The first book in the series chronicles the lives of businesswoman Angel Dominguez, and gang leader Jack âDJâ Johnson.
THE STREET
In 2014, Angel Dominguez was a business protĂ©gĂ© with a bright future. Jack âDJâ Johnson was head of the Las Vegas Kings, a black and Latino and gang ruling the streets of Vegas. On the day he proposed to Angel, the two devised a plan to move the Kings into the world of legitimate money, but a legendary night of murder tore them apart.
2021. Now a billionaire, Angel tries to inspire DJ from the shadows. Discovering Angel's presence, DJ confronts her. It doesnât take long for their love to reignite. Yet, to finish what they started, DJ must deal with a mysterious Mexican drug cartel thatâŠ
ILLUMINATI
Illuminati Supreme Crown Malcolm Rothschild is the most powerful man on earth. Sekhmet âMotherâ Ra is the most powerful woman. Presidents and rulers bow at their feet. Media, banks, and nations obey their every command.
With each kingdom positioned for the greatest war mankind has ever known, Motherâs psychopathic son Monsta is planning to make the first move. In response, Rothschild dispatches his daughter Olivia to Americaâa modern-day Josef Mengele.
The first book in the series chronicles the lives of businesswoman Angel Dominguez, and gang leader Jack âDJâ Johnson.
THE STREET
In 2014, Angel Dominguez was a business protĂ©gĂ© with a bright future. Jack âDJâ Johnson was head of the Las Vegas Kings, a black and Latino and gang ruling the streets of Vegas. On the day he proposed to Angel, the two devised a plan to move the Kings into the world of legitimate money, but a legendary night of murder tore them apart.
2021. Now a billionaire, Angel tries to inspire DJ from the shadows. Discovering Angel's presence, DJ confronts her. It doesnât take long for their love to reignite. Yet, to finish what they started, DJ must deal with a mysterious Mexican drug cartel thatâŠ
ILLUMINATI
Illuminati Supreme Crown Malcolm Rothschild is the most powerful man on earth. Sekhmet âMotherâ Ra is the most powerful woman. Presidents and rulers bow at their feet. Media, banks, and nations obey their every command.
With each kingdom positioned for the greatest war mankind has ever known, Motherâs psychopathic son Monsta is planning to make the first move. In response, Rothschild dispatches his daughter Olivia to Americaâa modern-day Josef Mengele.
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"2014"
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LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Traffic along Paradise Road was heavier than usual for a Friday night, DJ thought. That was a good thing. It meant police were less likely to fuck with him, choosing instead to focus on actual crime. He lowered the stereoâs volume. âLeft on Flamingo?â
âTropicana,â Raul said as he lounged in the Escaladeâs backseat, sipping from a pint of Hennessy. âThen a right on Tamarus.â
âAâight.â
âIâm starving, ese,â Jason said.
Raulâs older brother, and DJâs best friend, Jason reclined in the front passenger seat, a Raiders fitted down to his brow. Window open, he flicked ashes from a Marlboro into the breath of night, watching as the tourists danced about the Vegas Strip like starry-eyed children at Disneyland.
âWhite-boys be haveân all kinds of food,â Raul said.
âIf not, Iâll stop somewhere on the way back,â DJ said.
Jason pulled on the Marlboro, blew the smoke out the window. âSimĂłn.â
The three were headed to the house of UNLV film student Robbie Baldwin. Raul had met him at a campus party five months ago. Introduced by a coke sniffing senior, he sold Robbie thirty tabs of ecstasy that night. And like most college kids who wanted to get highâbut feared venturing into the barrio to buy their drugsâRobbie happily overpaid. Since then, he had become Raulâs campus middleman, supplying a handful of student dealers everything from ecstasy and molly, to coke, weed, and heroin.
DJ rarely transported drugs in his vehicle, but on two occasions the dashboardâs hidden compartment had proven reliable. A seasoned canine unit might have better luck, but DJ knew they never visited the campus area. He attended two business classes during the day, was familiar with the roaming patterns of campus security. Cruisers tended to park in front of the buildings, the male guard posted curbside talking to students. Typically, females. Otherwise, they spent their time roaming campus parking lots and garages.
At night, the same guards occasionally harassed individuals they considered suspicious. DJ heard stories of young black and brown males pulled over and illegally searched. Just in case, he kept his paperworkâclipped to his lawyerâs business cardâon the visor. Not only was Jonathan Wright one of the top defense attorneys in Vegas, but his firmâs civil division feasted off a good lawsuit. The sight of his card forced real cops to take three steps back.
âThis a house?â Jason asked Raul.
