His Final Deal Theresa A. Campbell www.urbanbooks.net All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected. Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Page Dedication Prologue - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1976 Part One Chapter One - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 2003 Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Part Two Chapter Thirteen - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1974 Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-one Chapter Twenty-two Chapter Twenty-three Chapter Twenty-four Chapter Twenty-five Chapter Twenty-six Chapter Twenty-seven Chapter Twenty-eight Chapter Twenty-nine Chapter Thirty Part Three Chapter Thirty-one - Back to Current Day, 2003 Chapter Thirty-two Chapter Thirty-three Chapter Thirty-four Chapter Thirty-five Chapter Thirty-six Chapter Thirty-seven Chapter Thirty-eight Chapter Thirty-nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-one Chapter Forty-two Chapter Forty-three Chapter Forty-four Chapter Forty-five Chapter Forty-six Chapter Forty-seven Chapter Forty-eight Epilogue Discussion Questions About the Author Urban Books, LLC 300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109 Farmingdale, NY 11735 His Final Deal Copyright © 2020 Theresa A. Campbell All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews. ISBN: 978-1-6455-6105-7 eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-106-4 eISBN 10: 1-64556-106-2 This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental. Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp. Submit Orders to: Customer Service 400 Hahn Road Westminster, MD 21157-4627 Phone: 1-800-733-3000 Fax: 1-800-659-2436 Dedication This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever been abused—physically, emotionally, verbally, sexually, or mentally. Please remember. . . with God by your side, you’ll be fine. “I’ll Be Fine,” by Theresa A. Campbell You play with my mind Using your fists to knock me blind Thinking you’ve got me in a bind But with God by my side... I’ll be fine Groping, fondling, squeezing, and probing You took from me what’s mine And you didn’t even do any time for your crime But with God by my side... I’ll be fine You promise me forever, only to find out it’s never Instead of a kiss, I get a kick Instead of a touch, I get a punch But with God by my side... I’ll be fine Trapped by a wall, darkness is my call Voices in my head telling me I’m better dead Use this razor blade to make the pain fade Swallow these pills to ease the chills But with God by my side... I’ll be fine Calling me names was one of your games You nagging, jeering, laughing, and rejoicing Me crying, begging, pleading, and hurting But with God by my side... I’ll be fine Betrayed, beaten, and mocked. I feel like I’m living by the clock Enslave my mind, rape my body, and hurt my pride For you this is just a jolly ol’ ride But with God by my side... I’ll be fine I may be tired and weary, fumbling and stumbling But on wings like an eagle, one day I’ll soar away and leave you Victory will be mine, in hell you’ll do your time But with God by my side... I’ll be fine With a Heart of Thanksgiving All that I am and all that I’ll ever be is because of you, Lord.... Thank you! To my family and friends who support me (you know who you are)... Thank you! To my readers who enjoy my soul-fulfilling, entertaining books and take the time to share them with others . . . Thank you! Prologue Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1976 His long legs eating up the dark, cracked, narrow road, the fourteen-year-old boy bolted down South Cochburn Road, zigzagging from one side to the other, his heart somersaulting in his chest. Ziiing! The bullet snapped at Suave’s right ear, and he ducked his head, his feet picking up even more speed as he ran for his life. Perspiration poured down his face with the black, damp T-shirt clinging to his body. The big backpack containing the reason for the attack still on his back, Suave sprinted toward Spanish Town Road. Pow! Another bullet crackled at Suave’s foot, followed by a muzzled blast as the clapping of hurried feet behind him got closer and closer. The small boarded and zinced houses and dilapidated buildings along the street were eerily quiet in the night. But Suave wasn’t fooled. He knew unseen eyes were watching him, so he kept running, jumping over potholes, stepping on loose stones, and leaping over the litter-strewn street. “Stop right there!” commanded a deep, winded voice some distance behind Suave, shattering the silence. A warning shot then exploded into the air. “Drop the bag now,” roared another breathless voice. “We don’t want to kill you.” But Suave ignored both men. “Don’t put up a fight if you’re getting robbed,” his boss had told him a few months after he had started his job. “Trust me, I’ll find the culprit, and you can be sure they’ll pay one way or another. I don’t want you to get hurt.” Suave had nodded in agreement but was now doing the opposite. He sucked oxygen into his burning lungs, breathing heavily through his mouth as he zoomed around a corner with the bag still secure on his back. The black car seemed to have fishtailed out of nowhere into the narrow three-road intersection. Its tires shrieked as it spun around in the middle of the road before stopping a few feet in front of Suave, blocking his escape to freedom. Suave stumbled when he screeched to a sudden halt. His eyes bugged, and his mouth popped wide open in alarm. “Don’t move!” yelled the short, stocky man who hopped out of the driver’s seat. The gun in his hand was raised and pointed at Suave. His chest rising and falling rhythmically, Suave peered over his shoulder at the two men trotting toward him. He turned back to the front and saw the other man was
