17

It had been over a week now, and Maxine was still in a coma. The hospital room was decorated with dozens of cards, balloons, and flowers. It was looking and smelling like a florist. Many people were wishing her to get well and have a healthy recovery.

Scott continued to sit by her bedside and observe her condition. He felt guilty.

He thought back to 1994 when they’d first met. The day he saw her coming off that train with her school friends looking too cute in her prep school outfit, he had to introduce himself. It was love at first sight. She had innocence and beauty, and she was smart and ambitious. Maxine was gonna be somebody in life. She was supposed to become a prominent lawyer, and they would be a power couple. She would be the businesswoman and Scott would be the streets—the thug with her back.

Maxine was always good to him—real good. She wouldn’t even look at other guys. Scott was her everything. He took her virginity. He bought her whatever she wanted and needed. Scott didn’t want his woman to want for anything. So what went wrong between them? How could he allow the woman he supposedly loved to do over twenty years in prison? How could he have forgotten about her? He did her wrong, and it pained him greatly. He’d allowed Layla to come between their loving relationship. Layla was great sex, but Maxine was the perfect woman for him. Layla knew his world while Maxine was sheltered. Maxine was the opposite of him, but she loved him dearly, and she was perfect for him, so why did he marry Layla?

When he first saw Maxine that day in their Florida home, he was taken aback. He was standoffish, even though he wanted to scoop her up into his arms and hug and kiss her passionately. Soon he charmed his way back into her life. Layla was foolish for bringing his ex-girlfriend back around. He did not understand what she was thinking.

Scott sighed as he took Maxine’s still hand into his and felt guilt entirely consume him. He was a killer, but today he felt like putty, and his emotions were heightened. He’d been through a lot in the past months with the death of his kids, warring with a rival crew, Whistler’s betrayal, and now Maxine being kidnapped and winding up in a coma.

Scott was determined to remain by her bedside until she woke up. He’d abandoned her a long time ago, but today, he was rooted by her side.

While Scott was deep in thought, it finally happened. Her eyes flickered, and her hand gradually moved in his. Scott perked up and watched her with anticipation. He immediately alerted the doctors. They hurried into the room to check her vitals and to make sure Maxine was okay. She was finally awake, and she was aware. She stared up at Scott watching her with concern. She was happy to see his handsome face. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead and gently squeezed her hand. It seemed like she would be okay, although she had a lot of pain medication in her system.

“You had me worried,” he said. “You were in a coma for over a week.”

She wondered if he’d been by her side the entire time.

A week . . . the last thing Maxine remembered was being held at gunpoint. She didn’t even remember the car accident she’d caused to escape Wacka. Wacka would have killed her. His eyes didn’t lie. The man was overtaken by rage and revenge. It was a miracle she even survived her escape. She had seen her life flashing before her eyes.

All she could do was lie there and recuperate slowly. Her legs felt numb and she felt some pain in her body. Scott continued to talk and comfort her. With him there, loving her and being her man, it felt like ’94 again, when life was good and they were so young and had so many dreams.

The door opened and Bugsy entered the room. He smiled Maxine’s way and he greeted her warmly. He kissed the side of her cheek and was genuinely happy to see she was out of her coma.

“You had us shook,” he said to her.

Maxine stared into his face. The guilt consumed her, and she burst into tears. Looking at Bugsy, who showed concern for her well-being, made her feel like a monster.

What had her life become? What had she become? Arranging the death of Gotti, Bonnie, and Clyde brought forth no closure. She thought their murders would fill the void, remove her sadness, but it didn’t. Maxine wasn’t proud of what she had done. It was the past, but the guilt would stain her soul—it would forever corrupt her core.

Scott wiped away her tears and continued to comfort her. He believed she was crying because of the kidnapping. She had overcome a terrifying incident. Something like that could scar someone for life.

“Don’t worry about that fool. I got every nigga on him and we’ll find him. He’s gonna pay for what he did to you,” Scott told her with conviction.

