I'll Be Down for You: A Bay Area Saga

I’ll Be Down for You

A Bay Area Saga

XURI FOXX

Text
ROYALTY
to
42828
to join our mailing list!

To submit a manuscript for our review, email us at
[email protected]

Text
RPHCHRISTIAN
to
22828
for our CHRISTIAN ROMANCE novels!

Text
RPHROMANCE
to
22828
for our INTERRACIAL ROMANCE novels!

© 2016

Published by Royalty Publishing House

www.royaltypublishinghouse.com

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Other books by Xuri Foxx

Thank you, God, for this gift that you’ve blessed me with. Thank you for the strength to move toward the finish line at times where I really just want to give up. I’m eternally grateful.

Thank you to my new publisher, Porscha Sterling, of Royalty Publishing House. I knew I wanted to work with you when you let me know that you were familiar with my work. It may not mean a lot to most, but it meant something to me because I knew then that if you knew my
work
, then you’d definitely value my
worth
. Thanks for having faith in my talent. I look forward to adding to my catalog under the Royalty umbrella.

I want to thank my readers—old and new. Bringing stories to life is my love, but would be nothing if you didn’t invest in me by trusting me with your time. So, please know that I’m very grateful for your support.

To my mama and my sister: Love y’all past death for never,
ever
ceasing to believe in my dream. It helps to have the people that are close to you on your journey; especially when they cheer you on when you don’t have the strength to be your own cheerleader.

In a few places you’ll see where I switch from first to third person. Please know that it’s deliberate. I usually reserve first person for my main characters and then I’ll sometimes switch the point of view to third person narrative for my sub characters. For some reason, it just makes life easier, and a little more interesting—for m
e
Mwah
!

CONTACT XURI

Website
:
www.xurifoxx.com

Email
:
[email protected]

Twitter
: @xurifoxx

Facebook
: @xurifoxx

Mailing list/Newsletter

http://eepurl.com/bETeXX

Love
makes us do the same things that
Vengeance
does—
react
.

We love hard and we exact vengeance with the same vigor.

It’s passion
.

Both love and vengeance evoke emotions deep within that stir the soul.

It’s emotional
.

Both evoke emotions that will have us behaving in ways we never thought possible.

It’s the inevitable
.

So just imagine with the two intersect.

It’s powerful
.

It was the best way for me to sum up this story.

I hope you enjoy getting to know
Jazzmina
and
Khalil
.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Thirty-five-year-old, Derrick “DJ” Jackson, had his Bose stereo system turned up to some trap music. It was so loud that the windows were vibrating.
Trap music!
He hated that shit. Or rather he hated being trapped with that shit, like when his niece Honey came home from college and had it blasting throughout the manor. To him, it wasn’t real music. He missed the music of old when Pac, Nas, Eastsidaz and niggas like that were at the top of the game, and rapping about real shit. The new shit he hated because it was all watered down and sounded like fuckin’ sing-alongs; there was way too much engineering over the actual lyrics, and no real substance to what the fuck those niggas were spittin’. But in the privacy of his car, where he had the option to turn it up, down . . . or off, it was all good. And on long drives home—from the East Bay to Tracy—he often liked to “turn up” when nobody was around. He’d rap the lyrics to songs that nobody knew that he knew, and head bob while his hand waved against the air.

DJ drove down the nearly empty, three-lane road, in his brand new Cadillac CTS Sedan. He sat comfortably in his seat, left hand on the steering wheel, with his all black FN Five-Seven lying in his lap. He always kept it nearby because you just never knew what could happen. DJ was no dummy and he knew that with success came enemies; a lot of whom would smile in your face, but not have a second thought about cancelling your entire life if they felt the urge. So he stayed on guard. And although he’d moved far away from his old stomping grounds, there was never a shortage of people wanting to be in the know on all of your business:
where
you lived,
who
you lived with, and
how
the fuck you lived. So, yeah, staying one up was essential.

When DJ made it through the Altamont Pass, and zipped past Mountain House, he sighed with relief that he would be home soon. He hated driving and especially hated driving to the Bay, but when business called he had to answer—particularly business with his favorite girl. She knew how to make a nigga feel good. Lately, she had been complaining about him keeping her in side chick position, but to him, she was far from that and he was gonna prove it to her soon. He’d already taken major steps to do that when he bought her a house, but he had intentions on doing it even bigger . . . in the very near future.
Real soon, baby girl
, he thought with a thin smile across his lips.

“Dark as fuck on this damn road,” he mumbled out loud.

Derrick was so busy in his thoughts, listening to his music and preparing to take his exit that he hadn’t noticed the two motorcycles that had fallen in line behind him. One was on either side of the back of his car, but trailing far enough to go unnoticed—at least to the unskilled eye.
Something ain’t right
. But Derrick’s was far from unskilled, and something about their positioning didn’t sit right with him. He placed his palm on top of his weapon, ready for whatever. He knew that he wasn’t being paranoid. He hadn’t sensed anything like it before, and had always made it home without incident. Just as his antenna rose, Derrick noticed that the bikes held back and fell in line with each other contradicting their previous formation.
Shit
, he sighed, lightened his grip on his gun, before sinking his back into the heated leather of his seats.
Had a nigga shook for a quick second and about to light the damn freeway up
.

But loosening his attention was about to prove fatal for Derrick.

Just as he was about to instruct his mobile to dial home, Derrick noticed that the two sets of lights were once again tailing him a little too closely. His initial reaction was to get pissed because if the muthafuckas had somewhere to be then they could easily shift lanes and get the fuck on and stop riding his damn nuts. But then, intuition kicked in and he began to notice that not only had they not switched lanes, they had become very careful about keeping up with his own speed limit. He didn’t want to be ‘noid, but he’d rather be that than sorry, so he unhooked his seatbelt, picked up his piece from his lap, and held a tight grip on the handle with his right hand, while his left hand was still on the steering wheel. Derrick switched lanes without signaling and prepared to take his exit which was another quarter mile ahead. No sooner than he changed lanes, so did the cycles.

Yeah, this shit is deliberate. These niggas came to play
. . .

His inner panic button was activated and he mentally prepared for battle. He slowed his vehicle because the last thing he wanted to do was bring the shit anywhere near his house. As he decreased his speed, they did the same . . . but only temporarily. After a few seconds, the bike that was on the right bumper side, picked up speed and headed toward his passenger side. Derrick tried his best to assess the movements of both, but with one in his sight and the other out of his peripheral, it was becoming difficult.

I’m about to make it do what it do before these niggas do me first.

With that, Derrick swerved his car to the right so that he could connect with the motorcycle that he knew to be directly on that side of his car. Right about that time, he heard a sharp fizzle sound and turned to see glass shattering the tinted window on the back passenger side of the vehicle. Derrick swerved again trying to clip the motorcycle to his right so that he would have just the one to deal with; but he wasn’t fast enough. When the second shot was fired, it wasn’t long before shit went from zero to one hundred
real quick
.