Silence of the Nine Read online

  Silence of The Nine

  T. Styles

  Copyright The Cartel Publications 2014

  Published by The Cartel Publications at Smashwords

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  Silence Of The Nine

  T. Styles

  Copyright © 2014 by The Cartel Publications. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission

  from the author, except by reviewer who may quote passages

  to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE:

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,

  Organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the

  Author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance of

  Actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014935067

  ISBN 10: 0989084582

  ISBN 13: 978-0989084581

  Cover Design: Davida Baldwin www.oddballdsgn.com

  Editor(s): T. Styles; C. Wash and S. Ward

  www.thecartelpublications.com

  First Edition

  Printed in the United States of America

  ____________________________________________________________________________________

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Styles, Toy, 1974-

  Silence of the nine / by T. Styles.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-9890845-8-1 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  1. Criminals--Fiction. 2. Children of criminals--Fiction. 3. Family secrets--Fiction. 4. Daughters--Fiction. 5. Drug abuse and crime--Fiction. 6. Incest--Fiction. 7. Urban fiction 8. Psychological fiction. I. Title.

  PS3619.T95S55 2014

  813'.6--dc23

  2014009493

  What’s Up Fam,

  Man, I’m writing this letter after being up all night reading the novel on deck, “Silence of The Nine”. This fucking book had me in awe. The story is so fresh, exciting, disgusting and at the same time, regal. T. Styles’s creativity is unmatched in this game and I know you will fall in love with her latest work, just as I have. Prepare yourself.

  Keeping in line with tradition, we want to give respect to a vet or trailblazer paving the way. With that said we would like to recognize:

  Tracy Brown

  Tracy Brown is the veteran author of classic novels like, “Black”; “White Lines 1 and 2”; “Twisted”; “Snapped” and “Aftermath”. Tracy has been in this game for over a decade and will continue to make her mark in the industry. The Cartel Publications supports her work completely. Make sure you do the same and check her out.

  Aight, go ahead and dive in! I’ll get at you in the next novel.

  Be Easy!

  Charisse “C. Wash” Washington

  Vice President

  The Cartel Publications

  www.thecartelpublications.com

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  Acknowledgments

  I acknowledge every reader who continues to purchase my novels. You and I have a strange love affair. We are brave enough to submerge ourselves into a story instead of spectating from the outside.

  Dedication

  I dedicate this novel to my love. You have always completed me.

  Table of Contents

  NOTE TO READER

  WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE QUOTE

  PRESENT DAY

  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

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  DEAR READER,

  MY FAMILY AND I WOULD LIKE TO THANK YOU FOR PURCHASING MY BOOK.

  I AM FOREVER GRATEFUL.

  - T. STYLES

  Of all base passions, fear is most accurs’d.

  William Shakespeare

  PRESENT DAY

  Winter, Baltimore, MD

  Penn Station

  The snowstorm was merciless as the train conductor yelled, “All aboard! All aboard!”

  When the Amtrak train’s doors opened, a beautiful woman bombarded her way past passengers as she rushed toward the center of the railcar. A newborn baby, not even three days old, was nestled against her breasts and was dangerously close to being smothered.

  Frantically she pushed past passengers who looked at her angrily as she knocked them over in an effort to get as far from where she entered as possible. As she made her way deeper into the railcar, she avoided a coach seat and elected to sit in the dining car area instead. It was booth style seating and a cream-colored table sat in the middle of the two seats.

  The woman scanned her surroundings and when she didn’t see anyon
e coming she exhaled and took a seat. Breathing as if she had just run a 5K race, she removed the baby from her chest and he howled in an attempt to breathe. She hadn’t meant to suffocate him but they were running for their lives.

  Relieved that they were both alive and unharmed, she looked at the child. He was perfect in every way.

  Wanting to quiet him down, she ran her index finger over the baby’s vanilla-colored cheek and a tear fell from her eye and dripped on his upper lip. He simmered down as he looked into the woman’s eyes. She loved the little boy. More than any other human could. She wanted nothing more than to take care of him and give him the life he deserved. But there was one problem: she was uncertain about her future.

  There was no use in harping on what was to come. She would have to deal with shit as it flew her way. So she placed the sheet under the baby’s neck to be sure he was warm. This winter was brutal and at first she was afraid that her train would be cancelled but for now, she was lucky. And she hoped her streak would continue.

  When the baby was cozy, she took one more look around. When she was certain that the car she was in was empty, she leaned her head against the cool window. Glancing outside, she exhaled watching the snow falling out of the heavens and covering everything in sight. Baltimore looked festive. If only she were in the holiday spirit.

  Since she had been running for her life, she hadn’t slept in two days. So when the train began to move, she decided now was as good a time as any. Exhausted, she dosed off and when she awoke, she was staring at the Predator who haunted her dreams.

  Although the Predator was deadly, she looked regal sitting across from her. The chocolate fur coat she donned brushed against her high cheekbones and her eyes seemed to pierce the frightened woman’s soul.

  Two men, whom the woman was certain were armed, stood behind the Predator while she remained as cool as an icicle. “Hello, Butterfly,” the Predator said smoothly, “now did you really think you would get very far?”