âBachelor pad for the movie vatos,â Raul said. âA lot of âem are from L.A. Be livin off their parentâs feria (money).â
âSee them type of niggas every day,â DJ said. âBe taking seven years to get a three-year degree.â
âAny chicĂĄs?â Jason asked.
âSimĂłn,â Raul said. âHeâs a big deal director. Bitches be there all the time.â
When they arrived, Robbie met them outside with a welcoming grin. âLetâs go âround back.â
The group marched along the side walkway, trotting up the rear staircase. Inside the kitchen, Raul asked, âWhatâchu got to eat, homz? My brotherâs hungry.â
Robbie got them Heineken and two slices of meat loverâs pizza from a Pizza Hut box. The four made light conversation before Robbie and Raul stepped into a nearby bedroom to conduct business.
As Jason used the microwave to reheat the pizza, DJ swigged the beer and took a seat at the counter.
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*****
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Angel Dominguez knew she was in trouble. Seated on the couch between Stephen and Jacob, the once friendly conversation had taken an unexpected turn for the worse. They were no longer discussing campus activities, her MBA, or plans after graduation. The two men now used explicit language to compliment her beauty. Compliments she had initially fended off with classy retorts; but as the barrage continued, those classy retorts had slowly morphed into slurred speech. Her thoughts now came in... chopped... fragments... of...
Youâre drunk, she thought. Really drunk. But how?
She had followed her one shot, one cup of beer minimum. The buzz was always just enough to relax and stem her social anxiety. Occasionally, she drank wine instead, but even then, it was manageable.
Is it a foreign beer? she wondered hazily. No, when Cindy gave her the cup, she said it was Corona. Came from a keg of Corona. But Corona had never made her feel so mentally sloppy, helpless. And she felt mentally helpless, sloppy. Even now, as she fought to steer the ship, she was telling Jacob about her mother, Gwendolyn. How everyone said she looked like Salma Hayek, and perhaps that was where she obtained her lusciously round ass.
Why am I discussing my ass? Why am I laughing? Why am I acting as if Iâm having the time of my life?
Stephen said, âIâm gonna stick my cock in that ass.â
âOh, really?â She didnât mean to say that. She meant to scold him because his reply was lewd.
Iâm not being lewd. Where are the other girls that were supposed to be coming?
At last count, it was still only her and Cindy. They had been early. Max, the guy who rented the house, said others would arrive shortly. But no one yet. Except for a bunch of other guys.
Where was Cindy, anyway?
A senior, Cindy had befriended her during one of their weekly finance classes, complimenting her on the outfit she wore, saying how beautiful she was, and the incredible shape of her body. Angel thought her nice, thought it refreshing to meet someone not intimidated by her genius. Not to mention, she had found Cindy incredibly attractive, especially her long legs. The two eventually got around to discussing the bisexuality that drew them together.
Wednesday, Cindy suggested Angel skip her usual Friday night of studyâForeign Exchange and Tradeâand go to dinner. Afterward, they could watch a movie at Cindyâs place.
Tonight, following dinner at Royâs Hawaiian restaurant, Cindy changed their plans. She first wanted to stop by the party of a movie director friend, Max. An aspiring actress, Cindy said she had lots of friends in the industry.
Upon their arrival, Cindy handed her a cup of beer and said she needed to talk to Max in private. Initially, Angel thought to decline the beer, but she didnât want to seem stuck up, as if the plastic cup were beneath her. Thatâs when Stephen and Jacob stepped in, offered to keep her company. Angel had not seen Cindy since.
She suddenly wondered if her parents were awake. Wondered how disappointed they would be to see her like this.
The song on the stereo changed for what felt like the millionth time. Rock. Not loud, but not low either. Enough that she needed to raise her sultry voice when speaking... slurring.
Stephen was from Montreal, Canada, and midway through a Masterâs in Sociology. The first to approach, he said he was a member of the lacrosse team. Tall, blonde, fit, Angel found him extremely attractive.
Jacob was medium height and average looking. A Los Angeles native, he claimed his father was a well-known Hollywood agent who represented Tom Cruise and Jennifer Lawrence. Heâd been super nice, respectful, engaging, but that all changed in the last ten minutes when he tried to kiss her three times.
âWhoa there,â Angel had said, reeling back at his first attempt. âUh, no thanks.â
She thought her response appropriate, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Jacob apologized; said he had misread the signs. She told him not to worry; it was okayâthings happened when people drank.
Minutes later, he tried again. But she had forgotten to reel back. After a brief discussion about her tenseness and need to relax, Stephen offered to give her a massage. Her coltish acceptance came with a warning of no funny business. He had since drawn closer, digging fingers along her shoulders.
