Moe was the first to draw his SIG, followed by L, who pulled out his .40 caliber. Moe’s eyes locked with Kafisa’s the moment he raised his gun. He immediately noticed the Beretta Kafisa pulled out of her belt. He wasn’t expecting that. He let off two wild shots and scurried to the left. The first shot that whizzed through the air shattered one of the bottles of Cîroc in one of the metal buckets. The second one took a wild trajectory and found a final destination in the side of Niecy’s head. She never knew what hit her. The impact of the shot caused her to lunge into Nu-Nu and Laverne. Nu-Nu was clueless as to where the shots had come from, but she was the first to draw her .38 revolver after she noticed Kafisa pull out hers.
Kafisa wasted no time returning three shots herself. The first 9-mm bullet pierced the soft flesh of L’s upper left side, separating two of his ribs. The burning sensation ignited his insides, letting him know he had been shot. He grabbed his gun with two hands, his finger on the trigger, and then aimed in Kafisa’s direction, desperately trying to let off his last shots. Her second shot caught him in the neck, and blood squirted all over a hysterical chick beside him in his section. The chick scrambled to get away.
L saw murder and knew he was the victim. Kafisa’s third shot slammed into his chest like a sledgehammer, knocking him back onto the VIP couch. He managed to get off three shots before reaching the couch, but he never got to see where his bullets landed. But Kafisa did. The first one came dangerously close to a woman’s ducking head, another broke a glass in a man’s hand, and the third grazed Kafisa’s own flesh.
Suddenly, a bullet ripped into Laverne’s back and pierced her heart, killing her instantly.
“Fuck!” Kafisa yelled as she scurried over toward L’s semi-lifeless body. She pumped three more shots into L’s face, then looked around. By now the club was in an uproar, and pure chaos reigned. Kafisa had lost sight of the second shooter.
“I see him!” Halimah shouted. She wasted no time hopping over the VIP section with her .380 in hand. She took up pursuit as she waved her gun around to part the crowd.
Kafisa couldn’t believe what had just happened. Two of her girls were dead, and apparently, somebody wanted her dead. But why? she wondered. She made her way over to where Niecy lay, lifeless. “Nu-Nu?” she called out as she moved Niecy’s dead body off of Nu-Nu.
“I’m good,” Nu-Nu confirmed.
Kafisa helped her up. “Let’s get the fuck outta here!”
The parking lot was infested with bodies when Kafisa and Nu-Nu burst through the exit. Kafisa retrieved a fresh clip and reloaded her weapon.
“Where the fuck is Halimah?” she asked immediately.
She looked around with her gun in hand, ready for whatever might happen, while Nu-Nu backed her up with her own gun. Just then a teal-green Ford Explorer pulled up in front of them. Kafisa cocked her Beretta.
“Get in!” Halimah yelled as the driver-side window of the Ford Explorer came down. Both Kafisa and Nu-Nu wasted no time hopping in.
“Good job,” Kafisa acknowledged after climbing into the front seat.
“Where’s Verne and Niecy?” Halimah’s face was covered with concern.
Kafisa just shook her head. “They didn’t make it.”
“Muthafucka!” Halimah bellowed. “I got that bitch-ass nigga in the back. He gonna tell us something.” She couldn’t believe two of her girls were dead. She floored the stolen SUV’s gas pedal and made a mad dash out of the club’s parking lot. She pumped the brakes twice when she saw a police car headed in their direction.
Kafisa peered over at Halimah. Her words had both impressed and surprised Kafisa. She waited until the patrol car passed them by before spinning around and looking in the back of the SUV. In the darkness she couldn’t see the body lying in the back, but seeing Nu-Nu rise up and hog spit in the back of the SUV confirmed he was back there.
Kafisa turned back around. “Even better.” She nodded in Halimah’s direction, showing her distaste for homegirl’s killer.
Chapter Twenty-six
“Agggh!” The piercing sound could be heard throughout the soundproof room in the basement. Even if the room wasn’t noise resistant, Moe’s cries still would have gone unheard, thanks to the Meek Mill track “House Party,” which filled the air. The sudden excruciating pain he felt instantly brought him back to a conscious state and caused him to scream out in agony. The sting from the blow Halimah delivered to his right cheek with her gun sent an electrifying sensation throughout Moe’s entire body.
