Chapter 10

After torching the motel, Chief and Delano scrambled to get away. It would take at least an hour for the fire to gain momentum and spread throughout each room. By that time the pair had hoped they’d be finished with their heist and on their way back to New York. Chief couldn’t wait to touch down in his hometown. Vegas wasn’t his thing. It was a great place to spend a vacation, but to live was a whole different beast. Too many different walks of life all cramped into one environment and rubbing elbows with each other on a day-to-day basis—hood dudes sprinkled throughout the “Esses,” Mexican gang members from Los Angeles; country bumpkins; the Mafioso; playboy-bunny types; and the straight-laced corporate guy.

Chief loved walking to the local bodega to get a ham-and-cheese sandwich and tossing that back with a Red Bull early in the morning. Standing on his corner, gun tucked in his waist, and kicking it with his dudes, who all spoke the same language, that made him feel comfortable and secure.

“Hurry up, man. Drive this muthafucka. We only got a few minutes to pick up Luther so we can go and set this muthafucka off!”

Delano was a little tired, not only fatigued from a night of no sleep, but from Chief’s constant bullshit. He was always barking orders, like his shit don’t stink. Had it not been for him taking out Big Meech last night, they wouldn’t be running so far behind. And he wasn’t about to get pulled over, dirty, in Vegas. Chief just didn’t use his head.

“I gotta do the speed limit, man. We can’t blow it when we’re this close.”

Chief sucked his teeth. “Man, fuck all that speed limit shit!” Chief was agitated, the way he always felt right before committing a crime. His nerves always got the better of him. “The last thing I want to hear is Luther’s mouth when we pull up late.”

Delano ignored Chief for the rest of the ride and just concentrated on the road. He knew that sooner than later he’d make Chief disappear. Payback for a lot of unnecessary shit he’d pulled throughout the years.

When the two reached Luther, he was already standing out front smoking a cigarette. They were only five minutes late, but Luther’s expression showed that he wasn’t too pleased.

Luther ordered Delano, “Get in the back,” and took the wheel.

As Luther drove, both Chief and Delano began checking and rechecking their pistols to make sure there was a bullet in every chamber and that their guns were off the safety latch. The click-clacking of guns wasn’t new to Luther’s ears.

“So, y’all good with the plan, right?” Luther asked.

No one answered. Chief was still upset that he had to follow Honey’s plan. Honey didn’t know it, but right before he and Big Meech had gotten into it, Chief had changed the plan. He no longer wanted to rob the casino for chips, thinking that was low-level stuff. He wanted to rob the armored car that was dropping off the chips—make it up close and personal. He wanted it to be cowboys and Indians playing out on the Las Vegas streets. There was something about Honey’s plan that didn’t sit too well with him. He knew his sister. He knew she was sneaky, but he couldn’t put his finger on what she was up to. And right now it didn’t matter because he was riding three-deep to carry out his sister’s wishes.

When they pulled up, they saw the stolen FedEx minivan with Cinnamon behind the wheel, drinking coffee and eating a donut. There was so much early-morning commotion going on at the hotel’s entrance, she blended in perfectly as Honey said she would. She had no idea that her baby daddy was shot and burned alive only hours ago.

***

The Garda armored truck passed its early morning inspection, and the three guards, Michael, Jeffrey, and Elizabeth all loaded up and were ready to go. Today was a typical Wednesday, uneventful for the crew. They had to make four casino stops, one Walmart, and three ATM machines before returning back to base just before three p.m.

Elizabeth usually took the wheel, but Jeffrey had complained of back troubles due to late-night bowling, so she agreed to ride shotgun. It was exactly seven a.m. when they pulled out.

“Did you hear about Obama catching Bin Laden?” Elizabeth, a die-hard Democrat asked.

“I heard that our U.S. Navy Seals captured and murdered Bin Laden. Is that the story you’re referring to?”

Jeffrey was a conservative Republican who wanted Sarah Palin to run in the upcoming election and win. He was born and raised in Mississippi where they still fly the Confederate flag and you were taught to shoot first and ask questions next. He loved few things in life—his country, his job, and his whiskey.

“Well, whoever you want to give credit to, the fact still remains that he’s dead, which is good for our country all around.”

