by K'wan
“Word? Let me check it out,” Zo said excitedly. He was a gun enthusiast.
“I got it right here in the trunk,” Ocho hit the lock. “You know police be all over the place out here so I couldn’t ride with it inside the car. Go ahead and check it out,” he stepped to the side to allow Zo access to the trunk.
Zo leaned into the trunk and looked around, but didn’t see anything other than a plastic tire cover. “O, fuck is you talking about? I don’t see no gun.”
“It’s right here,” Ocho pressed his pistol against the back of Zo’s head.
Zo was dumbstruck. “Ocho, what the fuck you doing?” he asked trying to remain as still as possible so he didn’t get popped on accident.
“Getting in where I fit in, big homie,” Ocho replied. “I guess you’ve been spending so much time in the house up under your girl that your ear hasn’t been to the streets lately. Word is that there’s a price on your head.”
“A price on my head?” Zo asked in surprise. He hadn’t run afoul of anyone in a long time so he had no clue who it could be that wanted him dead.
“When a nigga offers you twenty stacks for some light work, you don’t ask too many unnecessary questions.”
“This is some sucka shit, Ocho. We supposed to be partners,” Zo said.
“Yeah, we supposed to be, but there’s been a change in the business arrangement,” Ocho spat. “I know twenty bands ain’t a lot to somebody who’s seen hundreds of thousands hustling with King James but to a nigga like me, who ain’t never seen that much money at one time that I didn’t have to split, it is. Don’t feel no way about it, Zo. I genuinely fucks with you, but this is about business.”
“And this is personal,” a voice cried out.
Zo’s eyes instinctively snapped shut just before Ocho’s head exploded, coating Zo’s face and the trunk with blood and brain bits. There were two more quick shots, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground. Zo raised his head slowly and saw a man with a mutilated face and holding a smoking gun standing over Ocho’s body. One side was handsome and brown while the other resembled something out of a horror movie. It was as if someone had taken a blowtorch to it, leaving behind charred skin and a milky white eye.
“Cain?” Zo asked in surprise.
Cain was the fraternal twin brother of Abel, and the polar opposite of his brother. Whereas Abel was the bark, Cain was most certainly the bite of the dog. Unlike his boisterous and fun loving brother, Cain was a quiet young man who mostly kept to him, but once you crossed him or someone he loved, all bets were off. Zo had seen Cain commit some ungodly acts and never bat an eye. His fierce sense of loyalty and homicidal temper reminded Zo of Animal in many ways, except Cain had no conscience. He was every bit of the killer as the biblical figure he’d been named after.
Cain nodded, as if confirming his identity. “Been a long time, homie, and from the looks of things, the reunion couldn’t have come sooner,” he looked down at the corpse at his feet.
“You saved my life, man. I can’t believe after all I’ve done for this little nigga his ass was gonna cross me for a few dollars over some shit I’m clueless about,” Zo kicked Ocho’s dead body.
“You should know by now that you can’t trust nobody, but family. That’s kind of why I’m here. I’m afraid I don’t come bearing good news.” His face darkened.
“What’s wrong? Is the crew whole?” Zo asked, fearing the worse.
He shook his head. “No, we’re not.” “Who did we lose?”
“Gucci.”
Zo was so stunned that he had to lean against the Maserati for fear that his legs would give out. He’d expected it to be one of the soldiers, Ashanti, maybe Abel, possibly even Animal. They all dealt in the game of death and as such were subject to its rewards and consequences, but Gucci wasn’t of that life. Her only connection to the game had been falling in love with the card dealer. “Damn, how’s Animal?”
“Inconsolable,” Cain said. “Animal loved that girl more than life and I’m afraid losing her has broken him in ways we can’t even begin to fix.”
“How did it happen?”
“Murdered in their home in front of their son, and Animal’s daughter,” Cain informed him.
“His what?” Zo asked in shock. He knew Animal and Gucci had a son together, but this was his first time hearing about a little girl.
“It’s a long story, but the short version is the people responsible for killing Animal’s wife have also taken his children. Zo, I know you ain’t in the life anymore, but we could sure use your pistols on this one.”
Zo stood there, in quiet contemplation of what Cain had just laid at his feet. It had been a long time since he had been about that murder game. When he got out of the life, he promised Porsha that he was done for good. It was a promise he had planned to keep until that night. Zo took his cell phone out and hit the last number dialed. “Baby, I’m sorry but it looks like it’s going to be a longer night than I expected.”
CHAPTER 4
“I dig the way you think, lil’ bro.” Brasco nodded in approval after Ashanti had finished running down the suggested line-up of desperados to ride out with them. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting ya man Zo-Pound, but his name was ringing off in the penitentiary. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I heard he retired his guns?”
“He did, but I’m sure Zo will pick them back up for this,” Ashanti said confidently. “Every man we’ve called on for this owes Animal a debt in one way or another, and we need to collect.”
“Do you think King James will lend a few soldiers too? I heard his crew is real heavy in the streets these days,” Brasco said.
“Yeah, King James has gotten his weight up and he’s got plenty of shooters to spare, but I didn’t reach out to him,” Ashanti admitted.
