Chapter 7
All I Really Care About Is Two Glock 9s!
Scorpion sat tense in the Ford Excursion as it followed Felix’s limo on I-95. He knew about the four men in the Tahoe, but that wasn’t a problem because he hoped to have the element of surprise on his side. But for now he stayed back and followed the limo and Tahoe at a respectable distance, his .45 loaded in his lap. In the backseat, one of the mercenaries with a cut under his eye was loading the weapons and carefully placing one round in the chamber. All Scorpion had to do was take Felix’s girl and demand he hand over the drugs for her return. He clenched his fist when he thought of Neil Lofton. He thought he was joking when he told him the mission was over. At first he laughed, but when Lofton told him he knew about the CIA and Troublefield, only then did he fully understand what was going down. He knew he had to act fast before the FBI and CIA came after him. There was no way they could interfere with his plan. Even the rival crime boss was putting pressure on him for Felix’s death. In due time, Scorpion thought.
* * *
Menage arrived to his once stunning mansion. He was shocked by all the destruction he saw. The gate was gone, and in its place were orange cones and police crime-scene tape. Stepping out of his car, he looked down the street and toward the beach. It was quiet. Taking a deep breath, he took the Glock 9 from under his left arm. While making sure a round was in the chamber, he ducked under the yellow police tape. Walking up his driveway, he stopped at a dark stain. He knew it wasn’t oil; it had to be from the guy DJ shot. He chewed on his lip and started for his house. His stomach turned when he saw the damage done to his eight-thousand-dollar door. The lock and handle were blown away. When he stepped into the living room, he muttered something and nearly fell to his knees. All the furniture had been removed, but hundreds of bullet holes were all over the walls. He could see where some blood had seeped through the carpet and stained the floor underneath. The kitchen was the worst. Chandra had told him how Dwight said he found him in the kitchen lying in a pool of blood with Vapor by his side. He rubbed his nose when it started to itch and tears welled up in his eyes as he thought of Vigor. He got his mind together and went to his bedroom. It too, was empty, so he made a note to ask Felix where his stuff was.
In the bathroom, he put his Glock 9 on the black granite sink. He then got on his knees to open the slot under the sink. After two attempts he finally hit the switch to open the fake wall. Pressing the eject button, a small tape slid out of the box. Menage put the tape in his pocket, and he continued to look around when he heard a cracking noise coming from the living room. He quickly picked up his Glock and a second later he pulled out the other. He slowly moved toward the bedroom door as he heard the sound again. His fingers were tense on the triggers of the two Glocks. Stepping out of the bedroom, he slowly made his way down the hall with the Glocks leading the way. Trying to control his breathing, he put his back against the wall and held the Glocks at his side. He took a peek into the living room and smiled. The noise was coming from the plastic tarp over the shattered glass door.
When he returned to his car he looked back at his crib one last time before taking off, burning rubber from the rear tires. He couldn’t fight the feeling of being back on the scene, riding in the big body Benz, system pumping, rims gleaming. He ended up in Hialeah and stopped at a Jewelry store to buy an engagement ring for Chandra. So much was going through his mind. Maybe he should just move and say the hell with beef. Chandra and his seed were all that mattered. He would surprise her tonight and tell her he was out of the game and fuck the million dollar dream. He now realized he had something that no amount of money could buy—Chandra’s love.
Money would be no problem for them and knowing Felix, he’d drop a few mil for a wedding gift. He looked up through the sunroof and squinted from the sun. He wondered what Dwight would say once he saw him again. Gunning the S600 through a red light, he knew his life was headed for better days, and as usual, he used music to express his mood. “CD five, song two, volume max.” He slid the tinted windows up and took a sip from a bottle of Old English 800, covered by a brown bag as Snoop Dog’s “Doggy Dogg World” boomed from the trunk. He sang along, word for word as he drove, clearly enjoying himself ... “The dog pound rocks the party ... all night long ...”
* * *
Scorpion put on his mask as the Excursion closed in on the Tahoe. The Explorer Sport Trac with the other two men was still behind him. They were near the Pro Player football stadium as Scorpion called the driver of the Explorer and told him to make his move. Seconds later, the Explorer slowly passed Scorpion and then the Tahoe. Soon after it was in front of the limo. Scorpion knew he had to act fast and this was the best chance, if any, to grab Felix’s girl. As the four vehicles came to a stoplight, the Explorer came to a sudden halt. Traffic wasn’t heavy and the light was green, so it moved steadily, not being affected by the three SUVs and limo.