Inwardly, Angel panicked. Yet it was not translating. She was smiling, laughing, and appeared to be enjoying herself, her eyes closing, her throat spilling groans of pleasure the deeper he drove his fingers. And those strong fingers betrayed her, carrying her body to a place of desire, her mind disappearing into a dreamlike realm of touch, want, hunger.
Suddenly, she could hear the voice of her beloved tĂo, Javy. âNever accept a drink from anyone.â
But she had accepted. Now dream and reality twisted through a theatrical rendition of blur.
Why are you not resisting?
In a rush of oblivion, her thoughts faded as the ability to talk, to respond, was no longer available.
When Jacob placed a hand on her knee, Angel eyed him lazily and tried to say, âPlease, stop.â Needed to say it. Could not say it. As he moved his hand between her thighs, her mind dreamt of screams to, âStop!â
But it was only a dream.
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*****
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DJ continued to watch the scene unfold. It went against everything he learned about Angel during the last year. In the two classes they shared, she had always presented herself as a classy, young, professional Latina. But there she was, sitting in the corner with two white-boys. Not just sitting, but giggling as one of them felt her up.
Insanely beautiful, she was extremely overdressedâas usualâwearing a red business suit and skirt, black nylons, and designer heels. The same type of outfit from class. Outfits that had even Professor Franklin drooling like a pervert. The other students, tired from partying all night, came to class in T-shirts, flip-flops, and tennis shoes. Not Angel. She always strolled in looking like a corporate CEO.
The finest chick DJ had ever laid eyes on, she was maybe five-oneâthe heels made it hard to gaugeâwith round, above average breasts, and a bubble ass that murdered any dress or skirt she wore. The story heâd heard in and around class was that she was a business prodigy who graduated high school early, fifteen or sixteen, and had gone straight to college. By the time they crossed paths, sheâd been there a few years.
During weekly critiques sessions, in which students picked apart each otherâs work, it became routine to watch her destroy the entrepreneurial dreams of Shark Tank wannabes. Her analyses were so brutal, Professor Franklin nicknamed her Ms. Wonderful. Although DJ barely knew her, except for the fact heâd been one of her class kills, he respected Angel.
As she and the white-boys laughed it up, DJ thought, What a waste. Only a matter of time before one or both had a dick in her.
âSheâs in my class,â DJ said.
Seated next to him, Jason gulped the beer. âBad motherfucker.â He nodded toward the four guys standing off to the side. âVatos about to run a train.â
DJ didnât like the image of her being pounded out like a common whore. But Jason was right. From this angle, the entire scene appeared normal. Normal because, based on what they were looking at, Jason was right. College bitches fucked all the time. Sometimes one on one. Sometimes drugs and alcohol turned it into a gangbang.
Maybe she drank too much? Maybe she ainât trying to go out like that?
It didnât matter. DJ wasnât going to play the hero. There was a process to life. Even if she was sloppy drunk, it was a choice. And like the choiceâs niggas made, good or bad, bitches had to live with the consequences. Nature had run its courseâpredator and prey.
But the shit wasnât adding up. Not once had Angel presented herself with heat, as though a freak lay beneath her corporate persona. Not the kind whoâd bang a house full of guys. She was a nerd. A fine ass nerd, but still a nerd.
He wondered if he was hating on them. Like every guy in class, DJ had wanted to fuck Angel since the first day he laid eyes on her. Most had asked her out. Word was sheâd shot them down cold. Told them she needed to focus on her studies. That she was all about her studies.
So much for her studies.
DJ turned his attention to Raul and Robbie. The two had finished their transaction and stood in the hallway, talking. Raul motioned for them to come over. DJ got up, eyed the living room once more. Angel laughed, her head swaying side to side. Just then, one guy placed her hand on his junk. She didnât remove it.
Predator and prey.
When he and Jason stepped into the hallway, DJ noticed three different guys posted outside another door. Slightly open, it set across the hall from the room Raul and Robbie had exited. Different music boomed from inside: Heavy metal. Most of the frat houses were constructed the same way. Rooms originally built as dens, offices, and storage areas, became bedrooms, allowing the owners to charge ridiculous amounts for rent.
âWhatâs up?â Jason asked.
Raul presented a condom. âGonna fuck this white bitch real quick.â
âShe ainât white,â DJ said, a tinge of anger in his voice. âSheâs one of us.â
âUh, I hate to disagree with you, big guy,â Robbie said, âbut sheâs white.â
âHow the fuck you gonna tell me, nigga.â DJ pointed toward the living room. âHer nameâs, Angel Dominguez.â
âWhoa, whoa, whoa.â Robbie raised his hands in a calming manner. âIâm not talking about her. Iâm talking about Cindy.â
He pushed the other door open. Atop the roomâs only bed, two guys fucked a white girl from front to back. Robbie grinned. âYou guys can go next.â
Not wanting any problems, the guys in the hallway nodded in agreement.
