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Don Juan rode in the back of a limousine with Lil’ Stan and his baby boy. He picked up a glass and dropped several cubes of ice into it. After picking up a bottle of Louie XIII and filling the glass, he sat the bottle aside and tilted the glass to his lips.
“You still haven’t heard from that nigga Juvie?” Don Juan asked Lil’ Stan.
“Hell naw, I’ve been blowing that fool up. He still hasn’t hit me back.” He frowned as a thought crossed his mind. “You think that nigga Tiaz caught up with ‘em?”
Urrrrrrrk! Craaashh! The impact of the crash caused the Trap God to spill the liquor into his lap, making him glad to be wearing black.
“What the fuck?” He looked down at the water mark on the crotch of his slacks. He sat up where he was perched and Lil’ Stan did, too.
“Hell was that?” Lil’ Stan frowned.
“I don’t know, I’ma see.” He descended the black tinted window and stuck his head out. He gasped when he saw a masked man who he knew in his heart was Tiaz jumping out of a truck with an M-16. He didn’t even turn his head as rounded the hearse holding his weapon with both hands, hugging the trigger. His assault rifle bucked wildly chewing up the windshield, cracking up all of its glass. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that the driver of the hearse was dead.
What Don Juan saw next surprised him. Tiaz opened fire on the side of the windshield where the chauffer of the limousine was, but luckily for him the vehicle was bulletproof, because all of the shots deflected off of it. The rush of gunfire startled everyone, but what came next came as a surprise.
Boof! Boof!
The front of the limousine tilted forward as the front tires were burst from beneath it.
“It’s him, it’s Tiaz!” Don Juan blurted, pulling his head back inside of the limo.
“Oh shit!” Lil’ Stan watched him grab a gun out of a hidden compartment inside of the limousine. He checked its magazine and slapped it into the chamber of that bitch.
“Tell the wolves to tool up!”
“Right.” Lil’ Stan pulled a burnout cellular from his suit’s jacket and speed dialed someone. “Y’all niggaz banger up, it’s on!” Was all he said before flipping the cell phone shut.
“Watch my son, you guard my seed with cho life.” He stared into his little homie’s eyes, all glassy and serious. “You hear me, lil’ nigga?” The Trap God inquired, hating himself for being so in his grief that he let his guard down. He wasn’t so much afraid for his own safety, but for the safety of his child.
“I got chu, Don. Ain’t shit gon’ happen to lil’ man that don’t happen to me first.”
Don Juan gave a nod and threw open the door of the limo, leaping head first into the action.
***
Tiaz glanced at Bianca. She was wearing the same look of determination and vengeance as he was. He cracked a slight grin. He respected her G. She was as down as any nigga he’d rubbed shoulders with.
“What’s up?” Bianca asked off of his look.
“Nothing.” Tiaz regained his focus.
“Okay.”
“That’s them right there.” He pointed to the windshield at a vehicle and cocked a live round into the M-16. He sat up in his seat, drumming his fingers on the stock of the weapon and tapping his boot on the floor. He was ready to get it on and popping out that mothafucka.
“Alright. Here we go!” Bianca bit down on her inner jaw and pressed the pedal to the metal. The SUV accelerated, flying down the lane and whisking passed cars, nearly side swiping them.
Urrrrrrrk! Craashh!
The Pathfinder slammed into the side of the hearse, stopping all of the trailing cars behind it. The buff neck thug pulled his ski-mask down over his face and threw open the front passenger side door, jumping down into the street. He ran around the front of the truck, hastily approaching the vehicle that contained one of the most precious people of Don Juan’s life: his wife. Tiaz let loose on the windshield of the ride where the driver was sitting, tattering the glass. The bullets came in a rush making the captain of the car dance where he was perched. The driver slumped with his chin touching his chest, the front of his shirt stained crimson.
Tiaz looked up and spotted the limousine that he believed Don Juan was in. He figured this because this was the only limo in the lineup of vehicles and the limos in funerals normally carried the family of the deceased. When the chauffer of the limousine shook off his daze and saw the thug, his eyes nearly leaped out of his head. He went to start up the car, but the engine wouldn’t turn over. Right after he was greeted by rapid fire from his M-16. Sparks flew left and right from the windshield, the limo was bulletproof.
“Fuck!” Tiaz cursed. He then aimed his weapon at the front tires and blew them bitches out, insuring that the vehicle wasn’t going anywhere. Next, he focused his attention on the rear of the hearse, hoisting up his assault rifle.
Crack! Craackk! Craaackkk! Craaashhh!
He slammed the butt of the rifle into the glass window of the vehicle until it gave. He then reached his gloved hand inside and unlocked the door, yanking it open. Hoisting the deadly weapon over his shoulder, he pulled the coffin out of the rear of the vehicle. It made a loud thud as it was dropped onto the ground. He opened the box’s lid and revealed Kiana with her hands folded at her waist. She was dead, but looked like she was in a peaceful sleep. Tiaz took the time to observe her appearance as he angled his head. Snikt! He drew his machete and the sun’s shining caused it to gleam, sweeping up the entire length of the blade.
Pedestrians halted where they were looking on in shock, while some of the approaching cars stopped and gazed on at the gruesome act that was about to be committed. All they could do is watch in horror as the roughneck pulled Kiana’s rigid, lifeless body out of the coffin, dragging it out into the middle of the street. He held her head steady by her hair and cocked the machete back, swinging it with brute force. It whistled as it cut through the air.
Whack! Crackk! Thwhack! Chack!
The audience cringed. Some of them even squeezed their eyelids closed and turned their heads, unable to stand the sight.
“Noooooo!” Don Juan bellowed, hopping out of his chauffer driven limousine, gun at the ready. His henchmen spilled out, brandishing guns of their own, poised to address the drama with some hot shot.
Haackk! Shaackk! Whaackk!
The blade bit into the side of Kiana’s neck as it hung half way attached to her neck. Her eyes were shut and her lips were a straight line. Her body slightly jerked with each and every encounter with the machete until it happened. The head came loose and the severed carcass fell out in the street.