“I’m not going to debate you on that, but the true credit goes to the Bush administration. G.W. put the plan in motion after 9/11, and the Seals just carried it out.”

“Now you sound like Fox News.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes and grabbed for the receiver. “Base this is car 790. Radio check, route 3, routine. We’re approaching the side entrance of Harrah’s Casino, making our first stop of the day. Copy.”

Static rippled through the air and then, “Car 790, are you clear? Copy.”

“Yes, sir. Radio check in fifteen minutes. Copy.”

“Copy that.”

Jeffrey pulled along the side of the loading dock. When the car came to a complete stop, Elizabeth exited it first, hand hovering over her pistol, something she’d learned the first week in training. Before motioning for Michael to open up the back door of the truck, she scanned the perimeter. Nothing seemed suspicious. She gave the code: two knocks on the back door and then, “All clear.”

Michael was ready for action. He was pumped up off two cups of coffee and excited about this evening. He had tickets to the Phoenix Suns against the Miami Heat summer league game, which took place every summer in Las Vegas, showcasing NBA teams’ top rookie talent. His new girlfriend had bought him two tickets on the condition that she accompany him. She wouldn’t have been his first choice, or even his second, but since she did make the purchase, who was he to complain.

Elizabeth and Michael didn’t talk much while they were unloading the large sums of casino chips out of the truck. They were very professional and knew that their lives were at stake whenever they were in the field. One false move and they wouldn’t make it home for supper.

Both took turns carrying over eighty pounds of chips into the side entrance and into the secure hands of Harrah’s Casino security, while Jeffrey held his position as the third set of eyes.

So far so good, Jeffrey thought. Until an ordinary Nissan Maxima pulled up with three black guys, an older gentleman at the wheel and two younger gentlemen. Jeffrey watched as they all peered down the alley in his direction.

Are they looking at me? he thought. “What are you monkeys looking at?” he said out loud to himself.

The two passengers continually looked around. There seemed to be a lot of commotion going on in the small car so early in the morning. He thought they were about to have some action. Jeffrey was just about to radio for backup when the two passengers exited the vehicle and walked in the opposite direction of his armored car. He figured they were going inside the casino to gamble. When the driver backed his car up and drove off, he knew he had been reaching for straws.

He laughed out loud. “What an idiot I am.”

At approximately 7:50 a.m., Michael and Elizabeth were safely inside the truck and on their way to their next drop-off location. The Wynn Hotel and Casino was just minutes up the strip.

***

Luther peeled away from the side entrance of the casino right on time. He peered down at his watch and knew that soon Honey and her girls would be approaching the Bellagio. They all had strict instructions to not use cell phones. Otherwise, he would have called her to tell her how downright obvious Chief and Delano were. They were the most paranoid criminals he’d ever met. He had to scream on them several times to stop looking at the armored car driver. He was so glad his part of the heist was almost complete.

***

Chief and Delano casually walked into Harrah’s Casino and headed toward separate tables, just as planned. Chief hit the baccarat, and Delano found the craps table. Though they’d walked in at almost eight in the morning, the crowded, noisy atmosphere felt more like eleven at night, with slot machines going off every second and little old ladies dropping quarter after quarter, hoping to win big.

Chief passed by Javier and saw him do a slight head nod. He had almost forgotten that Javier’s wife and kids were held hostage. Not that he felt any sympathy, but it was an issue.

Immediately Chief joined in the action. He peered over at the bank and counted at least a million dollars in chips. You had to buy in at one hundred dollars, and the chips ranged from one hundred to one thousand dollars. Chief concluded it would take him less than thirty seconds to dump those chips in his bag and bounce. He was confident that his Aviator shades, fitted baseball cap, and scruffy mustache and beard he’d grown was enough to shield his identity. But, honestly, he didn’t care. He loved living on the edge. Once this heist made the papers, it would take him a matter of days before he began bragging about it back in Brooklyn. What good was getting away with a crime if no one knew you were the one who’d done it? Part of the glory was the bragging. That’s what legends are made of—the backstory.

