The rapid fire explosions from the barrels of the assault rifles lit up the night, and niggas scattered like roaches when the lights came on. A few tried to be brave and bust back, but their handguns were no match for those assault rifles’ firepower. Through the hail of gunfire, a couple of dudes managed to get off a few wild shots, but the choppers easily turned their bodies into mangled pieces of flesh.
Black saw the carnage taking place around him and decided to run for his life. He and a few others were fortunate enough to get away before being gunned down.
Ant chased after them with the chopper but they split up and eluded him. He cursed under his breath, “Damn!” That nigga Black had gotten away. Ant trotted back to the spot where the crap game had been going on.
Mike was still over there. He had stayed behind to collect the bloodstained cash that had been dropped in the midst of all the confusion. He and Ant D put a few rounds into each of the fallen men’s heads and bodies to make sure they couldn’t testify in any courtroom. Afterwards, they both took off for the crack car that was parked around the corner.
Once on the road, they both removed their masks. “You get that nigga Black?” inquired Mike.
“Naw, that fuck nigga got away,” Ant spat. From the look on his face, you could tell he was pretty disgusted.
“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘im. We’ll get ‘im. The nigga can run, but he can’t hide.”
Chapter 29
Over the next few days, Ant D and Mike rode around Greenville searching for Rico in a beat up, old, tinted out Chevy Nova they had gotten from this crackhead nigga named Mitch. Mitch was an old school smoker, but the young niggas in the ‘hood still had love for him because he was a straight fool. He kept everybody laughing, despite their desperate and desolate living conditions. And when anybody needed a car real quick to do some dirt in, they got at Mitch. All he wanted was for dudes to look out for him with a nice piece of hard.
Ant D and Mike drove to every single spot Rico was known to frequent. They were looking for him, or anybody who had seen him recently. But they found neither. After hearing about what had happened to Ty, and how Black had barely escaped death himself, Rico knew that he was involved in whatever the fuck was going on. He had no idea Meka was still alive, so he assumed it had something to do with them killing her.
Rico wasn’t sure, but he felt that shit in his gut. So he figured his best move would be to disappear for a minute, until he found out exactly what the fuck was going down, and who was behind it. Until then he was extremely vulnerable because he had no idea who was coming for him. Anybody could just walk up to him out of the blue, and blow his fucking head off. So Rico laid in the cut like a germ at a woman’s house he fucked with in Anderson, SC.
After looking for that nigga for days on end and coming up with nothing, Mike told Ant D he had a plan that would bring Rico’s bitch ass out of hiding.
After he listened to what Mike had in mind, Ant smiled, and said, “That’s what it is. Let’s do it!”
$$$
On a cool night in mid-November, Ant D pulled up to a house in West Greenville. The house was down the street from St. Francis Hospital, where Mike was born. Ant killed the ignition on the old Chevy Nova, and turned to Mike who was sitting calmly in the passenger seat. He asked, “You ready?”
“Yeah, but just stick to the script. We ain’t tryna kill this old bitch, ya’ heard?”
“I know what it is, nigga, let’s go.” Before they got out of the car, Ant pulled out a plastic baggy filled with coke. He rolled up a crisp twenty dollar bill, and took a long snort up each nostril.
“Goddamn Ant, you gettin’ outta control wit’ that shit, my nigga. You need to slow yo’ ass down, homey, fa’ real.”
“Look, nigga, I got this here. I just fuck wit’ this shit every now and then. Ain’t nothin’ serious, man. Trust me.”
Mike knew he was lying out his ass, but that wasn’t the time or the place to have that conversation. They had come to do some dirt, so he wanted to handle that shit, and get the fuck outta dodge. They could continue that conversation another time.
They got out of the car and sprinted up the short driveway to the front porch of a slightly rundown house. They were dressed in black again. Ant D knocked on the front door loudly. When they heard footsteps approaching the door, he and Mike pulled their ski masks down over their faces.
“Yes… who is it?” asked an older female voice from behind the door.
