Prologue - The Beginning of the End.

Twenty-five years.

You read that right.

Twenty-five motherfuckin’ years.

That’s how many years I’d been married to Janelle, and I could hardly believe the shit. Before I met her, I thought that I would spend the rest of my life doing the same thing I’d always done: getting money and finding the most off-the-wall ways to spend it. Love wasn’t even a consideration; I wasn’t trying to waste my time focusing on a woman and jumping through hoop after hoop to get her all the shit that she would want. Damn sure wasn’t tryin’ to risk one nailing me down with a kid.

Men like me were no good at that shit, and I wasn’t one to sign up for failure. When you signed up to live a life in the streets, you vowed to abide by goon rules. And nowhere in the laws made in the streets was there any consideration for a wife and kids. That was why the second those things entered the picture, it was about a ninety percent guarantee that the nigga who allowed it was gonna start fucking up in some way. Either he would lose his money or lose his family. It was almost impossible to stay doing street shit and keep both. The privilege of being able to gain it all, and keep it, was only afforded to a small percent.

And, somehow... someway, I’d been able to do it.

“We did it,” Janelle said, smiling hard as hell as she looked around the room before turning her eyes to me. “We finally did it.” She grabbed my hand when she said that. “We finally built the life of our dreams.”

She gave my hand a squeeze and I winced, snatching my shit away.

“Got damn, Janelle, the fuck you been doin’ when I go to sleep at night? Moonlightin’ as a motherfuckin’ WWE champion wrestler?”

She sucked her teeth before rolling her eyes. “I barely even squeezed your hand. You’re such a fuckin’ baby.”

My eyes nearly bulged out of my skull. “Barely even squeezed? You almost crushed the bones in my shit. Yo’ ass done hit the gym, started pumpin’ weights and shit and now you out here manhandlin’ my ass. Cancel the trainer, I’m puttin’ a stop to all that shit.”

Janelle cut her eyes at me, hitting me with a sneaky ass smirk. “Oh, is that what this is really about? You still feelin’ some kind of way ‘bout Vincent?”

Frowning up my nose, I raised my hand to bat away the bullshit coming out of her mouth. “I ain’t feelin’ no kind of way ‘bout that ugly ass nigga you call yourself trainin’ with. I’m motherfuckin’ Outlaw. You see my name up there in lights.”

I took a moment to point up at the large screen in front of us, where my name was scripted in fancy lettering along with Janelle’s.

“The fuck I look like feelin’ some kind of way ‘bout a nigga who walk around with flipflops on his feet, dragging his heels and shit? Ain’t no motherfucka on Earth can make me feel no kind of way, but especially not one who comfortable walkin’ ‘round in public with a thong between his toes.”

Janelle turned around to look at me with a blank face, blinking her eyes as if she didn’t understand what the fuck I was saying. “A thong between his toes?”

“You heard me,” I said, still scowling at the simple fact that I was even addressing this. “Ain’t nothing manly ‘bout that shit.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You wear slides all the time. How can you sit here and judge Vincent?”

“I wear slides. The ones I stick my feet in, with the band that comes across my shit just to keep them safe. Ain’t no motherfuckin’ string parting in between my toes. That’s some gay ass shit!”

“You can’t say things like that, Luke. You sound homophobic.”

“Homophobic?” I repeated with a frown. “Don’t phobic mean scared? The fuck I gotta be scared ‘bout when it comes to motherfuckas like Vincent?”

Throwing up her hands, Janelle looked across the banquet table at Tank who was playing ignorant to our conversation, focusing hard as hell on the screen of his phone.

“Tank, do you hear this? Can you say something to your brother? I think he’s lost his mind.”

Shaking his head, Tank didn’t even bother to look up from the screen. “I ain’t sayin’ nothing to his crazy ass. I got three kids at home, and they been drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy. I came here to find some peace.”

“If I’m goin’ to last the rest of the night, I’m goin’ to need another drink,” Janelle muttered before standing to walk away. I resisted the urge to slap her on her ass and instead focused my attention on Tank. It was month two of him having full custody of his youngest kids and I swear, it looked like his ass had aged ten years in eight weeks.

