Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  “Baby, calm down, let us have our way with you. What, you think, we’re going to kidnap you, and hold you hostage or something?” She cooed as her fingers wrapped around my flaccidness. She kissed my neck and whispered, “Even, if we were, would that be so bad, daddy?”

  As little mama maneuvered the truck expertly, our eyes met in the rearview mirror, with catlike eyes she ran her tongue seductively over her lips.

  “Save me some, chula,” she said to Tess.

  She must have been feenin’ for the dick cause her skin was aglow with perspiration. Maybe the hoe was sick or something, I asked anyway.

  “What you sweatin’ for, mama, you sick or something?”

  “Naw, Papi, mi chust con wait to taste tat dick! Mi popped a molly too,” she replied, as Tessa’s head bobbed up and down with lightning speed.

  Her head game deserved straight ‘A’s! Bitches like this were dangerous because they’ll suck a lesser niggaz pockets dry—literally! Layin’ my head against the leather, I felt the change of the terrain as lil’ mama turned down a dirt road. I was ‘bout to protest, but Tessa’s lips were like the jaws of life. All I could think was fuck it—I’ll wash it tomorrow. If I woulda been on note, I woulda noticed senorita’s eyes focusing on the parked car on the side of the road. But, it didn’t take long cause a funny feeling caused my eyes to crack open, and that was the first thing I saw.

  “Saayy, mann, where the fuck we going,” I spazzed, pushin’ Tessa off me.

  I reached for my tool at the same time lil’ one passed by the white Lexus. I saw that the driver’s side door was wide open, and someone was slumped over the steering wheel. The dumb hoe stumped down on the brakes, causing us all to jerk forward.

  “Hold on y’all, let’s see if they need help,” she murmured.

  I instantly exploded. “Bitch fuck that nigga, he ain’t our concern. Drive this mu’fucka and get us outta here before we wind up cased up for a murda we ain’t commit!”

  My words musta fell on deaf ears cause this ditsy broad was already out of the truck. Me and Tessa watched as she spoke to whomever it was.

  She looked back and said some of the craziest shit I ever heard. “Y’all, this man needs some help.”

  I frowned as I let the window down all the way.

  “Say, you gonna either get your lame ass back in this truck or end up driving that Lex back to the city. We ain’t no damn good Samaritans, I’m a drug dealer!”

  “Baby go help the man, you wouldn’t want nobody leaving you out here in the middle of nowhere fa dead. What if that was me? Would you want somebody to pass me by when they had the chance to save me?” Tessa responded.

  My first impulse was to put her ass out with her podna, but she was right. I wouldn’t want nobody to leave me for dead. Her—shid, I could get another female, but I couldn’t get another me!

  “Mann, fuck,” I growled, as I opened the door.

  I watched as ole girl tried her best to pull homeboy from the car.

  “Baby give me the fuckin’ gun and go help her, you don’t need that shit, right now,” Tessa reprimanded.

  I shoulda followed my first instinct and smashed off, but like any other nigga in a rush to get his dick wet. I handed ova the tool and made my way over to help.

  “Give me a hand, Papi—he’s hurt bad,” senorita said out of breath.

  By now, she’s drippin’ sweat. Due to the fact that she had him by his legs. I couldn’t see his face, but as I stepped around her. I noticed the Lexus seemed unscratched. Not a dent—scratch—not a bullet-hole. That shoulda been my first indication. The second warning should have been when I noticed the absence of blood. Suddenly the Mexican bitch dropped the man’s legs.

  “Damn, nigga, you not gonna help or what?” She flipped on me.

  I noticed the accent was long gone. Then the strangest thing happened, homeboy sat up like the wrestler, ‘The Undertaker’, after he’d been beaten. What—the—fuuuck? Soon as our eyes met, I realized my first mistake. I should have never trusted these hoes! I slowly backed towards the car, homie began laughing maniacally. My adrenaline was at full speed, truth be told, I was damn near ‘bout to turn and run, but the cold steel against the back of my head deaded all of that. Tessa spoke to Playboy as if they’d been doin’ this shit their whole lives.