***

Delano was getting antsy. He felt they needed Big Meech. He’d never done a heist of this magnitude, and with only Chief and the promise of the backup of Javier, someone he’d never broken bread with, had made him more than just a little paranoid. He’d tried to concentrate on the table and not bring too much suspicion on himself until he needed to pull out his gat, but he ended up doing exactly what Honey had warned them not to do—looking up at the cameras and fidgeting.

As he looked around, it appeared that everyone was watching him. Did they all know? Had Javier dropped dime? He didn’t have a good feeling at all. What if the lady to his right was undercover? Or the man to his left FBI? It was one thing to get knocked for a robbery—he’d be out in three to five—but kidnapping a woman and her two kids held a life sentence. Was he in too deep?

“Sir, it’s your roll,” the dealer stated to Delano.

Everyone stared impatiently because he was holding up their momentum. Delano rolled.

“Snake eyes. You lose.” The dealer swooped up the dice and the chips.

Delano began to get hot under his collar. Snake eyes? Was that an omen? He looked over and Chief looked cooler than a cucumber. They had less than five minutes to strike, but Delano was feeling squeamish.

Chief didn’t see Delano coming, but when he tapped him on the shoulder, he wanted to shit in his pants. His face turned beet-red from aggravation.“Yo, what are you doing?” Chief whispered through clenched teeth.

“Chief, fam, I’m not feeling this. Something ain’t right.”

“You just nervous because Meech ain’t here. Don’t worry, man, I got you. Just play your part, and we gonna make it outta here paid in full.” Chief turned his back on Delano as to not hear anymore nonsense. He thought that gesture, and pep talk would force him to go back to his station and prepare for the inevitable.

Instead, Delano began to backpedal away from Chief then spun around and almost bolted toward the front door. He wanted to get Luther to go in and talk some sense into Chief.

The blazing hot sun immediately snatched Delano’s breath away after leaving the air conditioning in the luxury casino. His eyes scanned the perimeter, and no longer did he see the FedEx getaway van. Where the fuck is Cinnamon? She knew better than to move the vehicle, he thought. The heist was to jump off any second. He wanted to reach into his knapsack and get on his walkie-talkie, but that would’ve drawn too much attention.

Briskly Delano walked to the left of the driveway and then doubled back and walked right. That’s when it dawned on him that Luther was nowhere around either. How the fuck are we supposed to get away from the scene of the crime without a getaway form of transportation?

Delano’s gut couldn’t figure out what was up, but he knew it wasn’t good. One part of him wanted to take off on foot, maybe hitchhike to the nearest bus station, but the hood in him was calling.

Delano turned right back around and marched back into the casino. Fuck it, he thought. I’d rather go out a soldier than run like a bitch.

***

Chief turned around and all he saw was Delano’s backside making a beeline toward the front door.“Look at this punk muthafucka,” he said underneath his breath.

Chief had two minutes to debate what he was going to do. How could he single-handedly rob the casino? That would be virtually impossible. He thought for a second. It would be difficult but not impossible, he reasoned, because Javier was holding him down. There wouldn’t be any security to stop him, and his getaway driver and distraction were out front counting on him. He could only imagine everyone’s face when he burst out the front door solo, carrying his knapsack full of chips. Honey and Luther would no longer be able to call him a dumb criminal.

He knew he had to set it off. He pulled out his gat and let off one shot in the air. “Nobody fuckin’ move, nobody gets hurt!”

The screams and pandemonium could be heard for blocks. Everyone was being trampled, trying to run for cover.

“Not you my friend!” Chief pushed the gun into the dealer’s side. “Load this muthafucka with chips! Now!”

The petrified dealer did as he was told, his hands moving with accuracy. The last thing he wanted was a bullet in the gut, and the threatening look in the robber’s eyes said that he meant business.

In less than forty seconds Chief had a knapsack with nearly one million dollars of casino chips resting on his back.

“Put the gun down, or we’ll shoot!” Javier screamed, his gun aimed directly at Chief’s head. He and six armed security guards surrounded Chief with automatic weapons.

“Yo, Javier, man, this ain’t part of the plan. Whatchu doin’, homie?”

“I ain’t your homie. Now put down your weapon!”

“You know, if I don’t make it out of here alive, neither does your wife and kids.”

