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  WAR 3:

  THE LAND OF THE LOU’S

  By

  T. Styles

  Copyright © 2019 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: 2019933254

  ISBN 10: 1948373262

  ISBN 13: 978-1948373265

  Cover Design: Book Slut Girl

  First Edition

  Printed in the United States of America

  What Up Fam,

  I hope this lil’ love note finds you all well. It’s only February 2019 and already this feels like it’s been a very long year. LMAO!

  I’m so excited that I have to jump right in to the book in hand! WAR MOTHAFUCKIN’ 3! Now I didn’t think T could show herself up after the first two installments to this instant classic series, but I sit corrected once again! She tore the pages down! I LOVED LOVED LOVED the backdrop she lays out in this novel to this ongoing “WAR”! Hands down! This one may be my favorite…Don’t believe me…Just read! ;)

  With that being said, keeping in line with tradition, we want to give respect to a vet or new trailblazer paving the way. In this novel, we would like to recognize:

  JORDAN PEELE

  Jordan Haworth Peele is an American actor, comedian, writer, producer and director! His 2017 directorial debut, “GET OUT” won him an Academy Award for best original screenplay. His newest release, “US” will be out on March 22, 2019 and we will be there to witness his genius front and center. If you are not familiar with his work, get acquainted, he will be around for quite sometime and we at The Cartel Publications are so here for it!

  Aight, I’ve kept you longer than I should have…Goin’ and get to it. I’ll catch you in the next book.

  Be Easy!

  Charisse “C. Wash” Washington

  Vice President

  The Cartel Publications

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  #War3

  PROLOGUE

  THE PAST

  The sun sat on top of the city trying desperately to get the attention of the Baltimore natives below in the midst of project life. But one young man had other ideas in mind for his focus and it wasn’t the weather.

  Ten-year-old Mason leaned against a squeaky fence in front of the building facing the curb. He was flashy in a way that only a child steeped in dope money could be. A gold chain dripped from his neck. He had a brown paper bag full of snacks at his feet and enough money in his pockets to pay the rent of a desolate individual for two months easily.

  To be clear, the young king had not a pressing care in the world.

  In the moment anyway.

  He and his friend Tangelo were watching three girls about their age switch friskily in front of them as they recited cheers. They smelled of sweat and corn chips but Mason didn’t care what scent they brought with them from their musty homes. They were promiscuous in their youth and as a result, Mason didn’t mind dry humping them in the Laundromat of his building, while playing Hide-N-Go Get It if they gave him the nod.

  The young girls had just kicked the show up another notch by shaking their undeveloped hips harder, when the building’s door opened. Curious about who was coming out to play, Mason turned around to see who was stepping onto the stage.

  And boy did he get a show.

  Walking out of the building was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his young life. His official crush. Everything she did appeared to be done with grace, even sitt
ing on the step while holding a stack of composition books and pencils. Of course he’d seen her before.

  But always in passing.

  She moved into their building with her mother and father just last week. He even saw her in school and a few times walking into the building but she never said a word.

  Not to boys or other girls.

  She was mysterious.

  Her skin, the color of vanilla.

  Her scent, that of fresh apples.

  She was a vision and even soaked in adolescence, Mason knew enough to realize that she was different. Untouched by the streets of Baltimore, mainly because she avoided it all.

  Even the young girls, who jealously watched Mason’s attention from them drift off, couldn’t help but stamp her beauty. They answered to his disconnect by winding their bodies faster, and harder, hoping to regain the son of a drug dealer’s awareness.

  It didn’t work.

  This was the first time his crush had paused and Mason was fascinated as he watched her write vigorously in a composition book. He needed to get closer.

  Just a little. He was simply too far to see her silky long hair, which extended down her back, playfully caress her cheeks in the warm breeze.

  And so he bopped over in her direction.

  Carefully.

  As if each step mattered.

  Maybe they did.

  “Want me to come?” Tangelo yelled out to his friend.

  Mason ignored him as his answer. Not bothering to even look the boy’s way.

  Tangelo responded by digging into his snack bag, something that would’ve gotten him dropped kicked if Mason wasn’t distracted.

  Sitting on the step next to the girl, he looked at her face closely. Although her fingertips moved while holding the pencil, the rest of her body was as still as a mannequin. In her perceived spurn, he could observe every feature clearly.

  He was taken aback at how although he sat within inches of her, she didn’t appear to notice he was alive. She was in a world of her own. All of her attention was on the sketch of an island that was coming into view before his eyes.

  “H…hi,” he stuttered. “What you…I mean…that’s nice.” He pointed at the book.

  Slowly her eyes moved and for the first time, she was looking directly at him, and he felt weak in the knees. At ten-years-old her gaze said she was wise beyond her years and had already dealt with more pain than someone twenty years her senior.

  And still she smiled.

  “My name’s Mason,” he continued. “Mason Louisville.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, even though another felt as if it had taken its place.

  She put her pencil down and extended her tiny hand. “I’m Blakeslee Wales.” Her hair blew in her face and she tucked it behind her ear. “It’s nice to meet you, Mason.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  MONTHS EARLIER

  FRIDAY NIGHT

  A dark, cloudless purple sky. Golden specks in clear view. It was all so miraculous.

  But as Banks sat on the beach of Wales Island, overlooking the ocean, with stars so brilliant they could’ve blinded him, he could’ve been looking at shit in a toilet bowl and his feelings would’ve been the same.

  The man was in extreme despair.