This surprised Brasco. “Why the hell not? I heard what Animal did for him, putting that beef to bed, so I’d think he’d be the first one to offer support.”
“At a different time under different circumstances I’d have called on him, but shit ain’t been the same between us lately. Me and King James have had some…differences, for lack of a better word,” Ashanti said.
Sonja snorted and pursed her lips as if she was about to say something slick, but a sharp look from Ashanti silenced her.
The relationship between King James and Ashanti had become somewhat of a sensitive issue. They used to be good friends, but lately they rarely spoke other than to be cordial when their paths or business dealings happened to cross. The problem that existed between them wasn’t that serious, and could’ve likely been fixed with a conversation, but both of them were too stubborn to be the first to reach out and admit their wrongs.
After their last adventure and Animal left to begin serving his prison sentence, Ashanti found himself back on the block with King James. Tensions remained between he and King James’s second in command, Lakim, because he felt like Ashanti was being given too much say in the crew, but there was no denying the value Ashanti brought to the table. He had been instrumental in putting an end to the beef with Shai Clark as well as their expansion into new territories. Things were good for Ashanti but he couldn’t help but wonder if they could be better. For the most part, Ashanti had never been out of the hood until he’d met Kahllah and the small sample of the world outside the projects he’d tasted made his young soul long for more. When the opportunity presented itself for him to travel and study under the infamous Black Lotus, he took it without a second thought.
Kahllah had opened Ashanti’s eyes to a great many things, including the money to be made by breaking international laws. With her, he could make more money for one job than he could from selling drugs in an entire month. In between the contract killings, and rigorous training she put him through, Ashanti was afforded the chance to travel the world and behold some truly marvelous things, things that he would have never been able to see or experience if he’d limited himself to just hustling on the block. Some within King James’s c
rew took Ashanti’s hiatus from the drug game as him turning his back on his roots, but it was really a young man wanting to grow.
“Whatever the differences between you and King are, I suggest you put them to the side. The few of us are a tough bunch, but it’s gonna take more than a few shooters to go against the cartel,” Brasco said.
“And that’s why I sent Abel to speak with Shai. He has the soldiers and the connections,” Ashanti told him.
Brasco frowned. “Homie, I ain’t trying to bust your bubble or nothing, but I can’t see that nigga throwing us no assist on this. I know y’all done made nice but let’s not forget that The Dog Pound and the Clarks have spent the better part of a decade trying to kill each other.”
“A lot has changed since you’ve been gone, Brasco,” Ashanti told him.
“Except for the fact that Shai still hates all you little hood boogers,” Sonja added her two cents. “You and Animal forced Shai into that little truce so don’t go thinking you guys are all chummy-chummy just because bullets aren’t flying anymore. You guys have embarrassed him more times than I care to count, and men like that have memories like elephants. If by some strange twist of the universe he does agree to help, it’ll probably be to so he can double-cross you the first chance he gets. Shai Clark is a snake and I wouldn’t trust him.”
“For as much as I hate to admit it, I’m with Red on this one,” Brasco said.
Ashanti had considered all this before sending out his messenger. They were at peace with the Clarks, but the bad blood that had been built between them over the years still lingered. The twins had been the most animate about wanting to reach out to the Clarks, so much so that Cain had refused to go when Ashanti asked, which is why he sent Abel instead. Bringing Shai in to help might’ve been a long shot, but considering what they were up against, Ashanti had to explore all options, and that meant taking a helping hand wherever he could get one, even if it came from a former enemy.
“Look, there are no easy answers to any of this. All I know is that Animal has never abandoned me, or any of us for that matter, during times of need. I’m in this with him to the end, even if it turns out to be just the two of us taking on Lilith and her whole fucking army,” Ashanti said in frustration.
“Say that shit, Blood!” Brasco pounded his fist. “You know I’m with y’all. It wouldn’t be the first time we went against impossible odds, and I don’t plan to make it the last. Be we three or three hundred, we gonna ride for Animal.”
“How touching,” Sonja said sarcastically. Ashanti turned to her angrily. “You know, it amazes me how you can sit idly by talking shit like you didn’t bring all of this down on us. Since you’ve been here all you’ve done was tell us what we’re doing wrong. If you’ve got a better idea as to how to go about this I’d love to hear it.”
“I’ve got more than an idea, I’ve got an edge,” Sonja said with a smirk. “Before I escaped from the compound I hacked into Lilith’s computer and stole a bunch of files and downloaded them to a flash drive. There’s a shit load of information about my father’s cartel on those files; names, dates, stash house locations, cartel associates, etc.”
“You’ve been sitting on this information all this time and are just now saying something?” Ashanti asked heatedly.
Sonja rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what was in the files until we got to New York and I was able to look through them. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve been running for my damn life for the last few weeks.”
“I’m sure we can find something in those files to use against the cartel,” Brasco said what everyone else was thinking. “Sonja, go get the flash drive while I try and rouse Animal. Maybe this bit of news will snap him out of his funk.”