“Now!” Scorpion hissed into his cell phone. The two men jumped from the Explorer, spraying the trapped limo’s windshield with a loud, deadly barrage of special tipped rounds from their AK-47s. The windshield cracked, and then gave in as the bullets ripped through the shattered glass. The driver died as glass and spinning lead tore into his face and chest. The four men in the Tahoe reacted fast. At first they waited for the limo to pass the SUV in front of them, but when they saw two men jump out and start firing on the limo, they knew something was wrong. They all jumped out with Tech 9s. Before any of Felix’s men could get off a shot, Scorpion’s Excursion screeched to a stop, catching Felix’s men off guard. Scorpion stepped out quickly and unloaded his .45. The clattering of the Uzis’ thirty-two rounds in three seconds drowned out Scorpion’s shots. Felix’s men never had a fighting chance. The first to die was shot in the left eye by Scorpion. By the time he hit the ground, half of his face was a bloody mess. The next two both took rounds in the chest and neck as the Uzis forced them backward and down onto the ground. The last made it between the Tahoe and limo, but he was trapped. He fired blindly over the side of the Tahoe, hoping it would buy him time and cover to get back into his truck. Quickly he stood up and ran to get inside the Tahoe. From thirty feet away, Scorpion placed two well-aimed shots into his left knee. The man screamed as he fell to the ground holding his bleeding knee, nearly blacking out from the pain. When he opened his eyes, two masked men stood over him with their Uzis pointed in his face. Scorpion ran up to the limo and yelled at the girl to open the door or he’d shoot it open. Chandra was backed up against the opposite door. There was no way she would open the door, but one of the mercenaries up front with the AK-47 reached through the front glass and popped the locks. Chandra screamed as she was yanked out by her hair and then hurled to another man. She was about to speak but Scorpion cracked her upside the head with his. 45, knocking her out cold as blood ran from the cut on her forehead.
The gunfire lasted no more than twenty seconds. The last of Felix’s men lay on the hot pavement still holding his knee, breathing heavily. Scorpion stopped by his face. “Tell Felix his girl is in good hands and I will be calling him soon.” Before the man could reply, Scorpion ran to the Excursion and shortly afterward it sped off, followed by the Explorer.
Once they reached an old warehouse in Northern Miami, the mercenaries switched to a van and took Chandra where Scorpion ordered she be held. Scorpion knew the mercenaries would follow his orders if they wanted to be paid. After changing clothes, he tore out of the warehouse on a Yamaha FZ-1. His day had only just begun.
* * *
Neil Lofton didn’t like the small office at the CIA headquarters and to make matters worse, he was seated in front of the DCI, Joe Troublefield.
“Lofton, Scorpion has gone renegade!”
Lofton wanted to say something smart like, “No shit, Sherlock. Haven’t you been tapping the calls?” But Troublefield was not a man to be played with. At times Lofton wondered if he had picked his own last name.
“Yeah,” Lofton said. You had me in something that was way over my head, Joe, and you know it. When I placed the call and told him to come in, he just flipped—yelling and cursing over the phone. Finally he just became hysterical and then the line went dead. I don’t know his cover, so he’s down in Miami on his own.”
“I see,” Troublefield said sitting back in his seat. “I’m sure you remember what the Joint Chief of Staff said.”
“What—about this being a matter of national security?”
“Yes, and I’m sure you know this news won’t sit well with him and the President, I might add, but we have to find him and deal with him in a very discreet manner. I’ll help you the best way I can but before we call the JCS, let’s try to handle this problem ourselves.”
Lofton almost didn’t know what to say. “Are you gonna lay all the cards out on the table this time, Joe? For God’s sake, we’re on the same team here.”
Troublefield smiled. “All right, Lofton, you call the shots. But whatever you do, I want Scorpion brought in—at any cost.”
* * *
Detective Covington couldn’t believe his eyes. He was on his way to Blockbuster to return some DVDs when he ran into a roadblock. Since he didn’t have a scanner in his truck he didn’t know what was going on, but he could see that it was something big. He couldn’t even count the squad cars blocking the road. Two Metro Police helicopters circled the area. He wondered why his pager didn’t go off and thought that maybe it was someone else’s district. He jumped out of his SUV and walked toward the scene. As he approached the area, a rookie cop yelled for him to stop, but his sergeant noticed him and let him through. Covington watched paramedics rush from one spot to another, a few carrying body bags. Quickly scanning the area, he froze when he saw his uncle’s limo.
“Oh, shit!” Covington grabbed the nearest officer. “What the hell happened?” The officer looked tired and sweat was running down his face and neck. He told Covington that four men were dead—the driver of the limo and three by the Tahoe.
“What about any passengers in the limo?”
“We really don’t know yet, but one of the bodyguards is still alive. He ain’t saying much ...”
“Where?”
“Where, what?” the officer replied.
“The bodyguard you just said who’s alive—where is he?”
“Third rescue squad on the left,” the officer said pointing behind Covington. Covington left the officer and went to check out the scene as the sun twinkled off the spent bullet shells around the limo and Tahoe. When he made it to the rescue squad, he found the bodyguard lying out on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance. Once he met Covington’s eyes, he looked around to see if he was able to speak freely. Covington walked up just as a paramedic stepped away from his squad to stretch.
