Teri Woods - Angel's Revenge

“Oh, Duke! Duuuuuke!” the first girl groaned, loving the muscle Duke was running up in her.

He felt the buildup in his balls and pulled out just in time to gag her friend’s throat with his load.

“Good morning to you, too, daddy,” the shorter blonde cooed, rolling off her stomach, sore and satisfied.

Duke used her shirt to clean himself off.

“Y’all gotta get goin’, yo. I got shit to do.”

Duke headed for the bathroom to clean up. After his shower, he dressed in his favorite Carolina blue Roccawear velour suit and Carolina blue Jordans. He headed for the kitchen and found that the girls were gone. He fixed himself breakfast like they usually did. They were at his beck and call, and because they lived in the same condominium complex, he had easy access to their favors.

Duke sat down to his omelette and turkey sausage and mentally planned his day. For him, it was the most important day of his life. His idea had been on the back burner for quite a while. So as soon as World said he was going out of town, Duke knew the time had come. He figured if he pulled it off as he planned, they could easily double distribution in one day.

He was going to have Roll killed.

Roll controlled major spots in New Jersey, and Duke believed if you killed the head the body would die. Besides, if Young World was afraid of an all-out war, this was the perfect solution.

If he could pull off the murder.

Roll wasn’t someone to fuck with. He had been in the game for years, so he was sharp and always on point. He kept no pattern that could be used fatally against him, so he wasn’t an easy target. But Duke felt confident in his plan. His greed told him that if he killed Roll, then all that was Roll’s would be his. Then World would be dependent on him for the new spots. It would be leverage Duke could use in getting World to agree to the mob backing he finally had in his corner. From there, it was just a matter of time before he would push Young World aside and take his spot.

Everybody wants to be boss.

Duke checked his watch then picked up his cell phone and dialed his shooters. The phone rang several times before he heard the aggravated voice of an awakened killer.

“Who this?”

“Get yo’ ass up, nigga! We got work to do,” Duke barked into the phone, flipping his plasma to ESPN to check the scores. Ty snapped up and rubbed his eyes, trying to revive himself.

“Oh, what up, Duke, my bad son? I ain’t-”

“Yo, is you ready?” asked Duke, cutting him off.

“No doubt.”

“How the fuck is you ready and you asleep?” Duke fired back, catching Ty’s dumb ass in a trick question.

“I meant I’m getting ready, yo. Gimme like thirty minutes, aiight?” Ty said, standing up with the phone cradled to his cheek while he put his pants on.

Duke didn’t even bother to reply. He simply hung up the phone and grabbed his keys to meet Ty at the rendezvous spot.

Free at last!

Angel stepped onto the Boeing 747 bound for San Francisco, California. She had been out twenty-four hours, and anyone who’s been locked up knows the first twenty-four hours are always the sweetest. The air smelled fresh, not stale like the recycled air inside the prison. The sun shone brighter and seemed to embrace her with welcoming warmth. Even the mundane sounds of car horns and the hustle and bustle of everyday life was music to the ears of a person who hadn’t heard anything but the slamming of steel and the gravelly shuffle on concrete. All that was behind her, and her lover, Goldilocks, had made sure that Angel stepped out in style.

Goldilocks had a stretch Benz limo waiting outside the federal women’s prison in Alderson, West Virginia. But she didn’t stop there. She had an outfit, shoes, and everything Angel needed waiting for her. Goldilocks knew Angel’s taste for men’s clothing and dressed her to look the part. When the female CO escorted Angel to the front door and took one look at Angel in the outfit, her face turned green with hate.

Angel smirked.

“Take a picture for Trina and Lil’ Kim and let ’em know who the baddest bitch really is!” Angel remarked, rubbing her wealth in the face of the heavyset low-wage earner.

“Hmph, you’ll be back,” said the CO.

But going back wasn’t the plan for Angel. It was time for the jump off. She wasn’t only going to take back what was hers. She was about to elevate the game to the next level. All who couldn’t hang had best bow out.

“Welcome to Continental flight 1707 from Atlanta, Georgia, to San Francisco, California. Enjoy your flight and don’t hesitate to let us know if you need anything,” the shapely stewardess announced with a friendly smile.

Angel eyed the woman, from her long sexy legs to her small, slim waist and perky breasts, and couldn’t help but smile. The flight attendant couldn’t help but notice and returned Angel’s smile with a grin of her own.

“Believe me, sweetie, you’ll be the first to know if I need anything,” Angel said, stressing anything .

“You do that,” the flight attendant flirted back as she walked down the aisle. Angel watched her from behind.

Angel was exotically gorgeous. Her time in prison had only served to enhance her already voluptuous figure. She and Goldilocks had worked out religiously and had succeeded in sculpting Angel’s five-seven frame into a Beyoncé-type figure. Her panther-slant, light-brown eyes gave her the look of a dangerous beauty.

She relaxed as the plane taxied and took flight. The takeoff was always the worst. She had only been on a plane twice in her life and both times had been with Dutch. Her heart ached for him as she imagined him sitting next to her instead of the elderly white woman in pearls.

Relax, mami. We where we ’posed to be ’cause stars belong in the sky. That’s what Dutch had said to her the last time they were on a plane. The whole crew had flown to St. Tropez, back when shit was sweet, when they were on top of the world, untouchable and together. Now he was gone, but her heart refused to accept it.

Dondé es, papi? her palpitating heart asked, and it was as if she could hear his reply. Wherever you are, I am. They can’t stop what they can’t see. Never forget that. Now it’s your turn. Rep the bloodline and show these muthafuckas real niggas don’t die.

Te quiero , her mind replied, because she thought only in Spanish.

The flight to California took forever. The only thing that kept Angel amused was the cat-and-mouse game she played with the stewardess. Angel flirted and the stewardess blushed, so Angel flirted some more.

The flight attendant brought Angel a drink, which for Angel was the perfect opportunity to make a move. When the flight attendant handed her the plastic cup, Angel caught her hand and held it in hers. She looked at her nails.

“You need a manicure, boo.”

The stewardess giggled nervously. “I plan on taking care of that when I get some time off.”

“I got some things you can take care of when you get some time,” said Angel, throwing it out there.

“I guess it depends on what types of things,” the flight attendant replied as she slowly withdrew her hand.

Angel knew she had made her point. Before she got off the plane, she had the stewardess’s number tucked away in her pocket.

Once she arrived in San Francisco, Angel cut through the terminal in a confident stride and headed for the baggage claim area. Goldilocks was supposed to be waiting for her, and just as she promised, she was.

Goldilocks was leaning on the hood of a jet-black 760i with a charcoal-gray interior. She was casually dressed in a Juicy jogging suit, Nike sneakers, and Fred sunglasses. With no makeup, she radiated beauty. Goldilocks was shorter than Angel and more petite. She was half-German and half-black. German in her smoke-gray eyes and high yellow skin, but black in her fat ass and sassy attitude.