In this heart-pounding sequel to the explosive novel Kiss the Ring, Naeema “Queen” Cole races against the clock to figure out who attacked her man and why—before it’s too late.
Life finally seems to have calmed down for Naeema “Queen” Cole. After she brought down the Make Money Crew, Newark’s most notorious bank robbing gang, she was able to make peace with the son she never knew. His memory is even starting to feel like a blessing, rather than a curse. She and her on-again off-again husband Tank are back on and stronger than ever. But just when she thought she could put away her undercover identity as “Queen” and just be Naeema, Tank is attacked while out on a job guarding a high-profile celebrity.
Everyone thinks it was the celebrity who the target, but Naeema knows the attack was personal. With Tank in critical condition and everyone else looking in all the wrong places, it’s up to her to find out which of Tank’s enemies would dare to mess with her man.
Hailed for her “fast-paced action, sizzling erotic sex, and a heartwarming kick-ass heroine,” (Publishers Weekly), Meesha Mink is back with another thrilling tale following Naeema on the hunt for a killer, because she’ll die before she lets anyone take away her king.
All Hail the Queen Prologue Murder was nothing new to her.
Naeema “Queen” Cole had given birth to one life but had taken many more than that in the name of revenge. Still, the first loud echo of a gun being shot into the night caused life’s motion to slow down.
“Tank!” she cried out from her spot in the crowd in front of the movie theater as the bullet entered the shoulder of the man she loved.
His body jerked as he fell forward, closing the double-parked SUV’s passenger door from the bullet’s force.
POW! POW! POW!
She gasped as each bullet pierced his flesh. His thigh. His stomach. His chest.
The crowd lining the streets outside the theater screamed, ran, or ducked for cover. Naeema climbed over the red velvet ropes that corralled the movie premiere’s onlookers. Her heart pounded as she rushed across the short distance, not caring if more bullets flew as she reached Tank. She caught his bloodied body just as it slid down the side of the car. Her knees gave out under the weight of his tall, solid frame but she did not—would not—let him go.
“Help! Somebody help,” Naeema screamed, looking around at those people still boldly standing around staring down at them.
“Na,” Tank moaned, turning his face against her body as he winced in pain.
Love for him filled her and she felt breathless with emotion. Naeema pressed her lips to his sweating brow. “I’m here. I got you. I’m here,” she assured him in a fervent whisper against the backdrop of the sirens growing louder in the air.
She clasped the side of his face as she looked down into the pain flooding his dark eyes. She bit back a gasp at the sight of the handprint she made against his cheek. The blood on her hands from his soaked shirt was sticky, wet, and warm. Tank’s blood signaled his imminent death.
“Please God, no,” Naeema begged in a whisper, nearly choking at the thought of losing him. Tears filled her eyes blurring her vision.
She reached up with one hand to pound on the passenger door as she fought to remain rational and not let panic diminish her senses. She needed help. Tank needed help.
The driver’s seat of the double-parked SUV Tank exited was still empty but the local rap artist, Fevah, he was hired to protect and her entourage of three friends were still all inside. “Open this fucking door,” Naeema roared, pounding hard enough for darts of pain to shoot across her entire hand.
Anger was an added layer to the myriad of emotions engulfing her as the door remained closed to them but she was flooded with relief as an ambulance screeched to a halt behind the Tahoe. She pressed kisses to his face. “Hold on, Tank. Don’t you dare leave me now,” she whispered in his ear in the moments before they took him from her.
As she sat in the street surrounded by the blood of the man she loved, her soul wavered between feeling as empty as her arms at the thought of losing him forever and a fiery anger that would only be quenched at finding out who shot Tank and why.
Whoever the guilty party was just invited hell into their lives.
Meesha Mink is the bestselling and award-winning author of more than thirty books written under three names, including the Real Wifeys series and co-authoring the explosive Hoodwives trilogy. She was born and raised in Newark, New Jersey, and lives in South Carolina. For more information, please visit MeeshaMink.com.
"A well laid out plot spiced with wild sex . . . Mink’s books are the real deal."
– Kirkus Reviews
"Mink’s energy and grit make it a fun read.”
– Juicy Magazine
"The Real Wifeysseries tells the tales of strong female characters who overcome obstacles while standing by or getting over the men that they love."
“Mink’s brisk combination of insult, profanity, and pop culture is what street lit is all about. . . . Another powerful story of women orbiting the hip-hop world. . . Luscious is both a villain and a heroine whom readers will embrace. Order in anticipation of high demand.”
– Library Journal
“A gritty new urban series with a down and dirty intensity that’s heartbreaking.”
– Publishers Weekly
“Unexpected storylines. . . Very realistic. . . A quick read with an engaging main character.”
– Huffington Post
"Unforgettable, shocking, and filled with sassiness. Bravo!"
– Cydney Rax, author of Brothers and Wives
“Mink gives Kaeyla a snappy and profane voice laced with sarcasm. . . . Female readers will love her, but men may want to check their own woman’s purse for taser wires. Load your shelves with multiple copies.”