Javier looked perplexed. “I’m not married, muthafucka! And I ain’t got no fuckin’ kids! Now put the gun down! I won’t ask you again!”

Alarms began ringing off in Chief’s head. He knew he’d just walked into a trap, but what he couldn’t answer was why, and how many people were involved in setting him up to get knocked or possibly worse.

“Either put down your gat, or I’ll let you go without your head!” Delano had snuck up behind the unsuspecting Javier and had gotten the drop on him. He had yoked Javier up and was using his body as a shield from his security team. “Tell your goons to drop their weapons.”

Javier, now with his life at stake, told his men, “Stand down, goddamnit!” he barked when one security guard seemed like he wanted to be a hero.

Javier was five years away from a full pension and he refused to get murdered and let his greedy sister, his next of kin, reap all his benefits while he rotted in a grave. The casino had insurance, which was enough to make his decision easier.

“Boy, I’ve never been happier to see someone in my life!” Chief screamed. He went around gathering up every guard’s gun and then removing each clip.

Delano then tossed him his knapsack, and Chief loaded his up as well.

“You know we got setup, don’t you?” Delano said, with a firm grip on Javier.

“Yeah! I thought you were one of the muthafuckas who set me up. But you ain’t said nothing but a word. We’re gonna kill each and every one of them, starting with Honey.”

An off-duty Las Vegas metro police officer who had been playing craps just minutes earlier was watching everything unfold and was waiting to make a move on Chief and Delano. The officer had been trained just for situations like this. The first thing he did was secretly send out a text message to his entire list of cop friends telling them to send a SWAT team ASAP, and that he was not joking. He then dialed 911,and whispered into the phone.“Harrah’s Casino is being robbed at gun point. Send help.”

After he left that message, Chief was just about finished loading his knapsack. That was when the officer made his move and sprang into action.“LVPD! Drop your weapons!” he ordered, his police-issued 9mm handgun aimed at Chief and Delano.

Chief panicked, but he didn’t hesitate to fire his gun.

Blaow! Blaow! Blaow!

Chief’s three shots at the officer forced him to take cover.

“Bounce! Go, go, go!” Chief ordered Delano to leave with Javier, while he continued to provide cover for him by firing at the officer, who was ducked down behind the huge craps table. There was so much firepower, an exchange of live rounds being fired that the sounds echoed throughout the casino. Harrah’s looked like a kill zone so many people were down.

“Don’t crap out, muthafucka. Police bleed red just like I do. Don’t be a fuckin’ hero.” Chief then fired more shots as Delano and Javier made their way out of the casino.

The officer spoke into his cell phone, “Hello, hello. Yeah, this is off-duty officer Mike Fox. I’m calling from inside Harrah’s Casino. We got a robbery in progress, multiple shots fired, a possible hostage situation. Two armed black male perps both dark-skin and both approximately six feet tall and two hundred pounds wearing dark-colored athletic wear. One has braids, and the other is bald. Send SWAT and send every unit you have. And get a bus over here right away as there may be gunshot victims.”

He then peered around the craps table and saw Delano and Chief making their escape. There was a rising sense of panic, but he had to do what he had to do to stop them. He started to give chase. He had one clear shot at the suspects, but he had to hold his fire because there were too many innocent bystanders in the casino who could have been harmed by his bullets. He also knew that Delano had a hostage, so he really had to be careful.

Once again Chief peered out his peripheral vision and noticed the cop was still in pursuit. “Blaow! Blaow! Blaow!—” Chief let off a succession of gunshots. An innocent bystander took one in the gut. The avid poker player looked down and touched his belly. It felt like a bowl of jelly as his insides spilled out. The sheer terror at the realization of having been shot caused the wounded man to faint. He was a pitiful sight.

In a matter of minutes, if not seconds, every cop in Las Vegas and all of the surroundings counties would be arriving to give him assistance.

***

Las Vegas, Nevada was a busy, crowded city. A perfect storm of distractions to keep authorities baffled while executing the crime of the century. Honey sat listening to the police scanner. It was just six past eight in the morning. So far, nothing. She almost thought that her meticulous plan had a flaw.

