Only a bad boy can love.., p.1
Only a Bad Boy Can Love Her 2: the Finale, page 1
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Synopsis
Only a Bad Boy Can Love Her Playlist
Welcome to Hell, Where You’re Welcome to Sell.
Perception of Love.
Psychopathic Neat Freak.
My Nigga, Osho.
The Block is Hot.
Not Us. Not Now. Not Ever.
Slow-Cooker.
Apology Not Accepted.
Blast From the Past.
In Denial.
Caught in Illusions.
Casting Spells.
A Full Moon.
Dangerous.
The Shadows.
Fight Club.
Deception.
Prince of Darkness.
The 3 Fs.
Time to Go.
Dating Games.
Niggas Still Ain’t Shit.
Love Isn’t Possession.
Wins & Losses.
Playin’ Games.
Power Struggle.
Team No Sleep.
Mood Transmuted.
A House Divided.
You’ve Done Good, Outlaw.
Endless Love.
Epilogue.
Note From Porscha Sterling
About the Author
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To the extent that the images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
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This PORSCHA STERLING, INC. book is being published by
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Royalty Publishing House, LLC.
Copyright © 2021 by Porscha Sterling
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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Cover Designer: Marion Designs
Format: Nina Simmons Designs, Inc.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It’s hard to say goodbye to the Bad Boys crew but I do believe this may actually be the finale. January and Legend took me through my full range of emotions. This was definitely one of the most toughest books for me to write.
That said, I have a lot of people who I would like to thank for helping me in completing the journey I needed to take in order to finish it. ❤️
Al and Kingston, as always, you two come first. Thanks for being the best little boys I could have ever asked for. So loving, so forgiving and so happy… you make every day of my life worth living.
Huge thanks to Tara for putting up with me ignoring emails, dodging meetings and forgetting things that “I thought, I said, you said, we said—wait, who said that and when? Was it me who promised that? When did I say I’d do it? Okay, I’ll get it to you yesterday.” Yes—thanks for putting up with me asking/saying things like that, which make absolutely no sense, because I’ve been writing and my brain doesn’t work anymore. I’m pretty sure that, as I’m writing this, there is something I’ve forgotten to do that I told you I’d do. *Sighs*
Nina—for also staying up late with me, pulling 12 hour shifts and helping me with my young kings when I needed to meet my deadlines. Thank you for listening to me talk through my plot ideas and struggles. Thanks for always being there.
To Gram, my Momty and my mom—thank you for stepping in to help with the boys. Especially during quarantine when all writers thought they were going to die sweet, slow deaths. Not because we were stuck in the house (of course not, we love to be home). But because we actually had to be stuck there with other people. I am definitely a person who needs to be free, uninhibited and in perfect solitude in order to write. Thank you both for helping me out so that I was able to balance mothering with the things I desperately needed in order to be me.
Special thanks goes to @tharealoutlaw for going above and beyond with promotion and inspiration for this novel that I’d decided I wasn’t going to write many, many times but started back because you wouldn’t let me give up on it. For being the most positive person I know who never seems to have a bad day and is always in the best mood, you are the sunshine among all of us blessed to call you a ‘friend’. And, of course, infinite thanks for gracing the cover of yet another Bad Boys novel. Can’t have a bad boys book without Outlaw.
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To Michelle, I’m thinking of you and sending love always. My thoughts, prayers and love is always with you.
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To the readers who support my passion. I love you all very much. Thank you for being around for another ride. I’m not sure how many more are coming, but I’ll keep writing until it feels like I’m done. I hope you’ll continue enjoying the stories.
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I have the best family, friends, readers and supporters. Y’all are awesome ☺️
SYNOPSIS
“Love is a drug I never wanted to take. But now I have and it’s too late. I’m addicted to you.”
Legend is on a mission and it happens to be one he can’t speak about. Always a man of little words, keeping things close to the heart has never been a problem. Or at least it never used to be until January began to occupy that space. Now he’s fighting a battle between his mind and his heart and, unlike any battle he’s ever fought before, this is a war that no matter how it ends, sacrifice will be required.
While Legend’s battling his own demons, January’s on a mission of her own. In some ways different from his, but almost nearly the same. With trust being a vulnerability that she’s been the most reluctant to embrace, it’s the exact thing that love requires. But how can she trust the man who broke her heart?
There are no shadows when you’re surrounded by darkness, but when love makes way for the light to shine through, all the things you refused to face appear. Can January and Legend conquer their darkness to enjoy the light of each other? Or will fear of fully opening up to one another stop them from experiencing love’s true bliss?
Download & listen to the playlist as you read.
