Page 40 of A Million Boss Kisses

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Quinten Bentley Sr

F or the duration of my trip back to Miami, I could barely keep my thoughts straight.

The level of anger I was experiencing was enough to make me stroke out, but somehow I was still moving.

My jaw was clenched so hard that I probably ruined the enamel on my teeth, and my foot was heavy on the gas.

I was apoplectic after ending the call with Tech, and could not stomach the presence of anyone.

I left my crew behind in Tampa and headed to Miami, ready to confront my biggest demon in the flesh.

I slowed down as I turned onto my parents’ street due to the torrential rain that the dark clouds released.

Lightning lit up the sky, making it look like it was dusk rather than two o’clock in the afternoon.

My parents’ manor came into view, and I pressed the button in my truck to open their wrought iron gates.

They were tall and black, intricately designed with the words Bentley Manor welded in the center.

The gates parted, slowly, granting me entry after a few moments.

I sped through the gates before they were fully opened, almost losing my side view mirrors in the process.

As I got closer to the house, memories of all the bullshit I endured at the hands of my father replayed in my head.

The day he knocked me in the jaw and put a gun to my head because he found out about Lavita was the first time he pulled his gun on me.

But my face had become acquainted with his fists the first time my cousin Jerrod took my game and wouldn’t give it back, so I went into my room pouting.

I was probably about eight and Jerrod was eleven.

My dad punched me in the face for letting him punk me.

My brown skin bruised easier than even he expected, so he forced me to lie to my mom about Jerrod giving me the black eye, and from that day forward, she didn’t really fuck with Jerrod being at our crib or me going to Uncle Montell’s house without her supervision.

Those are just two of the most memorable because they were escalations of punishments that I didn’t see coming.

After that, I didn’t think my dad could do anything else that would surprise me, but he truly took the cake with this stunt he pulled.

I eyed the exterior of the Mediterranean-style mansion with tall arched windows, terracotta roof tiles, and thick stone walls that made the house look like a fortress.

A wrought-iron balcony curved around the left side of the house and wrapped around the back to overlook the pool.

Everyone loved coming to my parents’ house because it was so beautiful, but I had a love hate relationship with the property.

All of my memories here weren’t horrible, but God damn, the bad ones were strong.

Placing my truck in park, another flashback hit me.

I was eleven or twelve when my dad made me strangle my mom’s four-month-old yorkie that he bought her for her birthday, simply because he never wanted the dog and was tired of it pissing in the house.

Every time I stepped foot in that backyard, I could still hear the dog’s frantic whimpers as it writhed in my grasp, its tiny movements slowing until silence blanketed the space.

My father’s voice echoed through the haze of that memory; he was calm and cold while puffing on his blunt.

“Good job, son. You caught your first body. Now when ya mama asks, we don’t know what the hell happened to the dog.” His words resounded in my head like we were back in that moment, with my knees buried in the damp grass as I stared at my trembling hands in disbelief.

Stepping out of my truck in the pouring rain, I noticed my dad’s Suburban was gone, but a light was on in their bedroom, and a figure appeared, then quickly backed away.

My mom kept her big bush of natural curls on display until bedtime, so I knew it wasn’t her.

Approaching the house, I allowed my emotions to lead me through the process of placing my thumbprint on the scanner, entering the house, and finding my father sitting in the adjustable bed.

The clean citrus scent wafted through the room from my mom’s favorite candle while my father’s eyes were glued to the tv.

“Where is mom?” I questioned.

“She went to the spa with ya Aunt Velma,” he informed me, lifting the bed remote to raise his head before turning to face me. “What’s the matter, son? You good? You look flustered.”

“Where the fuck is Quincy?” I snapped, snatching the remote from him.

“Ahhh shit, they were never going to hurt him for real. But it worked, didn’t?

That nigga released that hold on our offshore accounts, didn’t he?

I just got the text that the money was wired, and Quincy has already been released.

Call him,” he urged me while my eyes stayed locked on his face, unable to process the level of treachery that resided within him.

“Relax, Quinten. They didn’t do anything to him and now our problems are solved. Now do what you need to do to empty those accounts before he has the chance to do whatever the hell he did again.”

“What incompetent motha fuckas did you find to do that shit for you?”

“I can’t give you that information. I promised them anonymity since they really didn’t want to be involved because of Quincy’s connection to Vincent,” he replied before a coughing fit hit him.

“Tell me who did it!” I growled, lowering myself to get in his face.

A bright bolt of lightning lit up the sky, and a deafening crack of thunder followed right behind it. The power in the house flickered twice before turning off. The low hum of the wall-powered oxygen machine died out, leaving the dark room silent.

My dad immediately reached out for the portable oxygen machine sitting on the back of his wheelchair next to the bed. I snatched that shit from his grasp and placed it just a few steps away.

“Quinten,” he coughed, his wheezing almost instantly intensifying.

“Who had the nuts to touch my son?”

“Tevin… he hired a few… few young niggas from Tampa to do it,” he coughed out, breathing hard as fuck.

“Son…” He muttered, reaching out for me, but I didn’t give a fuck.

The days of capitulating to his demands were over. As I watched him plead for my help, the sky brightened and the sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a sliver of light across the dark room.