  “Baby let me do this nigga with his own gun—pweese, bae?” she begged.

  Homie looked at me with a satisfying smirk. “What you think, homie, choose your poison? You fell for the oldest trick in the book. Boys never learn pussy kills mo’ niggaz than the streets.”

  ***

  As I stepped into the dimly lit room, I couldn’t stop my heart from hurting. Ever since she told us about her condition, life didn’t seem so colorful. A man can acquire all the money in the world, fuck some of the baddest women, and pop every typa bottle known to man. But, at the end of each day, his balance was found in the people that will love him without all that shit. In this day and age, love and loyalty was just as materialistically important as a car, and clothes. Mu’fuckas will love you and pledge their loyalty for just as long as you whippin’ the hottest whip and allowed them to share in the riches you took penitentiary chances fa.

  Soon as yo’ time expires, the love becomes spite, and the loyalty becomes betrayal. As I stood here and allowed my eyes to take in the condition of Lovey for the millionth time in my life. I wondered if there was such a thing as God? If so, why he let certain shit happen? Just because a person could bear certain shit didn’t mean it wouldn’t fuck them up to a point that they’d be betta off dead. I never respected the cliché of ‘God may not come when you want Him, but He’s always on time’ because all I’d witnessed in this life made me ask, on time for what?

  Yet and still, I wanted to believe in the homie. It’s just hard! I made my way over to my Queen, slowly. It crushed my soul to see how feeble she looked as she slept. I’d never seen her down or weak—never. There’s so much I needed to tell her—too much love to return. My eyes blurred without my consent. As I stood over the woman who’s loved me beyond the loot—the materialistic shit, I closed my wet eyes and did something I ain’t did since Shy was murked. I did the only thing I could do for her—I talked to the O.G.

  “If there was a different portion of my life captured within every tear, I’ve shed maybe the people that question my belief and perspectives could see the why’s instead of the animal in me. But since it’s not, I know you understand! O.G., I don’t know if you’re up there, or if I’m talking to myself, but for this woman, that’s laying here fighting for her life. I’m coming to you earnestly. Life ain’t ever been good to me, my nigga. I can’t remember a time that I’ve ever been truly happy. Yet, as I reflect on the shit I’ve experienced in life, I see Lovey there, O.G. I guess she’s my happiness, my air, God.

  You snatched my moms from me when I was fourteen, dawg, stole the heart of a gangsta. If you knew everything that’s gonna happen before it happens, then why you let that go down when you know she was the best part of me, fam? You left me with the worst of me—my regrets—my anger—but most of all—this pain! It’s raining right—here, dawg—” I used a clenched fist to tap my chest, where my heart was ‘pose to be. “It’s storming inside of me, O.G., and it’s dark. I need you to hear me, God—hear me, mann!

  Shy gone—Moose gone—I ain’t got shit to give you God—just a few dollas stained with blood, a couple punk hoes that may not last, and a soul that’s so black I’m ashamed to offer it to you, but I’ll trade it all for this woman to live. Please, God, I don’t know if you can see me in the crowd of so many that’s needing you, right now, but—” I reached in my pockets and pulled out a lighter. I flicked it once—twice—three times, then—fire. A small flame danced from the octane filled container.

  I glanced over at Armani, she stared at me with eyes of confusion, but also respect. She didn’t know the story of when I was little and set the couch on fire to get Gods attention, but she was smart enough to know this flame meant
something. “God, I need you to see these tears in my eyes—this hurricane that’s stirring inside me. I’m not asking you to intervene with this beef that’s on its way. I’m not asking you to forgive me for my iniquities. I’m asking you not to take, Lovey, God—please—”

  The lakes in my eyes overflowed, as I waved the flame around the room. I slowly opened my eyes—the flame flickered, then died. I need God to see—need him to. So, I flicked the lighter as a flood submerged my face. The sound of me trying to strike the lighter was loud as a Congo drum in the silence of this room. At least to me, it seemed that way. Zzzp—zzzp—it sounded off, as I continued to try to bring the flame back. God must’ve felt a nigga cause an angel called to me from somewhere outside of this bubble of rain, I’d trapped myself in.

