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Overview
One man will do everything in his power to take revenge...Jason Gaines, better known as Hot Shot, has just buried his mother, father, and little brother after a home invasion. Now the only thing on his mind is finding the people responsible and punishing them severely for taking all that he cared for in this world. Before he can take action, he has to get his money right, and that means turning up his hustle. So, it's off to Dallas, Texas to get money from the streets. He has the connects to give him everything from drugs to weapons. His hustle has to remain on point so he can then redirect his focus on finding the people who murdered his family. Texas is his first stop, but it damn sure won't be his last. He's on a mission, and he Can't Stop!
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781622865581 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Kensington |
| Publication date: | 06/27/2017 |
| Pages: | 336 |
| Sales rank: | 858,277 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.40(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d) |
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Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Three months of living and hustling in Dallas had paid off big time for Hot Shot. He met most of the serious hustlers in the city and conducted a few deals with some who felt comfortable with him since he was fairly new to them. Some of the men he met were skeptical and chose to fall back and watch the new guy who says he's from California and see what he was about. Hot Shot respected those who didn't get right at him. That showed him they were cautious, and being cautious while dealing in the streets, no matter what state one was in, was a good rule to hustle by. Those who had been hesitant to deal with him would soon come around. That was something he was positive of.
The money was good, and the product was great. No matter what was requested of him, he delivered nothing but the very best, whether it was cocaine, marijuana, X-pills, oxycodone, and the ever-popular-in-Texas, codeine syrup. That was his best seller at the time, and he couldn't order enough of it. This seemed to make JT extremely happy, and as long as JT was happy, Hot Shot was happier.
Most things were good. Though money was right, Hot Shot couldn't shake the day-to-day depression that was eating inside of him from the loss of his family. Every time he flew back west to Los Angeles, he would check with a few of his family members to see if they heard anything on the streets about what happened to his family, and every time he received the same answer: nothing.
The streets weren't talking, and that bothered him. The streets always talked. Why not in this case? What would make someone want to hurt his family? Checking with the police was a waste of time as well, so he gave that up quick. He would find out no matter how long it took. He would find out who took his family away from him.
Right now, he was in Dallas, Texas, getting money, and that was his main agenda. He pulled out his smartphone and called Cotton. Cotton was who Hot Shot referred to as his "little helper," though there wasn't anything "little" about Cotton, who stood six foot three and looked as if he could get on anyone's basketball team and work it something fierce. When Cotton answered the phone, Hot Shot, in his normal, slow, and calm way, said, "What up, champ? What you got going on your way?"
"Same ole shit, Boss man. Waiting on you to hit me off with a little something, 'cause you already know I'm out here getting that bread."
There was an extended pause before Hot Shot spoke. "You won't be satisfied until I stop messing with you, huh? How many times have I told you not to speak about anything on the phone?"
"Damn, what I say? That I'm waiting on you to hit me off with a little something? You need to chill out, Boss man." Quickly changing the subject before he further irked Hot Shot, Cotton asked, "You coming out to play tonight? It's Friday, and I'm trying to hit the club up and have some fun. You with me, Boss man?"
Letting Cotton off the hook for the time being, Hot Shot smiled into the receiver and said, "Yes, I'm with that. Tired of staying at the pad playing games on PlayStation 3. Where you trying to get at tonight?"
"Beamers. It's supposed to be real live on Friday nights."
"Where that at? You know I still don't know my way around this city all that good yet."
"It's right off I-35, on Walnut Hill Lane. Put it in your GPS and you should find it with no problems. If you want, we can hook up somewhere and roll together."
"I have a few errands to run before I get out that way, I'll meet you there. I think I'm going to have that amigo, Juan G., meet me there so we can chop it up. He sent word through that amigo that you hooked me up with last month that he wants to holla ta me."
"That's serious. He's doing his thang right out there in Oak Cliff. You gon' do some big thangs if you get him on your line."
Hot Shot sighed heavily but decided against checking Cotton some more for talking on the phone. Instead, he said, "I'll see you at the club later on," and ended the call.
After taking care of his business, Hot Shot went to his downtown condominium so he could relax for a few hours before he met up with Cotton at the club. As he relaxed back on his comfortable king-sized bed, he thought about what Cotton said about him hooking up with Juan G. That would be a major accomplishment. The money made from dealing with the top Mexican in South Dallas could get ridiculous. That thought put a smile on his face as he slowly drifted off to sleep.
Hot Shot woke up feeling refreshed and ready to handle some business and hopefully enjoy himself at the club. He knew that Cotton would be in full floss mode, meaning he would be trying his best to outshine every hustler in the club tonight. Trying to buy the bar and pop as many bottles as he could to impress the ladies and stunt. Hot Shot couldn't care less about any of that. All he was concerned with was money. So, after the sit-down with Juan G., if he didn't find a female that he deemed worthy of his attention for the night, he was out of there with a quickness.