Then she heard, “Attention all cars! Attention all cars! We got a possible two-eleven in progress. Multiple shots fired at Harrah’s Casino! We need all units to head to Harrah’s Casino. Two armed black male perps, both dark-skinned and approximately six feet tall and weighing two hundred pounds. One perp has braids, and one is bald. Perps may have one hostage. Be on the lookout for off-duty officer Mike Fox, who is on location and pursuing the two perps.”

“Let’s do it,” Honey demanded.

Honey and Mercedes jumped on separate lime-green and black Ducati motorcycles, while Tee-Tee, Blythe, and Party piled into a late-model Toyota Camry. The girls all jumped on Interstate 15, headed toward the Bellagio Hotel and Casino just as planned.

“How’s everyone feeling this morning?” Honey asked, testing the Bluetooth’s.

Mercedes came in loud and clear. “I’m ready for action.”

“Good to hear. What about you, Tee-Tee? You good?”

“I’m better than ever, Honey. Will be even better in a couple hours.”

“I know that’s right,” Honey replied.

Honey’s heart was pounding as she neared the Bellagio, dressed in an all-black jumpsuit, money colored green bandana tied around her left arm, black gloves, and black helmet. So much was at stake. She was responsible for so many lives, and one false move could cost everyone everything.

***

The Brinks security truck backed into the loading dock of the Bellagio Hotel, the siren sounding a warning for all those in the way to move. Slowly, the skilled driver came to a complete stop. Jamal jumped out of the passenger’s side door and made his way to the back. Today was his second week on the job, and so far, so good. He was working with a skilled team that had taken its time in showing him the ropes.

At twenty-two years old, he wanted to finish college and get a job as an engineer. But when his high school sweetheart had turned up pregnant, he had to drop out of college and grab a job to help make ends meet. His plan was to re-enroll next semester for night classes.

Jamal tapped on the glass. “All clear!” he said.

His partner opened up without trepidation. He was a twenty-year armored car veteran, and he was only forty-one.

As the unsuspecting Jamal began to unload their truck, Mercedes yelled in her thick Mexican accent, “Don’t move, muthafucka!”

Her accent alone is intimidating, Honey thought.

When the veteran guard turned around to face Mercedes with his hands held up high, she immediately recognized his face. Mercedes knew she was supposed to put one in his dome, but this was the same guy she had seen with Honey just a few nights earlier. Was there a mistake? Were her eyes playing tricks on her? So many thoughts were running through her head, leaving her confused. What if she took the shot and wasn’t supposed to? What if something crazy had happened to put this guy in the wrong place at the wrong time? Did Honey know her lover worked for Brinks?

Honey’s TEC-9 exploded. Blaow!

When Mercedes didn’t take the shot, Honey realized that she must’ve recognized Brian from the other night. Honey knew to always go with her gut. She thought that Mercedes had gotten a good look at Brian but tried to tell herself differently.

Both women watched as his body hit the hot, dirty pavement like a sack of potatoes.

“Set it off!” Honey screamed, and each girl began putting in work.

Party instantly took out the driver with a deadly shot to the right side of his neck. Blood squirted out the hole, and he let out an agonizing scream. He tried to reach for his pistol, but she put one in his left temple with the accuracy of a skilled marksman.

Mercedes didn’t want to be left out. When the third guard, Jamal, dropped down to his knees in surrender, she didn’t have a choice. She knew they couldn’t leave any witnesses. She put one shot in the back of his head and then looked to Honey, who gave her a quick nod of approval.

The stragglers and employees began scattering and running for cover. Everyone ran away from the casino, hoping to not get hit by any stray bullets.

Honey saw a few familiar faces, but only one lingered longer than necessary. Rosie from housekeeping. For some odd reason she glared in Honey’s direction. Honey had two seconds to react. She adjusted her stiff neck from side to side and then lifted her TEC-9, but Rosie took off, wobbling down the block. Honey could have taken the shot, but inexplicably she didn’t. It was too early in the morning for killing coworkers.

