She might as well have been the naive Queen she played so well for him. She just held up her hand and shrugged before raking her stiletto nails through her black lace-front wig.

"This is the Forest Hill section of Newark, Queen," he said, like he was talking to a toddler or some shit. "It's supposed to be the city's like richest neighborhood . . . on the books anyway. But this is where you'll find all the nice-ass cribs built back in the 1920s by rich white folks. Some of the houses are historic landmarks-that means you can't fuck with 'em, without permission."

Naeema's interest wasn't faked and her eyes shifted to take in each home as Bas drove up the street past them.

"Some of these joints 'round here are worth a million dollars."

"Newark is way bigger than I thought," she admitted.

"Word."

He pulled up alongside a huge stone mansion that sat high above the street on manicured grass and was surrounded by a stone wall topped with black wrought iron. "I used to live there," Bas said.

Naeema turned and looked at him in surprise.

"And I'm going to live there again."

She saw the determination in his eyes even with just the light from the towering streetlight above to illuminate the interior of the car. "What happened?" she asked, deciding to feed her curiosity even though she knew she shouldn't give a flying fuck about his story.

"This my hood," he said, flexing his shoulders. "Little private school kid with the prep school flow. My father was a surgeon."

She stayed silent. Was?

"We lived here until I was in college at NYU and my father . . ."

"Your father what, Bas?" Naeema asked softly.

"He passed away," he answered her, suddenly accelerating forward away from the house.

"Wow. I'm sorry, Bas," she said, her eyes on his profile. There was more to the story. Her gut told her that. "That must've been hard on you and your mom."

Bas's jaw clenched. "Don't mention her," he said, his voice hard and angry.

Another order from him on a person he didn't want to discuss.

"Did your moms die too, Bas?" she said, meaning to nudge him. Bait him.

He slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a stop in the middle of the street. Thankfully it was quiet and no other cars were behind them. He released the wheel and grabbed her chin. She stiffened as the pressure of his fingers deepened.

Just as quickly he smiled and released her. "Yeah, she's dead," he said.

Her heart was pounding and she was ready to reach for the gun she carried in her purse, but she didn't fall back. "What happened to them?"

"Don't fuck with that, Queen," he said, his voice low and filled with warning.

She let it go and settled back against her seat but she set her pocketbook on her lap and patted her piece inside it just in case the motherfucker flipped. Besides, his parents' story really wasn't any of her concern. She was on the hunt for her son's killer and the only thing she could promise Bas was that he would see both his parents sooner than later if he was the one who did it.

11.

Naeema's eyes widened a little bit in surprise when she first stepped inside Bas's house. She hadn't really paid much thought to where he lived, but the small two-bedroom brick structure with bright yellow shutters didn't seem to fit him . . . especially after hearing more about his high-saddity upbringing in a house that looked like a mansion to her. "Where's your situation?" she asked as she took in the contrast between the outdated house more suited to an old woman and the leather furnishings and high-end electronics more suited to him.

"Out of town."

She stepped in front of a large framed photo of Bas and a slender dark-skinned woman. If you didn't know any better, they looked like Mr. and Mrs. Suburban Black America. Only thing missing was the two kids and a fucking dog. Bunch of bullshit.

"I wouldn't want no other bitch in my spot while I'm gone," Naeema said, sitting down on the rich-looking brown leather sofa with metal studs lining the edge.

"I wouldn't worry about the next bitch," he said. "Plus this ain't her spot. It's mine. This the house I grew up in before we moved to the other one."

Here we go with his past again. Naeema bit her lip to keep from expressing how little she gave a fuck.

"My dad killed himself."

She was studying her nails but she looked up at him as he dropped that info like it was nothing serious. "Damn. For real?" she said, not sure what to say.

Bas walked into the kitchen and came back with two bottles of Heineken beers. He handed her one. "Getting cheated on, put out the house you love and bust your ass to pay for, not able to see your son and then sued for major alimony after getting lied on was too fucked up for him to deal with, I guess."

Naeema didn't miss how he told the story of his parents without directly mentioning his mother. She looked at him over the bottle as she took a sip. This shit was too weird for words.

"That's when I learned to never trust a bitch."

"You can trust me," she lied.

Bas stepped over her legs to sit down by her on the couch. "For your sake I hope so," he said, glancing over at her as he picked up the remote and turned on the television.

Naeema set her pocketbook beside her and felt a little safer with the heavy weight of the gun leaning against her thigh.

Bzzzz . . .

He glanced at the front of his cell phone before swiping his thumb across the touch screen. "Yo, whaddup," he said, rising to his feet and stepping past Naeema again to walk out of the living room.

First Brandon and now his mother? What was he avoiding by not talking about them?

"Queen, I gotta make a quick run," he said, already striding his tall figure to the door.

"Okay," she said.

The door slammed before she could fully get it out.

Naeema hopped to her feet and walked over to one of the windows flanking the door to watch as the orange soul car pulled down his drive and turned to speed down the street.

She started searching every damn thing, not even sure what she was looking for but not wanting to miss any chances while being in Bas's crib alone. The hallway closet. Every kitchen and drawer in the Suzie Homemaker kitchen. The living room.

She moved quickly but didn't find much to speak of. The only thing she knew for sure was that a woman definitely lived there with him, they kept a clean house, and the house was old but he-no, they-liked nice shit.

There were three bedrooms and two were filled with boxes of all kinds of electronics. Bank robberies. Car thefts. Now stolen goods. This motherfucker dibble and dabble in all kind of shit.

The last bedroom was the master and she left the door open as she moved past the king-size bed that dominated the room to pull open the bedside dresser drawer. She frowned at the pink rabbit vibrator and lubricant before slamming that shut and coming around the bed to pull open the top drawer of the other.

WHAM.