Thud!
“Mothafuckaaaa!” Don Juan slowed to a trot along with his men. He clutched his gun with both hands and lifted it to take a shot, his crew was right behind him.
Blurrrat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!
Bianca let loose out of the driver side window with that M-16. Cutting down all of the Trap God’s men and tatting up some of the cars. Broken glass and blood flew everywhere.
Ping! Ting! Zing! King!
Don Juan dove to the street and hastily crawled behind a nearby car, leaning his back up against the vehicle’s bumper. Holding his gun up at his shoulders, with his heart throbbing inside of his chest, he occasionally peeked around the corner of the car to see if the gunman was headed his way.
Bianca hopped out from behind the wheel of the Pathfinder with her assault rifle trained on the street. She kept the door open and her neck on a swivel, her eyes taking in the streets through the holes of her ski-mask.
Tiaz climbed upon the roof of the hearse and turned to his audience. He fished around inside of his pocket until his hand found a Zippo lighter. His thumb swept down the jagged dull edges of the metal ball. Shhickk! A flame shot into the air and he guided it to the thick hair of Kiana’s severed head. The fire started off small, but quickly began to consume the head, the smell of flesh cooking filling the air. Tiaz watched the head be devoured by the flames for a time before throwing it out into the street. It rolled up the block looking like a small burning ball of hay. Seeing a fireball tumbling near him through the shiny bumper of the Nissan Dotson before him, Don Juan’s forehead deepened with crevasses and he narrowed his eyes. When he went to go look, the fireball stopped along beside him, burning. Staring into the face of the crackling flames, it became clear to him that it was his late wife’s severed head. Oh my God, he mouthed, sitting down his gun and quickly peeling off his suit’s jacket. He tossed his jacket over the burning head and patted it, snuffing out the fire. When he drew the jacket from off of the head, it was nothing more than a ball of charcoal.
“You’re next!” Tiaz pointed at the car Don Juan was hiding behind.
“My baby,” he uttered sorrowfully, a tear descending down his cheek. Everything seemed so surreal to him. His entire world had been turned upside down because some fucking parasite wanted to take what was his and he retaliated. He didn’t understand. What the hell did Tiaz think he was going to do when he violated him? Lie down and take it? Who the fuck did he think he was dealing with? That would be the day that he got fucked up the ass and asked for more. He would fight like he always had, with everything in him.
Don Juan’s nostrils flared and his top lip twitched, thinking about how the thug had gotten at him. That shit had him on one. He’d be damned if he folded. Fuck that! It was time to give this buff ass nigga a taste of his own medicine.
He snatched his weapon up from off of the ground and came up, both hands gripping his banger. “I’m next? You’re next! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” He pulled the trigger rapidly, the gun recoiled each time it spat heat.
Ping! Ting! Zing!
Holes punctured the double backdoors of the getaway ride as it drove off with Tiaz and Bianca. Police car sirens filled the air as several cars were en route to the location. Don Juan continued to open fire on the SUV until his banger was empty. He dropped the hand holding the gun to his side and watched the truck for a time as it sped off. He then turned around, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked over all of the dead bodies sprawled out in the middle of the street. Niggaz was laid the fuck out, black holes littering their forms and running with streams of blood. It looked like a mothafucking Iraqi warzone out there.
Spotting his wife’s severed head, he kneeled down and picked it up. His eyes pooled with tears as he stared down at her chipping charcoaled face. Big teardrops fell from his eyes and splashed onto the face of the severed head. “I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He kissed it on the lips and hugged it to his body. His head snapped up and he peered up into the sky. “I’ma get chu nigga! You hear me, homeboy? I got something for that ass! Haa! Haa! Haa!” He pressed his head against the forehead of his wife’s head and squeezed his eyelids closed tightly. Tears burst from the corners of his eyes and transcended down his face as his shoulders trembled. “Haa! Haa! Haa!”
There alone in the middle of the street with his niggaz watching, the Trap God cried his heart out. It was then that he promised himself that he wasn’t going to stop until Tiaz was being lowered six feet into the ground.
Later that night
“Yo’ this the spot right here.” Ralo tapped Chance as he leaned forward staring at the house they’d just pulled up on.
“Hold up, lemme see.” Chance slid on his glasses and looked over the slip of paper with the address they’d obtained.
After smacking the magazine back into the bottom of his head bussa and cocking that bitch back, Ralo stole a glance in his homeboy’s direction. He snickered and shook his head. “Blind mothafucka,” he said under his breath, amused.
“Fuck you say?” Chance looked away from the slip of paper.
“What? You deaf, too? I said you blind mothafucka.”
Chance held up a middle finger and allowed it to linger.
“Sorry, but you aren’t my type.” He smirked and opened the glove-box, pulling out two ski-masks. He kept one and passed the other to his partner in crime. “That’s the right address?”
“Yeah, it’s the right one.” He removed his glasses and folded up the slip of paper.
The men pulled the ski-masks over their faces and adjusted them so that they could see out of the eye holes.
“Come on.” Ralo made to hop out of the truck.
“Hold on. Let me hit this nigga Don up and let ‘em know we got this fool in our sights.” Chance withdrew his cellular and sent a text to the man that had put the contract out on the Super Thug. He deposited the device back inside of his pocket. “You got upstairs and I got the back doe, alright?” Ralo nodded. “Alright then, let’s get this money.”
The two hit men hopped out of the Navigator and hunched over, hurrying into the yard. The night was as black as their hearts and their trigger fingers were itching. They planned on leaving the house with a body and one hundred thousand dollars richer.