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WELCOME TO HELL, WHERE YOU’RE WELCOME TO SELL.
“I can’t believe you got us back doing this low-level shit again, bruh. We said a long time ago that once we made it up, we wouldn’t fuck around with drugs no more.”
There was a subtle clench to Legend’s jaw but he didn’t respond to Nico. Keeping his eyes ahead, he watched as the armed man standing in front of the car that he and Nico were in inspected the hood before stepping around to join another man standing near the back, inspecting the trunk. With wands in their hands, they ran the instruments over the whole outside and inside of the car, checking for weapons, wires, or anything that would get a young kingpin locked up for life. Though only in his twenties, one thing was for sure: Gunna didn’t play.
“This nigga got this shit secure as hell. You’d think the Feds would be all over his ass. Ain’t no way this young ass dude got enough legit shit going on to cover all the weight he moving,” Nico said as one of the armed men waved them forward, indicating they were cleared to enter. Nodding his head, Nico drove slowly through the large iron gates that secured the entry to the massive complex of one of their old friends.
“Lil’ Gunna done bossed up on us,” Legend said, amazed by the sheer opulence of the grounds and everything around that paved the way to Gunna’s estate.
Gunna was a young block boy when they all first met. Bad ass kid who didn’t listen to shit unless his mama said it. He was a straight mama’s boy and, to this day, she was the only one who could talk his finger off a trigger. The problem was, she never did. Gunna’s mother, Guapa, was the Native American version of Griselda Blanco. She ran more dope through the country in her day than any legendary drug kingpin ever heard of. When she married Gunna’s father, Blunt, she only became more ruthless.
Blunt was a Black kingpin who owned a territory that Guapa was trying to take over. Their battles were epic, leading to a war that the streets still spoke about. Blunt was the type to win at all costs, never backing down and never folding. But he was a few years older than Guapa and was smart enough to quickly realize that he’d met his match. One day, he called off his soldiers and asked her to meet with him. That one meeting was supposed to last thirty minutes and ended up lasting a lifetime.
Blunt said he fell in love with Guapa the second he laid eyes on her. The way he described it was as if it were something mythical... like love at first sight. Some shit that niggas in the streets would convince others didn’t exist. Some shit that Blunt grew up never believing in. Until it happened to him.
The two joined together to create the most merciless, ruthless couple the entire west coast had ever known. But Guapa always said their greatest creation was their son. Gunna got his name from his father because he had a natural talent for gunplay, having an incredibly stable hand even at a young age. Now, at the age of twenty-three, Gunna was king of his own self-made empire after absorbing the best from both of his parents’ worlds.
“You sure you wanna fuck with this crazy ass nigga, man?” Nico asked once Legend had brought his car to a stop in front of Gunna’s front door—if it could even be called that. It looked more like the double d oors leading to a castle. Custom-made; the front entrance was larger than life. A fort would be better a better way to describe it.
“I ain’t got no choice,” Legend said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s either link up with Gunna or I hand over January to the Rosarios.”
Nico shrugged. "Sounds good to me. They ain’t gone kill her; just hole her up at one of their big ass mansions until Outlaw gives in a little. Plus, you don’t like the broad, right? Ain’t that what you said? So you shouldn’t really give a damn.”
Cutting his eyes to his cousin, Legend wasn’t at all surprised to see the teasing smile on his face. Nico was full of jokes but he didn’t even bother responding. There was nothing to say. Nico was fully aware of how he felt about January. The fact that he’d even considered aligning with Gunna in order to keep her safe said it all. Though he had done a lot of unforgivable shit in his past, he’d always vowed not to go back to the drug game once he left it.
Working along with Outlaw taught him a lot, but the one lesson he took to heart was that there were enough evil motherfuckas in the world to make money off of. You didn’t need to build your empire off the backs or with the blood of the innocent. Outlaw’s upbringing, as well a Legend’s, was birthed in the hood. For that reason they’d always be tied to the hood and the people who lived in it. You don’t shit where you eat.
When drugs entered Black neighborhoods, they left a lot of victims in their wake. Most of them innocent: people burdened by life trying to escape their pain. Children who would end up orphaned or in the system due to their parents’ addiction. Wives left to hold down a home alone because their husbands were sprung off dope. Mothers who couldn’t trust their children anymore because of their addictions.
No matter how you tried to split it, the drug game was a sad business. And it thrived off of every hope and dream left unfulfilled. All the promises broken. All the love lost. Paranoia, fear, and disappointment. Fuck all the money, glitz, and glamour, niggas who dealt in drugs led the most depressing lives. They surrounded themselves with motherfuckas who would cross them for a dollar and bitches who would leave them for a come up with the next nigga if ever he was down bad and couldn’t give her the lifestyle she craved.
