Read Online The Prada Plan 2: Leah's Story by Ashley Antoinette - Free Book Online
Authors: Ashley Antoinette
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to put in work. One of their own had been crossed, and the way that they moved, every action had a reaction.
The consequences for snatching baby Sky would be deadly for anyone involved. The gray, overcast skies should have been every indication that it was about to rain, but what Houston had never seen before was the downpour that Indie was about to bring. He wasn’t into making it rain dollars. That was for trick niggas. Indie was about to make it rain bullets, and anyone he had ever beefed with was in his crosshairs. The way he felt, the entire fucking city could get it if need be. No one was exempt, and niggas would bleed until he received the answers that he sought, or until his daughter was returned home safely.
He was highly offended by the trespass that had been committed against him. And as he rode in the backseat of Chase’s old school ’64 Chevelle, anger consumed him. He was silent, stoic, still. He wasn’t a rah-rah type of nigga that talked big. He acted big.
These niggas think it’s a stage play. I live this. I do this. I don’t play gangster. I’ma burn this bitch to the ground if something happens to my baby girl . His brow furrowed deep from a combination of worry and madness. On the outside, one would never know his troubles, but on the inside, there was a bitter and brutal storm brewing. His entire life was flashing before his eyes.
Everything depended on baby Skylar’s safe return. He knew that YaYa would never get over her grief if this ended badly, and he would never forgive himself as well.
He was jarred from his thoughts when the car stopped moving. He stared out of his window.
“You sure you want to do this?” Khi-P asked as he peered intently at Indie through his rearview mirror.
Indie didn’t even look his way. He simply stared out of the window and nodded his head.
CLICK-CLACK!
The sound of Chase cocking his .380 handgun was the beginning of the end. Indie was the conductor of this street symphony, and he was about to serenade a couple niggas right to sleep.
BOOM!
Chase had just played the first note. Indie watched as Chase and Khi-P got out of the car and unloaded their semi-automatic pistols on the trap house. They wanted to leave a blood bath behind, sending a message to whoever was in charge. They didn’t know much about the out-of-towners who had come to Houston, but they were looking to find the head nigga in charge.
Unwanted beef had caused Indie to murk one of the Tallahassee boys, and now they were bringing heat to his front door. He was a man, so he stood behind everything that he had ever done, but drawing his family into things had been a low blow. A deadly line had been crossed. Like North Korea, he showed no mercy when his borders were penetrated. YaYa and Skylar were off limits.
Indie had put word out in the hood that he was looking for the leader of the out of town crew, searching high and low for him to no avail. Finally, Indie decided that if he couldn’t find his enemy, he would make his enemy come find him. He didn’t like war, but sometimes it was inevitable, and consequently, he was good at it.
The South was too slow for him; they didn’t rock the same way as he did. He was ruthless, but at the same time calculating. He moved with intelligence instead of arrogance, and now that he saw how they got down, he was about to teach a lesson that they would be sure to remember.
These niggas don’t want to see me, he thought.
Fearless, Chase and Khi-P blazed through the unsuspecting hustlers that ran the trap spot. The two were magnificent when it came to gunplay. Chase had been taught by the best, and was popping off nothing but headshots as he moved through the place. His murder game looked like art as he beat the odds. Two guns in the hands of men like Khi-P and Chase outnumbered the seven ordinary hustlers any day.
It wasn’t until they made their way upstairs that they encountered a challenge. Out of nowhere, bullets began to fly in their
The consequences for snatching baby Sky would be deadly for anyone involved. The gray, overcast skies should have been every indication that it was about to rain, but what Houston had never seen before was the downpour that Indie was about to bring. He wasn’t into making it rain dollars. That was for trick niggas. Indie was about to make it rain bullets, and anyone he had ever beefed with was in his crosshairs. The way he felt, the entire fucking city could get it if need be. No one was exempt, and niggas would bleed until he received the answers that he sought, or until his daughter was returned home safely.
He was highly offended by the trespass that had been committed against him. And as he rode in the backseat of Chase’s old school ’64 Chevelle, anger consumed him. He was silent, stoic, still. He wasn’t a rah-rah type of nigga that talked big. He acted big.
These niggas think it’s a stage play. I live this. I do this. I don’t play gangster. I’ma burn this bitch to the ground if something happens to my baby girl . His brow furrowed deep from a combination of worry and madness. On the outside, one would never know his troubles, but on the inside, there was a bitter and brutal storm brewing. His entire life was flashing before his eyes.
Everything depended on baby Skylar’s safe return. He knew that YaYa would never get over her grief if this ended badly, and he would never forgive himself as well.
He was jarred from his thoughts when the car stopped moving. He stared out of his window.
“You sure you want to do this?” Khi-P asked as he peered intently at Indie through his rearview mirror.
Indie didn’t even look his way. He simply stared out of the window and nodded his head.
CLICK-CLACK!
The sound of Chase cocking his .380 handgun was the beginning of the end. Indie was the conductor of this street symphony, and he was about to serenade a couple niggas right to sleep.
BOOM!
Chase had just played the first note. Indie watched as Chase and Khi-P got out of the car and unloaded their semi-automatic pistols on the trap house. They wanted to leave a blood bath behind, sending a message to whoever was in charge. They didn’t know much about the out-of-towners who had come to Houston, but they were looking to find the head nigga in charge.
Unwanted beef had caused Indie to murk one of the Tallahassee boys, and now they were bringing heat to his front door. He was a man, so he stood behind everything that he had ever done, but drawing his family into things had been a low blow. A deadly line had been crossed. Like North Korea, he showed no mercy when his borders were penetrated. YaYa and Skylar were off limits.
Indie had put word out in the hood that he was looking for the leader of the out of town crew, searching high and low for him to no avail. Finally, Indie decided that if he couldn’t find his enemy, he would make his enemy come find him. He didn’t like war, but sometimes it was inevitable, and consequently, he was good at it.
The South was too slow for him; they didn’t rock the same way as he did. He was ruthless, but at the same time calculating. He moved with intelligence instead of arrogance, and now that he saw how they got down, he was about to teach a lesson that they would be sure to remember.
These niggas don’t want to see me, he thought.
Fearless, Chase and Khi-P blazed through the unsuspecting hustlers that ran the trap spot. The two were magnificent when it came to gunplay. Chase had been taught by the best, and was popping off nothing but headshots as he moved through the place. His murder game looked like art as he beat the odds. Two guns in the hands of men like Khi-P and Chase outnumbered the seven ordinary hustlers any day.
It wasn’t until they made their way upstairs that they encountered a challenge. Out of nowhere, bullets began to fly in their
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