Trust in No Man 3

by Cash

  “Nawl, unc, I got too many things poppin’ off here in the A to come out there now. Maybe I’ll be able to get away in a couple weeks.

  “No, that won’t work. You could be dead by then.”

  “Anybody can get it any day, but what you saying?”

  “A nigga named Zeke got a hundred bands out on your head. There’s a DT named Smooth who is supposed to have the contract now. One of my security dudes used to work for APD and he heard that from a very credible source. The department is already investigating Smooth for armed robbery, taking bribes, planting drugs and guns on niggas. Everything you can name. They say the nigga is real slimy, so you better lay low.”

  “I’ma lay low, a’ight.” I replied sarcastically.

  Smooth is out to bury me, huh? That’s why that nigga tried to get me to meet him on MLK that night. He was gonna slump my ass.

  “Lil T, you still on the line?” asked Swag.

  “Yeah, I’m still here. I was just thinking. I’ma pull up on you later. Let me strategize.”

  When I hung up from Swag, I knew what I had to do. And I knew that it could not wait.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Fuck it, bruh. You gotta get that nigga before he gets you. Just because he wears a badge it don’t make him immune to being murdered. He’s crooked as hell anyway. Last year he planted a gun and a half block on my dude, Black Rain. Got him fifteen years for nothing. I’m with you. We’ll just have to do it real smart, because you know how hot shit gets when a po-po gets killed,” said Criminal.

  We were on I-20 East in the new Chrysler 300 he had just copped.

  “Bruh, I’m not asking you to help me murk homeboy. That would be asking way too much of you. I know you got love for a nigga, but you don’t owe me that type of loyalty. You and your mans are doing y’all thing, building up your numbers and making noise in these streets. Just like you said it would happen. I’m not gonna ask you to risk all that for me. All I need is for you to have your people keep their eyes and ears open and help me catch Smooth somewhere with his pants down. I’ma handle it from there.”

  “I got you, bruh.”

  Days later, I told Swag the same thing. For the time being, I gave Smooth my full concentration because he was the biggest threat of all.

  Weeks passed by without any news from anyone. I was getting restless sitting in the apartment all day. I used Ava’s laptop to go online to the Georgia Department of Corrections and pull up Lonnie’s picture and info.

  I stared at the screen with hate so intense my vision blurred. Lonnie had the untrustworthy face of a snitch. He was now in his early forties and was serving life without parole. I saw he was at Macon State Prison in Oglethorpe, Georgia.

  “Who is that, baby?” asked Ava, standing over my shoulder.

  “The bitch nigga that snitched on my pop.”

  She read Lonnie’s jacket and then she concluded, “He’s not ever getting out of prison. I don’t see what he told for.”

  “He told because he had bitch in him.”

  “Hmmph! Well, I bet his ass is suffering, knowing he won’t ever get out.”‘

  But he’s still breathing and that’s way more than he deserves, I thought.

  I clicked off of the screen. I could not take looking at that bitch nigga’s face another second.

  That same night, I dreamed I had got locked up and sent to Macon State Prison where Lonnie was. I stepped off in that coward’s cell with a shank in both hands. He didn’t even recognize me. That infuriated me more.

  “Nigga, you sent my pop to death row.” I jogged his memory as I began stabbing him over and over again.

  “Ahhh! Trouble, what are you doing?” Ava screamed as she lay in bed beside me.

  When I woke up, I was poking her violently like my fingers were shanks.

  “My bad, shawdy. I was dreaming about stabbing that rat nigga who told on my pop.”

  Oh, okay. You had scared me for a second.”

  She then wiped sweat from my forehead and laid her head on my chest and we fell back to sleep, holding each other.

  That same day, Swag called to tell me Smooth had been arrested. It was all over the news. They called him an alleged rogue cop. I kept abreast of the situation. That’s how I found out several days later that Smooth had been released on a $250,000 bond.

  My trigger finger started twitching. He was fair game now. A civilian just like me! And I needed to get at his ass more so than before. Because now he was dismissed from the police force and facing serious legal problems. The $100,000 on my head probably looked better than ever. I felt in my bones that he would come after me.