“Mind if I have a word with him a second?” Covington said as he flashed his badge. The paramedic, seeing the badge, gave him no argument. Covington stepped into the ambulance and swallowed hard at the sight of the man’s knee.
“Who’d they take?” he asked. That was all he wanted to know. He could get the full story later when the bodyguard was released from the hospital.
“Th-they took ... the wrong girl,” the bodyguard said weakly.
“Wrong girl?” Covington said under his breath. He was about to press the man for more answers, but the paramedic tapped on the door.
“Time’s up, Detective. We gotta rush this guy in ... you can ride along if you like.”
“No, I’ll talk to him later,” Covington said stepping out of the ambulance. He ran back to his Montero and tried to reach Felix again. He still wasn’t on the island or the yacht and Felix didn’t allow his people to tell his whereabouts if he wasn’t there.
“Damnit!” he said punching the dashboard. He tried to call Hamilton, but his cell phone said that he was out of the calling area. He looked at the massacre that lay before him, and he knew it was a new ballgame. Pulling over to the curb, he slapped a blue light on top of his SUV and sped down the road, honking his horn at cars that didn’t notice it. He called the station and left a message with dispatch to reach Detective Hamilton for him and have him call him right away.
* * *
Menage sat at a stoplight near Miami Central High School waiting for Chandra to pick up the phone in the limo, but there was no answer. He called her cell phone—still nothing.
“What the fuck!” he said. Then he called Felix’s house. Hugo picked up on the second ring.
“Yo, Hugo, you seen Chandra?” he said getting a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Mr. Legend, Mr. Marchetti said to come to the house as soon as possible.”
“Man ... shit!” Menage said tossing the phone onto the passenger’s seat. Ignoring the red light, he floored the S600 and made a tight left turn.
Arriving at Felix’s second mansion, he jumped out of his car and raced up the stairs. Before opening the door, he noticed that the limo wasn’t there. Breathing heavily, he ran into the large living room. Out of breath, he came to a stop when he saw Felix sitting behind his desk.
“H-hey ... man, what’s going on ... where’s Chandra?” he stammered. Looking around, he saw that Felix had more guards moving about and all of them carried Mac 10s. Felix looked into his eyes and told him to sit down.
“No, fuck that. Where’s my girl, Felix?” he asked balling up his fists.
Felix cleared his throat and folded his hands on the desk. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see the fear and anger in Menage’s eyes. “Chandra has been kidnapped,” he said softly. Menage closed his eyes and lowered his head. Felix started to speak again, but he stopped in mid-sentence when Menage placed a Glock 9 under his chin with lightning, quick movement. Felix’s bodyguards were caught off guard, and now Menage had several guns pointed in his direction. He paid them no mind; he was focused on Felix, pressing the Glock deep into his neck.
“Put the guns away,” Felix said calmly to his guards, but no one moved. “Now!” Felix said firmly. Reluctantly they did as he ordered. “Menage, don’t let your anger blind you so.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Menage yelled. “Don’t play no games wit’ me, Felix!”
“Menage, use your head. I don’t fault you for your actions, but listen to me ... Covington, step in here.” Covington slowly walked up to the desk with his hands up, but Menage whipped out his other Glock and pointed it toward Covington’s chest. Knowing that he wore a vest, Menage raised it to his head. Covington hoped his uncle didn’t notice his trembling legs.
“This is my nephew I told you about. Just listen to what he has to say. If you are not convinced, pull the trigger.”
Covington cut his eyes at his uncle, thinking that he must have lost his mind. Minutes later after Covington told Menage what happened, the two Glock 9s slowly dropped. Covington let out a deep breath and flopped down in the chair. He needed a Newport.
Menage sat down and looked at Felix as he lit a cigar. Whoever did the hit took the wrong girl and he was helpless. How could he fully trust Felix? Maybe the same guy or people who tried to kill him knew he was back and were now going after his girl. He did it Felix’s way by hiding on his island, and now she was gone. He felt sick, as if he had to vomit when he thought of losing Chandra.
Detective Covington had left minutes earlier and promised to call once he got more info from the bodyguard. Menage sat across from Felix, tapping his foot with his eyes closed. All they could do was wait to see if anyone called with a ransom. What if they really meant to take Rosita and found out they took the wrong girl? Menage shivered. Why couldn’t this be a dream?
Detective Covington was so happy to have the gun out of his face that he totally forgot about the pictures of DJ and Tina, and the last thing on Menage’s mind was the surveillance tape in the armrest of his Benz.
Felix’s helicopter brought Vapor to the mainland as a tear ran down Menage’s face. He looked at his watch. It was now eight minutes past seven.
