mushed him in the head.

Stupid ass nigga.

He shrugged, and when the elevator doors opened, he stepped out.

I’m cutting down though, nigga. Damn, he said, and I shrugged.

Why you telling me that shit? I’m not your bitch. And when Sheena finds out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

He sucked his teeth and sighed. I’m gonna stop.

When? I asked.

After I fuck that chick! She’s so fucking sexy.

I groaned and rolled my eyes.

For weeks my brother had been going on about some chick he kept seeing around—he was acting obsessed—looking around for her everywhere we went.

I thought the nigga was bugging because I had yet to see this bitch who was so fine that my brother damn near lost his mind.

All he talked about was getting at the chick, but the stupid nigga didn’t even know her fucking name!

Romello chuckled, and we walked out of the studio.

I saw dad today, and he said he was praying for you, I said, and Rome laughed.

Still?

I had to chuckle at that one too because that was all our dad said.

I’m out. I slapped hands with my brother and headed for my car.

Stop fucking bitches, nigga, and go home to your woman! I yelled at him, and he chuckled.

I will once I find that sexy bitch.

I knew his ass was lying, and that grin on his face told me that he was. Shaking my head, I stepped off the sidewalk to go to my car.

A car sped around the corner, and knowing exactly who it was, I grabbed my gun, turned, and started shooting just as the people in the car did the same.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

The sound of breaking glass and bullets erupted, bringing life to the dead street. I used a car as a shield and continued to fire at the car. I looked over to make sure my brother was good, and when I saw that he was, I focused back on making my guns talk.

The door to his studio opened, and when five other niggas rushed out shooting after the car too, it took off down the street. But not before I let a few shoots off into the back window.

I stood there and watched as the car burned tires around the corner. An angry scowl covered my face because although the car was blacked out, I knew without a doubt who was behind that shit—Menace.

The motherfucker was hitting back after we recently took out his bitch ass nephew. The nigga tried to set me up to be killed, so I found him and ended his life. I chuckled because Menace had no idea who he was messing with.

Predator walked over to me with a grimace on his face and I knew he was just as tight as I was.

You want me to go after Menace?

I looked down the street where the car went and stroked my chin.

Nah, it’s all good. I got something for that nigga.

He had no idea what moves I was about to make, and by the time he did, it was gonna be too late.

Joelle Foster

A rggghhh, fuck!

I walked into the room to see my mama pulling a bullet out of my dad.

What happened? I snapped, and they looked over at me.

Nothing, my dad mumbled, and my mama sucked her teeth.

He got shot by that motherfucker, Konvict.

My dad looked up at my mom like he was mad that she told me, and she just shrugged. I angrily bit down my back teeth.

I hated Konvict with every fiber of my body. He was a nigga who had given us nothing but trouble since he suddenly rose to fame in the streets. It was like he just popped up overnight. What pissed me off the most was that he was a little nigga. A nobody ass dope boy who suddenly took over from the last Kingpin—Grey.

Although Grey and my father were not friends, there was an unspoken truce where they didn’t step on each other’s toes. But not this nigga Konvict. He wanted everyone to fear him—including my dad—and that was his first mistake.

My dad was an OG, one of the first to lock New Jersey down, and I knew he wasn’t about to bow down to this nigga who was clearly in over his head.

Don’t you think it’s time to retire, Menace? Leave this shit to those young niggas, my mama fussed, and my dad glared up at her.

Fuck that! As long as I can still breathe, shoot, and fuck, I ain’t old! he snapped, and she sucked her teeth at him.

What if that bullet had hit your fucking head or something? Is all of this shit worth it? Just walk the fuck away!

My dad had been in the streets long before I was born, and I was twenty-four years old. I knew my mama was tired of the sleepless nights and the near death situations like now, but I also knew why my dad couldn’t stop.

The streets were all he knew. His dad was from the streets, his uncles and grandfather. Even the women in my dad’s family were involved in the streets in one way or another. It was in his blood, and I couldn’t see him doing anything else.

I was supposed to retire until that fuck nigga killed my nephew!

Thinking about my cousin Lloyd made all my hate for Konvict grow just that much more.

I was an only child, and because my dad didn’t have a son, the empire was supposed to be passed to the next Foster male of the family. And that was my cousin Lloyd, since the rest of my male cousins of age were either dead or locked up.

My dad stepping down was supposed to happen, but Lloyd was killed by Konvict just a week before. Since then, it’s been a war between my dad and Konvict.

Michael, I love you, baby, I do, my mama said, grabbing my dad’s face and calling him by his real name. But you got to let this shit go. We have more than enough money to move away and live a normal life.

For the past two years, my mother had been expressing her desire to move away and live a life away from the streets. Although she met my dad in her teens while he was in the streets, she was tired of that life now.

Something my dad could never understand.

