Don't Feed The Ratz

By Phillip Ford

Geoffrey Wilcox, aka Geo, is a convicted felon who, after doing eight years in a federal facility, has been released and is on a mission to find and punish those responsible for the death of his loving mother and daughter. He soon links up with someone who would change his life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662480898

Book preview

cover.jpg

Don't Feed The Ratz

Phillip Ford

Copyright © 2022 Phillip Ford

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8081-2 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8089-8 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

Welcome Back

Grand Opening of MJ Motors

A Start of an Ending

Even the Sun Shines Up a Dog's Ass Sometimes

Two Days Before Gala and Three Weeks 'til Elections

Sometimes You Have to Call Your Own Plays

The Votes Are In and the Winner Is…

Everyone Must Be Held Accountable

Part 2

Geo's Revenge

About the Author

Dedication

I would like to first thank God for keeping me breathing to take this new journey. I would also like to give thanks to my parents for bringing me into this world; without you two, none of this would be possible, so I thank you (RIP). Pops, I know you're looking down on me.

I want to acknowledge the support that my sisters, brothers have shown me throughout this whole process when I was just reading the works of other authors. They would tell me I should write my own. And they continued to push me forward until I gave in and started to put the pen to the paper. So I would like to give a shoutout: to my oldest sister, Angela Moore, for always being there for us all, for just being you.

To my little sister, Rashaan Ford, for always being there for me and steady pushing me to follow my dreams to become a writer. Because of support and encouragement, I made it happen a reality.

Shoutout to my oldest brother, Reginald Dixon, for keeping us all together as a family, even though you have your own to raise. Thanks. My brother, Darryl Moore, for always keeping it real with me. No matter where life took you, you've continued to root me on and say you're proud of me, and I thank you.

To my second oldest brother, Tony Dixon (Big Grezzy), I would like to thank you, brother, for the many things you have thought me in life, for the support you constantly give in any endeavor. I thank you.

To my little brother, Malik Adside, keep being who you are and follow your dreams.

Marcus Ford, what can I say! You've always been the family man in the family, and watching how you raise and support your kids made me grow closer to my own, and I thank you.

Last, but not least: giving a big shoutout to my sister, Sue Wheeler, for her huge support. We used to have a book club which inspired me to write. I thank you.

To my kids, Phillip Ford (the oldest), Janiah Ford (the youngest), just wanted to let you know that I do this for y'all and to show you both that any and all things are possible. You just have to believe it, and you'll achieve it. Follow your dreams, and they will come true. Finally, giving a shoutout to all my nieces and nephews, cousins, friends, including my street fam. Thank you all for being in my life, and hope you enjoy the book.

Prologue

Today marks a huge victory for the City of Buffalo, where earlier this morning the DEA, the FBI, in conjunction with the DA's office, conducted predawn raids on houses, businesses of members of the notorious, sophisticated group called the Politicians. We were told that at one point during the raid on one of the houses, shots were exchanged between agents and the suspects. No word on the outcome as of yet, but we do know they have twenty persons in custody, have confiscated one ton of cocaine, other narcotics, along with large amounts of currency and guns. The DA's office will be holding a press conference at six. Signing off, I'm Jerry Holds.

Eight months prior

FBI Headquarters

Special agent in charge of the Buffalo field, Jim Hagen, walked into one of the five briefing rooms inside the Federal building located downtown just behind city hall. He was here today to meet with an informant, her lawyer, about her involvement in a high-profile case. Once inside, Jim was greeted by ADA Pam Cook, representing the DA's office, William Pratt of the Chicago branch of the DEA, and, of course, the informant and her lawyer.

Jim had been with the bureau for twenty-plus years, and he had seen his share of the lies, betrayal, and violence associated with the criminal elements; he, too, was a recipient of a bullet to the left hip during a hostage crisis gone wrong, which left him with a permanent limp, confining him to desk duty. So when he came across the file in his desk, he looked it over, decided to at least hear them out. At first, he thought about just passing it along to another colleague, but a second look showed him that if this lady was really connected to this group, then it was just what he needed to take the director's seat. He plopped down in a large chair and placed a few folders in front of him labeled Confidential.