***
Once she’d taken off her clothes, Bianca wrapped up her hair, threw on a wife beater and some blue boy shorts. She grabbed a gun box from out of the top of the closet and sat down on the end of the bed. She popped the locks of the box and removed a chrome long-nose .44 Magnum revolver Python. She popped open its chamber and dumped out the silver bullets that inhabited it. She removed the items she’d need to clean the weapon from out of the box and went about the task of cleaning the weapon. This was something she’d done once a week to make sure that the weapon was fully functional when she decided to use it. Bianca loved her gun almost as much as she loved Threat. He had given the pistol to her as a gift for her last birthday. She hadn’t done any dirt with it, but she’d taken it out to the gun range a couple of times. The Python was huge and lethal. Its bark was as loud as its bite. Not to mention, that just one shot from the big bastard was enough to kill a man. The Python was bigger than Bianca and kicked back like an aggravated mule. Although it was powerful she had gotten the handle of the thing and could fire it expertly.
Bianca was busy cleaning the Magnum when Tiaz emerged from out of the bathroom having just stepped out of the shower. He was clad in pajama pants and slipping a black tank top over his head. He stepped before the dresser mirror and gave himself the once over before turning around to his accomplice.
“Yo’ I’m ‘bout to...” The words died in his throat when he saw a lone tear slide down Bianca’s cheek, as she was cleaning out the huge revolver. The skin on his forehead bunched together showing his concern. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tapped her ankle. “Aye, you okay, momma?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and her fingers, sniffling. “I...I...I just miss him so, so much.” Her voice crackled and she licked her lips. Closing her eyes and trying to pull herself together. “He was my soul mate. I know that I’ll never find another love like him.”
“I feel your pain, sis.” Tiaz shared her grievance. “Me and Threat been down for each other since free lunch. That was my brother. Blood couldn’t make us any closer. That was my mothafucking family, you know?” His eyes became glassy and he felt stinging in them, tears rimmed his lids. He tilted his head back to stop them from falling. Threat’s death had crippled him emotionally. He was hurting. A lone wolf howling up at a full moon. Soon the streets would feel his pain, all of it. Tiaz batted his eyelids and dissipated the accumulated water in his eyes.
“I’ll tell you one thing though. This nigga here...” He smacked his hand up against his chest hard, facial features displaying the animosity that he held captive in his heart. “Ain’t gon’ stop until that punk bitch out there...” He referred to Don Juan, pointing a thick finger outside. “...is lying face up and gurgling on his own blood with me standing over him, you feel me?”
Bianca sniffled and wiped her eyes with her fist. “I’m gonna be right there with you.” She claimed, looking through the holes inside of the chamber of the revolver.
“I know you will, momma, and I know my nigga, Threat, wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Bianca finished, closed the pistol and placed it back inside of the gun box before snapping the locks closed. She carried it over to the closet and slid it all of the way back on the top shelf. She then turned around to Tiaz, eyes still bleeding her hurt. To her surprise his eyes were, too. She knew he must have been feeling their loss as much as she was, because men were known to keep their emotions hidden. She’d heard how he was in the trenches. And from what she had gathered, he wasn’t anything to fuck with. That was for damn sure, so for him to be standing right there in front of her with his feelings on display, he had to really be feeling it.
“I think we both need a hug.” She swiped the tears from her running eyes and opened her arms.
“This shit right here is steel...” He slammed his fist against chest, but the hurt in his glassy, pink eyes betrayed his words. He needed it like she needed it.
“I know. Well, can I have one for myself, Mr. Gangsta? I could really use it.” He nodded and they embraced. They melted in each another’s arms. Their souls hungered to be comforted, and this was much needed. It was healing. Not just for their minds and their hearts, but their souls. Eyes closed, deep breaths taken, they allowed the pain to be reduced in that moment. Then they pulled back. The display of emotions was awkward and they didn’t know what to do afterwards.
“Thanks, I really needed that.” Bianca told him.
“No problem.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’ma go kickback downstairs, probably watch some TV.”
“Okay. I think I’m gonna go shower.”
“Alright. Goodnight.” He threw up a hand as he made his departure.
“Goodnight.” She waved before opening her dresser drawer to retrieve some underwear.
***
Tiaz came down the stairs and headed to the closet beneath the staircase. He went to retrieve something, but stopped short once he heard a noise. His brows furrowed and he stopped where he was, holding the door open as he listened for the sound again. When he didn’t hear anything, he closed the closet shut and plopped down on the couch. He picked up the remote control and turned on the flat-screen. He flipped through the cable channels until he landed on Justified. Tiaz got so engrossed in the show that he didn’t even hear the soft footsteps of the masked man that had entered the house through the backdoor. The gunman smiled fiendishly, sliding his wet tongue across his top row of teeth like a hungry dog. He got about half way across the living room when Tiaz jumped to his feet. He whipped around, holding a shotgun at his hip. His eyebrows arched and his lips peeled back in a sneer.
“Surprise, mothafucka!”
He pulled the trigger and the deadly weapon jerked at his side as it roared furiously.
“Oh, shhhh...” The hit man was cut short as his eyelids stretched open. The blast lifted his monkey ass off of his feet, carrying him into the kitchen. He skidded across the floor and slid up against the kitchen cabinet, slumped. He struggled to lift his head up, hooded eyes looking ahead, seeing the two blurred images of his assailant as he approached him clutching his pump.
When he heard feet hurrying down the staircase he whipped around just in time to see the second hit man. He stopped where he was and raised his head bussa about to open up Tiaz’ face.
Bloom!
The blast slammed the hit man up against the wall. He slid down to the steps wearing a grimace and clutching his gun. Behind him was a red splatter running down the wall.
Seeing that he’d dispatched the gunner successfully, Tiaz advanced toward the kitchen, both hands gripping his powerful weapon.
“Wheeze! Haa! Wheeze! Haa! Wheeze! Haa!” The first hit man’s vision came into place as his glassy eyes looked ahead, his cheeks swelling and releasing as his lips dribbled his blood.