* * *
Dwight pulled up in his BMW and parked behind the blue Lexus RX330. Lydia had called him earlier and said that her sales partner couldn’t make it, so Dwight told her to stay put and he would be there shortly. He was still feeling down about Menage but Tina was right. He had to move on. It was a full moon and Dwight searched the sky for the Big Dipper as he rang the doorbell. He was taken aback when Lydia opened the door. She was exquisitely beautiful, wearing a leopard print, silk backless chiffon Chanel dress. He couldn’t help but notice the small print of her nipples and he cursed himself when she caught him looking at her cleavage. Her hair was swept up off her shoulders, showing off her slender neck and smooth, brown skin.
“Would you like to come in, Mr. McMillan, or stay outside?” she said. She received the reaction she wanted and thought that maybe she could seduce him into talking to find out more about Menage. Dwight smiled and stepped inside the apartment. As he walked past Lydia she scanned him from head to toe, admiring his Armani suit and black Italian Oxfords. She took his coat and placed it in the closet. She could see that he felt uncomfortable.
“Red or white wine?” she said walking into the kitchen.
Dwight couldn’t keep himself from looking at her tight, firm butt. “Damn,” he said to himself.
“Are you sure it’s no big deal that we have the meeting here, Mr. McMillan?” she yelled from the kitchen.
“No, it’s no big deal. I have all the forms out in the car for you to sign.” Dwight stood up when she came back with the wine.
“By the way, you can call me Latosha.” He took the wine and smiled, not knowing what to say. She smiled back. “Let’s make a toast ... to a good deal and uh ...”
“Let’s just start out with that,” Dwight said still smiling.
Lydia sat next to him and asked him about his salon. He went on and on as she took in his every word while keeping his glass filled. He shivered every time she held her head back to laugh. When he spoke on how the women in his salon gossiped twenty four/seven, she caught him off guard by touching his arm and saying, “Now I see why they all want to sleep with you, Dwight.”
Dwight couldn’t look into her eyes. He knew it was a pass, but he had will power and he was in love with and faithful to Tina. The woman before him was so beautiful but he had no desire for her. However, why was his heart pumping in overdrive and for God’s sake, why was the blood flowing between his legs?
“Yeah, I know they feel that way, but that’s life ain’t it?” he said shifting his body to a position that would hide his erection.
“Who is Menage?” she said filling up his glass again. “When I was getting my hair done, they were talking about him like he was Don Juan or something.” She crossed her legs showing off her toned thighs. Dwight rubbed his face, knowing he had too much to drink. He wasn’t drunk, but he had that feeling. “He’s my business partner and best friend,” he said with slight emotion.
Lydia moved in for the kill. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she asked if he was okay and hoped he wouldn’t object to her touch. Dwight closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her hand on his shoulder. With a remote device, she turned on the CD player and dimmed the lights. Toni Braxton’s “Just Be a Man About It” filled the room. Dwight drained his glass and took a deep breath. He knew he had to get control of things before they got out of hand, but little did he know that his defenses were already gone. Like R. Kelly said, his mind was telling him no, but his body was telling him hell yeah! He didn’t protest when she laid his head on her shoulder. Her body felt so soft and warm and he let out a heavy sigh before looking at her cleavage, confirming that she wore no bra.
She caressed the back of his neck and closed her eyes. What am I doing? What about Menage, the DB-7 and the Mayor’s son? But what about me and my needs? To hell with it all, she thought. She slowly stood up and Dwight’s eyes widened. He was about to say he was sorry, but she placed a finger to his lips. “Shhhh,” she said. When he stood up, she replaced her finger with her lips. At first she thought she had misjudged him because he didn’t respond, but she was soon proven wrong.
It was explosive when their tongues met, and her slender body seemed to vanish when he wrapped his arms around her. She wanted him to take her fully and she was willing to give her all. Part of her wanted to pull away, but her hand was already pulling at his belt to free him. Dwight ran his hand down her back, finding it easy to go under her dress. He rubbed her ass as he felt pre-cum dripping from his throbbing penis that she now held in her hand. She broke away from his kiss to see what she held in her hand and her mouth dropped open upon seeing his size. She led him to the loveseat and slid her dress up around her waist as he pulled down his pants. Dwight watched her as she leaned back and slowly pulled off her thong. One of her breasts fell out just as he got down on his knees. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he rubbed his penis against the folds of her moist opening. Dwight looked down to see himself sink inside of her. The heat seemed to travel through his entire body as he started to plow into her petite frame. Breathing through his mouth, he fucked her hard and fast as her hands pushed against his waist to ease up the pounding he was giving her.
Lydia was in a daze. Never in her life had she had such an experience and never had she felt so full. The sound of flesh on flesh slapping together and the moans and grunting from the two sent them over the edge. She couldn’t believe she was about to climax, but she did. Her legs locked around him, trapping him inside her. Dwight winced at the pain in his back as he kept going, but knowing that she had climaxed put him in a frenzied state. He buried his face in her neck, let out a deep moan and jerked back and forth as she flicked her tongue across his earlobe. She released her legs from around Dwight’s waist and continued to moan as he slid out of her and fell back.
