Flesh and Blood Read online

  Thank you for downloading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

  * * *

  Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.

  Dear Reader:

  Allison Hobbs, who has thirty-plus titles published with Strebor, has spun tales of erotica, paranormal and child sex trafficking. With Flesh and Blood, the prolific author delves into the meaning of family ties and male bonding.

  Former drug addict Malik Copeland loses his fiancée, Elle, and then his infant son, Phoenix, after he is adopted by her new husband, Everett. Malik also starts a new family life when he relocates, marries Sasha and becomes a stepfather to her young daughter, Zoe.

  At age thirteen, Phoenix becomes a permanent part of the Copeland household, and soon, their world starts to spiral out of control, especially with recent criminal activities in the neighborhood. As the newest community resident, Phoenix is viewed as the likeliest of suspects.

  The novel is a testament to the challenges of father-son relationships and the adjustment of blended families. Readers will be surprised at the plot twists as Phoenix’s secrets are revealed to Malik who must decide how far he’ll go to stand by his own flesh and blood.

  As always, thanks for supporting myself and the Strebor Books family. We strive to bring you the most cutting-edge, out-of-the-box material on the market. You can find me on Facebook @AuthorZane.

  Blessings,

  Publisher

  Strebor Books

  www.simonandschuster.com

  CHAPTER 1

  Passion mounted and perspiration fused our bodies together.

  Elle wrapped her legs around my back and then locked her ankles, pulling me deeper into her warm abyss. Our hearts beat like drums, setting a fast tempo for our harmonized moans.

  Embedded deeply inside her, I found my way to uncharted territory. For a brief moment, I ceased thrusting and marveled at the cushiness of a well-hidden patch of flesh. I pressed into that sacred place known as the G-Spot and Elle cried out in prayerful appreciation.

  After she finished thanking Jesus, a litany of profanity spilled from her lips as she alternately praised me and cursed me for possessing such good dick.

  I’d never been much of a talker during sex, and therefore, my response to her outpouring of lustful gratitude was to resume my forceful stroke, pounding the pussy the way she liked it—the way we both liked it. I hammered inside her in a manner that was so brutal, she was prompted to claw at my back, encouraging me to continue pulverizing the delicate flesh of her nether regions.

  Intent on pleasing this woman whom I loved with every fiber of my being, I growled through clenched teeth as I fought against the overwhelming desire that was building inside me. I refused to focus on the tiny clutching muscles that tugged determinedly on my rigid length. Her scent wafted up to my nostrils, and although I found the pungent aroma of sex to be an intoxicating fragrance, I refused to allow it to get to me.

  I blocked out everything and concentrated on my stroke game, keeping it strong while making sure I didn’t prematurely flood my baby with a torrent of hot passion.

  As a man…as her man, I felt obligated to hold back until she released that familiar, high-pitched wail, which told me she’d been satisfied. And when she finally screamed out my name, I was reassured that I’d put in good work and could finally indulge my own urgent need for release.

  The moment I let go, it seemed like time stood still. Nothing existed except the electric orgasm that charged throughout my body. As a windstorm began to roar inside my ears, I felt as if I’d become one with multiple universes and other galaxies. It wasn’t until I had deposited the last drop of ejaculate that I returned from the cosmos and back to Earth—once again, a mortal man.

  “That was fantastic, baby,” she whispered.

  “Mmm,” I agreed in a low moan.

  “I love you so much, Malik.” Her voice cracked with emotion, reminding me that no matter how good I gave it to her, she would never quite trust that my love was as strong and as true as hers.

  After all the hell that I’d put her through, I couldn’t blame her.

  Feeling remorseful for the sins of my past, I wrapped both arms around her. “I love you, too, baby. More than life itself,” I assured her. My lips found hers and I kissed her, trying my best to reassure her that the dark days were far, far behind us.

  I’m a changed man, I told myself.

  I bit down on my lip to stave off the troubling feeling that began to stir inside me, and I held on to Elle, tightening my grasp around her as if she were an anchor that could keep me from being swept out to a stormy sea.

  She disengaged my tight hold on her and curled into a more comfortable position.

  “I love you more than life itself,” I whispered in her ear.

  “I love you, too,” she murmured.

  Moments later, she was blissfully asleep.

  But sleep eluded me.

  Many things triggered my substance abuse problem, but sex had never been one of them. Yet, for some unknown reason, the amazing sex I’d just shared with Elle had aroused my demons. Now I lay awake, tossing and turning, and struggling with the overwhelming urge to get high.

  Refusing to cave in to my self-destructive desires, I repeated the Serenity Prayer in my mind, hoping the words would bring me solace. Desperate for peace instead of turmoil, I directed my thoughts to the wedding that Elle was planning. I imagined the beautiful future that lay ahead of us.

  She wanted children one day—we both did—and so I tried to imagine a big house filled with the sound of children’s laughter. But my head was in such a messed-up place, I couldn’t conjure up the sound of happy laughter. All I could hear was a tormenting cacophony of demonic shrieks and hellish cries.