“Who sent chu? Let me guess, that faggot ass nigga, Don Juan, right?” The gunman nodded yes. “Why am I not surprised?” Tiaz asked as he descended upon him, barrel smoking. “The vindictive prick.” He shook his head shamefully. The hit man’s eyes shot to their corners seeing his .9mm within arm’s reach. His gloved hand almost grasped it when it was kicked aside, sending it spinning in circles. It clanked up against the refrigerator. The thug pulled the ski-mask off of the gunman’s head and tossed it to the side. He then racked the shotgun again and pressed it against his dome piece. He fished around inside of his pocket and pulled his cellular free. Flipping it open, he scrolled through the list of contacts until he found the name Don. He pressed dial and passed it to the hit man. His trembling gloved hand brought the cell phone to his ear, still wheezing.
“What’s cracking?” Don Juan answered.
The trigger man’s eyes shifted up to Tiaz who was wearing a stone face. “Tell ‘em ‘we fucked with the wrong one.’”
He trembled all over realizing that he was on the brink of death. Closing his eyes briefly as tears ran down his face. He swallowed hard and said, “We fucked with the wrong one.”
Tiaz pulled the trigger and thunder rumbled. Bloom! The gunman’s head disintegrated, sending blood and chunks of brain splattering all over the kitchen cabinets. His head hung and his chin touched his chest. His hand fell, but he was still holding tight to the cell phone. The screen of it was speckled with blood.
Tiaz picked up the cell, sat the shotgun down on the table, and snatched a butcher knife from out of the knife block. Snikt! Cool, calm, and steady, he returned to the living room whistling where he dispatched the second hit man slumped on the staircase. His victim stared up at him with blood gurgling and bubbling inside of his grill, spilling over, dripping from off of his chin. When the roughneck stepped foot on the first step, he grabbed at his leg. He tried to plead with him, but the crimson fluid pooling his mouth stopped him.
“Get cho fucking hand off of me, nigga!” Tiaz kicked his gloved hand from off his leg. He then kneeled down to him and pressed his head up against the wall. With a growl, he slammed the butcher’s knife into his chest bone repeatedly. Yanking it out and slamming it again, until it finally got stuck. He clenched his teeth, and twisted it around until half of it broke off inside of him. When that was done, he drove the broken half of the blade into his neck and dragged it around to the opposite end, spilling a river of black blood. The knife clanged when it hit the step. He wiped his red stained hands off on the deceased hit man, whose eyes were staring off into their corners. He picked up the cellular and said, “You missed mothafucka,” before disconnecting the call.
Hurried footsteps snapped Tiaz’ head to the top step. He found Bianca with a towel wrapped around her ample bosom and holding a gun up at her shoulder.
“You alright?” she asked, concerned, seeing the dead man at his feet at the bottom of the step.
“Yeah, I’m breezy.” He nodded as if it wasn’t a big deal. “There’s one slumped inside of the kitchen, too. We’re gon’ have to get rid of these fools and get up from outta here. If they found this place then there’s no telling who else knows where we’re laying our heads.”
“Okay. I’m gonna get dressed.”
“Cool.” He hoisted the body up and carried it off to the kitchen. He laid it beside the cat whose head he’d blown off. He then went about the task of cleaning up. Afterwards, he and Bianca would dispose of the bodies.
***
“We fucked with the wrong one.” The hit man said from the opposite end of the cellular.
Bloom!
Don Juan’s eyes shot open and he nearly choked on his champagne. He listened attentively as he heard Tiaz’ whistling and then him saying, “Get cho fucking hand off of me, nigga!”
Then there was the growling and stabbing. Afterwards, the thug came on the phone. “You missed mothafucka.” The call was disconnected.
“Fuck!” Don Juan threw his bottle of Belaire into the wall and it exploded, sending black shards flying everywhere. He’d just heard the roar of Tiaz’ shotgun when he murdered Chance. He didn’t know how the young niggaz had found the man that had been the pain in his ass, but he was happier than a jailhouse sissy. He was counting on them to shut his lights off, but boy was he in for a surprise.
“What happened?” Lil’ Stan’s forehead creased with concern.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned around to his second in command. “He whacked out Chance and Ralo.”
“Hell they miss this nigga? They were right on ‘em just a minute ago.” He said all riled up. He couldn’t believe the young wolves were so close to having Tiaz’ people draped in all black and ended up on the wrong side of his gun.
“I don’t know.” Don Juan looked defeated as he massaged the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He then looked up at the ceiling. It was like he was talking to God when he said, “Fucking amateurs.”
“Don’t even trip. We bound to get ‘em, one of the homies will murk this fool.” Lil’ Stan stated confidently. “A hunnit racks. Who couldn’t use that kinda loot?”
“You right, you right.” Don Juan gripped his shoulder and patted him on the back. He was grateful for having such a stalwart soldier in Lil’ Stan. The young nigga was loyal, fierce, and followed orders to the T.
Lil’ Stan’s eyes followed his boss as he headed up the spiral stairs of the mansion he’d rented. His head was bowed and he was dragging his feet. This thing with Tiaz was really weighing heavily on his shoulders. He knew he couldn’t get a decent night of rest until the South Central terror’s name and face was scrolled across an obituary. The thug had killed several homies, murdered his wife, violated her corpse, kidnapped his son, and attacked his traps. Lil’ Stan knew exactly what Tiaz was doing. He was causing Don Juan great emotional pain and stress before he ultimately delivered the Death Blow.
Tiaz is one of the most ruthless niggaz I done came across in a minute. A nigga don’t like ‘em, but I can’t help but to salute his gangsta, he thought before standing to his feet.
“Yo’ Don!” His voice echoed throughout the mansion causing the Trap God to stop and turn around, throwing his head back like ‘What’s up with it?’ “We gon’ get this nigga, we just gotta stay focused.” He quieted and waited the Top Dawg’s response. He licked his lips and nodded before carrying his tall frame up the stairs.
Don Juan retreated to the baby’s room where he approached his son’s crib. A slight smile creased his lips as he stared down at his baby boy lying peacefully asleep. His booty hiked up and his tiny fists balled. He looked so beautiful and serene in his current state. He reached his hands into the crib and picked his offspring up, laying him against his chest and kissed the top of his curly head. The baby nestled closer to the warmth of his dad, sleep undisturbed. Don smiled as he carried the little dude out of his room and headed into his study where he laid him inside of the extra crib in there. Afterwards, he decided to make himself a drink.