“Who sent you?” Halimah wasted no time tearing into a tied-up Moe.
Moe chuckled. “Get the fuck out of here,” he spat.
Halimah launched another assault with her gun.
“Motherfuckin’ bitch!” Moe bellowed. This time the butt of the gun caught him upside the head. The blow gave him an instant gash. His head was throbbing, and he had a headache that had Excedrin written all over it. You could literally see his veins pulsating on his forehead. He could smell and feel blood oozing out of the right side of his face, but not even his headache or the open wound he had received from the blow could compare to the pain he was feeling on the side of his face. He inhaled and exhaled repeatedly to fight the pain from the battering he was enduring. They had caught him slipping, and he knew it. He cursed himself for getting caught slipping. Where he came from, if you got crept on, that mean you were sleeping. He was the one who was used to catching people sleeping. Now he was on the receiving end. He wondered if L had gotten away.
“This muthafucka ain’t talkin’!” Halimah turned and looked at Kafisa. “Let me blow his fuckin’ face off,” she pleaded out of anger.
Moe let out a chuckle.
“Something funny, nigga?” Halimah spun around and delivered a right hook to Moe’s midsection.
The punch caught him off guard. Tears leaped out of his eyes, and snot shot out of his nostrils. Before he could regroup from the punch, Halimah followed up with another blow. This time its destination was his sack. Moe’s cries confirmed the excruciating pain he felt. His breathing increased, and his heart kept beating like a drum up against his flesh. He growled through clenched teeth and closed his eyes. He lowered his head and tried to shake off the pain all in one motion, but to no avail. This time there was no relief in sight.
The impact of Halimah’s blow nearly drained what little strength he had left, but still he managed to hold on. “You’re muthafuckin’ dead,” he spat as he did his best to get a grip on the pain she’d inflicted.
That was Kafisa’s cue. She had listened to him long enough. She had immediately picked up on the fact that he had a New York accent, but the way he had pronounced the word muthafuckin’ was all the confirmation she needed to know that he was from Brooklyn and that whoever had sent him was possibly from BK as well. The question is, who? thought Kafisa. With that in mind, Kafisa emerged from behind Halimah.
Moe’s eyes grew wide, and the muscles in his jaw stiffened. Out of nowhere, a grin appeared across his face. “You ’bout no real bitch or boss. You ain’t shit.” He smiled just before he spit out the blood that had filled his mouth.
“You’s a real gangsta, huh?” she retorted, with sarcasm in her tone.
“Believe that, bitch!” Moe barked.
It was now Kafisa’s turn to smile. “Well, let me show you what I do to gangstas who come for this ‘ain’t shit’ bitch.”
“Fuuuck!”
The shot had come out of nowhere. Moe had never even noticed the SIG Kafisa had in her hand. The bullet had ripped through Moe’s designer jeans and had torn into his inner left thigh. The impact of the blow had transformed Moe’s tough persona and he’d given a childlike scream.
Spit flew from his mouth as he continued to screech. He was now breathing heavily. “You think you’re gonna get away with this?” Moe spit out some more blood.
“Like you thought you were gonna get away with that bullshit you and the dead fuck boy tried to pull off back at the club?” Kafisa shot back.
He
aring that his right-hand man, L, was dead infuriated Moe. “You’s a dead bitch!” he spat.
The second shot she let off slammed into Moe’s knee, splitting it into two pieces. She let off a third shot into his other knee. The pain nearly caused Moe to pass out. Kafisa moved in closer toward Moe. She grabbed a fistful of his Mohawk hair.
“You know you’re gonna die, right?” she taunted. She then placed her weapon inches from his face. “You might as well tell me who sent you, so he can meet you in hell,” she added.
Moe knew Kafisa meant business. He couldn’t believe that a bitch, of all people, had gotten the drop on him. All the thoughts and plans he had once had began to fade. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was a dead man. His only thought now was whether he should answer the question to which she was demanding a response. He quickly weighed his options. His last thoughts on the matter seemed the most appealing to him. For a tenth of a second, Moe felt like he was about to snitch, but his conscience convinced him he was making the best choice, considering the situation and the circumstances.