  Times like this, I should have called my sponsor. It wasn’t wise to try to deal with my issues alone, but I stubbornly told myself that I’d be all right. I simply needed to enforce my willpower in order to subdue my urge to use.

  Minutes ticked by…maybe hours. Despite my best efforts, my thoughts continually focused on the eighty dollars that I’d tossed on top of the dresser. Unable to resist my urges for another moment, I eased out of bed, crept to the closet and quietly got dressed. Like a thief in the night, I scooped up my money and pocketed the bills.

  Before exiting the bedroom, I crept over to Elle’s purse that she’d set on a chair. With an eye on her, I reached inside and found her wallet. I extracted the special bank card that she used for wedding expenses. That particular card had a balance of well over ten thousand dollars, and I needed the square piece of plastic for backup. Eighty dollars wasn’t nearly enough. However, I planned to use the card sparingly, withdrawing only a few hundred dollars.

  On payday, I’d put the money back. Elle would never notice that any of the money was missing.

  This won’t be a major relapse, I reassured myself. I’ve been clean for fourteen months, and I only need a little something to take the edge off. I’ll be home before Elle wakes up. I’ll get to work on time, and no one will be the wiser.

  I skulked toward the bedroom door, looked over my shoulder to make sure that Elle was fast asleep, and I swore to God this would be the last time that I’d ever give in to my cravings.

  With my hands stuffed inside the pockets of my jacket, I slipped out of our apartment and blended into the dark night.

  • • •

  A week and a half later, I woke
up in the hospital.

  The doctor said I’d suffered a seizure from an accidental overdose of the synthetic opioid, fentanyl.

  “Fentanyl?” I furrowed my brows together. “I don’t mess with fentanyl,” I explained to the doctor.

  “It was in your system. Lots of it,” he said in a judgmental tone of voice.

  I glanced around my hospital room and saw a blackboard with the date written on it. My mouth gaped open when I realized that more than a week had passed. How had I lost an entire week?

  “My fiancée…she’s probably out of her mind with worry. I have to call her.” I glanced around the room, wondering where my cell phone and other belongings were.

  “Your fiancée was here yesterday and the day before. She’s been here every day,” the doctor said as he perused my chart. “The nurse will give her a call and let her know you’re awake.” He peered at me over his glasses, and I could tell by his expression that he viewed me as a scumbag that didn’t deserve a decent woman like Elle.

  He was right, of course, but I still didn’t appreciate his self-righteous attitude.

  The doctor told me that the nurse would be in shortly to give me my meds, and then he turned to leave.

  “Hey, wait! When can I get out of here?”

  “I want to run a few more tests before you’re discharged,” he responded.

  “All right, but I can’t stay overnight again; I have to return to my job.”

  This time he gave me a pitying look, and I slumped against my pillow with the realization that I’d screwed up royally. After missing so much time from work without an explanation, it would be a miracle if I still had a job.

  I had a degree in African American Studies, but due to my heroin addiction, I’d lost my career in education. Now, I worked with my hands. Thanks to Elle’s dad, who looked out for me, I had a new career as a power plant mechanic at the same company he worked for. It was damn good pay. More than I’d made teaching. But I still hadn’t gotten used to being a blue collar worker and wearing a uniform with my name stitched on the front.

  No doubt, Elle’s dad was professionally embarrassed over my disappearing act and personally infuriated that I’d disgraced his daughter. Hopefully, I’d be able to smooth things over with both of them and be able to hang on to my job and resume my personal life.

  But who was I kidding. Elle had to be at her wits’ end with me. And no company was going to put up with a no-call, no-show from any employee.

  Undoubtedly, I’d ruined my life again.

  Some addicts could function within society and somehow maintain their jobs and family obligations. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that kind of substance abuser. Each time I slipped up, I tended to swiftly spiral out of control, always ending up right back in the gutter.

  I didn’t know how I was going to face Elle. What could I tell her? I didn’t have any right to ask her for another chance, but I truly loved her and didn’t want to lose her.

  I tried to retrace the past week as best I could. Scanning through my hazy memory bank, I vaguely remembered hooking up with a skinny white chick who was also buying heroin from the dude I copped from. I agreed to go back to her place where we could get high together, and she took me to a roach-infested apartment. She cooked and shot up her drugs while I opted to snort mine. I’d always told myself that snorting was less harmful than injecting, and there was the extra bonus of no track marks for anyone to detect.

  As I tried to remember what had happened, I came up with a dim memory of another chick joining us. A black girl with a sexy body and an alluring smile. I fucked both of them—raw dog—and gave them both oral sex.

  Goddamn, I’m immoral and nasty as hell when I get high!

  I shook my head in self-disgust. My freak-level went through the roof when drugs were in my system, and there was no telling what kind of STDs I’d picked up during my week-long binge.

  I worriedly dragged my fingers down my face as sharper memories surfaced. I recalled a full-on orgy that lasted for days and included a number of nameless and faceless women and men. I pondered the horror of going home and possibly passing a communicable disease on to Elle. I decided that it would be a good idea for the doctor to run a battery of tests on me before I was discharged.