He placed a glass on the desk, dropped a couple of ice cubes into it and poured up the Louie XXIII. He took the bottle of the expensive dark liquor to the head before sitting it back down on the desk. Picking up the glass, he swirled the alcohol around inside of it and carried it over to a book shelf. He pulled on one of the books and the wall beside it shot up into the ceiling. This was the panic room. A panic room is like a safe haven in the event of a break-in, home invasion, tornado or terrorist attack. Don Juan had the place made up like a Man Cave so he’d feel comfortable in case anything popped off. The space was encased in concrete so there wasn’t any way in hell anyone was getting in, but whoever was on the inside could get out.
When the wall shot up into the ceiling, the blue illumination from several TV screens shined out from the dark room. Don Juan entered the room and turned to his right. He lifted the small square glass case up and pressed the big red button. There was the sound of air compressing and then the wall slid back down. Don Juan took a sip of his drink and sat down at the sectional desk before a row of small televisions. These televisions were to the surveillance cameras that monitored the inside and outside of his estate. Don Juan pulled open the desk drawer and dipped his hand inside. When it came back out, he was gripping an automatic handgun with a silencer attached and an infrared laser sighting. He didn’t even bother to check it, because he already knew that thang was cocked, locked and ready to get off, if need be. He sat the black tool down on the desk top and grabbed two extended fully loaded magazines, which he sat beside it.
The Trap God focused his dark brown eyes on the rows of televisions as he took sips from the glass. He’d already lost his wife, so there wasn’t any way in hell he was going to lose his son behind this war with Tiaz. See, he was more than willing to lay down his life and anyone else’s to protect his prince. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that gunfire was going to be exchanged until either he or his enemy was lying in a puddle of their own blood. The only thing he could do was hope that after the smoke cleared he was the last man standing.
Chapter Ten
The Next Day
“This should be quick,” Tiaz said, buttoning up the shirt of a janitor’s uniform. He was in the back of the stolen van getting dressed. “But if I’m not back in twenty minutes, you get the fuck from up outta here, you hear me?”
“No.” She told him, sitting behind the wheel.
“What?” His face scrunched up.
“I’m not leaving you here. We’re a team. When you’re done I’ll be right out here waiting on you.”
“Alright then.” Tiaz cracked a grin, happy to have a down ass bitch riding shotgun with him. He smacked a cap on his head and adjusted it at the brim and the back. He pulled out his gun and checked its magazine for a fully loaded clip. Satisfied, he smacked that ho back in and racked it. Brand new strap, for a brand new murder. He tucked his head bussa in the front of his pants and threw his shirt over it. Afterwards, he reached into his duffle bag and pulled out a detonator. He looked into the side view mirror where he could see the entrance of the hospital. There were visitors walking through the door and being checked at a metal detector. A couple of security guards stood off to the side taking inventory of everyone that crossed the threshold.
Yesterday, he’d snuck into the hospital and placed bombs in the restrooms of the thirteenth floor. The explosives weren’t enough to take out the floor, but it could cause some damage if someone was in close quarters. He’d placed them there to create a distraction. This would give him a sufficient window of time to slip inside undetected and with a ratchet. The perfect plan!
Tiaz looked back and forth between the detonator and the side view mirror, watching the hospital entrance. He pressed the red button and Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! The bombs went off in a domino effect on the thirteenth floor. From the outside, a mesh of screams and cries could be heard. Not even a minute later a rush of staff and visitors came flooding down the corridor in pandemonium. Tiaz hopped out of the van and made his way toward the entrance of the hospital. He navigated his way through a herd of people running for their lives, bumping into a couple of them along the way. Stopping, he looked up at the twelfth floor window and locked eyes with Chevy. She looked to be shocked to have seen him there. He smiled evilly and darted inside of the establishment, shoving people out of his way in a hurry.
***
“He’s still out there and he’s not gonna stop until he knows I’m dead.” Faison told Chevy.
“I know and I’m not gonna let that happen.” She squeezed his hand gently and patted it with her hand. “I already called those people of yours. They said they’d be here in an hour. We’re gonna be safe. Even if he does know where we are and he just so happens to get past security, your wild ass cousins are gonna be right up here waiting for him.”
Faison closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m tripping. JT and my cousin, Lil’ Chris, don’t play no games, especially when it comes to family.”
“Oh, believe me I know.” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing expression.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
Thunder erupted five times in a row startling both Chevy and Faison. The entire building quaked. Faison was nearly thrown from the bed and Chevy almost fell to the floor. Right after, they heard screams and hollers along with stampeding feet. Someone came over the loud speaker announcing to the hospital staff and guest what to do, but they couldn’t hear it over all of the noise. Chevy got to her feet and rushed over to the window. When she looked down, she saw people pouring out into the parking lot. A janitor was walking against them heading in the opposite direction of the crowd. Feeling a pair of eyes on him, he stopped and looked up at her, locking with her gaze. A creepy smile etched across his lips and she instantly realized who he was.
“Tiaz.” She gasped. Eyes wide, mouth open. Her hand pressed against her chest.
She kept her eyes on him until he went darting towards the building, knocking scared people out of the way, trying to clear a path to the entrance. Chevy whipped around. Worry emerged on Faison’s face when he saw the shocked expression she was sporting.
“What’s the matter? What’s going on?” He panicked, heart monitor going crazy.
“He’s here!”
“Who?”
“Tiaz. We’ve gotta get chu outta here.” She ran out of the door and ran straight into a surge of people, all fleeing for their lives. No one was paying attention to the hospital staff that was trying to restore order. Men and women were shoving people out of the way and trampling over them, not giving a fuck if they were hurting them.
Chevy tried getting help from someone out of the staff, but they weren’t paying her any attention, because they were too focused on trying to get people to leave the hospital in an orderly fashion. She stopped where she was and her eyes scanned the crowd flooding in her direction, searching desperately for someone that could help her get Faison out of the room before Tiaz arrived.
