Sons of Kennedy

By Kisha A. Johnson

This is a story about a woman, Eva Jackson, who finds out the terrifying truth about her childhood best friend, Leslie Kennedy's death. Eva is on a mission to find the truth as she becomes physically and emotionally trapped between her best friend's son, B.J., and her husband, Blair. Not knowing whose sto

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prize Publishing House, LLC
• Release date: Feb 3, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989247974

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Copyright © 2024 Kisha A. Johnson

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Book Cover Design: Prize Publishing House

Printed by Prize Publishing House, LLC in the United States of America.

First printing edition 2024.

Prize Publishing House

P.O. Box 9856, Chesapeake, VA 23321

www.PrizePublishingHouse.com

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024901822

ISBN (Paperback): 979-8-9892479-6-7

ISBN (E-Book): 979-8-9892479-7-4

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

I would first like to dedicate this book to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who reminds me through His word that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

To my husband, Jeffrey, who provided his continuous love, support, and encouragement to pursue my dreams.

To my beautiful mother, Patsy White, who is now with the Lord, who encouraged me to write what was in my heart when I was a young girl and taught me never to settle for anything less than my best.

Chapter

1

I KNEW SOMETHING was not right. There was an indescribable feeling so deep in my belly when I considered the truth and all the pain he caused; eventually, what was hidden in secret would be exposed.

One thing I remember my mother saying, It is not your enemies that you have to watch, but the ones who are the closest to you.

As I entered my hallway, I stumbled while trying to overcome the pain that was piercing through my right shoulder. I could hear a crowd of people yelling and screaming outside of my house and the alarming sounds of police and fire sirens coming from a distance.

From one place to another, there was blood covering my shirt, my bedroom sheets, and the carpet on my bedroom floor. In my mind, I just wanted to lie down and wait for someone to find me, but I could barely keep my eyes open; the only way to get out was to make it to the front door. The pain was excruciating; I did not have enough strength to move.

Help! Someone, help me! I cried with every bit of strength I could muster up.

I continued down the hallway into my living room. I left trails of blood. As I passed by the kitchen, I could feel the heat from the fire, and the smoke filled the air. It was suffocating.

Eva, can you hear me? I heard someone outside of my house shouting. You have to get out of there.

I curled up next to the door and tried my best to turn the knob, but the door was jammed. I could not get out. Looking around, If I could find something to bust this door down, then I could breathe. I said to myself.

With every step I took, I could feel my body getting weaker from the pain of the bullet wound, and my clothes were soaked in blood. Only God could save me.

How could he do this to me?

He was not a real man. He was a coward. He was the coward who shot me, burned my house, and left me to die.

Lord, please, get me out of here — In midsentence, I heard a loud banging sound on the door. On the count of one, two, three. There were three firefighters. They knocked on my entrance door and came rushing in.

Ms., are you alright? said the tall, dark-skinned firefighter.

Yes. I said, coughing and trying to keep myself from falling to the floor.

Come on, Ms., we have to get you out of this house. He shouted. Let’s get out of here!

As I walked down my stairway, the paramedics ran quickly towards me. Ma’am, are you okay? We need to check you out.

Yeah, I’m alright. I said, coughing while muttering under my breath because of the smoke from the fire.

Move out the way! Everybody, move! the paramedics shouted as they rushed me to the back of the ambulance.

I could hardly catch my breath, and the pain from the gunshot was horrendous. The good Lord knows. I would never wish this kind of pain on my worst enemy. I thought.

I could hear a lady’s voice in the crowd saying, She is my neighbor; what happened? Is she okay?

Yes, I am fine. Go back home. I said as the paramedics lifted me into the back of the ambulance.

Would someone please get these people out of my yard, I shouted aloud as the paramedics began to shut the door.

From the back of the ambulance, I could see smoke, fire, and the firefighter with their heavy-duty water hose, shooting water toward the fire that was burning at the back of my house.

I tried so hard to lift my body up so I could see what was happening to my house. But suddenly, the paramedic grabbed my righthand and said, Ma’am, do not worry about your house. Everything is going to be fine. You are safe now.

Chapter

2

IT WAS THE BEGINNING of a beautiful Easter Sunday. Blair, Leslie, and B.J. had not made it to church yet, and I was starting to worry. I was hoping that everything was all right with them because being late was one of Leslie’s pet peeves. She hated to be late for anything, especially church.

Leslie and I became best friends in high school. We were complete opposites of each other. Leslie was the outgoing type and loved to talk to everyone. She never knew a stranger. She was tall and slender, with straight red hair, a Caucasian girl. I, on the other hand, was reserved and petite, with curly brown hair, an African American girl, and incredibly careful to hold personal conversations with anyone. We spent our teenage and young adult years together as close friends. There was never a day that went by that Leslie and I did not talk. We talked about everything, just like sisters. After high school, we both attended Southern University and played on the volleyball team.

Leslie and Blair met at our senior year homecoming football game. Blair was charming, assertive, and very good-looking. Everyone in school either knew Blair or knew about him. He was one of the popular guys that every girl at our school talked about, including me. And it also did not hurt his image that Blair’s family was one of the wealthiest families in the county. Some people around town would gossip about the Kennedy family because they were known