Drenched in sweat, he realized what had just happened and he looked at Lydia, still lying on the couch with her legs spread. His mind began to race. Oh, shit, what if she gets pregnant? Damn, why didn’t I use protection? Better yet, what in the hell am I doing with another woman? Then he thought of Tina and how she didn’t deserve this kind of pain.
Lydia stood up slowly, pulling down her dress. “I ... I’ll call you ... once the shipment arrives,” she said looking away.
Dwight stood up and got dressed. “Latosha ... Miss Mandrick, I’m sorry about—”
“No, Dwight ... it’s okay, we ... we just made a mistake, so think nothing of it,” she said cutting him off as he stood at the door. Then she closed the door in his face. Before he backed out of the driveway, she was already in the shower. If it ain’t one thing it’s another, she thought.
* * *
With her wrists cuffed to a headboard, Chandra slowly opened her right eye. Her left eye was swollen shut. She winced when she parted her lips that were also swollen and covered with dried, crusty blood that ran from her nose. She shut her one good eye and took a deep breath. The room was dark and musky, and the silence didn’t bring her any comfort. Everything happened so fast that she wasn’t even able to get a call off to Menage before she was yanked out of the car. Trying to move her hands, she moaned out in pain and fright, realizing that she could move no more than an inch. Her feet were free, however, and she was about to see if she could reach the floor, not knowing that her efforts would be useless. But she felt compelled to try to escape because the headboard was thin and weak. Just as she was about to move, she gasped in shock as a hand roughly handled her breasts. Unable to yell, she moaned, sounding like a trapped animal with nowhere to run. Her purple satin blouse was easily ripped from her body. With her arms raised over her head, her breasts pointed upward underneath the black lace bra. The man groping her had no problem finding and squeezing them, even in the dark. All she could think about was her baby and Menage. She had to survive for the both of them. When she felt her bra being ripped off, she clenched her teeth and hoped for a chance to escape, thinking of anything but what the man was about to do to her. She felt no pleasure when his mouth covered her left breast. She crossed her legs and locked them together as his hand traveled down her stomach. Her body quivered as she tried to hold back the tears.
“I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to like it!” the man hissed in her ear.
Hearing him unzip his pants, she couldn’t keep herself from sobbing. She couldn’t think of anything to do to stop him, and she knew he would beat her if she fought him. She flinched when she felt something stiff and hot press against her cheek. She smelled his musky scent and realized the man had his penis near her face. Hearing him moan, she realized he was getting ready to rape her. She cried no when he pulled at her panties, his hand roughly cupping between her tightly closed legs. Her mind was made up that she’d fight to her death before she gave up ... but her child ... maybe if she gave him what he wanted, she would be strong enough to see another day. Just as she felt her legs being pried apart, the light was switched on, exposing her attacker. Still holding his penis with his hands between her legs, there was a look of shock on his face. The man who turned on the light reached for him and tossed his naked body against the wall with ease. Chandra thought she was saved, but when he spoke her world fell back down to hell.
“You fool!” Scorpion said standing over the naked man. “If you want to get your rocks off, go and find some whore house. I don’t give a damn about the bitch, but my plan comes first. Now get dressed, get the hell out of here and go check on the others. And let this be your first and last mistake,” he warned.
The mercenary thought about testing Scorpion’s limit, but if he did he might as well had kissed his easy mil good-bye. When he was dressed he slunk out of the room, making sure he got an eye full of what he was missing; maybe he’d get another chance to fuck the girl—yeah, that’s just what he wanted to do.
Scorpion shut the door and stood next to the bed, looking down at Chandra and her exposed breasts. “Don’t feel thankful because the end result hasn’t changed—you’ll be dead. But I don’t blame that coward,” he said reaching down to stroke her left breast. “A coward is one who’ll take it, but I can make you want it and like it,” he added, caressing her face now.
Who is this man and why are they doing this to me? Chandra thought. She glared at Scorpion and he smiled.
“In due time,” Scorpion said and violently backhanded her across the face.
She was dazed when he left the room. She struggled to not have a nervous breakdown. She closed her good eye to stop the room from spinning but it was no use. She opened her eye and slowly looked around the room. It was so small—no windows, no phone, nothing. The room continued to spin. Then she heard a sound. It sounded like wind whipping against an empty cardboard box. Looking around the room again, she noticed how tiny it was and its odd shape. And she recalled her attacker having to slightly duck when he left. She closed her good eye and the room, once again, began to spin. Chandra heard the strange sound over and over, and then finally, through her broken nose, she smelled seawater and realized that she was on a boat.
Scorpion walked in on the five mercenaries playing cards in a small cabin near the bow. Smoke lingered in the air and a radio was tuned to a rock station. Scorpion glared at the man that he had grabbed just moments earlier. Sitting across from him was Myrmidon, cleaning a deadly looking pistol.