âFuck that bitch.â DJ again turned his attention to the living room. âShe fucking like that?â
âAinât never seen her before.â Robbie motioned to the girl in the bedroom. âCame with Cindy. She wants to be in my next film. Auditioned a month agoâin the living room. Afterward, she hung out with me and my producer, Stan. We did lines of coke, got to talking movies, acting, shit like that. Next thing you know sheâs on her knees. We ended up fucking the shit out of her.â Robbie chuckled nervously. âAnyway, she shows up a week later with a chick from school. Had like four of my buddies here. Her friend was cool, drank, got high, but sorta let it be known she wasnât fucking. Thatâs when Cindy gave her a special drink.â
DJ snatched him by the throat, pinning him to the wall. âYou saying she spiked her drink?â
When his three friends took a step forward, Raul pulled up his shirt, revealing the nine-millimeter. âKickback, fools.â
Robbie struggled to breathe, his pink face quickly becoming beet red. âI... I didnât make her do it.â
DJ threw him to the ground and bolted into the living room.
The wolf pack surrounded the couch, blocking his view.
âPull âem down and push her knees forward,â a voice said. âYouâll be able to slide right in.â
DJ stepped between them.
Out cold, Angel lay on the couch. One guy had mounted her thighs but appeared unsure of what to do next. The other knelt near her head, his junk inches from her face as he tried to open her mouth.
DJ snatched him by the hair and threw him to the ground. He then spun around and kicked the other guy in the face. Blood gushed from his broken nose as his body stiffened, falling backward off the couch. Unconscious, his calves lay against the armrest like a stuffed doll.
âWhat the fuck, man,â the guy said whose hair he pulled. He had jumped to his feet and taken a jittery fighting stance.
DJ closed the distance between them and backhanded him to sleep.
âThatâs my frat brother!â Another guy barked.
Tall and muscular, like most inexperienced fighters, he stepped forward with his hands down, as if talking tough was the same as being tough. DJ crushed the bridge of his nose with a jab. He followed it with a straight left, knocking him out. The sight of their giant friend hitting the ground caused the others to step back.
DJ scooped Angel into his arms. âWhereâs her shit!?â
One guy, his left leg shaking, pointed to a black bag on the coffee table. âUh, she came in the black MercedesâSUV.â
âIf any of her shit is missing, Iâm gonna come back here and kill you motherfuckers.â
All shook their heads, confirming they had stolen nothing from the bag.
âYou and my brother are cool, ese,â Jason told Robbie. âBusiness as usual. But you betta let your homies know what it is. Cops come looking for mĂ hermanoâŠâ he motioned to DJ. âAnd mĂ famĂlĂa gonna come looking for them.â
Jason didnât say another word. He didnât have to. Robbie would take it from there. Heâd tell his friends about the infamous Abregon family and the local gangs, all while explaining how lucky they were to still be alive.
Outside, DJ gently set Angel in the back of the Escalade as Jason fished car keys from her bag and handed them to Raul.
Twenty minutes later, both vehicles eased into the darkened carport of DJâs house. He carried Angel inside, placed her onto his bed, took off her shoes, and covered her with a blanket.
He stepped into the living room, lit a Newport, and took a long drag. âCouldnât let them do her like that. Real talk, I feel like going back and smokeân that bitch.â
âRelax, homz,â Jason said. âNeed to figga out whatâchu gonna do with la chicĂĄ?â
âGonna let her sleep it off.â
âHopefully, she donât wake up crazy.â
âHopefully.â DJ sat on the couch and took another drag. âTake my truck. Weâll hook up in the morning.â
After they left, DJ kicked off his Jordanâs and lay on the couch. He didnât know why, but he felt relieved knowing they drugged her, that his perfect image of her was still intact.
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*****
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Awakened by the sudden squeak of the bedroom door, DJ opened his eyes and sat up. Shirtless, he clicked the table lamp on, glimpsed the clock above the TV. 4:05 a.m.
He eyed the hallway. Even with frayed hair and a crinkled skirt, Angel looked flawless.
She stared at him for a long moment before stepping closer. âJack? Jack Johnson?â
The sound of her voice sent a wave of electricity shooting through his body. âYeah,â DJ said, standing up.
She took a step back.
