Baby Brother by 50 Cent, Noire Read Free Book Online Page A

The Rock was grimy as fuck. He couldn’t even see Baby Brother dwelling next to that slime element.
    Raheem was running on pure adrenaline. He had dragged Lissa outta the room and threw their bags in the back of his ride. Gunning his motor, he’d squealed out of the parking lot and zipped down the streets toward the highway.
    “You gonna tell me what the big emergency is?” Lissa had stunted, sliding across the seat as he made a sharp turn and ran a red light.
    “Bitch,” Raheem said, his voice burning the air like fire. “Shut the fuck ufl Don’t you open your mouth no more until you outta my ride.”
    Evil was upon him and Raheem knew it. The last time he’d felt this way was when Antwan had gotten in that trouble up in Greenhaven. Of all the Davis brothers, Raheem’s temper was the most uncontrollable. Baby Brother was the best of the bunch, no doubt. But while Antwan had found God, Kadir was a master gambler, the twins were ruthless drug lords terrorizing niggahs on the streets, and Malik was a cop who loved the whole world, there had always been a storm brewing in Raheem. He hid it well, though. He wasn’t about to jeopardize his standing in the Department of Corrections by strangling every mothafuckah who pissed him off. The streets of Brooklyn might have hardened him, but repercussions and a responsible job had helped mellow him out. Raheem had learned to control his anger, but underneath his professional demeanor he was cold and brutal, especially when it came to standing on point for his brothers.
    But by the time he ejected Lissa’s stank ass out on the curb near her apartment and skipped over to Queens to cross the bridge to Rikers Island, there was no fighting the dread he was feeling. He’d replayed Farad’s words in his mind over and over, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. Farad was right. They had to find Sari’s killer or shit was gonna spark off in a major way. Them Puerto Ricans loved their blood just like the Davis crew loved theirs. Tony Santos was gonna bring war down and send blood running in the gutters, and somebody was gonna get fuckin’ hurt.
    Raheem gripped the steering wheel and stood up on the gas pedal. It wasn’t even a fuckin’ possibility that Baby Brother had killed nobody. Especially his girl, Sari. His brother was a hard-body mothafuckah. A solid little niggah. He could handle any niggah on the streets and even them slime-buckets on the tier if he had to. But he wasn’t a killer. Every ounce of the Davis hope was riding on Baby Brother’s shoulders. They were depending on him to create the kind of life for himself that the rest of them hadn’t been able to manage.
    Raheem parked in the employee lot and ran toward the entrance. He nodded at a few C.O.s who were standing around talking, and headed over to the reception center. No matter how much he tried to fight off that rising feeling that signaled impending dread and doom, he just couldn’t shake it.
    “Chill the fuck out, niggah,” he scolded himself. “B-Brother is tight. That niggah prolly chillin’ and maintaining his space right now.”
    But Raheem was wrong.
    Because as it turned out, it didn’t matter how much rubber he burned on the road, or how much he tried to fill his own head with positive hype. Yeah, Baby Brother was fearless, just like his brothers. He was a fighter who had come up in the streets and knew how to annihilate a mothafuckah with his bare hands. But none of that shit meant a damn thing by the time Raheem ran across the grounds and pushed through the door of the Otis Bantam Center. Because time hadn’t stood still waiting for him to come down from the Poconos. The clock had kept right on ticking while Raheem was out there chasing him a dick-licking, and by the time he found somebody to tell him where his baby brother was, it was already too late.

CHAPTER 5
     
    L ife was moving fast for Baby Brother in the joint. Strip naked, bend over, spread your cheeks. He did all that