Page 1 of Royce (Atkins Family Saga #1)

One

Royce

T ired wasn’t the fuckin’ word. I was more than ready to touch the fuck down and get in my bed. I never really got much sleep when I wasn’t in the comforts of my own home. My body was always on alert not letting shit slip by me.

I kicked my feet up and closed my eyes for temporary relief just to be tapped by the stewardess I had on board. A deep sigh was released before my eyes were peeled open once more. Standing over me was Giselle, our family stewardess who made more in one round trip than a pilot that flew commercial.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Atkins, but you have an important call from Striker,” she said extending the phone in my direction.

“Striker? You sure?” I inquired before taking it from her and sitting up completely.

“Yes sir.”

“What’s wrong?” I questioned putting the phone to my ear. Striker calling was one thing, but calling the plane relaying it was urgent had me on full alert.

“Did you call the trucks off tonight or rescheduled? Why the hell they ain’t pulled up yet?”

“Nigga, what the fuck is you talking about? I ain’t called off or pushed shit back. Them muthafuckas dropping off everything new tonight. The strands, the guns, the white, all that shit in this shipment.”

“Nigga, you don’t think I know that. What I’m telling you is, it’s fuckin’ midnight and ain’t shit here to fuckin’ unload. Walt told me him and his crew been here since ten and ain’t nobody showed. I got here at eleven as usual and there were no signs of a drop off,” he responded.

I chuckled and rolled my head to relieve the tension that formed quickly in my neck.

It took me a split second to go from zero to a thousand and I was trying not to nut up on this plane.

I had approximately an hour left to touch down in the Springs.

Blowing a fuse when I couldn’t handle things right here and now wasn’t gon’ do shit but irritate me.

“Pull the cameras.”

“I did and it ain’t shit on there.”

“Nah, pull ours.”

“I been running ‘round this muthafucka with my head cut off and forgot about them shits.” Only two people had access to those cameras and that was me and that nigga. He been with me since the fuckin’ sandbox. It was only a handful of people I trusted, and Striker was one of them.

There was more than the normal security footage of the mall.

Being an Atkins meant you protected your life and those around you in more ways than one.

I had hidden cameras throughout the property in places muthafuckas wouldn’t think of.

You could never outsmart me, even when you thought you could get away with it.

Silence surfaced for a brief moment before Striker returned the same half ass laugh I gave. “Niggas really ain’t shit. Aye, check yo’ email right quick.”

Opening my laptop, I quickly did like he asked and saw everything I needed to. I broke bread with muthafuckas I thought deserved it, but you couldn’t help everybody. Not everyone had loyalty coursing through them and that was okay. I knew my enemies were closer than I expected.

I was stuck on the unmarked truck, though. That bitch pulled up not even ten minutes after Baker’s drop off with three masked niggas hopping out the back. Curiosity sparked the hell out of my interest. I wanted to know who the fuck was dumb enough to get in bed with that nigga and take my shit.

“I’ll be there in an hour. Keep him there.”

“Will do. Anything else?”

“Hit Baker and tell him to be on standby. I need to holla at him when I get there. Nobody leaves, Striker.”

“You ain’t got to tell me. I’m already knowing. Who picking you up?”

“Mercedees. I’ll be there. Oh, and cut the tapes.” Hanging up, I handed the phone back to Giselle and stretched out in my seat. The best thing I could do was try and relax until I could handle shit. As soon as my feet hit that gravel, I wouldn’t be able to contain myself.

Mercedees handed over a nicely pearled blunt as she drove to the mall.

Owning Kinfolk Galleria had its perks. A lot of shit could happen after hours and not a soul outside The Oath would know what the hell was going on.

I allowed the THC to fill my lungs as I inhaled the blunt deeply. It was needed.

The more disloyal niggas showed their colors, the more acres I added to my graveyard.

Bodies dropped like flies fuckin’ with me, and I had no remorse about it.

Muthafuckas didn’t understand the risks I took.