Tee-Tee and Blythe were ordered to hold down the back entrance, while Honey, Mercedes, and Party were moving like robots, unloading the armored car and loading the FedEx minivan that Cinnamon was driving. Simultaneously, they all began grabbing up the heavy bags of dough, each bag weighing at least sixty pounds, and walking them several yards away. The minivan was parked in a blind spot where it wouldn’t be picked up by video surveillance. This process of walking the money to the FedEx minivan cost them valuable time, but it was a necessary maneuver to ensure that the vehicle carrying the dough wouldn’t get tailed.

Cinnamon nervously sat perched behind the helm, her fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight, her pink flesh turned white.

Tee-Tee and Blythe anticipated that at any second a slew of armed guards would come barreling out the back doors. Between the video surveillance cameras, the shots fired, and the screaming bystanders, it was only a matter of moments. All this mayhem had taken a matter of minutes.

Once the minivan was loaded up, Honey tapped the side, “Go! Go! Go!” and Cinnamon peeled out of the lot.

***

Chief and Delano was almost to the front door when a second set of armed guards came running from the back of the casino. Neither one of these guards was prepared to stand down. Nor did they seem to care that their boss was being used as a shield.

“Freeze! Don’t move, muthafuckas!” one guard yelled.

“Wait! N-n-n-noooo!” Javier yelled.

Delano put one in Javier’s temple. He needed agility if he was going to make it out of there alive.

Immediately Chief pulled out his second gat and began firing both pistols at the army of guards’ bullet for bullet. Though Chief and Delano were outnumbered and outgunned two to seventeen, they weren’t going out without a good fight.

***

Hotel security had made its way to the back of the Bellagio Casino the instant the cameras picked up the heist in progress. Just as the back doors burst open, Honey spun around first and sprayed the walkway with a barrage of bullets from her TEC-9, backing them all up. They all retreated back inside the casino and ran around to the side entrance, which bought Honey and her crew time.

“Tee-Tee, you and Blythe cover the north and south entrances. I’ll remain here and cover the back! You got thirty seconds to get the fuck outta here!” Honey reloaded her clip. Shit was getting thick. She could hear Party telling her through the Bluetooth that she was headed toward the getaway vehicle and would spin around to pickup Tee-Tee and Blythe. Honey ordered Mercedes to bounce.

“But what about you?” Mercedes asked, not wanting to leave Honey alone.

“Don’t worry about me. I need to cover the back until Party picks up Tee-Tee and Blythe. Hurry the fuck up, ladies! The clock is ticking. Y’all got twenty seconds and counting! Mercedes, get your ass outta here! You got two kids, bitch. Move your ass!”

Mercedes hopped on her Ducati, took one last look at her crew, and peeled out. She nearly crashed head-on into a black Range Rover as she sped down Las Vegas Boulevard, her heart palpitating at a hundred beats a second, but she quickly regained control.

***

Once outside Chief realized what Delano already knew—They didn’t have a getaway vehicle. He could hear the faint sound of sirens getting louder. He looked over his shoulder and saw a couple just exiting their vehicle with California plates. They had two teenage girls with them and was unaware that a heist had just taken place. The engine of the shiny Lexus was still running.

“Get the fuck back in the car!” Chief brandished his weapon in the male’s face.

His eyes popped open in horror. “Please don’t hurt us!” he screamed.

“Shut the fuck up!” Chief barked. “Delano, grab the wheel.”

Delano grabbed the wife by the back of her neck and shoved her into the passenger seat, with Chief, the father, and two teenagers crammed in the back.

Before Delano could get behind the wheel of the car, Harrah’s driveway was swarmed with cop cars, SWAT, and now hotel and casino security. It was a scene right out of a movie. Helicopters were hovering over the grounds, and all law enforcement had their weapons drawn.

“Put your faces in the back windows, or I’ll blow your muthafuckin’ brains out!” Chief demanded.

The hostages did as they were told. Immediately, the daughters began crying.

“Shut the fuck up, bitches!” Chief ordered. Beads of perspiration had begun to form around his hairline and randomly drip salty sweat into his eyes. “Y’all better shut up, or I’ll shut you up permanently!”

Instantly the cries turned into soft whimpers.

The father tried to console his girls as best as he could.“Shhhhh! Look at Daddy. It’ll be OK, I promise you. Just be brave.”