“So when do we make the call?” Myrmidon asked, laying the pistol on the small table to pick up his cards. They were playing five-card stud.
“Soon,” Scorpion said. “But first I’ll make him sweat—plus I have to tie up a few other things. I’m no longer with those assholes in D.C., but when I call Felix, I’ll demand a trade for the drugs and I’ll set it up for you to take him and his girl out at the same time ... unless you have a better idea.”
“Yours seems fine,” Myrmidon said, looking at the two kings and three fives in his hand.
Scorpion was pleased with Myrmidon’s personal thirty-five foot cruiser that carried radar capable of sweeping a thirty-mile radius, and he was more than happy to find that the four-stinger launched anti-aircraft missiles. “One must always be ready for anything,” Myrmidon had always said. The boat also had a tripod, concealed under a tarp that could hold an M-240B machine gun, located behind a hidden wall. The boat was nothing flashy and if a check was made, the Coast Guard would see that it was owned by a photography company in McKinney, Texas. Before leaving the cabin, Scorpion talked to Myrmidon alone and stressed the fact that the woman was not to be touched. Myrmidon watched Scorpion get on his jet skis and head back to Miami, which was nine miles away. He rejoined the card game and tried to stay focused, but he couldn’t; something else was on his mind. He ordered his men to go on watch and prepare to move further south.
* * *
Back at Felix’s mansion in Miami, Menage looked at his Rolex. It was a quarter to ten, and still no word from Detective Covington. He found himself in the same tight spot as earlier. Vapor lay asleep on the floor by his feet. Felix was now upstairs with Rosita. She took it hard when he told her about Chandra and her emotions were sincere.
Menage hated the fact that he could do nothing for Chandra. He thought of the worst, and his stomach turned. He balled his fists so tightly that his nails drew blood from his palms. Sitting on his ass wasn’t making him feel any better, and he didn’t want to feel better; he wanted Chandra back. Ignoring the tears streaming down his face he stood up, and Vapor got up and stretched his front paws. Felix was at the top of the stairs when he reached the front door.
“Are you leaving?”
Menage stopped in his tracks. With his back facing Felix, he said, “Call me, Felix ... and don’t hold nothing from me. I don’t know if you ... we ... should tell ’em they got the wrong girl if Chandra hasn’t told them by now. I just want my girl back and nothing or no one will stop me from doing what I have to do, because it ain’t the same no more.”
By the tone of Menage’s voice, Felix knew there was nothing he could do or say to stop him as he walked out the door with Vapor by his side.
The cool breeze outside caused Menage to turn up the collar of his Ecko windbreaker as he made his way toward his Escalade. Taking out the third row seats, he put Vapor in the back. Sitting behind the steering wheel, he sat back and wiped his eyes. Vapor whined and stuck his head between the two front seats to lick his face. Menage got a hold of himself and reached under his seat to feel the steel of the MP-10. Starting up the SUV, he looked back at the mansion to see Felix’s silhouette in the doorway. Pulling out of the driveway in silence, he clenched the steering wheel with both hands, trying to control the madness and pain that overtook his body. His temples became tense as he flexed his jaws.
The silence was driving him to the point of no return. “CD three, song nine, volume mid,” he said turning on the system by voice command. Maximum volume would have been too painful for Vapor’s ears, and he now stuck his head out of the window. Seconds later, “Smile” by Scarface began playing from the four fifteen-inch speakers. The song caused goose bumps to form over Menage’s entire body. Squinting his eyes in a hateful gaze, he allowed the words of Scarface and Tupac to seep into his torn soul. With the music still playing, he came to a stoplight and paid no attention to the girls on the corner trying to get his attention. He was on another level—in a zone. Something inside of him told him that his life would never be the same again. Some muthafucka was touching him by taking his girl. He managed to smile as he gunned the ESV when the light changed. He knew he’d see his girl again and he knew he’d see the muthafucka who took her. When he did, he knew he’d ask them to smile for him as he emptied the clip of his Glock 9. Smile for me ... won’t cha just smile ... for me ...
* * *
DJ was laid back on his couch with his feet hung over the armrest, brushing small stems of weed from his shirt. He was on the phone with Lisa, yelling over his loud stereo system.
“So I figure I’ll stay with you tonight,” Lisa said.
“Huh?” he said searching for his lighter. He was starting to dig Lisa. She didn’t bug him if he didn’t call or ask him a thousand questions. She was so down to earth and the sex was off the chain.
“Boy, turn the radio down so you can hear me!” she snapped.
“Hold on a sec,” he said reaching for the radio remote. “Okay, what you say now?”
Lisa sucked her teeth. “I said I might stay with you tonight. Can you pick me up from work?”
“Yeah, what time?”
“Uh ... ’bout midnight ... is that too late?”
“Nah, I’ll be there. Whatcha think—I got a curfew or something?”