Legend had formed his opinions about the drug game by living through it himself. And he knew firsthand, there wasn’t shit lovely about sleeping with a pistol under your pillow just in case some nigga you trusted got some goons to run up on you for the jewelry you’d been flossing. It was a life of ‘get it or get got’ and he wasn’t down for living that way anymore. Until January entered the picture. Now here he was…
The door began to open before Legend and Nico had even gotten close enough to ring the doorbell. It seemed to be operated with pulleys, gears, and motors.
Leave it to Gunna to opt for some out-of-the-world type shit, Legend thought with a smirk. He couldn’t really hate. He liked it. Really wanted to make a mental note to get something like it for himself if ever the day came when he’d decide to settle down in a place for himself.
“Leave it to this flashy, over-the-top nigga to have some shit like this," Nico muttered, shaking his head.
“I heard that,” a voice said from behind the partially ajar double doors. A few moments later, Gunna appeared, grinning hard as he looked back and forth into the faces of his old friends.
“Ain’t surprised you did, my Navajo brother,” Nico replied with a smile, greeting Gunna with his hand out for dap. “Them big ass ears you got on your head.”
“Nah, man, that ain’t how old homies do it. We family over here, bruh,” Gunna said with his arm extended to give Nico a hug.
“If it ain’t the Chief of the streets, himself. Good to see you, bruh,” Legend said, also coming in for a greeting. “You doing your thing from what I been hearing.”
“Always,” Gunna replied, placing an unlit pipe between his lips.
“Nigga, you walkin’ out here looking like Rico Suave the Pocahontas soldier,” Nino joked, standing back with his arms folded. “All them muscles you done grew, you can’t be still only eating carrots and shit.”
Laughing, Gunna nodded his head. His long, thick, and curly hair, tugged into two long plaits, danced around his waist. “Motherfucka, ain’t no meat goin’ in this system,” he replied. “The Earth Mother does a body good.”
Turning around, he waved for them to follow him into the house, walking in between two armed guards standing at each side of the entrance. Not like he needed the extra security because, honestly speaking, there weren’t many men who could beat Gunna when it came to gunplay or hand-to-hand combat. Not to say that Legend or Nico weren’t challenging opponents, but Gunna wasn’t the type to feel fear. He feared no man.
With a chiseled body, immaculately perfected night after night at the gym, Gunna’s build was the envy of most men. He was a Navajo gangster. Just as Legend said, Gunna was Chief of the streets. He had a reputation that earned him respect wherever he went off pedigree alone. But in the times he had to draw his weapon, any respect not initially given was quickly gained. He was a straight shooter and he never missed.
Legend and Nico followed behind him into a large sitting room off to the side of an even larger foyer. Like everything else concerning the house, this room was over-the-top as well, decorated with a top-quality Swarovski crystal chandelier, exquisite, custom-made furniture, and a large Baby Grand piano sitting center. Grabbing onto a black and gold lion head cane that was propped up next to a suede chair, custom-made to look like a throne, Gunna sat down and motioned for Legend and Nico to do the same. Nico cut his eyes at Legend, and they exchanged quick glances before taking a seat in a matching black suede sectional across from Gunna. In the time they’d been out of the drug game, many things had changed. Gunna had become a motherfuckin’ boss.
“So, let me guess, you need my help with protecting Outlaw’s daughter until you can get her out the city, right?” Gunna asked, holding the cane in between his hands.
As usual, he got straight to the point, not willing to beat around the bush now that it was time to discuss business. He knew at the exact moment he heard that January Murray went missing that he would get a visit from the heir to the Dumas empire—either to assist with finding her or to help with hiding her. He had taken a gamble by suggesting the call would be for the latter and from the non-reactive expression on Legend’s face, he could see that he hit the nail on the head.
“I might need help getting her a flight out to New York,” Legend said, feeling tension in his neck.
The meeting was necessary. The assistance was needed, but he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t bother him to have to ask for another man’s help. Especially when it came to January. He wasn’t the type to ask the next nigga for shit, but the fact that this had to do with a woman he felt particularly protective of made it that much worse.
“Legend out here asking Gunna for favors,” Gunna said, twisting the cane between his hands. “I never thought I’d see the day. This can’t just be about Outlaw, because you ain’t mentioned that nigga yet. Is she your girl? You love her?”
Legend’s expression steeled and he didn’t readily respond although the instant resistance was the only tell-tell sign needed. He did love her. He cared for January in a way that he didn’t understand. His soul knew it even if his mouth wasn’t ready to admit it just yet.
