Free A Thug's Wife (Full Length Novel) by Shan Page A

the fuck? Yea, let’s handle that shit immediately. Fuck this nigga thinking ‘bout?”
    “I don’t know, but I’m ‘bout to find out.”

     
     
    Chapter 10: Gangsta Enough?
     
     
     
    Quasym got out of his Chevy and headed toward the apartment where he was told he could find Hova. With Devon hot on his trail, the two of them had only one thing on their mind which was putting that nigga Hova in his place. They couldn’t believe he had the audacity to approach Quasym’s wife on the level that he had done.
    Quasym felt like the level of disrespect that was shown was enough to kill that nigga, but he had agreed with Devon before coming that he would at least hear him out first.  Devon was already on probation and wasn't 'bout to risk shit unless he was seeing a profit from it. He had made the mistake of pulling a gun first and asking questions later one too many times.
                  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
    Quasym pounded on the thin-framed door and stepped back as he waited for someone to answer. He touched his side ensuring that his pistol was still there and eyed the door with mad frustration built up. The locks clicked and a bad yellow bitch stood on the other side once the door came open. Both Quasym and Devon stared at her with lust filled eyes and watched as she pulled the satin agape robe tightly shut over her thick body.
    “Yes?” she said with attitude.
    “Where the fuck is Hova?” Quasym asked her.
    “An d who the fuck wants to know?” she rolled her eyes and placed one hand over her hip.
    “Aye, tell him the nigga Sym is here. Heard he was looking for me.”
    “Hold on nigga."
    She pushed the door shut and fixed the locks before turning around and going back int o her bedroom. Hova was lying across the bed butt naked with his dick in his hand. He looked at Jazz and licked his lips as she sexily strutted in his direction. He began to stroke his long and thick muscle anticipating the ride that he just knew she was about to give.
    “Some nigga name Sym is at the door for you,” Jazz said as she plopped down on the bed and grabbed the half smoked blunt that sat in the ashtray next to her bed.
    “Ah, fuck. How deh fuck he know where I’m at any muthafuckin’ way,” Hova said and shook his head. His accent was thick and heavy as he forced out an exasperated breath. 
    “The hell if I know nigga. Same thing I wanna know, but I don’t know that nigga so be sure to tell that muthafucka’ to call you before he come knocking on my damn door again. I told your ass before ain’t shit moving in and out of here.”
    “Yea, yea, yea Jazz I heard ya’ ass a million fuckin’ times already. Not tryna hear ‘dat shit today,” Hova slid his gym shorts on and grabbed the white tee shirt that sat on the bedr oom floor. He pulled the tee over his body and headed out of the bedroom toward the front door. Jazz was Hova’s little side piece that he fucked with from time to time. She was everything that he loved in a woman, but she wasn’t his wife Samantha.

“Sym, w hat up youngn’? Come on in,” Hova said after opening the door.
    Quasym and Devon walked inside of the small apartment each one checking out their surroundings before taking a seat. Quasym stared at Hova with such adamant hatred that he felt that he wouldn’ t be able to compose himself for much longer.
    Instead of staying seated, he stood to his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. He wanted to be on the same level as Hova and not have that nigga looking down on him when he was the one that had been in t he wrong.
    “Man what’ s up? My ol’ lady telling me you came at her acting real reckless and shit talking about you need to see me or else. I’m here nigga, so what’s up?” Quasym spat.
    “A’ight, a’ight. Shit seeing as how you deh’ big mon’ and all that good s hit now, I need my money,” Hova stated flatly.
    He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and took one from the pack. He reached for the