“Whateva, just be on time, DJ. Look, they just called me over the P.A. I’ll see you later.”
When she hung up, he wondered if he should have told her about Menage and see if she could find out anything about him. He would have been surprised if she’d told him about Benita and Menage and even more surprised if she’d told him that the section Menage was in was guarded and off limits—even though it was an empty room which was unknown to her. DJ lit his freshly rolled blunt. Pulling deeply on the potent spliff, he closed his eyes and held the smoke deep in his lungs. Moments later, the coke-laced blunt had blurred his vision. Nodding his head to the music, his entire body seemed to pulse rapidly. He seemed to hear new words and beats in the song. Slowly exhaling through his mouth, he looked around his apartment.
“I ... I’m the nigga dat floss on dem dub deuce twinkies,” he said taking another pull on the coke-laced weed. He smoked half the blunt before putting it out. He felt damn good. There was money in the stash spot, coke was cut and now being shipped to its buyers and a new whip was sitting in the driveway next to his Escalade EXT—both on chrome. He thought of Tina, wishing he could see her one more time. “Silly- ass bitch!”
Menage stopped and ran his fingers across the crash bar of DJ’s candy red Escalade. Next to it sat a platinum Corvette C-5 convertible with a kit. He didn’t recognize either vehicle, but he figured that one of them was DJ’s and the other belonged to company. He patted his leg, calling Vapor, and walked up to the door and rang the bell.
DJ was in the kitchen warming up pizza and talking on the phone with some young girl that just finished school and thought he was God’s gift. She already had a threesome with him, and she found the experience pleasing and fascinating. The older woman that he brought to the hotel did things to her that had her trembling and drained by the end of the day, and she owed it all to DJ.
“Hold on a sec,” DJ said sighing angrily. He laid the phone on the table as he went to the door. He left the phone just in case it was another girl, even though he told them to always call first. But the coke, weed, and glass of Remy had him slipping. Convincing himself that it was a girl, he smiled and adjusted his erection in a way that caused a print; maybe it was a booty call. He flung open the door without asking who it was or looking through the peephole. His high quickly vanished as he stumbled back and fell on his ass. Menage stood in the doorway with hate in his eyes and gripped his Glock 9 behind his leg. Vapor sprinted into the apartment baring his fangs, emitting a low, deep growl. DJ’s teeth chattered and his bladder became weak, warming his midsection.
* * *
Myrmidon walked into the small cabin with a tray of warm food for Chandra. Closing the door with his foot, he set the tray on a table in the corner.
“I’ll take the cuffs off so you can eat,” he said reaching into his back pocket for the key. “And don’t bother trying to escape; I doubt you can swim thirty miles to shore—not to mention the sharks. Anyway, I’m not a babysitter but you will talk to no one but me.”
When the cuffs came off, Chandra rubbed her swollen wrists and tenderly touched the bruise near her hairline.
“There’s a first-aid kit under the sink in the bathroom ... I’ll check on you later.” As quickly as he entered the cabin he was gone.
She listened to him lock the door from the outside. Maybe she could find a weapon—swimming was out of the question. She slowly made her way to the small bathroom and looked in the mirror. She was beyond tears now, so what she saw had no major effect on her. Her left eye was sealed shut. Searching for some pain pills, she suddenly realized that she was topless and her skirt was halfway torn from her body. She took off her ripped panties and tossed them in the trash. After searching the drawers back in the small room, she found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. They would have to do for now. After cleaning herself up as best as she could, she tried to stomach the food that was left for her; she needed the energy to go on. She kept telling herself over and over to be strong but she felt so scared, so alone. She faintly called out Menage’s name and wished it were all a dream. She prayed for herself and her child until she curled up on the bed and cried herself to sleep.
* * *
“Yo, son, what the hell wrong wit’ you?” Menage said putting away his Glock 9. “Easy, boy,” he said giving Vapor a quick rub to calm him down. He walked into the apartment and reached out his hand to help DJ up off the floor.
“You ... you ... y-you,” DJ stuttered as he stood up on rubber legs. He paid no attention to his pissy jeans. “Now dis some shit,” said DJ lost for words.
“But yo, nigga, we need to talk. And it’s a long story.”
They stepped into the living room and Menage frowned his nose at the odd smell in the air. DJ, still shook, sat down—pissy jeans and all. As Menage told him about Felix’s secret plan, DJ looked at him like he was a ghost. Vapor growled repeatedly at DJ and bared his fangs every time he looked at him. Finally the story was coming to an end.
“So, man,” Menage said looking off in the distance, “somebody got my girl and don’t nobody know a fuckin’ thing.” He covered his face with his hands and muttered something that DJ couldn’t understand.
“So ... you been outta the hospital since ... Friday?” Menage nodded his head yes. “Uh ... so what you gonna do now, I mean—”
“DJ, fuck the chop shop, the dough, fuck all that shit; I’m out the game. I just want my shorty back, yo.” Then he asked DJ if he had company after remembering the two cars out front.