“I’m going to watch you suffer in your last minutes. I’ve deprived perfectly healthy niggas of oxygen before, and it didn’t take long for them to clock out. In your physical condition I’m sure it’ll be quicker,” I monotoned, leaning up against the wall across from him.

His eyes widened, and he maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed like he was going to get in his wheelchair. I swiftly leaned over his wheelchair and pushed the manual freewheel levers and rolled that bitch just out of his reach with a grin on my face.

“You are right. They didn’t hurt Quincy. Your precious Lil Q, on the other hand, was shot.”

My father’s eyes bucked as his chest heaved while he gasped for air.

His lips were turning blue as he struggled to breathe.

I went into their closet and rummaged around in the medical supplies until I found a fresh nasal cannula.

With the lightweight tube in hand, I went back into the bedroom that was fully lit up by the sun like it wasn’t just storming a few minutes ago.

There was a spa I paid for Marissa and Karina to go to once that had an oxygen bar.

They said the higher levels of oxygen were supposed to reduce stress, and this nigga had stressed me for forty-eight years.

His eyes followed me as I returned to the room and changed out the nasal tube.

I could feel his spirits lifting until I sat in his wheelchair, positioned the two tubes into my nose, and turned on the portable oxygen machine.

I breathed regularly while checking my text messages.

As my father stated, Quincy was safely with Marissa, and a few of my men were on their way to Tevin’s house.

It made sense that he didn’t answer his phone while the men were getting together to head out last night.

“Refreshing,” I nodded after a few minutes on the oxygen.

My father slowly lifted his right hand and I swatted it away. He started wheezing harder, a raw, broken sound clawed its way out of his throat. I stared into his eyes still breathing in the oxygen.

“Oh, and before you die, I want you to go to hell knowing that Lil Q won’t ever claim that seat like you desperately wanted.

As soon as everybody learns that you’re dead, I’m going to tell them Karmello can have it.

You cheated Jamell and Jerrod out of their chance to run shit, and I’m going to make that shit right. ”

At my revelation, his watery sunken eyes widened with fury. His chest heaved as he fought to breathe. He couldn’t speak, but his eyes told me everything. “Over your dead body, huh? I know. That’ll be soon,” I taunted.

His lips parted, and I heard one final wheeze before his eyes widened with fear, and the faint hum of the oxygen machine was the only sound in the room.

I took a few minutes to place the nasal tubes attached to the wall-powered oxygen machine back in my father’s nose, returned his chair back to its position, and lifted the manual freewheel levers.

Just to be on the safe side, I put his dirty cannula back on the portable oxygen machine and took my own with me as I left the house.

On the short drive to where Tevin was being transported, I had Father Time by Kendrick Lamar playing to the max.

This song always hit because I knew I had daddy issues, but what the fuck I look like admitting that?

This song was the closest I’d ever get to dealing with the shit I’ve been through.

I pulled up as they pulled Tevin out of the trunk of a bucket.

Tevin was putting up a fight, digging his feet into the dirt path, sending clouds of dust up in all directions.

“Damn. I just had some oxygen therapy, and you fucking my shit up already,” I complained, waving the dust out of my face.

Duct tape covered his mouth and I preferred it that way.

I didn’t want to hear any begging from his disloyal ass.

I put him on and he crossed me in the worst way.

My father wasn’t all bad. He gave advice that only a strategic mafia boss could.

He always told me to kill a motha fucka where they disrespect you at.

If I would’ve blown Tevin’s head off the day Yaseer shot me, we probably wouldn’t be going through none of this shit.

They pulled Tevin into the dimly lit warehouse kicking and murmuring through the duct tape. The tarp was already laid out on the floor of the kill room when we stepped inside.

“Take that shit off his mouth,” I ordered. “How were you communicating with the niggas you hired to kidnap my son?”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“Go find his daughter, Nicki,” I barked at no one in particular, but feet immediately started shuffling against the cold concrete floors behind me.

“Wait man!”

“Talk quick. You crossed the line and fucked with my seeds. I’ll happily do her like she’s just another bitch on the streets,” I threatened.

“There is a burner in my trunk. There was a click of six brothers I found up there. I took pictures of all six of their IDs to ensure they wouldn’t open their mouths since I can easily find their family.”

I whistled and the scrambling stopped. “Somebody get eyes on Nicki but don’t touch her and locate the burner phone in his trunk!”

With the twirl on my pointer finger they were in motion again.

I went into the backroom where I kept a few bottles of liquor.

Besides the room full of tarps and a few torture supplies, there wasn’t anything else in here.

I carried the bottle of D’Usse outside and drank it straight from the bottle while I called Quori to get an update on Lil Q and Quincy.

If I called anybody else, they likely wouldn’t answer.

Quori didn’t fuck with me like that, but she always kept the door open.

About thirty minutes later a truck sped down the gravel road that led to the warehouse.

One of my men stepped out with Tevin’s burner phone.

He passed it to me, and I took another swig from the bottle while I thumbed through the pictures of IDs he was referring to.

I locked the phone and placed it in my pocket on my trek back into the warehouse.

I pulled my nine from my waist and sent two through the side of his head, sending his body flopping back on the tarp.

“Martin, you will handle Tevin’s duties from now on.”

“Bet!” He smiled, pulling out his phone to call the clean up crew.

I swaggered out of the warehouse, texting Damon to set up my flight back to Tampa. I had a bloodline to wipe out.