After deciding on a pair of jeans with a crisp white dress shirt and some Air Force Ones, he smiled at his reflection, something he rarely did in public. When he was out and about, he felt there was no time for smiling. Smiling was for happy people, and he was not a happy man. Also, he didn't want anyone thinking he was there to be friends or to make friends. Business only was his rule while he was in Texas. All he had was money on his mind. He knew he was a handsome man, but he wasn't the womanizer type. He kept it way too real when it came to women so there would never be any type of misunderstanding. They want to spend some time together, then cool; relationship stuff, no way.
He stood six foot one, with brown skin and a smooth bald head and a body that screamed "workout fanatic!" Abs to kill for and cut and chiseled like a hard piece of stone. After grabbing a red blazer out of his closet to match his Nikes, he grabbed his phone and keys and caught the elevator downstairs to the underground parking lot to choose which vehicle he would be driving to the club tonight. Since he was hoping on obtaining some female company, he skipped over his brand-new Ducati Panigale R. No need for speed like that tonight, he thought as he stared at his two-year-old GMC Denali. He shook his head no at the SUV and smiled. When you want to let your swag speak for itself, you can never go wrong when you foreign, he thought as he stepped quickly to his Audi S8. Nothing like the 130K-plus automobile to show that your swag was really on point. He laughed at that thought as he climbed inside of this car.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled in front of the club and stared at the large crowd waiting in line to get inside of the club. Not cool. Hot Shot don't do lines at all. So, he bypassed the club and gave Cotton a call. When he didn't answer his phone, he sent him a text asking him where he was. Cotton responded back and told him he was already inside the club and would meet him at the door and to text him when he was there. Hot Shot texted back that he would be at the door within the next five minutes, and then quickly made an illegal U-turn and came back to the club.
He pulled into the valet parking and eased out of his clean, sleek vehicle looking real good as he reached back inside of the car and grabbed his blazer from the passenger's side and slid it on and began to stroll confidently toward the entrance of the club where he saw Cotton standing next to one of the humongous security guards posted at the door. Without saying a word to the security, Hot Shot strolled right past him because he knew Cotton had already taken care of things.
Several females watched as the tall, slim brother with the bright red jacket and matching Air Forces on his feet strolled confidently inside of the club without anyone saying anything to him.
"Girl, whoever that man is, he sure as hell got it going on," said a female who watched Hot Shot enter the club.
"You better say it! Did yo see that new whip he jumped out of? What's that, some type of new Benz?" asked another female onlooker.
"Benz? You stupid! Girl, that's that brand-new Audi, and it looks like the top-of-the-line one at that. I'm definitely trying to get close to that perfect piece of male specimen tonight."
Laughing along with her friend, the other female said, "Not if I can get to his fine ass first!"
Each lady gave the other a high five and giggled like schoolgirls instead of grown women as they waited impatiently to enter the club.
Inside, Hot Shot was led straight to one of the VIP sections by Cotton who hadn't stopped running his mouth since they entered the club.
"I'm telling you, Boss man, that dude Juan G. is already here, and he got like two superbad Mexican broads with him. Shit, you about to make some boss moves up in here tonight, Boss man. Do you want me to tell Juan G. you're here now?"
Hot Shot gave Cotton a look as if he was stupid and shook his head. "No. What I want you to do is calm down some and chill. I'm in no rush to get at that Mexican. When the time is right, it will be right for business. I want a drink first, and then I want to check out the scene some. I cannot do that properly with you running your mouth nonstop, Cotton."
Cotton nodded and shut up as he waved and got the attention of a waitress who was taking care of everyone in the VIP section. When she approached their table, she smiled at Hot Shot, totally ignoring Cotton, and asked, "What can I get you, sir?"
"A bottle of Peach Cîroc, darling."
"The entire bottle? I'm not sure we sell by the bottle, sir."
Hot Shot pulled out his wallet, took out his Black Card, and gave it to her smiling. "I'm sure once you explain to the management that I'm going to spend a nice chunk of change in here tonight they won't mind selling me the entire bottle one bit. As an added incentive to make sure, you take a $500 tip for the work I'll have you doing for me in here tonight. I also need you to send your best bottle of champagne over to that table on the other side of the club where those Mexicans are. When you deliver the bottle, please tell the Mexican gentleman sitting in between those lovely ladies over there that Hot Shot is in VIP and will be waiting for him whenever he would like to chat. Do you think you can handle all of that for me, darling?"
The waitress smiled brightly at him and said, "I'm sure I can make everything you want happen, sir."
"Hot Shot. Please call me Hot Shot or Shot if you like."
"Okay, Hot Shot. I'll be right back with your bottle of Peach Cîroc."