Both my life and freedom were on the line from the moment I took over The Oath. This wasn’t a game to me.

“Uncle Roy know about this?”

“Nah. When I get back to the compound, I’ll tell him. That’s something else for him to bitch about.”

“I told you to let me and my girls handle it but noooo, you wanted us in the salon doing nails and shit.”

“You complaining but besides the mall, your shops slanging the most white.”

“Tuh! Imagine the FEDs getting word about my acrylic. You think them Asian’s gon’ report me if I keep taking they clients? I mean, where else can you get a full set and an 8ball?”

“That’s my point. You staying or heading out?”

“Oh, you better believe I’m staying. I gots to see this shit. It’s been a year since I saw you catch a body. I been feeling like you ain’t love me no more.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You be too busy catching your own to check in with family.”

“Aye, they be playing with the name and I can’t let them think I’m one to play with.”

Mercedees may have looked kind and sweet, but she was one of the first muthafuckas I’d call outside of Striker to handle shit. She was the only girl and never hesitated to pull a trigger. She was an Atkins at the end of the day and whether she wanted it to or not, her name held weight.

She pulled into the parking lot of the mall and drove around back to the loading docks.

Those that are usually in attendance for the shipments were still here.

Striker was able to keep everybody here without a hiccup.

The second I saw Walt’s Range, my blood boiled.

He was bold to cross me. I had to give him that.

Once the car came to a stop, I put the blunt out, released a deep sigh, then exited the passenger seat. The cool breeze the nightfall provided wasn’t couldn’t even be enjoyed. Irritable, pissed the fuck off with each step I took.

As I entered the building, heads turned in my direction. Niggas were lined up against the wall waiting for me. I walked through the cloud of fear they exuded until I was in the back room behind the office.

Striker was sitting on the table while Walt and his crew were sitting on the fold out chairs.

There was plenty conversation happening before I walked in, yet my presence brought a dead silence to the room the second I stepped through the door.

Mercedees was right behind me taking a seat at the table with Striker.

She removed her pistol from her hip and got comfortable.

“Speaking of the devil, look what he dragged in,” Striker voiced pointing at me with a smirk.

Without acknowledging a soul in here, I walked over to the computer and pulled up the video. The projector stayed up and ready to go so all I had to do was hit play. Walt and his crew didn’t have a clue as to what the fuck was ‘bout to happen.

“Aye Walt, what time you and yo’ crew got here?” I questioned. He was gon’ lie because that was what thieves did. If he stole from a nigga, it wasn’t shit for him to lie to me as well.

“Shit, ‘bout a quarter to ten. Why wassup?” he answered.

“And Striker, you got here at eleven, right?” He nodded while still carrying that devilish grin. “Call Baker and put it on speaker.”

“I been calling Baker since I got here. He ain’t answer for me once,” Walt chimed.

“Who the fuck are you for him to answer for? Call Baker, Striker,” I ordered.

Striker did like I asked with Baker picking up after the first ring. Walt’s entire demeanor went from a relaxed one to a nervous one. “Hello.”

“Aye B, Royce need to holla at you right quick,” Striker voiced as he approached me.

“Aight.”

With my hands in my pocket, I asked, “B, where my shit at?”

“What you mean where yo’ shit at? I dropped that shit off hours ago,” he answered.

“My fridge empty ‘round this muthafucka, B. Walt said he been calling you all night and you ain’t picked up once. You playing with me?”

“Walt called me at eight stating you and Striker called for the shipment to come in an hour early. Me and the team showed up at ten on the fuckin’ dot.

Him and his crew were already there and waiting.

When I asked where the fuck Striker was, Walt said he was on the way.

I ain’t question that shit ‘cause it’s either him or Striker there waiting on me.

I did my part, Royce.” Baker wasn’t gon’ risk shit for Walt and that I knew.

I could see why no red flags were raised.

“I know, I just needed you to say that shit in front of this dumbass nigga. Aye don’t ever move unless it’s me or Striker telling you to moving forward. You got that?”