“Fuck it!” She ran back into the room, pulling the patches free from Faison’s chest.
“Aye, what chu doing?” He winced, feeling pinches as the patches were yanked from off him.
“I’ve gotta get chu outta here before he comes up.” She took cautious looks over her shoulder as she removed the IV from out of his hand. The entire time her heart was beating wildly inside of her chest.
Chevy knew that Tiaz was a tyrant willing to do any and everything in his power to crush the people he felt that had wronged him in some way. She understood better than anyone that he wouldn’t have any problem killing her or Faison and he’d probably be vicious because of what he’d been through with them. With this knowledge in mind, she was going to do whatever she had to do to protect herself and Faison, even if it meant going toe to toe with the vindictive killer. There wasn’t any way in hell that she was going to lose him again. She’d just recovered him from the hands of Death.
All she was worried about now was getting a weakened Faison out of bed and finding somewhere for them to hide, until she figured out how she was going to get out of the hospital undetected.
***
Tiaz came through the staircase door, bumping into droves of people going into the direction from which he came. He pulled his silenced gun from the front of his pants and made his way toward the corridor. Going down the hall, he met a surge of hospital staff and patients, getting clipped at the shoulder and dropping his weapon. Fuck, he thought. His head moved all around as he searched the floor for his gun. Not being able to spot his piece beneath the stampeding feet, he looked up and down the corridor. When he spotted a metal push cart with surgical tools which someone had abandoned, he started in its direction.
As he walked past it, he swept up a scalpel and stuck the blade inside of the sleeve of his shirt’s cuff. Tiaz’ head moved from left to right looking for Faizon’s room number. When he spotted it, a grin curled the corner of his lips and he rubbed his hands together mischievously. Taking a cautious look over both shoulders, he snatched the scalpel from his sleeve. The lights in the hallway deflected off of it and it twinkled.
His massive hand pressed against the door and he made his way inside, eyes peering around the dimly lit room. Figuring that his target was hidden behind the curtains, he drew the curtains back and found an empty bed. His forehead wrinkled and he whipped around. He sniffed the air and inhaled the scent of perfume. The scent was familiar, very familiar. He’d smelled it before on Chevy. It was her fragrance. Chanel #5.
Tiaz followed the aroma out of the room and into the corridor where he made a right. He hurriedly jogged down the hallway. A herd of people came stampeding across his line of vision at the opposite end. He made a left just in time to see the restroom door closing. Ah ha, he thought inside of his head, a devilish smile came across his face. He did tricks with the sharp instrument between his fingers, real fancy like, maneuvering it like a mini baton. He jogged down to the women’s restroom door and kicked the door open. It bounced off of the wall. His head snapped from left to right, looking for his prey. Suddenly, he jumped down to the tiled floor and looked under the stalls. He was smiling until he didn’t see any feet underneath. Quickly, he jumped back up to his booted feet and made his way down the line of stall doors, kicking them in one by one.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He snickered with a balled up face and a wicked smile.
Boom! Went the first door. Boom! Went the second. Boom! Sounded the third and fourth.
“Ah, the fifth and final door, I wonder if you’re behind it. We shall see.” He said with his hands planted firmly against the door. The side of his face pressed against it as he listened closely. He licked his lips and found his dick nudging his zipper. He was so excited his member grew hard.
Chevy sat propped upon the commode with a weakened Faison in her arms, their feet up on the wall. She took a good hold of his chain, the one that was passed down to him from his great grandfather. She looked from the chain to the stall’s door. Making up her mind on what she had to do, she kissed her man on the side of the head.
“Lil’ pig, lil’ pig, let me in.” He stepped back, placing one hand firmly against the wall and coiling his leg about to kick in the stall’s door.
Boom!
The end stall flew open and Chevy slid out twirling Faison’s chain around in circles, the end of it was a blur. It whistled loudly and spun like a helicopter propeller. Her head was tilted and she was staring up at Tiaz wickedly, jaws so tight that they pulsated. Her teeth were clenched and her chin was wrinkled, she was ready to get it in. Tiaz took a step back, but kept his blade extended. If that chain was to hit his head, it would crack his skull open, maybe even kill his ass. He had to be careful, quick and calculated if he wanted to body her and get to Faison.
“You wanna play with me, bitch? Come on then, I’m game.” He maneuvered the scalpel between his fingers like it was a coin.
“Let’s get it on then, bitch-boy.” She countered, moving counterclockwise with her rival. They were locked into a very intense stare. Neither one of them blinking or flinching. The wrong move could put either one of them in a bad way.
Whook! Whook!
Tiaz swung the scalpel back and forth causing Chevy to jump back, but she kept the chain spinning. When he pulled back she swung it at his head, he bobbed, weaved and leaned all of the way back. His spine bent like he was playing Limbo. His eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open seeing the chain miss the tip of his nose by a half an inch. When the chain drew back he came up and staggered back, quickly regaining his equilibrium. He touched his nose and looked at it, thinking he’d see blood, but he didn’t. He flipped the surgical blade over in his palm and gripped it firmly.
“Yeeaahh, come on.” His forehead deepened with lines and his nose wrinkled, while his tongue pierced his lips and he slid it across his top row of teeth. Adrenaline pumping, like it always did when he was in the face of danger, his blood was rushing furiously, his pulse was thumping rapidly, and fat veins were on his temples and forehead.
They circled each another counterclockwise, weapons brandished and ready to go. They were locked into the other’s gaze, intensity at its all time high. The combatants were ready to lock ass and draw blood. Chevy swung the chain fast and sharply, he moved swiftly barely managing to dodge the lethal weapon. “Arghhh!” His face tightened with pain, feeling the sting of the chain strike his elbow. It hurt like hell.
“Uh huh.” Chevy smiled triumphantly and licked her lips, feeling herself having injured her enemy. From there she went at him swinging the chain wildly trying to tear his fucking head off of his shoulders.