  One of the hood chicks that Smooth messed with was a lady named Pudding. It was crazy because Pudding had babysat me often when I was in grade school and I had developed a mad crush on her.

  “Yeah, me and your pop used to laugh about that,” Inez recalled with a smile.

  “Small world.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  For a few days, I contemplated approaching Pudding and offering to pay her fifty bands to set up Smooth. But that would’ve left me vulnerable, so I nixed that idea and reverted to a time worn truth: When stalking prey, just wait for them to show up at their bitch’s house. Pussy sets the best trap even when it is unintentional.

  I watched Pudding’s apartment for a week before I broke luck.

  The night I pulled into the complex and saw Smooth and Pudding sitting in his Silverado truck immersed in deep conversation, I knew it was now or never.

  I circled around and parked a short distance away. By now they were out of the car and headed toward Pudding’s apartment.

  Luckily for me, Smooth didn’t go inside. He hugged Pudding at the door and then walked casually back to his truck, bracing himself against an unusually brisk November wind.

  I slid out of my whip with a singlemindedness. My AR-15 was down by my waist, locked and loaded.

  I raised the assault rifle, looked through the scope and located Smooth. I moved my arm over to the right a bit until the infrared beam was in the center of the back of his head. Then I squeezed off four successive rounds.

  The shots rang out like tin trays clapping together. Smooth’s head snapped forward violently, and his body slid down the side of the car.

  I hopped back in my car and backed up the street.

  The assassination of Smooth did not bring the type of heat on the city that it would’ve brought had he still been on the force and in good standing. He had dirtied his badge and brought shame to the APD so they did not comb the A looking for his killer. They gave lip service to finding the culprit, but that was the extent of it.

  “I see you crushed that nigga,” said Criminal.

  We were cruising down Gresham Road in my SUV. A week had passed since I had bapped Smooth.

  “Nawl, bruh. That wasn’t my work. I wanted to smash that ass, but obviously somebody wanted him worse than I did. What I’m hearing is that the police got him,” I said.

  “They probably did.”

  I don’t know why I lied to Criminal, I just did. He must’ve bought my lie, because he changed subjects. “Trouble, I’m not tryna get in your personal business, but I ran into Kamora the other day and she’s fucked up over how you just cut her off,” he said.

  “Leave it alone, bruh,” I replied.

  “Fam, you ain’t being—”

  “Bruh, leave it alone,” I repeated.

  There was no one Kamora could get to speak on her behalf and change my mind. I had closed that chapter. Criminal correctly interpreted that debating the issue was pointless, so he let it go and we drove on in silence for a few minutes.

  We left the hood and hopped on I-20 East until I reached the Rockdale exit. We barely avoided getting side swiped by a dairy truck as I made a last second turn into a BP station to get gas.

  After refueling, I got back behind the wheel and quickly explained things to Criminal as I pulled back into traffic. I drove past a ranch styled crib out in a quiet subdivision a
nd pointed it out to Criminal.

  “That’s where Byron lives,” I said. It was one of the last pieces of info Kamora provided me with before our fallout. “Now all we have to do is figure out a way to get up in that bitch. The nigga is getting to the money, so I know he got a stash up in that bitch. Probably some of them thangs, too.”

  “Let’s eat, bruh,” said Criminal, meaning that he was ready to pounce on the lick.

  “We’ll do that, but let’s check it out for a few weeks. He ain’t going nowhere. Meanwhile, what’s the business with those Mexicans out in Buford you’re beefing with? You wanna go body some of those muthafuckas? I don’t like their asses no way. They all over the A like they own this bitch.”

  “Those niggas do think they’re running shit. Yeah, let’s go chop some of them down.”

  Late that night, Criminal, two of his GF dudes and I rode out to Buford Highway and smashed five Mexicans. I didn’t give a fuck if the ones I shot weren’t involved in the beef with Criminal or not. They were thug looking esses and that was good enough for me.

  Niggas run the A! They better bow down to it.

