Real saw his mother trying to reach him, but he was no fool to give away his location. She had even left him a text: “Johnny is looking for you.”
No one other than Real and Kentucky knew that Johnny was an FBI informer.
Real pulled up to a gas station to gas up. He parked and turned off his phone.
“You think they’re going to Miami?” T-Gutta asked from the backseat.
“I know they are. They want to deliver their prize to Black, and we gonna be there,” Real said.
“I texted LeLe and told her to only text me. She says Jake’s store just got raided by the DEA.”
“We know,” Real and Kentucky said in unison.
“What the fuck y’all know that I don’t?” T-Gutta asked curiously.
“Much as I hate to say this, brah, Johnny’s been working with the feds.”
“What? Chyna Man?” T-Gutta asked, perplexed.
“Yeah, my baby brother agreed to take out the Swamp Mafia,” Real explained as he hopped back into the Durango and pulled off.
After speaking with Polo like Kentucky had advised, Real was now acting off of instructions from him. Real hopped back onto I-95 south and gave the highway all he had.
As he coasted, he thought about Bellda. He was remaining calm, but inside he was worried. He missed her a lot, and it had been hell avoiding her when she did her best to come back to him.
She doesn’t deserve to die, Lord, Real thought, trusting in his new mentor, Polo, that no harm would come to her while the sun was down. If he was speaking of some voodoo shit, then I gotta believe him tonight.
T-Gutta sat in the backseat and was still stunned that Johnny had flipped sides and brought down the realest organization that ever hit the Treasure Coast.
What were his motives and intentions? I can’t let these crackas get me, man. We worked hard to get to where we are today, T-Gutta thought as a tear escaped his right eye.
* * *
Bellda was hog-tied and had duct tape over her mouth. She was in the trunk of the Explorer that Boxhead and Crazy Zoe were safely driving along I-95. Black had requested that Big Chub send Crazy Zoe and Boxhead for Bellda, and expected their return the following day.
Bellda was afraid. She had no clue what was going to happen to her. All she did know was that the men were Real’s enemies. If she was going to die for her man, then she wouldn’t beg for mercy. She loved Real unconditionally, even in death.
I love you, Real! Please find a way to know that I’m yours forever. What do you want from me? Are you ready to give me another chance? Bellda thought as tears cascaded down her face. I love you, Real!
* * *
Agent Smalls was furious. She couldn’t get a location on Real unless he turned on his phone. Being that it was off, no one with even the highest technology could find him.
“You know what, Johnny? Your brother is a smart man. Why would he keep his phone turned off if he didn’t know he was being watched?” Smalls asked.
“I can’t answer about no one’s thoughts or instincts,” Johnny said.
“Is that so?” Smalls inquired as she looked back at Johnny, staring him in his eyes. “Are you playing two sides?” she asked.
Johnny laughed, which only made Smalls even more furious.
“Y’all taking the entire empire down. What the fuck do I get out of playing two sides?” Johnny questioned.
“He has a point!” Sullivan spoke up from the passenger seat.
“Whatever!” Smalls said as she started up the Tahoe and put it in gear.
“Where to?” Sullivan asked curiously.
“Martin South Hospital,” Smalls said. “I need to see my partner.”
She killed the engine when she arrived at the hospital five minutes later.
“I won’t be long. Communicate,” Smalls said, showing and waving her walkie-talkie at Sullivan.
Agents Smalls exited the Tahoe and walked inside. She showed her badge and quickly got back to Davis. When she entered his room, she was surprised to see that he was up watching television.
“Hey there!” Smalls said shyly.
She hated hospitals since that’s where she had last seen her mother on her death bed.
“Rough day, huh?” Davis asked while adjusting his bed to sit up.
“Yeah, a lot of deaths, I’d say, in one day,” Smalls retorted.
“How is it going? Let me guess: Sullivan is giving you more than his ass to kiss, huh?” Davis asked.
“How’d you know?”
“Phone, phone, phone,” Davis retorted while holding up his cell phone.
“How’s the leg?”
“You mean thigh?” Davis corrected. “Nothing major. I was saved on time, or else I would have bled to death.”
“Thanks for being there for me. I don’t think he wanted us to die, or else he had his chance. Wouldn’t you agree?” Smalls inquired.
“It’s a game to him now. So, we have to play a little game with him too,” Davis explained.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t follow him until we’re ready to bring him down,” Davis said.
“At the moment—!”
“He’s AWOL with Real. I know this. Don’t worry. Real will not miss his brother’s funeral,” Davis explained.
“So, look for him at the funeral?”
“Most definitely. We’ll get Real and then resume seeking Black. Neither of them is dumb enough to be the bait for one another. Johnson wanted Real, and we got him,” Davis said.
“That’s why I came here—”
“Missing person report on a Bellda Success. That’s Real’s girlfriend. We have a phone ping in Hollywood!” Sullivan said over the radio to Agent Smalls.
“Hollywood, Florida! Could that be Real?”
“No, that’s Real walking into Black’s trap. Kidnap Bellda to get Real where he wants him. I saw it a mile away. Follow that ping. He’s going wherever Black is going!” Davis shouted to Smalls, who quickly stormed off from the room and made a dash outside to her car.
“To surveillance. Follow that ping. I repeat, we’re moving on that ping.”
“Man, y’all can let me out right here!” Johnny said.
“Get out!” Smalls and Sullivan both shouted in unison.
Sullivan quickly hopped out and opened Johnny’s door to let him out.
“We’ll be in contact when this is over,” Smalls said.
“Alright, pig!” Johnny said as he strutted off to get away from the FBI agents as quickly as possible.
“We’re going wherever that ping stops!” Smalls said over the walkie-talkie.
“Ten-four,” her team responded back.
* * *
Coy heard his pit bulls barking persistently, and knew that they only barked when there was prey or something amiss.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
Coy got out of his bed with his wife, Tangy, and grabbed his shotgun in case it was a coon out trying to tear the garbage loose. He walked out back, flicked on his back porch light, and walked toward his barking dogs.
Woof! Woof! Woof!
“What’s all that noise?” Coy yelled at the dogs.
“DEA! Drop your weapon now or we will shoot, Coy Dean Bell,” Agent Taylor said, ready to pull the trigger.
Coy did as he was told and dropped the shotgun.
“Put your hands-on top of your head and slowly go down to your knees,” Taylor instructed as he kept his gun trained on Coy.
Again, Coy followed all orders until they rushed him and slapped cuffs on him.
“So, where do we start, Mr. Trafficker?” Taylor asked as he walked Coy to an unmarked Yukon.
Coy knew the procedure well: don’t talk without a lawyer.
So, Coy simply let Taylor bump his gums until he showed up at the Martin County Jail.
“What’s my bond?” he asked.
“Like everyone else. You’ll see a judge in the morning,” Taylor said as he let the Martin County deputies book Coy on twenty-five trafficking charges.
Coy just knew he wasn’t going to get a bond and that somebody was talking.