  His daughter was missing. His son, Harris was in prison and if he was being honest, he hadn’t fully come to terms with losing Mason Louisville, his best friend, by his own hands. He was certain that being on an island he envisioned as a child would help soothe his depression. But nothing worked.

  He just couldn’t get right.

  As the water lapped at his feet, he took a deep breath and called Rev, his best soldier back in his hometown. He was hoping that he would have good news, no matter how trivial but that’s not what happened.

  “The line is secure right?” Banks asked.

  “Always.” He paused. “And I’m sorry, Banks, but we still don’t have any news.” He paused. “We haven’t stopped looking since you left but we can’t find her anywhere. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

  Banks sighed.

  “Are you sure they checked the outer acres of the property? Before I blew up Mason’s crib, I saw Minnie run into the woods.” He shifted a little on the sand. “Listen, Rev…I have a feeling she’s alive out there somewhere. And I…I…” He took a deep breath. “…You have to find my daughter. I can’t accept anything less.”

  He may have been hard on Rev at times, but Rev made himself available for Banks this way. Having met Banks through his father when he was alive, it was as if Rev was sent to protect him.

  “I understand and we really have searched hard. I personally oversaw the operation. But there was no sign of her, sir.” He paused. “We would’ve still been out there but the police came by checking the ruins from the bomb that was detonated. I’ll have to fall back at least until Monday.”

  Frustrated, Banks grabbed the beer can that sat nestled in the sand at his feet and wiped his hand down his face. “What about Harris?” He took a huge gulp. “Anything on him yet?”

  “Right now everything is going as planned,” he paused. “We gonna put the move on Linden the moment we can.”

  “I don’t trust that he won’t try us first.” He paused. “So stay up on your connections in the prison. If they get any idea that something’s off, I need us to hit him hard.”

  “Banks.” When he turned around he saw Bet walking toward him. She was wearing a shimmering see-through swimsuit cover up, and a black one-piece bathing suit. “Are you okay? I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why are you out here alone?”

  He faced forward. “I’ll call you back, Rev. Whatever you do, don’t stop searching. My heart is still beating. That means she’s still alive.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  With the phone at his side, he took a deep breath. “I just wanted to get some fresh air.” He hated that she always seemed to crowd his space when he wanted to be alone. She made things as awkward between them as three titties.

  She sat next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Heard anything about the kids? I keep having the most confused dreams and I…I guess I’m trying to be strong. It’s just so hard with us being here you know?”

  “I haven’t heard anything yet.” He drank all of his beer and crushed the can…it crackled.

  She looked over at him. Her stare was intense, almost as if she didn’t believe him. “We are a team, Banks.”

  Silence.

  “And I know you think I can’t handle what’s going on but you couldn’t be more wrong.” She continued. “You just have to—”

  “What do you want?” He glared.

  She looked down. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  He nodded. “Good. Go eat.”

  “Not without you.” She touched his hand. “It smells delicious too,” she continued. “The Nunez family does such a nice job taking—”

  “What do you really want, Bet?” He burped, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know you. Whatever is really on your mind come out and say it. Instead of doing your best to irritate me with small talk.”

  She stroked his growing beard, which hadn’t been shaped up since they’d been on Wales Island. “Do you love me anymore?” Her hand dropped. “Do you even love our family?”

  He shook his head.

  “What, Banks? Stop using silence as a way to punish me when you know I can’t handle it.”

  “I’m not walking through that door with you. Pick a fight with a rock or something.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Are you angry about our kids or Mason?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Can you at least tell me that?”

  He rotated his head quickly in her direction. “Why you keep that nigga’s name on your tongue?”

  “I know you miss him, Banks,” she paused. “My only question is do you miss him more than you miss Minnie? Or Harris?”

  “I’m not answering stupid questions. And if you must know, I placed moves in mot
ion to get Harris out of that prison. Soon as I get the word that it’s carried through, I’ll be on my way.”

  She shook her head, stood up and looked down at him. The warm breeze caressed her body, allowing her shawl to float behind her like wings. “I have been more patient with you than—”

  “Fuck else do you want me to say?” He yelled looking up at her. “Huh? That I blame myself for Minnie being lost? Or that it’s my fault that Harris is in jail because I was trying to get a plane instead of taking you all out of Baltimore when I had the chance? Fuck do you want from me?”

  She trembled as tears rolled down her face. Taking a deep breath she wiped them away and looked at the ocean. Hoping it would calm her agitated spirit. “You are the wealthiest man I have ever known. Could even afford your own world. And all you did was bring your ugly insecurities from Baltimore to a beautiful place.”

  He shook his head. “What does that mean?”

  “You gotta deal with your own shit, Banks. If you don’t like who you are, moving here won’t change it. All you going to do is put us in hell with you.”

  “I’m five minutes from laying hands on you.”

  “Do it! I’m begging you! If you did, at least I would know you’re alive!” She took a deep breath. “I’m not feeling like myself, Banks. And I don’t know if I want this anymore. I don’t know if I want us anymore. But I already know you don’t care.” She walked away.

  When she was gone Banks took a deep breath. Everything with Bet was heavy. Ordinarily he would have his coke business and kids as an escape back home. But being alone on the island with her made him weary.

  He needed relief.

  “I don’t know what to do anymore,” Banks said to himself. “I don’t know what to do about anything…about…” Banks’ head hung as he looked at the sand under his feet. “Why am I even here?”

  Who was he speaking to?

  He didn’t know.

  But not too far from where he sat stood a small wooden shed used to keep their towels and lawn chairs. But in the moment this space also held Mason, who was hidden from view but within earshot of it all. He had been looking through the slats of the structure.