Grinning hard, I couldn’t help letting out a few chuckles at his expense. “Takin’ on the tribe ain’t as easy as you thought it would be, huh?”

Raising his head, he ran his hand over his face before letting out a long exhale. “Man, I wake up every motherfuckin’ day wonderin’ what the hell I was thinkin’ gettin’ custody of all my kids.”

“You was thinkin’ that you wanted to grow the fuck up and be a man,” I told him, sitting back in my chair. “Ain’t no honor in runnin’ around in these streets, lettin’ another nigga raise ya’ seed.”

“Yeah, but ain’t nobody told me that this shit would turn me into a fuckin’ monk. I ain’t had no pussy in weeks. Every chick gets lost as soon as I tell her I got custody of my kids. And I ain’t got time to be jugglin’ bitches and shit. I just want one woman to stick around and be solid with me.”

My eyes widened hearing my brother say that shit. If Tank knew how to do anything well, it was flip bitches. To be honest, I didn’t think I would see the day when he would get tired of that shit.

“I might need to play the motherfuckin’ lotto, my nigga,” I said before standing up. “Tank, a one-woman man? I can barely believe it.”

“Well, believe that shit, bruh,” he told me just as I was about to walk away. “Can’t put a price on stability and peace.”

Bruh was saying a mouthful and he was absolutely right. I had enough money to buy anything I wanted which meant that I had enough to know that the best things in life was the priceless shit: Love, family, peace, and freedom. After an entire life of hustling to fill a void that I didn’t even know I had inside, I was finally at a place where I felt like I had it all.

Janelle was still trying to be superwoman of the millennium and even though I complained about how busy she was, she was doing a great job being a Federal judge, mother, and a wife. January was somewhat accepting the fact that she was the product of a long line of criminals; a family of street thugs who had no regard for the laws that she believed in like they were the Bible. She still fought her inner battles by filling her schedule with all kinds of charity and missions to somehow ‘wipe out’ the stain of our family’s past, but overall she was coping pretty well with it.

Black Bag Mafia was at an all-time high, a powerful organization of the world’s most influential black leaders. Although, as my creation, I was still in charge of it, I had totally removed myself from its daily operations. Legend, Jr., the son of a man who was technically my enemy and rival, now sat on my throne, calling the shots for a business that I’d created as my legacy. The shit was crazy as hell when I thought about it. Never did I think I’d see the day when I would choose to make those kinds of amends. But the nigga was thorough so I couldn’t deny that he earned his position. We weren’t bonded by blood, but we were bound by loyalty. I’d taught Legend everything he knew about being a leader and he handled the BBM in the exact way that I would. If ever anyone came out and said I had an illegitimate son, I would swear he was it.

Lifting my head, my eyes connected to a far corner of the ballroom near the back, where both Legend and January stood, talking to each other like little ass, lovesick kids. Technically, they were engaged, but I didn’t know what was going to come about that shit. When it came to love, it turned out that my daughter was about as wishy-washy as I was at her age.

“This is quite a motherfuckin’ event y’all pulled together,” one of my brothers said, walking up to me. “Over the top as hell and flashy as shit. Even for you, Outlaw.”

Grinning, I ran my hands over the front of my tuxedo jacket as I looked Cree up and down. Lids low, he stood in front of me looking like new money with a lop-sided smirk. The nigga was high as fuck but he was hiding it well.

“Man, you look like doc whipped up somethin’ special for the event,” I said, referring to our other brother, Yolo. “Nigga, yo’ eyes so low right now, it look like you can’t even fuckin’ see.”

Snickering a little, Cree shook his head in slow-mo. “Man, that’s what I came out here to tell you. Yolo made somethin’ special for you. He had me test it out first though. The shit got me tweakin’.”

Cree started to laugh, chuckling a little. Looking weird as hell.