“What’s it gonna be, nigga?” Kafisa moved her weapon over to Moe’s temple. She knew if she killed him without him giving her the information she needed, her chances of finding the person who had sent him would become slim to none. She knew she could reach out to her uncle Fran to find out, but she would feel like less of a boss, since she hadn’t had to reach out to him in a long time. That wasn’t something she was willing to do. Kafisa pressed the SIG up against Moe’s temple.
Moe’s eyes grew cold. He sucked his teeth, as if he had something stuck in between them. “C-D—” His first word was cut short by the shot that entered his skull.
But Kafisa had heard enough to know who was probably behind the hit. Her heart nearly burst out her chest as Moe’s blood and brain matter flew everywhere and sprayed her face, but she had killed before, so she was unfazed by the life she had just taken. Her heart reacted because she had heard the first letters of the name of the person who, according to Moe, had sent him and his boy at her. Her adrenaline was now at an all-time high.
Apparently, Halimah had figured it out also. Nu-Nu had a clueless look on her face.
“C-Dub sent these niggas!” Halimah was the first to say something. It was more of a statement than a question.
“Who the fuck is C-Dub?” Nu-Nu wanted to know.
“The reason why we came down to this muthafucka in the first place!” Halimah bellowed.
“One of y’all peoples?” Nu-Nu had a crooked look on her face.
“Supposed to be more than just our peoples. We family!” Halimah bellowed. She was still heated over her partner, Laverne’s demise.
“That’s fuckin’ crazy.” Nu-Nu shook her head. She peered over at her boss, who said nothing.
Kafisa was still in shock from Moe’s utterance. She didn’t want to believe it, but her gut was telling her Moe had not lied. She stood there, in a daze. Betrayed would be the best word to describe her mood at that moment. Her mind made a quick trip back in time. It was right in front of me the entire time, Kafisa thought to herself. She had listened as Halimah had ranted and raved. She’s fucking right, Kafisa said to herself. Her reason for leaving New York was linked to C-Dub. But why? Kafisa wondered. All types of crazy thoughts invaded Kafisa’s mind. She had a lot of questions that she wanted answers to.
One thing was for certain. Kafisa knew her next move would be to find out what the fuck was going on. The only way she knew she could do that was to return to Brooklyn.
Chapter Twenty-seven
“Stupid muthafuckas!” C-Dub cursed out loud for the umpteenth time at no one in particular as he banged his fist against his desk. He still couldn’t wrap his head around how two of his top shooters had fouled up the fifty-thousand-dollar hit he had put on Kafisa’s life. A whole fuckin’ year of planning down the drain, C-Dub thought to himself.
When he had caught wind of Kafisa hustling and getting paper in a major way in South Carolina, behind his back, he had made his decision. Before he jumped the gun, he’d given her an opportunity to tell him what she had going on—with the expectation that she would cut him in on the action as a token of her respect and appreciation. But she never did. He had a clue why. C-Dub had never felt that Kafisa respected him the way everybody else in the streets did.
C-Dub felt it was because she was the daughter of his mentor and she thought he’d never measure up to the legendary Kafis Jackson, Kafisa’s true teacher. This was the main reason why he had stripped her of everything she’d worked so hard to build in the streets. C-Dub had noticed that Kafisa was getting too big for her britches, and he had decided that she had to be humbled in the worst way. When one of his little manz had told him he was fucking Jazz, one of Kafisa’s top earners, C-Dub had known it was the perfect opportunity to bring Kafisa back down off her high horse.
The hit on Kafisa couldn’t have been planned any better, thought C-Dub. When Kafisa had informed him that she was going down South to lay low, he hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d been too busy gloating over pulling the plug on Kafisa’s whole BK operation. It hadn’t dawned on him that she had already mapped out her plan to relocate to South Carolina and open up shop. The way he had heard she was moving in the dirty, he believed Kafisa hadn’t made him aware of her down South activities for the same reason her father had managed to rise in the game, which was also the reason he had lost his life—his connect.