Oh shit.

Naeema eased the drawer shut at the sound of the front door slamming closed. She looked around like her ass could hide somewhere or leave the room quick enough not to get caught. Think, Naeema, think.

And her pocketbook was still in the living room.

Shit, shit, shit.

She quickly pulled off her clothes and lay across the bed in nothing but her lace bra and thong just as his figure filled the doorway.

His eyes searched the room before they rested on her curvy frame half-naked on the bed he shared with another woman.

"Surprise," she said, keeping her voice light and flirty. Just beyond him she could see her pocketbook sitting on the sofa. That motherfucker was of no use to her from there. "You said not to care about the next bitch . . . but I can get up."

"Nah, fuck that," he said, dropping something from his hand onto the bed.

She looked. It was a bag of powder. At least a half ounce. Definitely the kind of weight to be flipped by a small-time dope boy and not snorted. Fuck around and have a coronary.

Powder changed Bas and she did not want him snorting that shit with her so far from home and her piece.

She got up on her knees and pressed her hands against the deep curve above her hips. "You can handle all this?" she asked, feeling nervous about the situation she was in.

This man was not to be trusted and she already knew he didn't trust her.

Bas locked his intense eyes on hers as he unzipped his jeans and freed his dick from his boxers and zippers. It was long, thick, and a few shades darker than his medium-brown complexion. "What you think?"

"You straight," she said with a lick of her lips.

Well damn . . .

Naeema had seen and done a lot in her younger days. A one-night stand hadn't been shit for her. And there had been plenty of times the dick was so whack that she faked it or just lay there thinking of other random shit until he was done.

She was attracted to Bas but her wild days were a long time behind her and she didn't want to give up the goodies to Bas. No matter how fine and how promising the dick looked.

And it did look promising.

He stepped up close to the bed and cupped her breasts in his hands like he was weighing them as he stroked her nipples through the sheer lace. "Touch my dick," he said, his voice dark and low and even huskier.

She did, feeling the heat under the smooth skin as she massaged the length of that hard motherfucker from the base covered by thick hairs to the smooth tip. Back and forth.

Very damn promising.

Bas arched his narrow hips forward as he eased her bra strap off her shoulders. "I didn't bring you here for this, you know," he said as he pushed her down onto the bed to lie beside her.

Naeema felt a thrill at his touch but she made her mind go blank. She knew how to do it well. Having a lot of sex didn't mean it was always a lot of good sex. She gripped the back of his head and arched her back as he sucked her nipple through the see-through material but her eyes were open and staring at a long, deep crack in the ceiling.

Bas lightly bit the sheer material between his teeth and worked it down to expose her full breast. She felt his breath blow against it just before he circled her areola around the dark brown edge and up until the tip of his tongue dragged against her nipple.

Naeema's eye shifted to the open closet door even as she felt a slight tremble of pleasure course over her body. I should have checked this . . . this . . . this . . .

She gasped and closed her eyes as he shifted to kiss the warm crease under her breast. Now that's some new shit. Damn.

Naeema's fingertips lightly dug into his lower back as he sucked the flesh just above the crease. He pulled her thong to the side and stroked her pussy from the moist opening and up to her pounding clit. Her eyes opened in surprise at the feel of his touch. She tried like hell to focus on something-any motherfucking thing-in the room and not the feel of Bas's tongue, lips, and fingers on her body. Shit.

She locked her eyes back on the crack in the ceiling but when he shifted his body to pull the cup of the bra down to free her other breast and gather them together to lick at both her nipples at the same damn time, her eyes crossed until everything was a blur.

It was nothing like the fiery chemistry she had with Tank, but there wasn't shit lacking in Bas's skill to get a pussy primed for fucking.

"You like that?" he whispered against her wet nipples.

"Do it again," she said, pulling the edge of his shirt from his jeans to stroke the smooth flesh of his back. Soon she felt tiny bumps under her fingertips as he reacted to her touch.

Bas pressed his dick against her hip as he moved his tongue back and forth from one aching nipple to the other before sucking one deeply into his mouth.

"Ah," she cried out, cupping the back of his head as she trembled.

Bas moved from licking the crease under her breast to kissing a trail up to the taut nipple to suck it deeply into his mouth before he did the rotation all over again.

Naeema reached for his dick, rubbing her thumb across the smooth tip as she lightly squeezed until he dripped. He rolled away from her and stood at the foot of the bed to snatch his shirt over his head and lower his denims and boxers down to his ankles. She closed her eyes and reached her arms above her head to grip the covers on the bed as she felt his hands on her thighs as he jerked her body to the edge.

That first lick of his tongue against her pussy made her thick thighs come up to cup his ears as she circled her hips up against his mouth.

This motherfucker can eat some pussy so good.

He put some serious attention on her clit until she was so horny that she cupped her own breasts and teased her nipples as she rocked her hips back and forth, bringing her clit against his tongue. "Yesss," she moaned. "Shit. Eat that pussy up. Eat it."

Bas used his finger to open her lips wider and expose all of her swollen clit for him to suck deeply into his mouth. "I'm cumming," she cried out, a fine sheen of sweat covering her body as she opened her eyes wide like she was truly free-falling.

He did not let up.

Naeema's upper body jerked up like she was doing situps as she fought to push against his head to free his mouth from her pussy as she came.

He roughly brushed her hands away and kept on sucking and wildly licking and pushing her straight over the edge until her throat was dry from crying out so much.

Finally, Bas moved away from her quivering body.

She opened her eyes just enough to see him roll a condom onto his dick before he grabbed her legs and pulled them apart wide as he pressed one knee onto the foot of the bed and guided his dick inside her, gripping one of her ass cheeks. She was wet and he slid inside her with one hard thrust of hips.

He looked down at her as he fucked her with long strokes.