“I been walkin’ ‘round out here for hours, tryin’ to remember why I was lookin’ for you. I ain’t wanna go back and have to tell Yolo I forgot because then he would say I had too much. You know he always tryin’ to say I can’t hold my liquor and shit.”

“Nigga, he say that shit because you can’t,” I replied, laughing as Cree tried to widen his eyes, blinking them hard like he was trying to wake himself up. “Especially now that you done lost all that weight.” I eyed him from over the bridge of my nose. “Carmella still got you on that vegan shit?”

Mentioning that seemed to be just enough to wake his ass up. Nodding his head, Cree frowned, scowling as he thought about it.

“Hell yeah, she still on that ‘Earth is worth’ bullshit. Got a nigga drinking gallons of green juice. I can’t even take a long drive without pulling over somewhere ‘cause I gotta shit.”

I laughed so hard I choked and ended up having to hold my chest in order to catch my breath. I didn’t know what kind of magic spell Carmella had pulled on my nigga to have him agreeing to give up all the best things in the world and decide to eat some rabbit food. Janelle had talked me into a lot of shit in the past, but nothing as crazy as what Cree was putting up with.

“That’s fucked up, bruh,” I couldn’t help but say. “Stop drinkin’ that lean that Doc cooked up and get your head together so you can get yo’ fuckin’ house in order. It looks like to me that Carmella got yo’ man card tucked in that lil’ ass pocket on her yoga pants.”

Patting Cree on the shoulder, I walked away, clasping my hands together behind my back as I took my time making my way through the crowd. The room was packed full of the most prominent members of the Black Bag Mafia, along with the Who’s-Who of the city. Everybody who was anybody was in the room, from powerful political and religious figures to the most influential pop entertainers. I’d built a fuckin’ international empire with Janelle by my side. And her involvement was pivotal because I couldn’t have done it myself.

I had the hustle and the ability to get shit done, but she gave me purpose. Before Janelle came into the picture, I was just doing shit. Wasn’t really no vision, no organization, no purpose at all to what I was doing. My brothers and I were good at gettin’ money, so we just kept gettin’ it. It was always in my heart to give back to the hood, especially when I got to the point that I had more money than I could spend. But I was willing to stop it there and stay on some small-town shit.

Janelle was the one who told me my purpose was greater.

She was the one who got me into establishing the BBM. And, with her connections and ability to look beneath the surface and analyze how things really worked, we were able to get it started. Now, here we were all these years later, at the head of a network made up of the world’s most powerful Black families. We were the Black Illuminati, but it meant more to us than just running shit for ourselves. We gave people, who never would have had the opportunity otherwise, a chance to do better for themselves. And for that, we were loved.

“Twenty years. I can’t believe it.”

Looking up, I found myself grinning into the face of Mr. Pickney, Janelle’s dad.

“Me either,” I admitted, shaking my head. “Feels like just the other day, you rolled up on me and Janelle in the middle of the street, lookin’ like you wanted to kill my ass.”

“I did,” he replied, chuckling at that. “But I’m glad I didn’t. I truly had no idea about all the things that the two of you could do once you came together.”

Looking across the room, I locked eyes with Janelle, engaged in deep conversation with a couple well-known celebrities. She paused for a moment to shoot me a smile. My chest warmed at the sight. Even after all this time, and no matter how much we’d both changed, she still was the most beautiful woman on Earth.

“Yeah, me either,” I admitted to her father. “Most people thought I was just another street nigga who wouldn’t amount to shit.” Taking a minute to think on that, I shrugged. “And maybe that’s all I would’ve been if I hadn’t met Janelle. Just another statistic. Either dead or in prison.”

Once I’d finished, Mr. Pickney didn’t speak right away. Standing with his head down as if he were slowly digesting my words, it took a minute for him to lift his head and look at me. And, when he did, he had a peculiar look on his face.