Brasco and Red Sonja went off to handle their respective tasks while leaving Ashanti in the kitchen and to his thoughts. Sonja revealing that she had the flash drive was the first bit of positive news he’d heard in what felt like forever, and it had come right on time. He’d been down on himself for not being able to do more to help Animal. He would never admit it for fear of looking weak, but Ashanti was starting to become desperate. Ashanti was an excellent field commander, but he was no general. Animal had always been the problem solver of the crew, and now that the mantel of leadership had been passed to him, he was staring to feel the weight that came with it.
Red Sonja and Brasco arrived back in the kitchen nearly at the same time. They both wore grim expressions.
“What’s wrong?” Ashanti asked.
“The flash drive is gone,” Sonja said holding up her laptop. “And so is Animal,” Brasco added.
“What the fuck do you mean he’s gone?” Ashanti asked, as if he couldn’t comprehend what Brasco was saying.
“Blood, I searched every room in the house and the only sign of him is this,” Brasco held up the soiled thermal shirt Animal had been wearing.
“This doesn’t make any sense. Less than an hour ago, you guys said you couldn’t even get a response out of him, let alone get him to move! I gotta hit the streets and find him,” Ashanti said.
“I’ll go with you,” Sonja offered.
“No, you wait here in case the others show up. I can cover more ground alone and without you talking shit in my ear the whole time.” Ashanti grabbed his jacket and left before she could protest.
Sonja hated being told what to do, and the irritation was apparent on her face. Animal slipping off to do God only knew what could potentially ruin everything. She had schemed too hard and come too far to have her plans derailed because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check. It was partially her fault. She knew what kind of man Animal was, and what he was capable of when pushed. She just hoped that Ashanti found him before he killed someone before she wanted him to do so.
Brasco had made himself right at home, raiding the fridge, and helping himself to some lunchmeat and a beer. He settled himself in a chair and began flipping through channels on the television mounted above the refrigerator.
“What the hell are you doing? We’re in the middle of a crisis and all you can think to do is stuff your face and watch television?” she asked angrily.
“A man can’t kill on an empty stomach,” Brasco told her in between bites of the lunchmeat. “And if you must know, I’m not watching television I’m looking for the twenty-four hour news network.”
“What good is watching the news going to do us?”
“It’s simple. If Animal is anything like I remember, he’ll make his whereabouts known soon enough, and when he does you can bet your pretty red ass that it’ll be newsworthy.”
PART II
BLOOD & CONCRETE
CHAPTER 5
Larry stood at his post, outside Pesto’s restaurant, blowing into his hands trying to warm them. The temperature had dropped considerably that night. He stomped his feet to try and keep the circulation going in them while rocking from side to side. Standing there trying to keep from freezing reminded him of the many winter days he’d spent walking the prison yard of Attica Correctional facility, where he had made his home for the last decade. Upstate New York winters were brutal, especially when you had little other than an army jacket and thermals to fight them off. Those were dark times for Larry, but it was the cost he paid for his actions while he was on the streets.
In his pre-prison days, Larry had been a heavy hitter in the hood, known for his violent temper and quick trigger finger. In his mind, when he was released from prison, he would hook up with his old crew and things would go back to business as usual, but it was not to be. Things had changed in New York and the balance of power had shifted. Everyone he had known was either dead or in prison. His dreams of going back to the top were dashed and replaced with a job his parole officer had gotten for him as a dishwasher at a diner. Larry hated that job more than anything, but he couldn’t quit. Staying gainfully employed was a condition of his parole. Dishpan hands were a small price to pay if it meant keeping him out of prison. What Larry had be
come after his release was disheartening, but he held onto the hope that one day he would find an opportunity to come up and reclaim some of his former glory. That opportunity came when a friend of a friend introduced him to a lawyer named Stein who was in need of a man with Larry’s particular skill-set.
Stein was a prime example of what was wrong with the legal system. He was rude, had a closet drug problem, and cared more about money than he did the clients who he bilked for their money. Stein was a piece of shit and Larry detested him, but for all his faults, he kept money in Larry’s pocket and his parole officer off his back. In return, all Larry had to do was make sure nobody fucked with the lawyer, which proved to be harder than it should have been. Stein had a fascination with the underworld and loved to play the role of a gangster, which kept him in messes that Larry was called on to clean up. Had this been a few years ago, Stein would’ve been one of Larry’s victims, but as it stood, he was his meal ticket.
Stein was having dinner at Pesto’s, which he did at least three to four nights per week. It was one of his favorite restaurants. Larry had eaten there once or twice and wasn’t impressed with the food, but Stein loved it. Normally Stein dined alone or with a business associate, but that night he was one of a party of six. It was a special occasion, the birthday of one of the young chippies Stein had been keeping time with, so the restaurant was closed to the public for a few hours while Stein and a few of his associates wined and dined the young girl and one of her friends. On the way there when Larry heard the young girl tell her friend how it was the best night of her life he almost felt bad for her. He had seen how Stein and his friends liked to play, so he knew what was in store for the young girls once the lawyer had gotten them thoroughly drunk and drugged up. They’d likely wake up the next morning in some strange motel room, naked with only broken memories of the night before. To men like Stein, the young black girls were little more than playthings to be discarded once they’d had their fun with them.