  “I…I’m so sorry. It’s just that I—”

  The Predator raised her hand, silencing the woman instantly. “Butterfly, I don’t want to hear your lies,” she said with a smile. “I’m tired. I’m very, very tired. You put me through a lot to catch you.” She looked down at the sleeping baby in the woman’s arms. “And judging by the redness of your eyes you must be too.” The Predator leaned in and observed the baby. “Aw…he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

  Butterfly sobbed louder, in the hope that someone would hear her and ask what was wrong. “I’m so sorry for what I did. It was before I knew I was three months pregnant. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “There’s no use in trying to gain an audience. Six of my men are outside of this car and they won’t let anyone come in. So save your energy, Butterfly. Besides, this meeting is long overdue.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Nothing you don’t deserve. That, you can believe.”

  Butterfly had a feeling that nothing she said would keep her safe. The performance she was giving was unsolicited and the Predator wasn’t interested so she tried to calm down. Emboldened by the reality of her situation, she said, “You’re evil. Just plain old evil.”

  “You call me evil?” the Predator questioned. “After what you’ve done to me?”

  “I know you. And you’re far more evil than me. Just like Kerrick.”

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER 1

  KERRICK

  FEBRUARY 1966

  Sakubva, Mutare – Zimbabwe

  “I’ll note you in my book of memory.”

  -William Shakespeare

  The afternoon heat was unforgiving as Kerrick Khumalo pressed his dick deeper into his wife’s warm, pink pussy. He lay on his back in their sweltering bedroom as Thandi rocked her hips back and forth on top of him like she was driving a stick shift. She was a spectacle to behold. One of the Wonders of the World. In his entire life, he had never met anyone like her, and he doubted he ever would again.

  She was so wet that her syrup poured over his dick and dampened the sheet beneath his body. He ran his hands over her bistre colored skin and admired the darkness of her tone against his ebony complexion. They looked picture perfect together. Harmonious.

  As a pleasurable sensation overcame her, Thandi looked down at him and in her native language proclaimed, “Fuck me, Kerrick. Make me your whore.”

  He adored when she talked dirty because it wasn’t in her character. Both of her parents were farmers and devout Christians. To even marry her took work and a promise to always protect her. In order to gain her hand in marriage, Kerrick had to give her parents two goats. But he would’ve given them five if he could’ve married her all over again.

  He didn’t always feel the desire or the need to be faithful. At sixteen years old, before Kerrick even thought about marriage, he was a player. He would promise marriage to virgin women and once they gave him their hearts and bodies, he would spread vicious rumors about them being whores throughout the village. That way he would have an excuse to call the marriage off. But Thandi was different. He wanted her.

  She was also a virgin, which meant her pussy was already tight. But at seventeen, as a gift to Kerrick, her parents made her undergo painful vaginoplasty to tighten it even more. This, they felt, would secure a long marriage and make her husband happy.

  Surgeons cut into the walls of her vagina and tightened it up with stitches, so sex would be more pleasurable for Kerrick. She was lucky to still have her clitoris because originally her parents suggested that the doctors remove it too so that she wouldn’t desire another man. But Kerrick said that was unnecessary because he wanted his wife to enjoy their time together.

  Thandi continued to buck her hips wildly and when she felt herself about to cum, she rose up a little and slammed back onto him, like a hammer hitting a nail. Kerrick always enjoyed that movement because it forced him to ejaculate quickly. And this time was no different.

  When he felt her body tremble, he shoved deeper into her mound and splashed his semen inside of her. Thandi collapsed on top of him and placed her head on his hairy chest. Her short, cotton-like bush brushed against his nostrils and smelled of sweet sweat. He inhaled deeply. There wasn’t a thing about her he didn’t adore. She was his world. His soul. And the only thing or person who drew breath that he cared about.

  As Kerrick tried to come down from his sexual high, he considered his life. Things were looking up for him and his beautiful wife. In Africa he attended the University of Zimbabwe and at eighteen years old, he was awarded a visa to attend Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland on an engineering scholarship. Since he was allowed to take his wife, this meant that both of them would have a chance at a better future.

  America was the place where dreams came true. He studied the customs so intensely that, although he had an accent, he sounded more American than anybody in his village. He worshipped the country and was certain they were going to love him when he finally arrived.

  “I love you, Thandi,” he said as he rubbed her damp hair and looked down into her eyes.

  “I know, my dear husband,” she responded, trying to regain her breath.

  “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

  She wiggled on top of him and he could feel the rush from her heated pussy. “I know, my dear husband.”

  Suddenly he gripped a fistful of her hair and yanked backwards, forcing her to look into his eyes. “And if you ever left me, I would kill you.”

  Although her scalp stung from hairs being snatched out by his power, she wriggled out of his grasp, straddled him and slapped him in the face repeatedly until her palm burned. When she was done inflicting pain on him, which he loved, she lowered her head and kissed him softly on his bottom lip before biting it so hard it bled.

  “And I would do so many things to you, if you ever left me, or didn’t keep your vow to protect me.” She released his lip and blood trickled from the wound and trailed toward his chin. “Including com
e back in a later life and kill you.” She licked the blood off before giggling.

  Kerrick’s dick stiffened again and he smiled. This was the other reason he loved Thandi. Although her virtue was intact before they were married, she held violent tendencies. Just like him.

  Unlike the women he dated in high school, who allowed him to sleep around with other women, including their friends, Thandi would attack him in public and dare him to fuck another if he wanted to keep his dick. He wore a raised stab wound on his lower back to prove it. Thandi was a firecracker and that made her all the more appealing and vicious.