  CHAPTER 23

  I put my bangers up on the shelf long enough to spend Thanksgiving with my sisters. I picked Eryka and Chante up and took them over to Inez’ to spend the day with Tamia. Ava came along because her family was torn apart and scattered everywhere.

  Inez threw down. She baked a turkey so fat and juicy the meat melted in our mouths. She also cooked baked chicken, dressing, collard greens, cornbread, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, green beans and banana pudding.

  We all ate until we couldn’t eat another bite. Then we sat around and talked about our pop. My sisters wanted a chain and urn like mine and I promised to get them one each.

  “I’ll call Juanita and ask her if she’ll give them some of his ashes. She probably has them out in the garage. I can’t stand that bitch!” said Inez.

  Tamia rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. Chante and Eryka laughed.

  “She’ll give us the run around. Watch and see,” I predicted.

  Just then we heard the front door open. In came Bianca and her daddy. He was on crutches. He looked at me and I slid my hand in my waist.

  “Daddy let’s go back to your house,” said Bianca, interrupting the tension between Fat Stan and me.

  They left back out and Tamia took Chante and Eryka upstairs to her room where they could talk about boys, probably. I could tell her lil’ ass was on fiyah.

  “She gonna make me hurt some little boy,” I said.

  “Oh, Miss Thang is hot! Hot! Hot! But I’m going to cool her off or kill her ass, one. I’m way too young and fly to be a grandmother,” added Inez.

  “Miss Inez, you are young and pretty. Can I ask ya why you don’t have a boyfriend?” Ava chimed in.

  Inez stood up from the table and went and took my pop’s picture off of the mantel. She came back clutching it to her heart. She held it up for Ava to see. It was a photo of my pop holding Tamia when she was a baby. Damn, I was his spitting image.

  “You see that man in that picture, Ava? I loved him more than life itself. He was everything I wanted in a man. But he’s dead now, and I just can’t imagine giving my body to another man. I would feel so—icky,” explained Inez. A tear slid down her cheek. “I miss your father so much.” She wept.

  I hugged her and wept inside with her. Ava was crying, too.

  The doorbell rang, stopping the tear that threatened to fall from my eye. Inez dried her eyes and then went to answer the door. She returned with company.

  “What’s up, Kamora? You already know Ava, so introductions ain’t necessary,” I said.

  Kamora looked at Ava like she wanted to choke her, but Ava didn’t blink. Pregnancy agreed with Kamora. She looked radiant and her skin was beautiful. Her hair was in long braids and she wore loose pants and a maternity top. I could see her stomach poking out a bit.

  “Inez, we enjoyed Thanksgiving dinner. We’re gonna bounce now. Chante and Eryka are spending the night. Are you gonna take them home tomorrow or do I need to come scoop ‘em?” I stood up to leave. Ava followed suit.

  “Y’ all don’t have to leave because of me,’ Kamora said.

  “We were about to leave anyway. Take care of yourself and let me know when you go in the hospital to have the baby,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “Just let me know,” I repeated.

  As I was leaving out with Ava’s hand in mine, I looked back at Kamora and thought I saw tears in her eyes. I felt some kind of way because we had a lot of history and if my anger were put aside, I knew I still loved her. However, I could not allow emotions to override principle. That was one of the many ways I was just like my pop. We both loved hard, but the slightest betrayal got you cut the fuck off. Disloyalty was unforgivable.

  After Thanksgiving weekend was over, I dusted off my bangers and refocused on my many missions. I hit the streets and put my press game down hard. Nobody backed out on paying their taxes. I guess they could see zero tolerance in my eyes.

  Now it was time to make Zeke feel the pain he had caused me. I had found out he had two nephews that played football for Washington High. I found out exactly who they were and I followed them from practice. A few blocks away from the school I pulled up to them and called them over to the car. Since I called their names, they felt less worry about approaching a strange car.

  “Who is that?” one of them asked as they stepped closer.

  “I’m a friend of your Uncle Zeke. I just wanted to congratulate y’all on the win last week.”

  “Man, we didn’t win. We lost 12-0.”