“Nah, not yet, but I got this chick coming over tonight. What’s up?”
“Nothing really. I just peeped the two rides out front.”
“Oh, yeah. I got the truck last week and the ’Vette yesterday.”
Menage’s mind was on other things besides asking DJ where he got the dough for the whips outside. DJ told him that he could crash in the spare room down the hall. He finally noticed after going to his room that he had pissed his pants. Mad with himself for having allowed Menage to put fear in his heart, he punched the wall and cursed him. He knew that silly-ass Tina would have a fucking fit when she found out that Menage was alive and well. Fuck her. If Menage were out of the game, the chop shop would be his. He just hoped that no one would find out who was behind the two hits. His mind went back to Tina and how she would probably spill it all if she ever got caught in a trap. DJ pondered the possible repercussions of killing Tina while he was in the shower. What would Dwight do?
Menage was in the back room lying across the bed. He was fully dressed with the light on while Vapor lay curled up on the floor. Menage couldn’t fully trust anyone and didn’t plan on changing that fact. He looked up at the ceiling with his hand behind his head under the pillow, gripping his glock. He tried his best to stay awake, thinking it would do some good to be up for Chandra’s sake. His mind said one thing, but his body said another. Sleep came easily and about half past midnight he awoke. He rubbed his eyes and sat up on the bed. He took off his holster and then his shirt. He walked out into the dark hallway to go to the bathroom when he bumped into someone and turned on the light.
“Oh, shit,” said Lisa taking a step back. “Damn ... you scared me.”
“My fault,” Menage said as Vapor poked his head between his legs to sniff Lisa. She looked at him from head to toe.
“You must be DJ’s friend; he didn’t tell me your name. Is that your truck out front?” When she saw his bare chest and the fresh wounds, she instinctively reached out to touch him.
“You need to put something on that. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Before Menage could stop her, she turned and went back down the hall. By the time he was done using the bathroom, Lisa was coming back down the hall. Menage wished she would just leave him alone. She followed him into the room with Vapor sniffing her feet.
“Do he bite?” she asked.
“Sit down, Vapor.” Vapor whined and retreated to the corner. Menage sat on the edge of the bed and reached for his shirt.
“No, just lay back and I’ll put this on you,” she said holding a tube of ointment. Menage frowned. “Look, I’m a nurse and if you don’t keep that clean it can and will get real messy. Now lay back. It won’t take long.” Slowly he lay back, slipping a hand under the pillow behind his head.
“So that’s your ride out front?” she asked again.
“Yeah,” he said as she gently began applying the ointment to his chest.
“Bullet wounds ... how many times were you hit?”
He shrugged his shoulders, wishing she would shut up and finish.
“Well, my name is Lisa.” She waited for him to say his name. “And yours?”
“Menage,” he said looking at the ceiling. Lisa stopped rubbing the wounds, but her hands lay flat on his upper chest.
“Something wrong?”
“No ... uh ... the name is just ... one of a kind. It’s like menage ... you know that sex thang ...” she said, but stopped short when she saw that he didn’t crack a smile. She knew this couldn’t be the same Menage her cousin was stressed out about. He was in a coma. But Benita said he drove an Escalade—check ... had platinum teeth—check ... and said that he was fine as hell—double check! If Benita weren’t her cousin she’d run her hand down his firm stomach, follow his happy trail and see what he was packing between his legs. Hell, DJ was out cold.
Menage snapped her out of her sexual vision. “Are you ’bout finished?”
Lisa looked into his eyes and smiled. “Yes, but I’ll leave you a few packs to put on yourself when it gets dry again,” she said standing up and wiping her hands on a towel that she’d brought in with her.
“No doubt, thanks,” he said getting up and following her to the door. She turned and hesitated.
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning.” Menage didn’t reply. Lisa was telling him on the sly that if he wanted her to come back into his room she would ... there was just something about his eyes. He shot her down when the door gently closed in her face.
Now back with DJ, she took off her uniform and got into bed. He was still asleep. So the hero’s alive and well, she thought to herself. She knew Benita would flip out once she told her about running into Menage. She sensed that he was in a foul mood and thought that maybe in the morning she’d tell him she and Benita were cousins. It’s odd though. Circles within circles—DJ, Dwight, Tina, Menage ... oh, well ... Lisa’s thoughts eased as she curled up next to DJ and called it a night.
Sometime during the night, Menage left and went to stay on his speedboat that was tied up at Bayside. He buried his face into the pillow, murmuring Chandra’s name as he cried himself to sleep. He was finally learning the true meaning of love.
* * *
Detective Covington was home in bed with his wife. There hadn’t been any calls or leads about Chandra. Detective Hamilton was asleep in the guestroom. For some reason, they both knew that they’d need all the rest they could get.