Chevy was enraged from all of the shit Tiaz had put her through. The lies, the cheating, the deceit, the broken promises, he’d hurt her to the core of her being. His selfishness pierced her heart and soul like a harpoon. She wanted to hurt, maim, and kill him, right here and right now.
Whook! Whook! Whook! Whook!
Tiaz wore a face of concentration as he dodged the chain, with it barely missing him. When she brought the chain back, he made his move, jabbing at her chest and torso. Her face tightened feeling the scalpel poking up her middle, small red spots quickly expanded. She staggered back and almost fell. Righting herself, she found the thug about to swipe her jugular with the blade. Refocusing, she swung the chain and knocked the weapon from his hand, sending it flying across the restroom.
Tiaz looked to his naked palm then back at his enemy. She was about to attack him again, but before she could bring the chain around, he kicked her in the chest. The impact sent her slamming up against the tiled wall, wincing when she bumped her head. Chevy dropped the chain to the floor and slid down the wall, leaving a red streak. She moaned, barely conscious, and felt the stinging at the back of her skull. The blonde bombshell lay slumped up against the wall with her legs separated in a V.
Tiaz’ head whipped all around the restroom looking for the scalpel. Seeing a twinkle at the far corner, he smiled and stalked over. He picked up the surgical tool then turned around to a discombobulated Chevy, gripping the blade so tight that his hands turned white at the knuckles. Reaching her, he outstretched his hand to grab her by the hair and slice her fucking throat open. He’d just pulled her head back to open her up when a shrill came from his left. Faison tackled him and he slammed up against the restroom mirror. His head bumped into the glass, cracking it into a spider’s web. The roughneck’s face balled up and he dropped his weapon in the neighboring sink.
“Bitch ass nigga, put cho hands on mine!”
Wap! Wop! Wamp! Bwhack! Crack!
Tiaz’ head whipped from left to right while he staggered back. That nigga Faison was throwing haymakers on his big, buff ass. He was weakened from his wounds, but seeing his lady in trouble ignited a fire inside of him.
The husky man went to throw another right and it was blocked by Tiaz’ arm. Faison came back with a right cross and followed up, with several bone rattling blows to the thug’s face backing him up. Once he kicked his adversary in the chest and he stumbled backwards, he tackled him hard. They slammed up against the tiled wall, denting it and cracking it into what appeared to be a million pieces. Faison squeezed his eyes shut and squared his jaws from the excruciation in his back and head. He quickly shook off his lingering pain and tackled Tiaz to the floor.
They rolled over on the linoleum, hands wrapped around each other’s necks, trying to choke the life out of each other. Faison ended up on top squeezing his foe’s neck as hard as he could with a face masked by hatred.
Cock sucka, put me in the hospital! Stole my woman, had my son slinging crack, murdered my family, and blinded my sister for life! I’mma kill you, you mothafucka!
Veins rolled up Faison’s forehead as well as his opponents. These big ass niggaz struggled for power and Faison seemed to be holding his own even with his injuries. That was until Tiaz snatched his hands from his neck and stabbed his fingers into his bandaged wounds.
“Aaarrr!” The coke peddler threw his head back and his eyelids snapped open. His mouth stretched wide enough to see his uvula when he screamed. Tiaz’ fingers sunk into the holes of his gunshots, expanding the blood in the bandages wrapped around his torso.
“Shit hurt, don’t it?” He gritted with arched eyebrows. “Uhhunh.” He then grabbed the collar of his gown and pulled him down while throwing his forehead upward. Bwhrack! Faison’s eyes rolled to their whites and a reddened line encircled his nose, as it was broken, running red streams. He released the grip on his foe’s neck and fell off to the side, moaning in pain as his eyes flickered whiteness.
Tiaz scrambled to his feet breathing hard and looking at a defeated Faison. Turning around to the row of sinks, his eyes searched them until he found his scalpel. He recovered it and straddled the husky man. He wrapped both of his hands around the surgical tool and raised it above his head, staring down at his opponent with madness in his pupils. His head shook slightly as he clenched his jaws, the bone structure in them shown.
Chevy’s head bobbled and her eyes fluttered open. Her vision came into place and she saw Tiaz about to murder her man. She was stiff at that moment, but seemed to come alive seeing her son’s father in danger.
“Noooo!” She outstretched her hand, making to get up, but it was too late.
“Lights out, big man!” The scalpel gleamed at its razor sharp tip under the restroom’s light. Tiaz moved swiftly to stab it into Faison’s heart.
Boom!
Tiaz’ head snapped up as the restroom door swung open and two police officers poured inside, dispatcher rattling off on the radio transceivers on their shoulders. They had their guns drawn on him, fingers settled on their triggers ready to leave him holier than a weak alibi.
“Drop the weapon and put your hands behind your head!” One of the Caucasian cops yelled, veins visible on his temples as he turned red in the face from yelling. Hands still held above his head clutching the scalpel, Tiaz looked down at Faison to the cops trying to make up his mind on whether to force their hands or not.
“You’re one lucky son of a bitch, you know that?” he told Faison and dropped the blade, placing his hands behind his head.
I guess the fat woman has sung, huh? A nigga got snatched up by One Time right before I could finish these bastards. Damn. He shook his head regretfully, hating having been caught. I had three more niggaz to take out before Threat could finally rest in peace. Fuck it though. It’s alright, my name still good in the streets. I can call in a couple of favors and have these bitches whacked out from behind the wall.
One of the cops kept his gun trained on Tiaz, while the other ordered him in a position so that he could handcuff him. Chevy scrambled over to Faison lifting his head off of the floor and peeling back his eyelids to see if he was still alive. His moans of pain were confirmation enough for her. She kissed his cheek and pressed the side of her face up against his, mashing them together.
“Thank God you’re alive, baby.” She sighed with relief and looked up at the ceiling. “Thank you, Lord, for having mercy.” She kissed him again and held her face up against his lovingly. Tears pooled in her eyes and came pouring down her cheeks in buckets. The moment before was so intense that she didn’t know what would have happened if the police hadn’t shown up. For the first time in her life she was actually happy to see The Boys in Blue.
