Lethal

By Joshua Sykes

Jason Hawkins returns to Harmony City after spending the last two years doing all he can to escape his demons. Much to his dismay, he finds the place he once called home in deeper disarray than he could have ever imagined. Determined to make amends for the past he left behind, he uses his intellect and the resources he has amassed in his return to wage a battle with the same criminals he grew up around. Enter Giovanni Davis, also known as Jeffe, a ruthless rising drug kingpin who will stop at nothing to destroy anyone who challenges his seat at the table or the respect he demands. These two begin down the road to a collision course that will shake the very city they both value so much and change the world in ways they never possibly dreamed of. This is just the beginning of the man they call Lethal.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546222958

Book preview

LETHAL

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Joshua Sykes

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2018 Joshua Sykes. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/10/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2296-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-2295-8 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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"I

know that you don’t want to be here." Nicole licks the cigarillo wrap and presses the blunt together as Jason tapes his wrist.

I’m not really interested in putting on a show for these people. He plucks the blunt from her hands and lights it. This shit isn’t going to get us anywhere, and I’m surprised you’re this eager and willing to waste our time.

Jason Hawkins, a tall, athletic, nineteen- year-old African-American, begins to shadow box in the corner of the bathroom serving as a locker area. He’s still puffing away at the blunt between each phantom punch he throws. Nicole takes the blunt back, placing her palms on each side of his head and takes a deep drag, blowing the smoke in his face.

The money isn’t bad tonight; consider this an audition to get us where we need to be. There are some important people here tonight to see you. Don’t get bored and lose focus, I don’t need woe is me Jason tonight. You can send that nigga home. Nicole brushes away a few strands of her blonde hair that are stuck to Jason’s shirt before continuing. You put on a show, remind everyone why you have become the biggest draw in every pub you’ve fought in, and we take another step forward.

Jason smirks, taking one last puff before passing it back to Nicole and putting on his gloves. How much did you get us?

Nicole shoves his mouth guard in for him and points towards the door. More than enough. She kisses him, then stands on her toes to kiss him again on the forehead and leads the way out the door.

The roar of the pub becomes a chorus of deafening boo’s as Nicole leads Jason through the crowd of spectators, his head down as bouncers struggle to hold them at bay. He pulls the ring ropes open for Nicole, and then hops over the top in after her. The crowd is anxious to watch one of their own finally topple the brash, young and often quiet ringer who had been dominating the bare-knuckle brawling scene. Standing at a lean 6’2, he still paled in comparison to his opponent across the ring in both height and weight, but if there were any doubt in him, he didn’t dare show a sign of it. He’d never give these people the satisfaction; the thought of the idea even amused Jason a bit.

Pacing back and forth on the other side of the ring is Thomas Crown. The middle-aged, balding man grabs what’s left of his beer from his wife at ringside and downs it before making his way towards Jason. The referee does his best to keep them apart, but Thomas is riled up, screaming and spitting at Jason to antagonize him.

A slight smirk comes across Nicole’s face as she watches Crown try to intimidate Jason, whose face is stoically calm and hasn’t moved from the center of the ring. The ref escorts Crown back to his corner and checks him for any weapons. He then moves toward Jason to do the same, but Nicole shoots him a disapproving look and he backs away. He motions for Crown to join Jason in the middle of the ring.

Alright lads, let’s have a good one. Not much to the rules, just don’t kill each other. No one needs that kind of hassle. Crown snorts as the ref finishes and calls for the ring bell as the fight is on.

Kick the shit out of the black bastard! Crown’s wife screams from the ring apron. Thomas winks at his wife and puts his hands up to do battle when he is hit suddenly with a flying knee right to the chin. He staggers wildly, dropping to his knees. Before he can recover, Jason hits him again with another vicious knee, this time shattering his nose. He’s unconscious before he hits the mat.

Jason spits out his mouth guard, leans against the ropes and closes his eyes as a smile comes across his face. For a moment it feels like the world’s stopped as he relishes in his work, there’s a calm that has spread over him he just can’t fathom, he just knows he doesn’t want it to go away. Suddenly he is whipped around by the arm and being dragged from the ring by Nicole. Bottles, glasses, and garbage have begun cascading towards the ring as the two of them make their escape.

What did I just tell you? What the fuck Jason, what did I just fucking tell you? she screams over the uproar as she snatches their winnings from the ringside betting table. Jason merely smiles, still pleased with the decisiveness of the fight. They force their way back through the crowd when a woman tries to rip the cash out of Nicole’s hands.

Oi! Nicole hits the woman across the temple with a vicious forearm strike. Another man tries the same, this time grabbing Nicole by the back of her hair and wrenching her backwards. Jason’s eyes immediately go from amused to enraged. He grabs the man by the throat and almost lifts him off his feet when suddenly another bottle crashes against a pillar, narrowly missing Jason’s eye…

TWO YEARS LATER

Jason’s eyes snap open. He squints at the bright sunlight shining into his bedroom and lets out a deep sigh at the thought of getting ready for the day. He finally notices his phone vibrating and snatches it off the night stand as he makes his way into the living room, seeing the name Renee flashing, as well as three other missed calls from her, he answers.

I am honestly looking forward to whatever excuse you have prepared. I figured it had to be something pretty entertaining since this is what, the fourth meeting in two weeks? I had no idea your laziness knew no limits.

Jason chuckles as he pulls a suit from his closet. It is far too early for you to be going off on me Renee, let’s skip ahead to the bullet points.

