Page 33 of The Richest Gangstas in the Room

Once my pants were undone, I lifted her off the counter, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her to the bedroom.

Me and Lizzy fucked until we both fell out from exhaustion.

* * *

Bzzzz, Bzzzzz, Bzzzz,

The sound of a phone vibrating repeatedly on the nightstand woke me up. The room was dark except for the blue glow of the screen.

Careful not to wake Lizzy, I reached over to silence it, automatically glancing at the notifications.

My blood ran cold when I saw the name lighting up her screen. It was that bitch ass nigga Kyle.

Kyle: Baby, where did you go?

Kyle: You really left with that nigga?

Kyle: I thought you was done with that shit.

Kyle: You really with the nigga who put his hands on me, you bet not be fucking him Lizzy.

Kyle: Don't make me come over there.

Kyle: Alright bet, I hope that nigga like how my dick taste.

I slid out the bed with my mind racing. I instantly felt sick to my stomach from the last text this bitch ass nigga sent. Andif he was standing in front of me, I would’ve smoked his ass immediately.

I looked down at Lizzy, sleeping peacefully, looking innocent as fuck, and I wanted to smack the shit out of her, but I didn’t put my hands on women. Yea I might’ve not told her we were exclusive, but I was a nigga with a lot of sexual self-control. I wasn’t out here just fucking different bitches. I was only fucking Lizzy.

I grabbed my clothes, dressing quickly and silently. My gun was still holstered in my jacket, and I checked it before slipping out of the bedroom. I needed to get the fuck outta her crib, to think clearly because I felt like spazzing the fuck out.

As I let myself out of her condo, I felt cold rage replacing the warmth I had felt just hours ago. I was slipping, letting my guard down, catching feelings for a bitch who’s been playing me this whole time.

* * *

A week Later….

I slipped into my Benz, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. The leather seat was cold against my back, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing, replaying those text messages over and over. Lizzy had been hitting me up since I left her crib, and I hadn’t answered for her ass at all. To be honest there was nothing else to say.

Alright bet, I hope that nigga like how my dick taste.

I hated that the words burned in my head like acid. But I knew I had to shake how I was feeling and get to the task at hand.

Gizmo Wallace was the task at hand, this motherfucker had been a thorn in my side for months, pushing weight in areasthat belonged to me, undercutting my prices, trying to steal my clientele.

I started the engine, the V8 purring to life as I pulled away from the crib. The Chicago skyline glittered in my rearview, the clock on my dash read 3:28 AM. The witching hour. To me that was always a good time for bad decisions.

As I drove through the empty streets, my mind sorted through what I knew about Derrick "Gizmo" Wallace. He was a south side nigga who had a reputation for being ruthless and efficient. Just like me, but the difference between us was, I had principles and lines that I wouldn't cross.

I knew Gizmo's habits better than he probably realized. I had been watching him, studying his movements, looking for weaknesses. Every Sunday night into Monday morning, he had a standing poker game at a spot on the West Side.

I checked the time again. If patterns held the same, Gizmo would be there now, probably winning because for some reason his clown ass was lucky as fuck.

I made a sharp turn, heading west. My Glock was tucked in my waistband, In the glove compartment was a burner phone and a smaller .22, I never went anywhere unprepared, but tonight I wished I had more firepower. Taking out Gizmo in his own spot probably wouldn't be easy, especially if he had his homies with him.

I parked three blocks from the gambling spot; it was a run-down warehouse with blacked-out windows that looked abandoned to anyone who didn't know better. From my vantage point, I could see two guys smoking outside the side entrance, both with bangers under their jackets. Sloppy ass security. They were too fucking relaxed, laughing it up and shit, not expecting a nigga like me to be waiting on they ass.

I pulled a black skully over my head and checked my phone. 4:05 AM. The game would be winding down soon. Gizmo usuallyleft around 4:30, either flush with winnings or pissed off from losing. Either way, that was the time he walked out, hopefully shit goes my way and he walks out alone.