“My daughter has been good for you. But I don’t want you to ever forget the fact that you’ve been very good for her as well.” Sighing, he paused for a moment and shook his head. “Just like all fathers, I protected her as much as I could. Shielded her from a lot. Worked hard to give her everything I could even if it meant that left less time that she was able to spend with me. I didn’t realize that I was forcing her to grow up in a way where she was basing her decisions on her need for my love and attention. In that way, I made her a stand-up citizen but handicapped her when it came to allowing her the freedom to live her life. You were the first thing she chose for herself without caring whether or not it would satisfy me. You were the first step she made towards living life on her own terms, the way she wanted to live it. For herself.”

Damn.

I hadn’t really thought about shit that way.

Shrugging my shoulders, I smirked. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. She could’ve done much worse than—”

My words were cut short when I saw the shift in Mr. Pickney’s eyes. His focus was somewhere behind me and his expression shifted slowly: going from one that was light-hearted and pleasant, into one of first confusion and then sheer terror.

“What the...” he started as he walked away towards whatever he was looking at.

“Huh?” I said as I turned around. It was then that I saw what had caught his attention.

About ten to fifteen or more Federal agents marching like soldiers into the room. One, a tall, white, blond and militant motherfucka with a crew-cut tucked under a metal helmet and his body covered head to toe in weapons and fatigue, was making his way right up to me.

“What are you doing here? This is my daughter’s party. Her anniversary,” Mr. Pickney was saying. “Simpson, you better have a good explanation for this.”

“Actually,” Simpson replied, narrowing his icy blue eyes at Mr. Pickney before holding up a piece of paper he’d had rolled up in his hands. “I do.”

Mr. Pickney snatched the piece of paper from his hands and began to read it quickly. With every word that he read, it appeared as if the blood was draining from his face.

“Oh my God...”

He didn’t continue and I stood silently, watching intently but not saying a thing as he continued reading and re-reading the document. A peculiar feeling had come over me that I couldn’t explain, and it was the only reason I was quiet. I was checking the scene, appearing calm and unalarmed, but something at the back of my mind told me that I was at a crossroads in life. That once this night came to an end, nothing I knew would ever again be the same.

“Luke... what’s going on?”

I felt Janelle grab my arm as she came up by my side, but I didn’t turn to look at her. My eyes were locked in on Simpson, the head Federal agent, still standing in front of her father. The one who had made it obvious that he was in charge. With a pompous expression on his face, he turned away from staring at Janelle’s father and then locked his eyes on me. In them I saw something familiar, and it brought back a memory that I would never forget. He had the same gloating look in his eyes that Pelmington had in his, many years ago when he thought that he had finally gotten me.

“Janelle,” I said forcing calmness in my tone. Ripping my eyes away from the sinister grin that was making its way across Simpson’s lips, I turned my full attention to my wife. “I need you to go get your purse and get Bateman on the phone.”

“What?” She frowned as she processed my words.

I could see fear prickling the edges of her eyes. She didn’t understand what the fuck was happening, but I did. Simpson held that look in his eyes. That fucked up look a man gave another man when he was confident that he had his ass. Simpson definitely had something on me. I didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be big enough for this motherfucker to have the balls to walk up in my shit and arrest me.

“Call Bateman,” I repeated, referring to our attorney. “Tell his ass to hurry up and—”

“No need,” my man, Bateman cut in as he walked up, buttoning up his sports coat. “I’m here and I’ll take that paperwork.” He held out his hand and Simpson passed over the arrest warrant.

“Here it is. The arrest warrants for Mr. Luke Murray and his wife, Janelle Pickney-Murray.”

My blood froze.

“What?” the four of us, me, Janelle, her father, and Bateman all shouted together.

“I know you fuckin’ around with me,” I said, taking the time to pull my designer jacket off. Shit was about to get ugly.

“You ain’t takin my motherfuckin’ wife nowhere.”

Simpson balled up his eyebrows in the middle of his thick ass head.

“Actually, I am.” His eyes flickered over to Bateman to confirm. “As the documents I gave to your counsel state—”

“I don’t give a damn what them motherfuckas say.” Running my hand over my mouth I took a few steps forward, leaning in so that Simpson could clearly near me.