C-Dub felt slighted that Kafisa had felt the need to keep him out of the loop. Because of that, he had put Kafisa on his hit list, and she had become public enemy number one to him. He had taken her actions as disrespect. It wasn’t something he tolerated. He had killed people for less, which was why he had felt no remorse when he called in L and Moe for the job.
Now he had gotten word about the club shooting in South Carolina, which had left three dead and four wounded. One of the males fit the description of L, and two of the females were a part of Kafisa’s team, but neither Moe, Kafisa, Halimah, nor Nu-Nu was among the dead or wounded. That was what concerned C-Dub the most. The last thing he needed was for the attempt on Kafisa’s life to be linked to him. C-Dub knew that if Kafisa was still running around, very much alive, he had to make a beeline for Moe before the sun came up.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Kafisa had been driving for the past three hours, ever since she and Halimah had switched positions at the Maryland House, a rest area on Interstate 95. Since then, I-95 North had been congested. Kafisa steadily made her way through the early morning traffic she had been fighting since they crossed the Delaware Memorial Bridge.
It seemed as if the traffic would never ease up, but Kafisa wasn’t complaining. For the average person, the stop-and-go traffic probably would have been annoying and frustrating, but Kafisa took it all in stride. She was a New Yorker, so she was used to it. She was just happy to be out of South Carolina and to be getting closer to home. The years in the South had done her more good than she could have ever imagined. It had made her a stronger person in more ways than one. The closer she got to New York, the stronger she felt she became, only this was a different type of strength. This strength was fueled by rage.
Given all that had popped off recently back in South Carolina—the attempt on her life and the death of two of her girls—all Kafisa thought about now was revenge. She knew her return to New York was a huge gamble, but that was the world she lived in, so she was prepared to bet it all on herself. She knew that once she returned to Brooklyn, there could be no half stepping.
Kafisa shook her head in disgust as she darted over into the passing lane. The more time she had to think about it, the stupider she felt. C-Dub had been playing her the entire time, and she wanted to know why. She knew all her answers resided back in Brooklyn.
Kafisa peered over at Halimah in the passenger seat and then took a quick glance in her rearview to check on Nu-Nu. The two were knocked out. She had just reached the top of the New Jersey Turnpike. She t
hought more about what needed to be done. Kafisa knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it had to be done sooner than later.
“You straight?” Halimah asked through a stretch and a yawn.
Kafisa hadn’t even noticed she’d woken up. “Yeah, I’m good,” she answered. “Go back to sleep.”
“Nah. I’m up. Damn, traffic is crazy out here.”
“Yeah. It’s been like this for almost two hours,” Kafisa agreed. “Y’all asses were knocked out most of the way.” She smiled for the first time since they had left South Carolina.
Halimah smiled back. “Yeah, I think I went out as soon as we hopped back on the road.”
“Both you bitches did.” Kafisa let out a light chuckle. “Sounding like two howling dogs.”
Halimah broke into laughter. “Stop playin’,” she shot back. She massaged her left shoulder. Her tone switched from playful to serious. “Had to get that in,” she added in her own defense. “Gotta be well rested for when we get back. We got shit to do.”
Kafisa glanced over at her in admiration. As time had gone by, she couldn’t deny the fact that Halimah reminded her of her own self. There was no doubt in her mind that Halimah had her back through thick and thin.
“Absolutely.” Kafisa nodded approvingly.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Halimah asked her.
“Everything,” Kafisa admitted in a low tone. “And it’s not gonna rest until that nigga answer some questions before I put him in the dirt. That nigga gotta go.” Kafisa’s words were stern.
Halimah shook her head in agreement.
Nu-Nu woke in the middle of Kafisa replaying for Halimah her memory of what had happened.
“I always thought he was an old bitch-ass nigga,” Halimah noted after Kafisa had finished. “I ain’t never tell you, but he tried to holla at me one time on the low up in Sue’s,” Halimah admitted, recalling the evening she had been up in the famous gentlemen’s club and had run into C-Dub and his entourage.
Carl Weber's Kingpins Page 19