She remained silent. In reality, she hoped that they never found him—alive anyway. Wacka had too many dark secrets that, if revealed, would turn her entire life upside down and most likely be her demise.

“Tell me anything you know about this nigga. Did he say anything about where he’s from or who sent him at you?” he asked her.

Maxine shook her head. “He was just there at my mother’s place. I don’t know why.”

“Don’t stress yourself, baby. He won’t bother you anymore. I promise you that.”

Scott and Bugsy shared a quick look between themselves. It was something bad—something that they weren’t telling her.

Maxine noticed it. “What is it?” she asked them.

They both looked reluctant to tell her. Scott took her hand into his again with his eyes locked on to hers. He would be the one to tell her. It was his right. Bugsy wanted his father to delay the news, since she’d just come out of a coma, but Scott felt it was better just to tell it—rip it off like a bandage.

He gently caressed her hand and said, “I have some bad news.”

“What?” She felt her heart flutter and her stomach twist.

He heaved a sigh. “It’s your mother . . . . She had a stroke . . . . She passed away while you were in a coma.”

Maxine’s chest tightened, and she began to sweat profusely. Large, round teardrops flowed down her cheeks.

“No! Ohmygod . . . no, please! Are you serious!” Her cries echoed from the hospital room.

“She died peacefully, Maxine,” said Scott.

She sobbed in the hospital bed, the sorrow wracking her soul. She was inconsolable, but Scott was there to comfort her the best he could.

Bugsy had to leave the room. His cell phone was ringing and he stepped outside to take the call. He strolled down the hallway and could still hear Maxine wailing. He had to take care of business, though. It was AJ on the phone.

“What is it?” Bugsy asked.

“We got an exact location on where the money’s at. It’s been sitting for three days straight, unmoved,” AJ said.

“A’ight, you know what I want,” Bugsy said, choosing his words wisely while on the phone.

“I got you.”

“Meet me tonight—you know where—and we’ll discuss this further,” said Bugsy.

“Got you,” AJ said.

Bugsy hung up. He knew it was only a matter of time before their trap was discovered. He wanted to execute his plan immediately, and he wanted to handle it alone. His father was still distracted over Maxine’s kidnapping and her condition. His nerves were rattled. But it would be unwise not to inform Scott of what was going on.

Bugsy turned and marched back to the room. He slowly opened the door to see his father holding Maxine in his arms.

Scott noticed his son looking in on them, and Bugsy’s expression said there was something crucial that he needed to speak to him about. But he didn’t want to leave Maxine.

“What is it?” Scott asked.

“It’s about Deuce,” Bugsy said.

The name made Scott’s blood boil. Scott believed that Deuce had sent one of his henchmen to kidnap Maxine. He didn’t want to depart her side, but this was important too.

“Baby, give me one minute. I need to handle something,” he said to her.

He grudgingly left her side to talk to his son in private about their problem. They went into the stairwell to talk. Bugsy gave him the 411—told his father about the trap he deployed, the robbery and cash, and where it was.

“We have a beat on it right now, and the pigs are all lined up and ready for the slaughter,” Bugsy said.

Besides Maxine waking up from her coma, this was the next best news for Scott to hear. He wanted to be there to see his enemy fall. He was itching to do it himself and finally put a bullet between Deuce’s eyes. However, Bugsy advised that he should stay in New York and remain by Maxine’s side. She would need him.

Looking his father in the eyes, Bugsy said with confidence, “I got this, Pop. I’m on it.”

“Bring him to me alive if you can. If you can’t, then just bring me his fuckin’ head,” Scott said seriously.

Bugsy nodded. He had his father’s blessing to raise hell. Bugsy turned and descended the stairwell while Scott went back to Maxine’s side.

Several hours later, four vanloads of killers with heavy artillery were on the New Jersey Turnpike headed south. It was a three-hour drive to Delaware.