His Final Deal
Theresa A. Campbell
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1976
Part One
Chapter One - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 2003
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Two
Chapter Thirteen - Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1974
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Part Three
Chapter Thirty-one - Back to Current Day, 2003
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Chapter Forty-five
Chapter Forty-six
Chapter Forty-seven
Chapter Forty-eight
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
About the Author
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
His Final Deal Copyright © 2020 Theresa A. Campbell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
ISBN: 978-1-6455-6105-7
eISBN 13: 978-1-64556-106-4
eISBN 10: 1-64556-106-2
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Submit Orders to:
Customer Service
400 Hahn Road
Westminster, MD 21157-4627
Phone: 1-800-733-3000
Fax: 1-800-659-2436
Dedication
This book is dedicated to anyone who has ever been abused—physically, emotionally, verbally, sexually, or mentally.
Please remember. . . with God by your side, you’ll be fine.
“I’ll Be Fine,” by Theresa A. Campbell
You play with my mind
Using your fists to knock me blind
Thinking you’ve got me in a bind
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
Groping, fondling, squeezing, and probing
You took from me what’s mine
And you didn’t even do any time for your crime
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
You promise me forever, only to find out it’s never
Instead of a kiss, I get a kick
Instead of a touch, I get a punch
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
Trapped by a wall, darkness is my call
Voices in my head telling me I’m better dead
Use this razor blade to make the pain fade
Swallow these pills to ease the chills
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
Calling me names was one of your games
You nagging, jeering, laughing, and rejoicing
Me crying, begging, pleading, and hurting
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
Betrayed, beaten, and mocked. I feel like I’m living by the clock
Enslave my mind, rape my body, and hurt my pride
For you this is just a jolly ol’ ride
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
I may be tired and weary, fumbling and stumbling
But on wings like an eagle, one day I’ll soar away and leave you
Victory will be mine, in hell you’ll do your time
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
With a Heart of Thanksgiving
All that I am and all that I’ll ever be is because of you, Lord.... Thank you!
To my family and friends who support me (you know who you are)... Thank you!
To my readers who enjoy my soul-fulfilling, entertaining books and take the time to share them with others . . . Thank you!
Prologue
Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1976
His long legs eating up the dark, cracked, narrow road, the fourteen-year-old boy bolted down South Cochburn Road, zigzagging from one side to the other, his heart somersaulting in his chest.
Ziiing! The bullet snapped at Suave’s right ear, and he ducked his head, his feet picking up even more speed as he ran for his life. Perspiration poured down his face with the black, damp T-shirt clinging to his body. The big backpack containing the reason for the attack still on his back, Suave sprinted toward Spanish Town Road.
Pow! Another bullet crackled at Suave’s foot, followed by a muzzled blast as the clapping of hurried feet behind him got closer and closer.
The small boarded and zinced houses and dilapidated buildings along the street were eerily quiet in the night. But Suave wasn’t fooled. He knew unseen eyes were watching him, so he kept running, jumping over potholes, stepping on loose stones, and leaping over the litter-strewn street.
“Stop right there!” commanded a deep, winded voice some distance behind Suave, shattering the silence. A warning shot then exploded into the air.
“Drop the bag now,” roared another breathless voice. “We don’t want to kill you.”
But Suave ignored both men.
“Don’t put up a fight if you’re getting robbed,” his boss had told him a few months after he had started his job. “Trust me, I’ll find the culprit, and you can be sure they’ll pay one way or another. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Suave had nodded in agreement but was now doing the opposite. He sucked oxygen into his burning lungs, breathing heavily through his mouth as he zoomed around a corner with the bag still secure on his back.
The black car seemed to have fishtailed out of nowhere into the narrow three-road intersection. Its tires shrieked as it spun around in the middle of the road before stopping a few feet in front of Suave, blocking his escape to freedom.
Suave stumbled when he screeched to a sudden halt. His eyes bugged, and his mouth popped wide open in alarm.
“Don’t move!” yelled the short, stocky man who hopped out of the driver’s seat. The gun in his hand was raised and pointed at Suave.
His chest rising and falling rhythmically, Suave peered over his shoulder at the two men trotting toward him. He turned back to the front and saw the other man was