With the back window wallpapered with innocent faces, the police chief ordered his men to hold their fire, allowing Delano to get behind the wheel and take off down Las Vegas Boulevard with thirty police vehicles and SWAT tailing, and two helicopters hovering overhead.

***

In the opposite direction of Las Vegas Boulevard, Honey had to make her own getaway. As promised, she held down the back entrance of the casino just waiting for someone to open up the door. She was ready to let off her TEC once again. Checking her peripheral vision, she could see that Party had spun the car around and had safely picked up Blythe, but when she made her way to Tee-Tee, a host of security guards opened fired. Automatic weapons and revolvers let off numerous shots, and Tee-Tee took one for the team.

Doubling over in sheer pain, Tee-Tee clutched her abdomen in an effort to stop the bleeding. Honey ran and jumped on her sleek Ducati and sped over to assist. Blythe jumped out blazing but had to lower her weapon in an effort to drag Tee-Tee in the car.

“Hurry up!” Party yelled, as she opened fired to cover Blythe.

Blythe was moving as fast as she could, but with bullets flying just inches above her head, that task was harder than it looked. Her armpits and hands instantly were drenched in sweat.

Party saw Honey speeding toward them. Honey leaned her bike toward the right and, with the TEC on her left, let out a hail of bullets, injuring several security guards and forcing the others to retreat.

***

Inside, security continued to call for backup.

“Where the fuck is Las Vegas police?” one guard yelled on the walkie-talkie. “We’re getting killed out here!”

There was static and then, “We’ve notified the police, but they’ve been held up over at Harrah’s. There isn’t anyone else on duty. They’re trying to find a car to send over.”

“No cars?” the guard said. “What the fuck you mean? My men are fuckin’ dyin’ out here!”

“Just remain calm. Help is on the way,” the dispatcher said.

***

Finally Honey and her crew were able to make a clean getaway. Honey watched as Party hopped on Interstate 15, while she veered off and took the side streets.

Under an overpass, just minutes from the Bellagio, Honey pulled over, and that’s where she met Luther waiting for her in her vehicle. He’d been listening to the police scanner and was more than thankful when he saw his daughter.

Honey quickly pulled off her motorcycle helmet and stripped out of the one-piece jumpsuit, her Bellagio uniform underneath. Slipping on her heels that were on the passenger’s seat, she said, “Tee-Tee was hit. All others clear. You’re on cleanup patrol. I’ll meet you tonight.”

Luther nodded. He watched Honey make a right and head back to the Bellagio. Within seconds he had torched the bike and went into part three of the plan. Just feet away was a smelly old shopping cart with bottles and cans. He put on the tattered and torn overcoat and simply pushed his cart down E. Flamingo Road and blended in.

***

The streets were now littered with bystanders looking up in the sky. The helicopters were broadcasting live from the Harrah’s heist and had seemingly neglected the Bellagio, just as Honey had planned.

Honey reached the casino at approximately the right time. Two cop cars had finally arrived along with fire trucks and three ambulance vehicles. She slid in just before they began cordoning off the property and not allowing anyone else in. She needed to be seen shortly after the robbery, or her name would’ve been placed on the list of possible suspects.

She ran to her supervisor, Alonzo, “What’s going on?”

“Not now, Honey! The casino’s been fuckin’ hit!” He brushed past her and made his way to the back.

Honey made her way to the back entrance, shoving and pushing her way through pedestrians. There she saw the gruesome scene she’d just taken part in. Three bodies lay dead, cooking in the hot Nevada sun. She looked down at her lover Brian. The married Brian who actually thought he was down with the heist. She wondered what his thoughts were once that bullet hit his head. Did he realize that he’d been used, when all along he thought he was using her?

It was Brian who’d approached Honey about the heist last year. She was new to the casino and had mistakenly given herself away when she was at a shooting range and had shot out the mark’s face. When the guy at the range asked how she’d become such a great marksman, she told him she was former ATF.

Only, she didn’t know Brian was in the next booth and had overheard the conversation. The next day, he found her at her blackjack table and began courting her. Right after a night of sweaty sex, he casually brought up the idea. Honey listened. She knew she was only a stepping stone for him. She also knew that, the moment the heist was done, he’d put a bullet in the back of her head and go and spend his dirty money with his wife and kids.