Nigga it’s almost two-thirty! she shrieks through the phone. I’m sorry if I’m far more stressed than usual, Wesley has tasked me with filling you in on all the bulletin points from this morning. Fortunately, you didn’t miss much other than the official green light on the whole line.

Wonderful, clearly this is a reason to celebrate. Meet me at Coney for breakfast in twenty minutes. Jason finishes straightening his tie as he heads into the living room. He grabs the remote off the couch and turns the TV he left on last night up.

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117 Heights She tells the driver as she steps into her Uber, exhaling a short breath at the relief of being on her way home. As much as I love letting you try to impress me, just because you decided to blow off your responsibilities today doesn’t mean we all get to join you. I’ve got homework to finish before my shift at the club.

I really can’t fathom why you continue to work two jobs you hate. I’m starting to think you just enjoy complaining twice as much, that or you just enjoy reminding me when I fuck up, and that is just too sweet a reward on its own. Jason jokes as he grabs his car keys off his computer desk, an antique his uncle bought him for college where three large monitors sit.

I do it because even being a barely paid intern for Sails looks good on a resume. And because I don’t want to take orders from Wesley and you for the next ten years. She replies tersely, the thought of working the night shift making her crankier by the moment, and knowing only Jason wouldn’t mind her attitude.

Now name one time I’ve ever given you orders. He replies almost on his way out the door before something on the TV catches his eye.

She sighs in defeat. Fair point, but this has all been a fun way of avoiding the real question here. What had you so caught up last night you couldn’t get your ass up for work?

Jason barely hears the question as he turns the TV up louder just as the news anchor is beginning her top story.

A drug robbery that left twelve people dead and a house ablaze on Harmony’s southwest side has thankfully led to some arrests late last night. Six men were apprehended only two blocks away from the scene of the crime. Their identities have yet to be made public. For more on this, we go to James York in the field. James? The TV blares over the surround sound but Jason is miles away as he surveys the footage airing and recalls the events of his prior evening.

THIRTEEN HOURS AGO

A pickup truck sits in front of a post office on a dimly lit street. Five men dressed in military grade tactical gear are waiting. Two in the front, the rest sit in the truck bed. B and Shooter pull up behind the truck and quickly hop out and into the back. One of the other men hands them each head gear, goggles, and a ski mask that they quickly don as the truck tears off down the street.

A young man sits on the porch of a somewhat dilapidated house, a shotgun across his lap and a forty-ounce next to his chair. He takes a sip of his drink and continues to enjoy the quiet night. In the distance he picks up the sounds of an oncoming vehicle. Suddenly the truck comes screeching around a nearby corner and barreling head first for the house, tearing through the surrounding fence.

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Shit! The man knocks over his beer as he fumbles with the gun on his lap. However, before he can even aim a shot, one of the men from the truck bed rips straight through the guard with an assault rifle.

Inside the house, Miguel Flores leaps off his bed at the sound of the attack outside, knocking his girlfriend to the floor and grabbing his gun from underneath his mattress. He burst into the living room, where various women had been bagging cocaine but they, along with five other armed men, have all stopped, their eyes on the door. Marcus Flores comes out of his room and is pushed onto the floor and out of the line of fire by his older brother, just as the front door is knocked in. Bullets rip through bystanders and guards alike as the crew comes through the door with skilled precision and timing. Marcus watches as his brother’s body falls just a feet away from him, his eyes staring blankly as he gasps for air a few last times. Suddenly, he is ripped off the floor by the collar of his shirt.

Yeah it’s him. Y’all are lucky he survived. Don’t be so god damn reckless. Sweep the house. Shooter directs the rest of the team as he places Marcus on the couch between two bodies. The other five men begin to canvass the house, roughly moving bodies aside as they bag up drugs, weapons, and anything else valuable.

Shooter pulls a phone out of a compartment on his gear, presses a button, and hands it to Marcus. The phone rings for a moment, and then on the screen appears Giovanni Davis. A young man of Hispanic and African-American descent, Giovanni eyes Marcus for only a moment before showing anything other than boredom, as if the call itself had been nothing more than a bother to him.

Marcus Flores. You know who I am? Giovanni ask with a condescending sneer to the question. Marcus merely nods, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the phone instead of on the bodies besides him.

Good. You usually stay with your mom on the westside, in Willow Brook. As a matter of fact, your brother dropped your niece off there when he picked you up tonight, didn’t he?

Marcus nods again. Speak up little nigga. Closed mouths don’t get fed. Giovanni taunts. He sneers as Marcus squirms, the escalating tension of the situation leaving him nothing short of terrified.

Yeah…He did. Marcus manages to stammer out. He finally makes the mistake of cutting his eyes at the body of a woman next to him and his stomach begins to do flip flops.

Can you see your brother from where you’re sitting? Giovanni continues as he watches Marcus eyes dart back across the room. Yeah I’m gonna guess by that look on your face he ain’t get as lucky as you. Now Marcus, your brother didn’t even make it to thirty. He won’t get to watch his daughter grow up, go to college, get married. These are results that could have been avoided. And unless you would like to join him on that dusty ass floor, I think you know exactly what I’m going to need you to do.

Down in the basement of the house, Marcus kneels next to a safe while Shooter stands over him. Marcus opens the safe and steps aside as Shooter begins to fill his duffel bag with the stacks of money inside. Shooter finally stands up, slings the bag over his shoulder and just before departing shoots Marcus in the chest. Another one of the group comes down the stairs.

Let’s clean up and get moving. Shooter commands as he steps past his cohort and heads back up the stairs. The man remaining begins to pull small explosive charges out of his bag and sets each