“But you arrest my wife and I’ll have over a thousand of the youngest, most hungry for violence shooters you ever seen out here ransacking the fuckin’ city. That’s the kind of press you want?”

Pinching his lips together, Simpson let a bit of air out of his shoulders, allowing them to droop slightly. I could see him making quick calculations in his head, trying to see how he could bow out but still save face. After clearing his throat he thought twice. I wasn’t surprised in the least. He ain’t wanna go toe-to-toe with a savage.

“On second thought, we will only be exercising the warrant on Mr. Murray at this time.”

“Indeed,” I said before turning around and placing my arms behind my back.

I didn’t even know what dumb ass charges had been thrown at me, but I was more than certain that Bateman would have me out in a couple hours.

“Luke Murray, you are under arrest for the murders of Christopher and Chloe Harvaty. You have the right to remain silent--.

I snatched away just as the first handcuff was about to be locked around my wrist.

“What the fuck?”

I looked over at Bateman, who was focused on the papers in his hand, reading through them with lightning speed. Once done, he lifted his head to look at me.

Oh shit...

My eyes shot over to my brothers. All were standing in a straight line, side by side. Hands on their waists, ready for gunplay, if I gave the signal.

“Less than thirty,” Yolo said when my eyes fell on him. Beside him, Cree, Tank and Kane all nodded their heads in agreements letting me know that, if I called for it, they could have me out in thirty seconds.

Should I make the move?

I couldn’t help but consider that shit. Real talk.

“Daddy? What’s going on?”

My eyes shot over to my daughter. I scratched at my jaw, tension setting in as I realized that there was no escaping what was coming. I was being arrested for the murders of two people I thought I’d heard the last of nearly two decades ago.

“It’s alright, baby girl,” I told her. “Let me go and get this over with. I’ll be back home in the morning.”

Her eyes clouded with fear and worry, but I wasn’t concerned. I knew shit would be just fine. My past was coming back to haunt me, but there was no way it would win. I wasn’t the type of nigga to leave loose ends.

Yeah, I did illegal shit, but I was careful with what I involved myself in. Especially anything that could have any blowback on my wife. Her ass was fine as fuck in anything she wore, but I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t look good in an orange jumpsuit with white stripes. That was my life. I couldn’t risk anything like that happening to Janelle.

“Shall I proceed?” pompous-ass Simpson asked with the handcuffs in his hand.

I gave him a subtle tilt of my head. “It’s all good. Let’s get this over with so I can go back home.”

A smirk crossed his lips, like he knew something I didn’t. And that’s when a weird ass feeling settled on me. Like a premonition, and I knew it then… My entire life was about to change.

Everything around me seemed to be moving in slow motion as I was locked into handcuffs and escorted out of the ballroom. The flash of lights blinded me as I was swarmed by dozens of paparazzi. They had been posted outside for hours, catching photos of all the celebrities and powerful attendees we had at our event. The last thing any expected was that I would be making an early exit from my anniversary party with a gang of Federal agents escorting me.

There was an eruption of sound as everyone began to shout, asking questions and requesting statements. I pinched my lips tight as Simpson tugged hard on the handcuffs, pulling me through. The world seemed to blur around me as we c continued forward and, the next thing I knew, I was being shoved into the back of a police car.

I couldn’t believe this shit was happening after all these years. What the hell kind of evidence did they have to connect me to the murders of Chloe and Chris?

When Simpson began to drive, I looked up in the rearview mirror just in time to catch his eye. The motherfucka was gloating, so excited about finally getting at me that he couldn’t even conceal his grin. He had something on me and, from the expression on his face, he was sure that his evidence would stick.

“After all this time, I finally did it,” he said, seeming as if he were speaking to himself. “I got you. The motherfucking Outlaw. Who would’ve thought it would be me who caught the king of the city?”

Clenching my jaw, I didn’t say a word as I turned to look out the window, casting my eyes on the New York skyline. This wasn’t the time to talk shit and it wasn’t the time for threats. Game recognize game and I could see it in Simpson’s eyes that he was convinced he’d made the world’s greatest power play.

What the fuck was going on?