Okay, ladies, gentlemen. Before we get to the reason we are here, I would like to just go around the table, introduce one another. For those that do not know me, my name is Pamela Cook, and I am the assistant district attorney. I'll be deciding if my office will cut a deal or not regarding the authenticity of the CI testimony, of course.

The informant smirked at the way she used the term CI, as if she were just another rat going around telling on people. They would all soon find out that could not be further from the truth. Next up was William Pratt, who explained that he was there on behalf of the Chicago's involvement in an investigation into drug trafficking between the informant, the group in question.

"So that we are all on the same page, Ms. Payton here will be revealing everything she knows about these people, including her own involvement into murder, drug trafficking, and money laundering. And if she leaves out anything—I do mean anything—not only will there be no deal, but I'll personally lock her up for wasting my time. Silence. Well then, Mrs. Payton, can you tell us in your words…when did you first meet the Politicians?"

Yo, I am telling you I did all that! Cas, I even told the nigga he wouldn't find a better number than what we giving anywhere, plus I told him the price would drop even more depending on how many he's copping, Spaz said. He was amped up to the point of anxiousness, and he wanted any reason to use his gun. Nigga talking about he good on that situation, but for real, bro! Dude getting major bread over there, I say we run on him and end all that shit.

They were referring to a rival drug dealer named Spook. He got that name because of his big eyes bulging out of their sockets past the eyelids, and he looked like he was always scared. But he and a guy named Dale Carter ran a lucrative block that generated at least a hundred thousand a day. So when word got back to Cas, he sent Spaz on them to holler at the boy, Nah, fall back for now. We'll check that nigga temperature later.

He put the hit on hold until he ran into Dale, the one behind it all. Dale started out like any other hustler on the block, running packs for the neighborhood superstar. Back before he started, he used to be the errand boy for a few hustlers around the way, and he would make store runs and food pickups. If they felt like stunting for the hood, he would wash, detail their cars and bikes, until he met a guy named Ross, a tall, smooth, charismatic man with a slim build from Atlanta, Georgia, who at that time was fucking Dale's sister. So it was only right to spread some love to her brother, too, so he put Dale on with a pack of his own and showed him how to move it. It didn't take long for him to build a name for himself, especially if the dope was good! It usually sells itself; all you have to do is be available. Whenever Ross came to town to drop a bag for his sister, he would leave enough dope to last Dale until the next time he came to town. That was the last time Ross was ever seen again but not the last of Dale's hustle. After selling out the two bricks of cocaine, he and his sister put their money together, reached out to one of her exes, and never looked back.

When Spook saw Spaz park his car and start walking in his direction, his first reaction was to dip off in the trap house to avoid talking to him, but that would have given the impression that he feared him, which he did! Although he had money, shooters at his disposal did not change the fact that he was straight pussy. He also knew that if things did pop off now, he'd be forced to shut down his shop and miss money due to bringing heat to the block. So instead, he called Dale and explained to him what went down, what should be done.

I'm not feeling these dudes at all! What makes them think they can keep popping up here? Like, we aren't about that life. He was laying shit on thick, talking like he was born with that gangster DNA.

Dale had simply told him to not sweat it the next time they slid on the block to give him a call.

Welcome Back

Jazzy's Bar and Lounge wasn't the biggest bar in the city by far, but it did serve its purpose, like great food with top-shelf drinks at reasonable prices. They also held parties in the back section of the club for its VIP members. Tonight's event was for a hood legend named Troy, who once was a member of an infamous gang, Trauma Cartel. That ran a successful drug empire until they were dismantled eight years ago by the feds. He was one of the lucky ones to avoid the sweep when they came through, and his excuse was, he'd been OT, but some said he told on the crew. Since nobody could prove it, he remained free. Troy was celebrating a huge deal he closed on a commercial property that was going to generate millions in the years to come.

Umm, daddy, you taste good, Sam said before putting Troy's dick back in her mouth. She was leaned over in the VIP booth, giving head, while her sister, Kat, whispered into his ear, You know, we can do more things if we were to be alone. She then reached between her legs and stuck two fingers inside and started moaning. Troy was too far gone at that point and decided it was time to fuck, so he motioned to Donna, the manager on duty, and told her he was stepping out to close up tonight.