Without hesitation, both Ant and Mike backed up a few steps and then charged the locked door. They used their shoulders to bust into the house, and knocked the woman backwards onto the floor.
Once inside the house, Mike quickly closed the door behind them. The Puerto Rican woman looked up in horror. She was still dazed from the impact of the door against her face, which had caused her nose to start bleeding profusely. At age 52, the woman was still very beautiful, and in relatively good health. But all of that was getting ready to change.
Without saying a word, Mike and Ant walked over to the woman and began beating the shit out of her with their closed fists, careful not to cause any fatal damage. Unable to do anything else, she balled up in the fetal position and silently prayed they would stop. I guess Jesus wasn’t listening because they kept on beating her mercilessly, until they were tired.
Mike assessed the damage, and felt like they had accomplished their goal. He was prepared to leave, but that coke had Ant D in a zone. After he caught his breath, he started savagely stomping the woman, who lay prone on the floor defenseless.
“Chill out, homey, that’s enough,” said Mike. But Ant didn’t hear him, or he wasn’t listening, because he continued to stomp the woman into oblivion. After hearing something in the woman’s body crack, Mike grabbed Ant, and said loudly, “Remember the plan, nigga! We ain’t tryna kill this old bitch! If she’s dead, she’s useless!”
Knowing what he said was true, Ant stopped kicking the woman. Breathing heavily from the physical exertion, he said, “Yeah…you right. Let’s get the fuck up outta here.”
They turned and ran from the house back to the Nova. They jumped in the car and sped off down the street.
Sensing that her attackers had fled, the woman tried to get up and walk to the telephone, which was in the living room on the coffee table. Too weak to stand, she crawled on her hands and knees. When she finally reached the phone, she used her last little bit of strength to dial 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
The woman tried to speak but no words came out of her mouth. Everything got dark, and she collapsed on the floor. The phone slipped from her grasp.
“Hello? 911, what’s your emergency?” asked the operator again. When she didn’t receive an answer, she felt like something was amiss. The operator dispatched a police car to the address that showed up on her screen.
Back in the Nova, Ant turned to Mike while he was driving, and said, “You think that shit’s gonna work?”
“It should,” Mike responded. “Ain’t nothin’ for certain ‘cept death, but everybody got a weak spot. And it’s usually somebody they love. Even the hardest niggas alive care about somethin’. All we gotta do now is sit back and wait for his pussy ass to pop up at the hospital.”
Ant D turned his attention back to the road, and briefly reflected on the beating they had just given the older woman. Her name was Rosie Velasquez, and she was Rico’s mother.
$$$
The plan Mike had devised to bring Rico out of hiding went like clockwork. The next night, while sitting in the Nova in front of Memorial Hospital, he and Ant spotted Rico going inside. He was presumably going to visit his mother, who had been admitted the previous night with an assortment of injuries. Rosie Velasquez would live, but she had suffered numerous broken bones and other injuries as a result of the beating she’d taken.
“How you wanna do this shit,” Ant asked Mike.
“As soon as he comes out, if ain’t nobody else around, we snatch his ass up right in the pa
rking lot. If there’s people around, then we follow his ass and wait ‘til he’s alone. Knock his ass out, then throw him in the car.”
“That’s what it is then.”
They waited for hours. They were beginning to grow impatient when finally out walked Rico. “There he go, there he go,” Mike blurted out.
He and Ant D quickly got out of the car, and casually walked pass Rico like they were going into the hospital themselves. After letting him pass, they turned and followed him, staying a few feet behind so as not to attract his attention.
Once Rico got to his car, which was a cocaine white ‘83 Chevy Caprice, tinted and sitting on 24 inch chrome rims, Ant and Mike pulled their pistols out. They ran up on Rico quick, and he spun around and saw the guns in their hands. He tried to take off in the opposite direction, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Ant used the butt of his chrome .45 to strike Rico in the back of his head. That caused him to lose his balance and stumble to the ground. He tried to get back up on his feet, but Ant gave him another blow to the back of his head. That one knocked him out cold, and left him unconscious on the parking lot pavement.
$$$
When Rico came to, he did so with a splitting headache. He also had two large, nasty gashes in the back of his head, where the butt of Ant’s pistol had connected with his skull. But those were the least of his troubles. In minutes he’d wish that a bad headache was all he had to worry about. He tried to bring his hand up to his head, and realized that he was strapped to a bed, face down.