He raised hands to calm her. âItâs okay, youâre safe.â
âHow did I get here?â
âWhat do you remember?â
âCindy and I... we stopped by a friendâs house. Her friendâs house. A movie guy.â Angel eyed the carpeted floor. âSheâs an actress. I was waiting for her, and....â
DJ saw it in her eyes. The memory was slowly returning.
âStarted talking to some guys...â she continued, looking up at DJ. âNow Iâm here.â
âShe spiked your drink for them.â
Angel wrapped arms around her body, dropped her gaze, expecting the worse.
âNothing happened,â he said. âGot there right when you blacked out. Recognized you.â He motioned to the recliner beside her. âHave a seat.â
She did.
He went into the kitchen, returned with a glass and a can of Red Bull. He filled the glass, handed it to her.
Angel drank and set the glass on her lap. âWhy?â
âWhy what?â
âWhy save me? We donât really know one another.â
âTruth is, I thought you were partying and got wasted. Almost stayed out of it.â
âBut you didnât.â
He eyed the Newport box, decided against lighting up. âYouâve always been polished. The guy we went to see told us what she did.â He shrugged. âAll I needed was a reason.â
âI should call the police.â
âWas hoping you wouldnât say that.â
âWhy? They nearly raped me,â she said.
âYeah, but I knocked three of them out.â He looked away. âI sorta have a history of knocking niggas out.â
âI can testify. Tell them what happened.â
âCanât stop you, but I donât need the heat.â
DJ wanted to tell her he did three years in prison for putting a guy in a coma. Was on parole for the incident. Calling the police constituted police contact. The only thing his parole officer would focus on was the three guys he put to sleep. In parole terms, it was an act of violence. He could hear the asshole now. Why didnât you simply call the police? What were you doing there in the first place? Who were you with? DJ knew heâd be violated.
Angel sipped the glass and huffed. It wasnât an angry huff. More like a âwe need to find a solution to the rapist problem,â huff. She stood, took a contemplative posture, like the one used during her critique sessions. âWell, how do you suppose we keep it from happening to someone else? I couldnât live with myself if they harmed another girl because I did nothing.â
âTake three of my niggas. See who you need to see. Threaten who you need to threaten.â
âAnd what makes you think theyâll heed my warning?â
âBecause they will.â
She took another drink, eyed him curiously. âVery well. The least I can do is avoid causing you any problems. Iâll take your friends to confront the loser whose house it was. Perhaps that will suffice.â
DJ grinned inside. That was the Angel he knew: poised, determined, a fucking badass.
âMy tĂo told me never to accept a drink from anyone,â she said.
âSmart dude.â
âSmartest person Iâve ever known. He passed away.â
âSorry to hear that. Pretty sure heâd want you to pick better friends.â
âI agree.â Angel straightened her posture, walked up to him. âI can assure you, Jack, it will never happen again.â
DJ towered above her. âMy friends call me DJ.â
âI prefer Jack if thatâs alright with you.â
You can call me whatever you want.
âJackâs cool.â
Angel stepped in, wrapped arms around his waist, hugged him tightly. âThank you so much.â
It was then she wept.
Warning: This book contains scenes of graphic violence, rape, and sex.
Setting the scene is young Angel at a party sandwiched between two college boys. She has a good start to become a successful businesswoman. Her uncle left her inheritance with each milestone. Such as graduating. And then graduating with honors. Her tio taught her business foundations, In the beginning, she seems reserved and timid. But I learn of her sharp mind in her dialogue with DJ. He saves her from an attempted gang rape without resorting to violence. DJ is known as the head of the Las Vegas Kings. They met in business class. They spend more together and fall in love. He proposes to her. Their happiness is short-lived because DJ's best friend Jason is murdered. He inflicts a massacre as street justice. Innocent people are murdered. There will be repercussions and he must leave Angel behind. Angel travels to Dubai and works her way to becoming a billionairess.
I liked that a self-made woman of color is featured. But there were some typos such as malice instead of malicious. Also, there's the part where Joshua mistook her for Kim Kardashian Angel says "sorry to disappoint", and then later shows contempt for reality TV in a later scene at the boutique falls flat. I did not like the reference. I don't find it believable that Kim could pass for a Latina. And besides, she gets enough exposure. Also, The crude description of a woman's genitals was not necessary to convey that DJ has been with a lot of women.
Reading The Street Illuminati I was enjoying a sprinkling of the Jackie Collins vibe. And then the second half begins and I am thrown into a new world. Malcolm, Mother, Monsta, Isha, and Olivia are introduced. It was overwritten and confusing. And it took me out of the story. It probably belongs in urban fiction. Looking back The Street Illuminati will be niche because it is not for a general audience.