“Yeah. I fucked up and that’s on me.” He took accountability. That bought him another chance at life.

The way Walt and his crew wanted to get the fuck out of dodge was comical.

His entire crew helped him take from me so every last one of them had to go.

I was literally sitting in a den of fuckin’ thieves.

Striker hung up, walked to the door, and locked that bitch.

Wasn’t nobody leaving this muthafucka but me, him, and Cedees.

I could promise you that. Guns weren’t allowed pass the office, so they were sitting ducks.

I hit play on the video and all heads turned toward the projector.

I had Baker’s word, and they could deny that shit all they wanted.

However, you couldn’t fake being caught in 4K.

Unbuttoning my blazer and removing it, the two pistols I kept tucked on my ribs were on display.

My shirt sleeves were rolled up afterward. I was ‘bout to get my hands dirty.

“Where my shit at, Walt?” I inquired calmly. He had no response for me. He sat there eyeing me and the door as if he would make it out of here alive. “You ain’t here me?”

Grabbing the machete off the wall, you could hear a rat piss in this bitch. Once again, I was making an example out of niggas because if I ever let one slide, another would want to do the same. This wasn’t no playground.

Standing in front of his boy beside him, he looked at me with so much defeat in his eyes. I didn’t understand why he even tried this bullshit. He had to have dipped his nose in my product to think he could pull this off and get away with it.

“Do your worse, Royce,” he said waving me off.

“I plan to.” In one swift motion, his partner’s head was detached from his body and falling into his lap. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t dare let them fall. “You still ain’t answer me, Walt. Where you send my shit?”

He remained silent and watched me dismantle his entire crew of their limbs every time I repeated the question, and he gave me nothing.

The screams fed my ego, I couldn’t lie. The smile I held couldn’t be contained.

Three down and one to go. The man of the hour was sitting in a pool of his boy’s blood.

I was slightly happy in the mist of the madness.

“I’m gon’ ask yo’ bitch ass one last time. Where the fuck did you send my shit, Walt?”

“You ain’t getting that back, Royce. I won’t be here to see that nigga put you down, but I’m glad somebody doing it.”

“Whoever the fuck that nigga is gon’ get his ashes scattered across yo’ grave when I’m done. You forgetting what the fuck happened to Judas’s bitch ass, but I’m here to remind you.”

Striker and Mercedees grabbed a rope and threw it over the bars that sat in the ceiling.

They made a lynch in the middle of the room.

As I wiped off the blood that dripped from my hands, I watched my folk move Walt to the chair.

He put up a fight and I was lowkey glad he did.

It showed he wasn’t all pussy like I assumed.

However, Cedees dropped his ass with the butt of her gun.

“You still ain’t gon’ talk?” I asked standing in front of him.

“You ain’t untouchable like you think you is. That nigga gon’ be seeing you real soon.”

“I hope so,” I said kicking the chair from under him. He immediately went for the rope around his neck as he tried to avoid the inevitable.

“You satisfied?” Cedees questioned pulling out a blow pop from her back pocket.

I stood there waiting for even a smidge of satisfaction to surface but none ever did. My shit was gone and this stupid muthafucka just let me know I had an enemy in this world I was unaware of. Wasn’t shit about taking this nigga life satisfying.

I pulled both pistols from the holsters and emptied the clips into his body. His blood seeped from the many holes that pierced his body instantly creating a pool beneath him.

“Fuck no. Clean this shit up, Striker. Cedees, take me home.” There was nothing else to discuss.

I walked out the back room in a tailored suit stained with blood. My pistols were still in tow as I bypassed the many niggas waiting for an order. Striker would handle them and send them on their way in due time.

Stepping foot out the back door, I headed for Mercedees’s whip.

However, I couldn’t help but notice a car parked a few lanes down.

I distinctly remember all cars being accounted for and that piece of shit wasn’t here when I got here.

Slowly approaching it, they sped out the lot before I could even close the distance good.

I was out my body at the moment, and it wasn’t shit to get the information I needed, so chasing them down would be pointless.