Walk away and do what? Allow that motherfucker to take over? He’s not worthy of being a king. The nigga isn’t a thoroughbred like me. Ain’t no fucking pastor’s son sitting on my throne!

So, you gonna continue until he eventually kills you? she yelled back at him.

I sighed because my parents arguing like this was something I never grew up seeing, but that just let me know it was because of Konvict.

Just another thing the nigga fucked up.

Not if I kill the fucker first. Once he’s dead, then and only then will I walk away from this shit. But he has to die, Bernice. I can’t sleep peacefully at night knowing that nigga is still walking around.

I will kill him, I offered, and my parents looked at me.

I may not have been involved with my dad’s empire, but I was just as deadly as the niggas who worked for him. My dad kept me away from the drugs, but he made sure to train me on how to fight and shoot. His reason was that I may not have been in the streets, but niggas would kill me like I was, nonetheless. People knew who I was and who my father was. I would have been easy prey without my training, and my dad wasn’t having that.

I had to kill a few niggas during my lifetime who thought just because I was a bitch, I couldn’t defend myself. Now motherfuckers knew not to bother me.

I looked like a lady; 5’7, slim thick with dark chocolate, blemish free skin. I had big, baby like eyes, button nose, and thick lips. My natural hair was jet black and sat at my bra strap. I had C cup titties, wide hips, and a peach booty. I was a lady through and through, but I damn sure didn’t shoot like one!

My dad looked at me and sighed.

I got this, Joelle. I don’t want you to get involved.

I opened my mouth to object but decided against it. One thing about my father; once he made up his mind, nothing was going to change it.

This is something I got to do for my nephew. For my brother, My dad said sadly.

I wanted to tell him that his nephew and brother weren’t shit, but I didn’t want to break his heart.

Me wanting to kill Konvict was purely for my dad. Just like my mother, I wanted my dad to retire. Mainly because I wanted him safe and away from this shit that was doing nothing but draining him. Too many times, I had seen my father with bullets in his body, and it was something I never wanted to see again. If killing Konvict would give me that, I was all for it, but it damn sure wasn’t for my cousin or Uncle who both deserved to be dead, in my opinion.

Had my father not wanted Lloyd to take over so he could retire, I would have killed that nigga myself.

But that was another story.

My mother finished working on his arm, and after giving her a kiss on the lips, my dad stood and walked over to me.

Promise me that you will stay out of this, he said, holding me by the shoulders.

He knew what I was like; he bred me to be trigger happy, and that, I was. It didn’t help that I had my favourite Beretta that went everywhere with me. That was one gun that made me feel sexy whenever I used that shit. I was born with my father’s temper, and sometimes it was hard to control it.

Sighing, I nodded, and said, I promise.

Good. He smiled down at me before kissing my cheek. Besides, isn’t there a young man in your life to occupy you?

My mama chuckled when I pretended to gag.

I liked niggas—so let’s get that straight right now—I just didn’t like the niggas who liked me. After growing up around nothing but thugs and crazy ass niggas, the last thing I wanted was a man like them! I was into older, well put together men with real jobs. And until I found a man like that, I was going to stay by myself.

I wasn’t a virgin by far because a girl had needs just like niggas did, and I had allowed a few to fuck. But that was all it was for me; some dick and nothing more.

As much as I loved my daddy, I didn’t want to marry a man like him. Give me a doctor, judge, lawyer, or even a teacher, and a bitch would be gone!

I chuckled at my own thoughts.

No, Daddy, no man around.

As beautiful as you are? he asked, lifting my chin.

I smiled at him.

My dad made sure to tell me every day how beautiful I was.

Nope. No man, just my girls.

Well, at least you have friends, my dad said, and I nodded.

Yep, and talking about friends, I just came to check on y’all before I headed to the club with my girls.

I’m good, he said, and my eyes immediately fell to the gauze on his arm.

I couldn’t help thinking about what would have happened if that bullet had moved a few more inches and hit his chest instead. Would I be standing there talking to my father or looking at his dead body?

Joelle. My dad calling me pulled me from the dark thoughts that I could feel flooding my mind. I’m good, okay? I promise. Just stay out of this. I have something for that nigga.

I wanted to know what but thought that maybe it would be better if I stayed out of it.

Nodding, I wrapped my arms around my dad.

I love you, Daddy.

I love you more.

Afew days later, I decided to do a little shopping. My dad had been locked up in his man cave for days, and I knew it was because he was planning.

Since the shootout, things had been quiet, but I knew that was the calm before the storm. My dad was adamant about killing Konvict, and I knew that once the war started, I wouldn’t be able to freely go out. So, I was making the most of the free time now.

Seeing that a new boutique had opened in the mall, I went to the window to have a look inside. A few nice things caught my eye, so I turned to enter the store but bumped into someone.

Oh, I’m sorry, I apologized but then gasped when I caught sight of who I bumped into.

That’s okay baby.

A tall, handsome man looked