He abruptly opened his eyes and looked around the room, but he saw nothing in it. Except for the bed, the room was completely bare. He looked up at what appeared to be a window, and noticed that it was boarded up. He knew it was daytime because there were a few rays of light coming through the cracks, which gave the room an eerie glow.
Rico had no idea what time it was, or how long he’d been unconscious. “Where the fuck am I?” he thought, as the pounding in his head got worse. He jerked his arms and legs trying to free himself but it was useless. He was stuck. Finally, he realized he wasn’t going anywhere, so he tried to remain as calm as possible.
“Hey Rico! I see you up,” said somebody from behind him.
The voice gave Rico chills up his spine because the person who it belonged to was supposed to be dead. Rico looked around, but was unable to see the person who’d spoken.
“How you feelin’, Rico? Are you comfortable?” asked the voice humorously.
Rico remained silent. The owner of the voice walked around to the side of the bed so he could see who was speaking to him. Rico looked at her face but couldn’t believe his eyes. That had to be some kind of sick joke, or something. But he knew it wasn’t.
After being discovered nearly dead in a dumpster, and then spending several weeks in a coma at Greenville Memorial Hospital, Meka had finally been discharged from the hospital on November 14th. That was just a day before Rico was kidnapped by Ant and Mike. The news of Meka’s release had purposely been kept quiet. There was no party when she came home, or nothing like that. They had avoided celebrating just so they wouldn’t fuck up their plan to kidnap Rico. Meka really wanted their reunion to be a special surprise.
The rehabilitation she had undergone when she came out of her coma had her almost completely back to normal. At least physically. And now that she was back on the street, revenge was the only thing she could think of. She’d been patiently waiting for that day for a minute now, so she intended to enjoy every second of it.
Meka looked at Rico and smiled, revealing the four solid gold teeth that replaced the ones he had knocked out weeks back. “Damn, Rico, I thought you’d be happy to see me. The last time we was wit’ each other, we had so much fun together,” Meka said sarcastically.
“Fuck you, bitch! I’ma kill yo’ ass, you dick suckin’ ass slut!” Rico had yet to realize the seriousness of the tight spot he was in.
“Awwwww. Rico, you already had yo’ chance to do that, baby,” said Meka in her sweetest voice. “Now I’ma show you how it’s ‘posed to be done.” After that, she walked out of the room.
A few minutes later she returned, grinning. She said, “Now we’re fixin’ to have us a little fun. That is what you called it, ain’t it, Rico?” she asked mockingly.
Meka began to undress. Rico strained his head and neck to see her, and wondered what that crazy ass bitch was up to. She turned her back to him and seductively wiggled her ass, slowly sliding her silk panties off. She bent over and let him get a good look at her pussy lips from behind.
When she turned back around, Meka was completely naked. Her body was still as beautiful as ever. In fact, the days of rehabilitation had her looking toned and tight. She bent over and retrieved something from under the bed. When she pulled the object out, the realization of what she intended to do hit Rico like a ton of bricks.
Meka slowly put on a 12 inch strap-on dildo and secured it around her waist. The plastic penis protruded out in front of her threateningly. When he saw that big black strap-on dick, Rico’s eyes filled with fear. He tried to cop a plea. “L-l-look, Meka, d-don’t do nothin’ crazy, alright? L-l-let’s talk about this shit. I got some bread saved up…”
Uninterested in anything he said, Meka picked up her panties from the floor and stuffed them in Rico’s mouth. That silenced his pathetic pleas for mercy. She had no pity for that mothafucka. She undid his pants, and then snatched his jeans and boxers down so that his naked ass was exposed. Meka laughed cruelly, and slapped him on the backside hard as hell. “Damn, baby! You got a nice ass! I’m ‘bout to tear this shit up!”