When the feds came and took everyone, Troy had switched up drastically, took to a low-profile life; that meant no more flashing big wads of cash, jewelry, and expensive cars. No one really knew his wealth. That was how he liked it—out of sight, out of mind. So he chose to let the women choose the spot to freak at instead of taking them to where he rested his head. The Red Carpet Inn was the destination, a low-key spot off the boulevard where you go if you wanted to creep without running into somebody from around the way. The rooms were cheap, no ID required. The room was tucked away off the back of the hotel, opposite the parking lot where the car was. After checking in, standing in front of the room they would be staying in, Troy had his hand inside Sam's tight-fitting leggings with a finger stuck in her asshole as she tried to open the door. Kat stood behind them, holding the handle of their small suitcase, texting on the phone. When they all entered the room, he and Sam were all over each other as she led him to the bed.

Okay, big boy! Save some energy for me, Kat said in her most convincing voice. I need to borrow her for a few moments while we freshen up a bit. I promise it's worth the wait.

Inside the small bathroom, the girls started to strip off their clothes and slip into their performance outfits. Kat chose a leopard-print bikini top with the matching panties, while Sam went with a baby-blue lace set with white fluffy heel slippers.

Bitch, don't forget why we're here. Let's get this nigga relaxed so we can get this over with. I don't need you doing extra shit.

I know the drill, hoe. No need to get all worked up, plus my period is coming, so there'll be no fucking unless he like ketchup on his hotdog.

They both broke out laughing, leaving the bathroom. Bro, you sure you want to do this yourself? I mean you have not even been out twenty-four hours, and you trying to get your hands dirty. Just let me wrap that gift up for you. It'll be like a welcome-home present.

I appreciate the love, my nigga! But I have to put in this work myself. It is personal. I've been waiting eight years for this.

*****

Agent Hagen shifted in his seat to take some pressure off his hip. He was just taken aback by the discovery of a man, who was released from prison and then committed murder on the same day. This could be interesting, he thought.

So what happened in that hotel? How did it lead up to killing someone?

The informant looked around the table at all the faces staring back, waiting for her to continue. She knew she had to say something but was not sure how without implementing herself. So she said what came to mind. I wasn't in the room at the time of the murder. I chose to wait in the car, they were only there to talk.

These feds can be very unpredictable, which is why she hoped no one saw through her bullshit.

Tell us about the two girls, who are they? And why were they there?

*****

Kat and Sam Rogers were two sisters from Dayton, Ohio, who raised themselves. Their mother left when the girls were infants, and after giving birth to them, she somehow checked herself out the hospital and never came back. She never even held them. No one knew who the father was! Not even their mother's family, so they were taken by their aunt only to have run away at the age of eleven. They did not like rules; after finding out that the woman who raised them was not their real mother, there was no reason to be there.

Seeing Troy lying across the bed in just his boxers and one sock on had the girls thinking, Who the fuck this nigga cross! They were contacted to do a job through a mutual friend. They were given a name and location on the target. No photo was available at the time, so they had to use their wit and charm to get close to him. As luck would have it, it was easy as a Sunday morning because once he laid eyes on the beautiful sisters, it was a wrap.

Sam slid in the bed and started messaging his chest and arms, while Kat took out some of the toys they brought with them. She took out some rope and tied both his feet together. Oh, y'all some freaky bitches, huh. Into that bondage, dominatrix shit, huh?

The girls just smiled and kept to the plan. Next, she pulled out handcuffs and cuffed him to the railing of the bed, grabbed the scissors, and cut off his underwear where his dick jumped nine inches in the air. Sam's pussy got wet when she saw that shit; she was the freaky sister. Kat caught the look and shook her head.

What now? Y'all just going to look at the dick or do something with it?

Just then, there was a knock on the door that startled him. Hold that thought, baby. We'll get to that, but first we took the liberty and got room service. Kat got up and went to open the door. Sam got out of the bed and moved to the bag on the nightstand.

Did somebody order room service? a voice with a heavy baritone asked.

Troy craned his neck toward the door when he heard him; he knew the voice, but the person behind it was doing time. Did these bitches slip me something? When the figure came into view, Troy instantly became angry. He knew why this man was here, and he felt embarrassed for having got caught sleeping with his pants down.

Hello, old friend. You a hard man to contact these days, no letters, no visits, not even a dime on my books. Is that any way to treat the motherfucker that fed you?

Geoffrey Wilcox, aka Geo, just came home after doing an eight-year bid for