Tampa Black: Part ! Read Online Free PDF Page B

her was familiar, but he brushed it off, and waited for his drop man to pull up with the work he had come to get… Casually strolling up to Trion’s table, Smoke took a seat and greeted his cousin.
    “What up dawg?... I got the fire in the car, but Los had to tie up some loose ends so he couldn’t come. What’s the problem dawg? …”
    While Trion quickly spelled out the details, Smoke stole a glance at Koran. In his mind he noted that he had also seen him at the club Ecstasy. As Trion and Smoke silently sat doing surveillance, Koran’s connect walked up carrying an identical foot locker bag to the one sitting under Korans tables. Sitting down, the well-dressed stranger smoothly switched bags without hesitation. The movement was so fluent that, if you weren’t observing extremely close, you would have missed it.
    The stranger spoke briefly with Koran before getting up to leave, eventually disappearing into the sea of bodies drifting through the mall. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, Koran got up and casually made his way towards the exit door that lead to the malls rear parking deck. Stepping into the spring air of the secluded parking lot, there were minimal bodies visible. Smoke’s blood was boiling in his veins, he wanted to murder Koran on the spot, but Trion stopped him.
    “Not here dawg. There are too many cameras. Let’s follow him to his spot, I need some information from this nigga anyway …”
    Hopping into Smoke’s gray 65 SS Impala, Trion and his cousin sat in the car waiting for Koran to pull out before trailing him into traffic… Pulling into his neighborhood across Fletcher avenue, Koran bobbed his head to the hypnotic beat of Rick Ross’s album Port of Miami. Looking into his rearview mirror as he took another hit of the boonk he was smoking, Koran could have sworn that he had seen the Impala that was behind him at the mall. Shrugging off the thought as paranoia, he pulled into the parking spot of his spacious loft.
    Just out of his street instinct and curiosity, Koran sat in his car and waited for the gray Impala to pass by before getting his bags’ and stepping outside of his car. He tried to see if he could identify the occupants of the vehicle, but the tint on its windows were too dark to see through, so he let it pass.
    Stepping inside of his spacious loft, Koran smiled to himself. He had finally made it to the big time, his only regret was his childhood friends Zah. Although he wished that his comrade was still breathing, he decided that he would just have to live for both of them. Sitting at his dining room table, Koran emptied the contents in the footlocker bag onto the table. In all, he counted ten kilos of raw cocaine. The math was accurate. As he began to break down and weigh the product, his concentration was snatched away by what sounded like thunder.
    Chunks of wood flew from the door jamb as Smoke kicked in Koran’s back door not five feet from where he was weighing the work. On pure reflex, Koran dove for his weapon, but he never made it. As soon as he moved, Trion blew a golf ball sized hole through his hand. As blood began to seep all over the plush carpet, Koran lay on his back looking up at the two men in dismay. Now getting a good look at Trion’s face, he began to put the pieces of the puzzle together.
    “Fuck…”
    Trion looked so much like his mother that there was no mistaking the resemblance. It was at that moment that he knew that his life was over.                      After Smoke bound and gagged him to a chair, Trion beat him to within an inch of his life. Seeing that he was almost unconscious, Trion took a box cutter from a kitchen drawer and cut him from his head to his waist after stripping him of his shirt so that he could feel the effects of the pain that was coming. Feeling the cold water as it splashed on his face, Koran struggled to open his eyes only to find Trion standing in front of him with a bowl of battery acid. Seeing