  “Satta, Baby, that you?” Lovey whispered.

  I leaned down and began placing kisses all over her face until it was baptized with my lip prints and tears.

  “Yea, mama—it’s me—I’ve been here trying to get God’s attention, Lovey, but him won’t listen.” I cried, as I tried again to make the flame dance.

  I need him to see me! Zzzzp—zzzzp—zzzzp—fire! I smiled through the tears as the flame danced as if He finally saw me.

  ***

  ~Detective Winslet~

  I hadn’t been to work since the bank heist, so there was much to be done now that I was back at the office. As soon as, I entered officers applauded as if I’d won a Grammy or something. I was quite speechless as I stood in the middle of this room, surrounded by Fort Worth’s finest. It was honestly a cultural shock to be surrounded by so many cops after being in the company of so much money—so many gangstas. Truth be told, it felt good! This was me. This was what made my father, who was a cop for thirty years before being murdered on duty, proud of me.

  This was his dream. I knew he must’ve been turning over in his grave for the things I’d been doing. I regretted so much, yet what use was regrets? The only thing I could find peace in was Hunter’s blood. He was a threat, he knew my deepest secrets. Secrets that could ruin me! Secrets that I was willing to do anything to keep buried. So, to go along with Goose’s plan was easy, yet I couldn’t seem to shake the images of what happened to Tony. He was a good man—a husband—a father! He didn’t deserve to die like that. Murdered by the hands that he risked his life to help, and for that my hate for Goose and his brothers had begun to fester!

  “Winslet, my office—now,” my captain screamed from his office door.

  Before I headed in that direction, Johnson, the only other female detective in the homicide division grabbed my arm.

  “I need to speak with you before you go in there,” she stated.

  The intensity in her eyes piqued my interest. I stole a quick glance at the captain’s office and saw him slipped back inside. I stepped over to her desk, watching as she fidgeted with her hands as she took a quick look around. I assumed she was content with her observation, cause she rocked my world.

  “Look, Kamika, I know you don’t know me, but with us being the only women here in this man’s world—black women at that, we gotta look out for each other. Now, I don’t know what’s been going on around here, but I have ears. Girl, these white folks are dirty, they ain’t for us, Winslet. It’s been talk about you being a rogue cop. The rumor is that you had a hand in Hunter’s death, and now Tony has come up missing. His wife is a wreck! Right now, as we speak, there’s some Fed boys waiting for you in that office. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I feel you’re a good woman. I know what they’re saying about you is pure bullshit, but be careful girl, they—”

  “Winslet! I don’t have all day, bring your ass, now,” Captain Kastle screamed. “Johnson, try to use your mouth for more than girlfriend gossip. Get to work before you find yourself doing security detail down at Dunbar!”

  My mind was overflowing with what if’s as I dragged my feet in his direction. A quick glance behind me confirmed my suspicions. All eyes were on me, sharks awaited the scent of blood. It was evident that the same fellow officers that just showed so much love at my entrance, wouldn’t hesitate to be the first to slap cuffs on me in an instant if the order was called down. I entered the office and as soon as I passed the threshold, the door closed behind me.

  Captain Kastle had an indifferent look on his face as he gestured to one of the empty seats at his desk. Turning to take my seat, I came face to face with Agent Harrison, the F.B.I Agent assigned to head the bank heist investigation. He sat behind Kastle’s desk with his feet kicked up on it. In a chair to his left, a semi-grey-haired man sat stoically with a pair of deep-set eyes fixated on me. Without changing position, Harrison turned his electric gaze to Kastle.

  “No offense, Captain, but can you give us a moment, please?” Kastle seemed disrespected.

  “Now wait one damn minute, this is my office! I want to know why the boys have a high up need to talk to my detective. Also, if you don’t mind could you please take your damn feet off of my desk?” he fumed.