Hot Shot watched as the waitress left and smiled at her thickness and wondered if he should let her be the lucky lady of the night. The night was young, no need to pick hastily, he thought as he turned and faced Cotton. Before he spoke, his words were caught in his throat when he saw one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen in his entire thirty-one years of life. Scratch that. The most gorgeous women he had ever seen in his life. The two lovely ladies were following a man who looked at best to be about five foot seven. The little man was being led toward the stairs to the VIP area by two chubby brothers who were also twins. This seemed really strange to Hot Shot; two sets of twins, male and female. Hmm, interesting.
Following his gaze, Cotton's smile turned into a frown when he saw who Hot Shot was staring at. He shook his head and said, "Not a good look right there, Boss man. These females you checking for are strictly off-limits."
"Is that right? Who are they?"
"They belong to that boss nigga, Tiny Troy."
With a frown on his face, Hot Shot said, "You are really trying my patience today, Cotton. How many times do I have to tell you about using that N-word around me? Respect yourself and respect the black man by not using that degrading word in my presence."
"My bad, Boss man."
"Now, tell me more about Tiny Troy and those females."
"Like I was saying, they are way off-limits. No one messes with those two. You see those two gigantic cats watching over them like hawks as they lead the way?"
"Yes."
"Keeta Wee and Weeta Wee are some dangerous cats and well known around Dallas as some serious head busters. When it come to Tiny Troy and his girls, Nola and Lola, they will smash something with no hesitation."
"Keeta Wee and Weeta Wee, huh? You got to be kidding me! Those chubby jokers look more soft than dangerous to me."
"Don't let their looks fool you, Boss man. I'm serious here."
"Whatever. So, what's the deal with the females? Are they Tiny Troy's girls or what? And I must say, those nicknames are really, and I mean really, killing me!"
Cotton shrugged and said, "That's how it is out here, Boss man. But yeah, they belong solely to Tiny Troy, and I've never heard of them fucking with anyone else."
"Is that right? Hmm ... Which one is which?"
"Nola is the one with the short haircut in that blue dress, and Lola is the one with the long weave."
"Okay, my little helper. It's time to make some changes around Dallas. This is what I want you to do. I want you to go upstairs to the VIP and respectfully ask the female twin in the blue dress if she would like to join your peoples for a drink. No, scratch that. I'd better make this move myself. When the waitress returns with the bottle of Cîroc, pour us some drinks. One for me, my new friend, and one for yourself."
"Come on, Boss man, you can't be serious. Haven't you heard anything I've just told you?"
"Loud and clear, but something tells me everything isn't what it seems to be, Cotton. Watch my work. I'll be right back, and I won't be alone," Hot Shot stated confidently as he stood and stepped out of the VIP and headed toward the stairs so he could go up to the VIP area.
Cotton watched in horror as his Cali connect, the man who was helping him make a whole bunch of bread, headed toward a fucking wreck, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.
Fuck!
CHAPTER 2
The two female admirers of Hot Shot had just entered the club when they saw him headed upstairs. They quickly followed in hot pursuit, determined to get some of his attention. Actually, each was hoping for more than just some. By the time they made it up the stairs, they stopped and watched as Hot Shot approached Tiny Troy's table in the VIP section. Knowing the notoriety of Tiny Troy gave both females pause. They were definitely not trying to get on Tiny Troy's bad side. His reputation for having people punished was solid all around Dallas. Without saying a word to each other, the two ladies turned and went toward the bar to wait and see if they would get an opportunity at Hot Shot later.
Hot Shot stepped boldly to Tiny Troy's table and was about to speak when he was stopped by either Keeta Wee or Weeta Wee with a chubby hand placed firmly on his right shoulder. Hot Shot frowned as he looked to his right and stared at the man's hand on his shoulder.
His first instinct was to grab the man's hand and break it, but that would defeat his purpose, so instead, he took a deep breath and said, "My bad, my man. Not trying to disrespect in any way. I came over here to ask the lady right there for permission to buy her a drink and have a dance with me," Hot Shot smiled as he pointed toward the twin Cotton said was Nola.
Laughing, the blocky shouldered, chunky torso twin said, "You are either not from around here or are one stupid-ass nigga. You need to get the fuck on before you get your ass hurt. That's the only warning you're gonna get, nigga."
Hot Shot sighed. He hated the N-word with a passion, and no matter what, he refused to be called it.
"Twice. You called me the N-word twice. Please don't make the mistake of calling me that again, my man. Like I said, I'm here to speak with the lady right there. Now, if this is a problem, then please accept my apology. There was no disrespect intended."
The other twin security stood next to his brother and was about to make an aggressive move toward Hot Shot but was stopped by Tiny Troy. "Hold up, Weeta Wee, let me have a few words with this man who has the nuts of a gorilla." He then stared at Hot Shot for a few seconds, and then said, "So, you're trying to holla at Nola here, huh? Even though you saw her come into the club on my hip, you have the nuts to come to my table and disturb us by trying to get at her? Like my man said, you either not from around here or you're one stupid dude. Which is it?"
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Can't Stop"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Clifford "Spud" Johnson.
Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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