This specific ISBN edition is currently not available.View all copies of this ISBN edition:
It was a gloomy, rainy Wednesday morning. The type of morning a man turns his pager off and relaxes all morning in the comfort of good sex. That’s exactly what Rayshawn had in mind. He rolled over towards his girl of five years, wrapping his arms around her small waist, pulling her in. “Angel,” softly nibbling on her ear just the way he knew he needed to make the lips between her legs begin to wet themselves. She squirmed back filling herself with him. He laid there on his back, watching the blinds on the sliding doors of the bedroom swinging from the slight breeze coming through. Rayshawn glanced at the alarm clock on the night stand. It was quarter to seven, almost that time for them to get up. Angel had a 7:30 class and there was plenty he himself needed to get up and get done. He slide out from under the comforter into the cool air, his body still somewhat sweaty from the past hour. As he walked around his king size bed, he heard a car pull up in front of his condo, so naturally as he passed by he glanced out the sliding door. “What the hell!” he barked. The entire parking lot was filled with twenty or more vehicles ranging from Suburban’s to Grand Prix’ mixed with a few local and state patrol cars. Rayshawn focused on the Suburban that had most currently pulled up watching as the door opened. A big ass white boy stepped out turning to reveal the large bright yellow lettering on the back of his wind breaker. “F.B.I.” Rayshawn said to himself. He immediately turned and darted from the window He snatched up a pair of boxers from the dresser. “Angel, wake up boo!” hopping on one leg to get dressed. She sat up half asleep, knowing that something was wrong from the tone of his voice. They made eye contact. “The feds are here!” She jumped up behind him grabbing one of her sun dresses and sliding it over her. By the time Rayshawn pulled a pair of jeans all the way up, a hard banging came from the front door. His heart skipped a beat as he reached for his chromed .45 caliber Taurus and flew from the bedroom. Angel was right on his heels, not knowing what to expect. The door shook from another pounding. He released the clip from the gun and tossed the two of them onto the glass living room table. He took one last deep breath grabbing the door knob, and motioned for Angel to stay back, swinging the door open. She flew back damn near tripping over her own feet with the site of the glock 9’s and shotguns that were aimed at Rayshawn. Unbelievably he was calm and collective, almost as if he had been expecting them. They rushed in slamming him against the wall. “Are you Rayshawn Edwards?” A hard voiced asked from behind. “Shit, it’s a little late to be asking questions now, isn’t it?” he retorted. Angel was taken by a female officer to the couch and sat down. A mob of Marshals eased throughout the condo to assure no one else was there. The one who placed the cuffs on Rayshawn asked for a warm shirt, socks and shoes as if he were truly concerned. Angel spoke up as to were they could collect the items in question. Rayshawn looked back at her, his chest still pressed against the wall. A tear finally rolled down her cheek. Within minutes he was clothed and escorted out the front door. As he walked down the stairs trailed by several Marshals, the entire neighborhood seemed to be awake with front row seats. Some decided that 7:00 o’clock in the morning was a good time to walk the dogs. Others wanted to check their mail boxes, and others take out the trash. Rayshawn held his head high all the way to the truck. He could already hear the talk of the neighborhood, “I knew that boy was doin something,” coming from everyone’s mouth. Half and hour later, Rayshawn and two agents pulled up in front of the FBI headquarters building. They eased him from the truck, while he scoped out the area. “Damn, as many times as I drove passed this place, you would have thought I would have known it was here.”
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
Book Description CreateSpace, 2012. Paperback. Condition: Brand New. 156 pages. 9.00x6.00x0.36 inches. This item is printed on demand. Seller Inventory # zk1469964430
Book Description CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2012. Condition: New. book. Seller Inventory # M1469964430