  “Oh, Zeke told me y’all won. It don’t matter, though, stay at it and don’t fuck with the streets. Here’s some sneaker money.” I held a fist full of bills out of the window.

  When they reached for the money, I let it slip from my hand and blow to the ground. “Damn, my bad.” I feigned an apology.

  They bent to pick the money up and I reached in my waist. The banger came up spitting fire.

  Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!

  I squeezed off nine shots in just a few seconds. Both teenagers were sprawled out in the street. I had no mercy. Laquanda had been even younger. I hopped out and stood over them. One of them was lying still with the whites of his eyes showing. Still, I aimed the Glock .50 down and put a hole in his forehead.

  His brother was trying to crawl up on the curb. I kicked him in the side and he collapsed on his face.

  Boc! Boc!

  You touch mine, I’ll touch yours.

  I didn’t even allow my gun to cool off. Two nights later after receiving an unexpected call from Kamora, I was at it again. But this time it was to avenge my father. The hands on my watch moved at a snail’s pace. After twenty-eight minutes and eleven seconds I could wait no longer. I moved like a cat burglar as I crept up to the front door of the one-level house.

  The knob turned easily and I slid inside, quietly pulling the door up behind me. I already had a Sig Sauer in my right hand, ready to pop. With my left hand, I removed the Glock .50 from my waist as I adjusted my eyes to the soft lighting inside.

  Damn, I had forgotten to ask where they would be! I followed the sound of Donnell Jones playing on a stereo, which led me to a bedroom down the hall on the left.

  I cracked the bedroom door open and tipped inside. The smell of sex was in the air. Sharena had her mouth glued to Kamora’s pussy. With his back to the door, Byron was hitting Sharena doggie style. I crept up close behind him and placed the felony ends of both bangers to the back of his head.

  “What the fuck!” He flinched, and then looked over his shoulder.

  “Please make me murk you,” I whispered.

  “I won’t. I’ll do whatever you say.” His voice quaked with so much fear he sounded like a woman.

  “Good, just don’t ask me not to kill you. Every nigga that has ever said that to me has gotten a negative answer. Pull out and lay face down on the floor,
dick in the muthafuckin’ carpet.”

  Byron backed out of his bitch. Sharena was so into licking Kamora’s sweet kitty that she didn’t even realize an intruder had invaded their fantasy until her pussy was left unattended.

  “Why you take it out, daddy?” she complained without looking back.

  Byron couldn’t respond. He was butt naked on the floor with my Air Force 1 on the back of his neck. I quickly tucked one of the bangers back in my waist, grabbed a fist full of Sharena’s hair and snatched her face up out of Kamora’s wet-wet.

  “Owww!” she yelped.

  “The party is over, bitch!” I snarled.

  “Dang, bae, she was just about to make me cum,” grumbled Kamora.

  I looked at her reproachfully.

  “Whateva, boy. You know I was just joking.”

  The banter did not distract us. We were pros by now. I held the Glock on Byron as Kamora removed the roll of duct tape from her overnight bag and then taped his hands behind his back and his ankles together.

  “What about his mouth?” she asked.

  I nodded affirmatively.

  Kamora placed a strip of tape over his mouth and then bound and gagged his ho the same way. “Boo Boo, did you think this sweet candy came without a cavity?” she taunted as she stepped into her clothes.

  I could see the terror in the couple’s eyes as we sat them up on the bed. I sat on the edge of the bed between the two. Kamora propped herself up on the edge of the dresser.

  “Byron, I wanna tell you a true story about the realest nigga that ever lived,” I said. A short while later, I concluded with, “Your mother helped get him executed. Now you have to pay for her deeds.”

  I wasted no more time. A bullet in the forehead from point blank range did to Delina’s son what her testimony did to my pop. The tape covering Sharena’s mouth muffled her scream.

  “This ain’t about you, Miss Lady, so get yourself together and do as I tell you. If you cooperate, I promise not to kill you. Byron is gone, as you can see. There’s nothing that can bring him back, so now you have to think about saving yourself. Do you understand?” She nodded vigorously.