Tiaz stared down at the couple with murderous thoughts running through his mental as he was pulled to his feet and read his Miranda rights. Chevy’s eyes darkened and she stood up holding his angered gaze. Intensity passed between them for a time before she hauled off and cracked him in the mouth, whipping his head around.
I can’t believe I ever loved his ass!
When Tiaz turned back around to her, he had a mouth pooled with blood and his lips were partially red. He cracked a smile and swallowed, licking his lips. “Taste almost as sweet as your pussy.” He laughed as he was ushered away by one of the officers. The other stayed behind to attend to Faison and ask Chevy questions.
Finally the mad man’s reign of terror was over.
***
Ta’shauna stood completely still as Herby slipped a white bulletproof Kevlar vest over her head.
“Hold your arms up for me, Doll Face.” She did like he ordered and he strapped the vest down under her arms. He kneeled down and strapped it down around her waist. “There we go.” He stood erect, adjusting the vest making sure that it would hold up against her frame. “Yep, nice and snug like a bug in a rug.” He passed her a gray hoodie and she slipped it on over her head.
“Alright, ya ready to go?” Herby asked, sticking his gun into the holster underneath his arm.
“Yeah, I’m ready.” She took his hand and he snapped a handcuff on her wrist, her brows wrinkled, turning her head in his direction, her expression reading ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
“Relax.” He threw up a hand to put her at ease. “This is just in case someone tries to snatch you up. I’ll be coming right along with you, and giving them hell all the way.” He patted his holstered firearm. “Now, come on, I’ve gotta get you to the safe house.” He smacked a hat on his head and grabbed his overcoat, heading for the door.
Herby hopped on the freeway taking the 105 going East. Once he adjusted his rearview mirror, he glanced up at it to make sure that there was no one following them. Next, he turned off the radio. His eyes were open and he wanted his ears to be, as well. He needed to be well aware if some shit was going to pop off.
“Sooooo.” He looked from the windshield to Ta’shauna. “Who’s this cat you left Tiaz for?”
“My son’s father, Orlando. What about him?”
“Hmmm.” He wondered. “How’d that happen? Weren’t you two broken up?”
“Nah, we weren’t broken up, but I let Tiaz think that,” she shamelessly admitted. “Honestly, my baby daddy put me up on the dude. He was a lick. He used to see ‘em at gambling spots and strip clubs. My nigga had grips. I mean he rocked heavy jewels, drove the latest foreign whips, dressed in the flyest of clothes, the whole nine. My nigga was holding a big bag and all these hoes out here were tryna dip their hands into it. But the nigga had on his choosing shoes and chose me. Not that I’m surprised, ‘cause you know.” She shrugged, turned her head his way and smiled. “A bitch is all of that, a bag of chips and a free soda.”
“How long were y’all together?”
“Three years.”
“You got away with playing him for three fucking years?” He raised his eyebrows, surprised with what she’d relayed. “Impossible. You’re lying, you’ve got to be.” He shook his head, believing wholeheartedly that she wasn’t telling the truth. “No way.”
She smiled bigger, then said, “What reason do I have to lie?”
He froze the image of her smile inside of his mind. She looked so pretty and angelic at that moment in the passenger seat beside him. He’d heard before that looks were deceiving and it had been proven in that instant. The woman sitting beside him was as scandalous as they came.
How can you smile? Tell me how in Jesus’ name you can sit there and smile like that after what you did to that poor bastard? Trifling whore, you deserved that bullet in the top of your fucking head. My piece of shit wife did the same thing to me, sucked me dry, the fucking vampire. Took everything I had worth having. I swear if I wasn’t hired to protect this broad I’d let her foul ass out right here and right now on the fucking freeway, so help me God.
“None whatsoever.” He managed a halfhearted smile. “I’m not mad at you, get yours.”
“Not to worry, ‘cause I did, every nickel of it and then some.”
“How’d you managed to keep both relationships going though? I mean, three years, he had to catch on to something. Excuse me, I’m not one to be nosey, but I’m curious.” Not being in the know was eating him alive.
“Please, Tiaz was a street dude. He wasn’t home most of the time, no way.” She let him know how it was back then. “I got my chances to sneak away with Orlando often. The only real problem I had was getting Jaden to keep his mouth shut. That water head boy of mine almost got me caught up twice. Luckily, a bitch is quick up on her feet. I played that shit off cold, if I do say so myself.” She laughed, but stopped once she realized he wasn’t laughing along with her. “I bet chu think I’m some kind of monster, don’t chu?”
Ta’shauna didn’t feel any kind of way about how she’d played Tiaz. The only thing she regretted was getting shot and having to be blind for the rest of her days. Still, that wasn’t going to stop her from hustling her pussy. Just as soon as this thing blew over she was going to be right back out there courting herself another baller for sponsorship.
“Naahh.” He shook his head. “Just a young lady doing whatever she can to survive in this cold, cruel world.”
“I’m glad you see it for what it is.”
“I’m glad you tell it like it is, Sweets.” He narrowed his eyes and peered closely out of the windshield. “Alright, this is it.”
Herby pulled into the driveway of an old, white modest house with a neatly trimmed lawn and bushes. He parked his car in the garage and closed it shut. He was discreet as he led her to the backdoor of the house, keeping his gun in his free hand while the other unlocked the door. Once he opened the door, he ushered her inside and quickly closed it shut. He took a gander through the back porch window then hastily moved from it with Ta’shauna by his side. He maneuvered through the dark, carefully, until he discovered the picture window. He peeked out through the curtain. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Alright, safe and sound.” He removed the handcuff. “Now, let me put a text in to your brother to let him know that we’re alright.”
Herby shot the text to his employer, removed his overcoat, and made himself a drink. He watched Ta’shauna attentively, mesmerized by how much of a low life that she really was. He really hated being in the same space as her. The bitch made his skin crawl. He would be relieved once this job was over so he could get paid and move on.