  “Captain, this is a federal investigation. You agreed to cooperate, and we greatly appreciate it, but there’s such thing as compromising interest and being as though your division has had an officer murdered under your noses, and another one missing. It shows that there’s someone on the inside working with the bad guys. So, that tells me it could be a conflict of interest to divulge any information from our office until we smoke out the rogue. Now unless you’re trying to protect them, then have to explain to your superiors how you breached command, I’ll ask again—can you please give us a moment?”

  They stared each other down for what seemed like forever, but Kastle knew he was outranked.

  “Twenty minutes—that’s it! Twenty minutes, and I want you and your partner here out of my station,” he demanded as he turned and left the room.

  There was a tense silence as me and Harrison had a stare down.

  “Do I need my lawyer?” I asked.

  “Well—that depends,” Harrison stated.

  “On?”

  “It depends on what you’re trying to hide, or better yet if you want to explain to him how ballistics show that the killing shot that took your partner out was the one that entered through the right side of his cranium, three inches from his temple. That means the shot had to come from the direction of the right, the passenger seat,” he smirked. “And before you say that’s merely circumstantial, wait—there’s more!”

  I’m assuming this was his way of introducing his partner because the second man in the room flipped out his I.D.

  “Special Agent Forrest—D.E.A!” He opened a folder and took out a stack of papers of some sort then handed them to me.

  It turned out to be pictures and indictments. There were pictures of Goose and his entourage at various events. Me and Goose walking into a warehouse, me and Hunter talking in his car at different times, then—the picture of us all at the abandoned building. The last page was an indictment with my name on it! The charges read, conspiracy to commit murder of an officer in alliance with the bureau, a participant in a CCE (Continuing Criminal Enterprise), and several other charges that spelled out ‘life’ in prison, and or the death penalty.

  My resolve cracked a little and my hands began to shake. I watched through blurry vision, as Harrison stood and came around the desk. He leaned on the edge and came in for the kill.

  “Now, I don’t have to tell you how serious these charges are, Ms. Winslet. I’m sure you already know, but what you don’t know is that there’s a way to save yourself. Now, I’m not saying you won’t have to do a little time, because that’s almost close to impossible, but—two or three years are much better options than life imprisonment, or worse—death! Yes, these crimes are easily worthy of the death penalty, and as you know, our great state is very much in favor of it. So, what do you say, officer, you want to go down for this scum that nine times out of ten will leave you for dead in the thick of things or are you ready to come back over to our side?” he proposed.

 
My eyes searched his for the joke. I knew that it was no way they would let me off with merely a slap on the wrist. He sensed my hesitation—my skepticism.

  “Listen, Detective Winslet, we know you’re just a young girl that fell for this nice guy, right? We also know of the illegal undercover assignment you and your partner conducted in order to get him back in the good graces of the commissioner,” he said, with a knowing smile at the shocked look on my face. “You’d be surprised how far our reach is, Detective. So, yes, we know how you went undercover to assist to take down the Kreek Organization, but somewhere along the lines of duty, the line became blurry. It happens all the time, you know. That lifestyle is very enticing if I must say so myself. This is what the Bureau and Drug Enforcement Agency is willing to do for you. We’re willing to make a deal with you, that will ensure at the end of this madness, you’ll leave with less than a slap on the wrist considering your crimes.”

  “Get to the point, Agent Harrison, what do you want from me?” I lost patience.

  He merely smiled before replying. “From this day forward, you work for us! Every detail you know about these sleazeballs, we want to know! No bullshit, we want the good stuff. From now on, whenever you’re in the company of Mr. Trice, you wear a wire. Plain and simple, we want Bennie ‘Goose’ Trice, Dunte ‘Pain’ McDaniels, and Assata Lamar all the way down—"

  “What if I can give you not only them but also someone bigger? Will that exonerate me—keep my badge?”

  The skeptical looks on their faces told me that would be as he said, close to impossible, but they don’t know the bomb I’m about to drop on them.

  So, I smiled like the cat that swallowed the canary when the D.E.A Agent said, “Well, that all depends on your ‘someone bigger’.”

  “How big is David ‘Ice-Berg’ Swanson, the man that’s now number nine of America’s Most Wanted?” I played my hand.

  “Get—the—fuck—out—of here,” the D.E.A boy said, loosening his tie.