As the coroner pronounced each victim dead on the scene, a white blanket was thrown over each one after their bodies were outlined in chalk. Newscasters and cameras began flooding the area and reporting live from the scene of the crime.

Honey looked around and saw several females crying their eyes out. She wondered if she should cry too. She closed her eyes tight and tried to force out the tears, but nothing came. She then tried to rub her eyes roughly. Still nothing. Finally, she brought out the big guns and thought about her mother, and bingo! A full-on waterfall.

The next thing she knew, she was being comforted by several of her coworkers. Honey had a calculating gaze that convinced people to trust her. A vulnerability mixed with innocence.

“How could something like this happen?” she asked, looking up into several concerned eyes.

“People are so heartless. These men had families,” one coworker said.

“None of us are safe,” Honey replied. “What if we were coming into that back door at the time of the robbery? We could have been killed.”

“You know, Rosie from housekeeping and Jasmine the barmaid said they were there when it all went down.”

“Really?” Honey’s interest was piqued. “What did they say they saw?”

“I don’t know. The police have them now, and they’re being interrogated.”

“I hope they can help the police,” Honey said faintly. “Somebody needs to pay for this.”

***

The chief of police ordered his cars to keep a safe distance of one hundred meters from behind the Lexus filled with hostages until he could speak with the FBI.

Meanwhile, Delano was taking them on a highway chase that would last sixty miles. Inside the vehicle he was chain-smoking the husband’s cigarettes.

“Please just let my children go,” the woman pleaded. “They’re just young girls.” The mother’s anguish could be heard in her voice. “I know you’re a good man. You don’t want to do this.”

Delano pulled his gat from his waist, and with one arm on the steering wheel, he pointed his pistol at one of the daughters in the back. “Say one more muthafuckin’ thing!”

“OK, OK, I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “Please don’t hurt them.”

“You don’t know shit about me, bitch! I will put a bullet in your muthafuckin’ eye and then stick my dick in it!”

Chief couldn’t help but laugh out loud at Delano’s foolishness. But he liked his gangsta. He was letting the couple know that they were ruthless and not to be fucked with.

“New rule,” Chief joined in. “And I’m only gonna say this once—Get it in your heads that we need quiet time to think straight! We got the whole Las Vegas PD on our asses, so if one of y’all muthafuckas opens your mouth to even sneeze, shorty right here”—He pointed toward the youngest daughter—“gets it! I don’t care if you gotta piss. Piss on yourself before you ask some dumb shit like, Can I use the bathroom?”

From that speech Chief knew he’d earned their respect. Now it was time to strategize. “Yo, D, what you thinkin’, man? How we gonna lose those muthafuckas?”

Delano shrugged. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw a procession of law enforcement cars keeping a safe distance. “They ain’t gonna fall back, man. We need a distraction.”

Chief thought quickly and lifted his pistol and blew the father’s brains out. Chaos broke out in the mid-sized car as his brains splattered everywhere.

The husband never saw the hit coming. He’d actually been praying to God for a miracle when Chief had decided to improvise. Chief then leaned over, opened the door, and kicked the father’s body out on the hot pavement. His body bounced a few times and then came to a complete stop, creating a massive collision as each police vehicle tried to avoid running over him.

“One down, three more to go, if y’all don’t stop yelling in my ear!” Chief said.

The daughters hugged each other tight, wishing that this was all a dream.

Delano cut his eyes at the mother. Her body was trembling so violently, it looked like she was going into convulsions. Delano no longer saw the police vehicles following in close proximity, but the helicopters were still hovering. This encouraged him to speed up and really fight to make a getaway. He began weaving in and out of traffic at an unsafe, erratic speed.

“Yo, D, get off this muthafuckin’ highway. Go into the hood where those muthafuckin’ helicopters can’t go!”

“Whatchu mean, Chief? Ain’t no restrictions in the hood. What’s stopping them pilots from following us? Ain’t no stop signs in the sky!”

“Nigga, just do it!”

With nothing to lose and freedom to gain, realizing they were still being followed, Delano found the nearest exit and headed down the ramp. He didn’t know how the day would end, but he knew that he wasn’t going down without a fight.