Meka saw the expression on Rico’s face, and laughed. She kept on fucking with him, and treating him like a bitch. “I’ma wear your back out, and I want you to tell me you like it.”
After that, she climbed onto the bed and positioned herself behind him. Without any further ado, she forcefully plunged the artificial penis in Rico’s asshole without any form of lubrication whatsoever.
Her entry was rough and painful. Rico screamed as loud as he could. “Aaaarrrrrgghh!!!” But his cries of agony were muffled by the panties Meka had stuffed inside of his mouth.
Over the next 45 minutes, Meka violated Rico’s manhood in every way imaginable. After she was through, he lay motionless on the bed in a pool of his own blood, piss, and shit. The mattress was also soaked with the endless tears he had shed, which were still rolling from the corners of his eyes as he lay there prone. The pain he’d experienced was so excruciating that he’d passed out several times during his horrible ordeal. Each time he woke up, he realized Meka wasn’t finished with him. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish and humiliation that he felt by being raped by a woman.
Rico lay there on the bed wishing for death. Meka stood up, still wearing the dildo. But it was now soiled with his feces and blood. She walked into the front room without a word. She returned seconds later with a black 9mm pistol.
Meka walked around where Rico could see her without straining. She wanted him to see her face. She placed the pistol to his temple and pulled the trigger, laughing as she ended his worthless life. She said, “See, Rico. Now that’s how it’s done. That’s how you kill a muh’fucka!”
She fired again and put another slug in his head. Meka’s ears rang from the loud gunfire, and the smell of cordite filled the air. She looked down at what remained of Rico’s head, and was smugly satisfied. Revenge was indeed a dish best served cold.
Chapter 30
The large mansion was 15,000 square feet. It consisted of five bedrooms, four and a half bathrooms, a dining room, a den, and a personal home theater that seated 15 people. There was a huge patio out back, and a large swimming pool in the backyard, which was usually full of naked women. There was also a five car garage that held an assortment of expensive vehicles. Everything from an ‘06 china white Mercedes Benz S550 with chrome 20 inch rims, to an ‘06 black on black, fully equipped with TV’s, DVD, and stereo system Cadillac Escalade
sitting on 26 inch chrome Giovanni rims. Not to mention the old school 1976 Carolina blue Cadillac Deville with cream leather interior. And every one of the vehicles was equipped with bulletproof paneling and stash boxes. Needless to say, their owner thought ahead.
The prime real estate sat on some of the most beautiful land in the whole upstate of South Carolina. The grass was so lush, green, and perfectly maintained that it appeared artificial upon first sight. In front of the mansion there was a manmade cascading waterfall fountain, which further accentuated the landscape with an air of beauty and wealth. If that house was on MTV Cribs, it would’ve taken a two part special to feature it. If the property owner was an entertainer, or had legal sources of income, it definitely would’ve made the cut. But neither was the case.
The mansion had numerous hi-tech security equipment in place. It started with a tall, black, iron fence that was manned by two heavily armed guards at the entrance. The guards were rotated on 8 hour shifts. There were motion sensitive security cameras strategically placed throughout the grounds, which automatically activated whenever they detected movement. The cameras would then broadcast on a closed circuit channel in the guard’s station, and on several monitors throughout the house.
There were also two specially trained rottweilers named Bonnie and Clyde that roamed the estate. They were always ready to tear apart anyone who came upon the grounds unannounced, whose scent they were unfamiliar with.
At times all of the extra security measures were a hassle, but they were absolutely necessary. The owner of the 3.5 million dollar home was one of the most powerful, respected, feared, and hated men in the whole south. He was the founder and mastermind behind one of the most notorious criminal organizations the Carolina’s had ever seen: M.B.M. M.B.M. stood for Money By any Means, an organization that ruled the southeast’s narcotic trade with a fist of iron.
ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) Page 17