  I racked my brain trying to remember everything that happened during those lost days before I was hospitalized, but I didn’t have any clear memories. In my confused mind, I only saw blurry images of a stream of junkies and drug dealers coming in and out of the apartment. Through the fog of my mind, I could recall clusters of drug paraphernalia, pills, heroin, cocaine, and empty liquor bottles everywhere.

  I recalled naked bodies entwined. Apparently, I had participated in a Caligula-style orgy.

  Then, it dawned on me that each time we ran out of drugs, I had allowed the two chicks to use my car to go get more. I also remembered handing over the bank card along with the PIN.

  Oh, my God! I had funded a drug marathon. I’d allowed a pack of bum-ass strangers to fuck up the money Elle had put aside for our upcoming wedding.

  In a sudden panic, I looked around my hospital room. Where was my shit—my wallet, key fob, and my fucking cell phone? Frantic, I buzzed for the nurse, and the moment she stepped inside the room, I demanded my personal belongings.

  She opened a drawer and took out a small plastic bag. “You didn’t arrive here with much. Only this,” she said, pointing to my wallet that was encased inside the plastic bag.

  Panicked, I seized the bag and tore through my wallet, searching for Elle’s bank card. My heart plummeted when I realized it wasn’t there. In fact, my wallet was empty except for a few old business cards and my work identification. Those motherfuckers had stolen my driver’s license, registration and insurance cards…everything of value.

  “What about my phone and my car keys? Were they in my pockets?” I inquired in a shaky voice.

  “You only had a wallet on you when you got here,” she reiterated solemnly.

  Anguished, I covered my face with my hands.

  Hopefully, Elle had put a freeze on the card before those bastards had managed to deplete all of the money.

  Where was my car? Did I stupidly exchange it for heroin? Was some unscrupulous drug dealer wheeling around in my silver Dodge Charger right now?

  Elle had co-signed for the car, and she was going to be stunned and outraged by my recklessness and sheer stupidity.

  The nurse handed me two miniature cups that contained pills. I didn’t bother to ask what I was taking. It really didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except making amends with Elle.

  After the nurse left my room, I held my head in my hands and let out a long, anguished groan. Once again my life was ruined, and there was no one to blame except myself. In the midst of my pity party, I was taken off guard when Elle suddenly strolled through the door.

  “Why?” she demanded as she pulled a chair close to my bed. “Do you realize you almost died?”

  I nodded grimly. “I fucked up, baby, and I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” She shook her head incredulously. “The police located the car…”

  “Thank God,” I said with audible relief.

  “A pair of twenty-year-olds were driving it…and apparently living out of it after they wrecked it. The driver’s side is smashed in and so is the rear. The trunk and backseat was filled with all kinds of trash, empty beer bottles, and all sorts of clothes, blankets, and pillows.”

  “Baby, I’m sorry. I’ll get the car fixed.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Don’t concern yourself with car repairs. It’s in the shop, and after it’s fixed, I’m selling it.”

  I bit down on my lip and then nodded.

  “And there’s more bad news. You were fired. My father tried, but he couldn’t save your job.”

  I flinched. “I’ll start looking for something else immediately.”

  “I don’t understand, Malik. You were in recovery—doing fantastic. What happened?”

  Not having a p
lausible explanation, all I could do was shrug.

  “I don’t understand how you could go inside my purse and steal from our wedding fund? You spent thirty-six hundred dollars on drugs and probably would have completely wiped out the account if I hadn’t put a freeze on the card in the nick of time.”

  Feeling like scum, I dropped my head into both of my hands, and sat there like that.

  “In most instances, the bank would cover theft, but not when the culprit is your fiancé who has access to the card,” she said with disgust.

  I raised my head and looked her in the eyes. I wanted her to see the full scope of my remorse. “I was dead wrong, Elle. But I only meant to take a couple hundred, and I planned to put it back before you realized it was gone.”

  “That doesn’t make it right, Malik.”

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  “I truly believed that your drug use was behind us. I believed in you,” she said with her voice rising and tears beginning to flood her eyes. “I realize now that I don’t know what you’re capable of. After you made love to me that night, you told me you loved me more than life itself. But apparently that was a lie. You love drugs much more than you’ll ever love me.”

  “That’s not true. Elle. Please—”

  “Please what? Give you another chance?” She made a scoffing sound. “I’ve called off the wedding, Malik. I can’t do this anymore—it’s humiliating. You’ve done rehab, you attend recovery meetings, and I don’t know what else can be done for you. You made a decision to throw your life away, and I refuse to allow you to take me down with you.”

  “I wish I could make you understand what it’s like when that need overpowers me.”

  “I don’t care what it’s like. Not anymore. You blew through money that I worked hard to save, and you almost killed yourself with that fake fentanyl that you took. I don’t want to ever go through this kind of ordeal again.”

  I scowled, once again trying to remember taking fentanyl, and I finally concluded that the heroin I snorted must have been laced with it.