You cannot check the Checker…. Part 1
Tasha smirked like she liked getting under Emanuel’s skin.
“Watching face?” she repeated, stepping closer, voice low and slick. “Boy, if I was watching face, you would know it.”
Emanuel leaned back against the kitchen counter, jaw tight, dark eyes locked on hers. The dim light from the stove hood cut sharp shadows across his face, making him look even more dangerous than usual. His white tee clung to his chest, and the gold chain around his neck glinted when he moved.
“You always got something smart to say,” he muttered.
“And you always got something to hide,” Tasha shot back.
That one landed.
The room went quiet for half a second.
Emanuel’s fingers drummed once against the marble counter before stopping completely. That told her enough. He was irritated… but more than that—he was nervous.
Tasha folded her arms. “So what’s really going on with Jules?”
“I said I got him.”
“You said that too fast.”
Emanuel pushed off the counter and stepped toward her, closing the distance until there was barely air between them. Tasha’s breath caught, but she refused to move.
“You ask too many questions,” he said, voice rough.
“And you lie too smooth.”
His hand came up, slow, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Soft. Dangerous. The kind of touch that made your body react before your mind could tell it not to.
“Careful, Tasha,” he murmured. “You keep pushing me like that…”
“Like what?” she whispered, chin lifting.
His thumb grazed her bottom lip, just enough to make her pulse jump.
“Like you want problems.”
Tasha looked at his mouth, then back at his eyes. “Maybe I do.”
For a second, it looked like he was about to kiss her—hard, reckless, the kind that would erase every warning sign between them.
But then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Both of them snapped their heads toward the front door.
Not a polite knock.
A pound.
The kind that came with bad news.
Emanuel’s whole body changed instantly. The heat vanished. His face went cold.
“Tasha,” he said quietly, “go in the bedroom.”
She frowned. “Who is that?”
“I said go.”
Another loud BANG rattled the door.
“EMANUEL!” a voice shouted from outside. “Open this damn door!”
Tasha recognized it immediately.
Jules.
But something about his voice was off—shaky. Panicked.
Emanuel cursed under his breath and reached behind the fruit bowl on the counter.
Tasha’s eyes widened when he pulled out a black handgun.
“Emanuel—”
“Bedroom. Now.”
Instead of moving, she stood frozen as he stalked toward the door, gun low at his side. He looked through the peephole, and every muscle in his back tensed.
He unlocked the door fast and yanked it open.
Jules practically stumbled inside.
He was breathing hard, hoodie half-zipped, blood smeared across the front of his shirt.
Tasha gasped. “Oh my God—”
“Shut the door!” Jules barked.
Emanuel slammed it and locked it just as headlights swept across the living room window.
Then tires screeched outside.
Jules bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “They followed me.”
Emanuel’s face darkened. “Who?”
Jules looked up, fear and fury in his eyes.
“Malik’s people.”
The name hit the room like a bomb.
Tasha’s stomach dropped.
Malik.
Nobody said his name unless they had to. Not in this city. Not after what happened last summer. Men had gone missing over less.
Emanuel grabbed Jules by the collar. “Why would Malik’s people be on you?”
Jules shoved his hand off. “Because that favor I did for you? It wasn’t clean.”
Tasha looked between them. “What favor?”
Neither man answered.
Then Jules looked straight at her.
“That package Emanuel had me move two weeks ago?” Jules said, voice grim. “It didn’t belong to him.”
Emanuel’s glare could’ve killed.
“Tighten up, Jules.”
“No, you tighten up,” Jules snapped. “Because now Malik thinks I stole from him. And if he thinks that, he definitely thinks you set it up.”
Outside, car doors slammed.
More than one.
Then came the heavy sound of boots on concrete.
Tasha’s heart started pounding.
“Emanuel…” she whispered.
He moved fast, grabbing Tasha by the wrist and pulling her behind him.
“Go lock the back patio door,” he ordered her. “Now.”
She rushed off, hands shaking.
Jules peered through the blinds and swore. “Three of ‘em. Maybe four.”
Emanuel cocked the gun.
“Nah,” he said coldly. “It’s five.”
Jules looked at him. “How the hell you know?”
Emanuel’s expression turned deadly calm.
“Because Malik never sends less than five when he wants somebody dead.”
Another hard BANG at the front door.
Then a voice boomed from outside:
“EMANUEL! You got ten seconds to hand over what belongs to Malik… or we coming in shooting!”
Tasha stood by the patio door, breath shallow, staring at the lock she had just turned.
Then she noticed something.
The curtain near the glass shifted.
A silhouette.
Someone was already in the backyard.
“Emanuel…” she said, barely above a whisper.
He turned.
The patio handle started to move.
Slowly.
Once.
Twice.
Then the glass exploded inward with a deafening CRASH—
And Tasha screamed.
This story immediately pulls you into a world of suspense, danger, and complex relationships. From my own experience reading thrillers, what makes a scene truly thrilling is the sense of immediacy and stakes, and this excerpt delivers that exquisitely. The dynamic between Tasha and Emanuel reveals a mix of attraction and mistrust, setting a rich emotional backdrop for the action. The tension spikes when Jules arrives in a panic, followed by Malik's men—a dangerous figure whose reputation clearly haunts everyone involved. The atmosphere of fear and uncertainty is palpable. This makes me think about the importance of character motivations and background in thrillers; knowing who Malik is and why his name is feared adds depth and mystery that keeps readers guessing. Also interesting is the use of setting—dim lighting, shadows, and a confined space like a kitchen and then the patio door—these details enhance the claustrophobic tension. It reminds me how thoughtful scene-setting can create mood and amplify suspense without needing lengthy descriptions. The pacing is another key component here: quick dialogue exchanges with sharp retorts build character relationships efficiently, while sudden loud bangs and the intrusion into a seemingly safe home drastically shift the tension level. This mirrors real-life stress when unexpected danger arrives unexpectedly, making the story relatable on an emotional level. Lastly, the concept of favors, stolen packages, and unclear loyalties taps into themes common to crime and mystery genres but with a fresh take through the characters’ interactions. For anyone writing or reading suspense, the blend of personal conflict and external threat is a formula that keeps the audience invested. Overall, this part of the story sets up many questions about trust, danger, and survival. I look forward to how these conflicts unravel and what secrets are revealed about Malik’s package and Jules’ involvement, which adds a compelling reason to follow the series.
