“Be right back, baby.”
“Take yo’ time, Gina. No rush.” Once Gina was out of the room, Topps reached under the bed for his piece. Gina was under the impression he’d left the weapon locked in his trunk, but fuck that. His piece was part of him. He checked the silencer. Tight and ready for whatever came his way. He was probably just being paranoid from the blunt they’d smoked earlier. Too bad. Paranoid came with the territory. Being cautious could keep him alive.
She treating a nigga all good and stuff. Hell, that’s all my boo needed was a good ass-whipping to bring out her good side. He chuckled to himself. It proved his theory that women liked to be slapped around every now and then. It was confirmation of endearment—made them feel that a man really cared enough. Topps placed the weapon under the pillow next to him.
“Here you go,” said Gina, smiling as she sashayed back into the room with a tray containing two bowls of sherbet and two glasses of sparkling wine. “Your favorite sherbet, coconut pineapple. I brought a few grapes, too.” She plucked one off and fed it to him.
“Damn, boo, you in a good mood this evening. What’s up?”
“Hell yeah, I am. My man just bought me a brand-new Land Rover HSE. Who wouldn’t be in a good mood?”
“You damn right.” Topps grinned. Once Gina had found out that he had Neema rolling in a Range Rover, she wouldn’t stop going on about it until he took her behind down to the dealership. He didn’t care much for the color Gina picked, dark silver, but the whip was nice. Chromed out with all the extras. The thing about Neema though, her black Rover was locked up in one of his warehouses. Waiting.
“I’ma be nice for a long time, too.” Gina smiled, showing perfect white teeth that had survived a few punches to the mouth. “Now that I got me some new wheels.”
“Ain’t nothin’. Not really. You deserve it, boo. You been hangin’ tight with me. I know it ain’t easy with me trippin’ and all, but things gonna fall back on track. Keep being my ride-or-die chick, you’ll see.” Hell yeah, she should be grateful. How many niggas she knew handed over seventy-thousand dollars cash for a new vehicle? “You can show some more appreciation tho.”
“Love you.” Gina kissed his lips before climbing onto the bed. She allowed her white silk robe to gap, giving ample view of her taut breasts. Dark nipples peeped out at him.
“Damn some sherbet. I’d rather slurp on you.” Topps emptied his wineglass.
“Sounds like a plan.” Gina eased back on the bed with her head against the headboard.
Topps wasted no time removing some sherbet with his hand, smoothing the cold sweetness between her thighs. “Open wider.”
Gina threw her head back and did what she was told. At first the cold on her clit was shocking, but not entirely unpleasant. “Ooh, yeah,” she moaned as Topps got busy, licking the sweetness much like licking an ice cream cone. “Feels so good I wanna talk Spanish.”
“Talk it then.” From this vantage he liked to sneak glances up at her. Women made the oddest facial expressions while in the throes of orgasmic pleasure. That shit was funny, but still turned him on.
Still, something was different.
Gina was watching him like a hawk. Actually, she almost seemed nervous. Her eyes should have been closed, her face a scrunched-up mask of ugliness with each lick to her pink, swollen pearl.
“Better yet,” Topps said, flipping the script on her. “You do me.”
“What?”
“Yo’, you heard me, boo.” Topps came up and sat with his back against the headboard. “Show some appreciation and do me.”
“Why you being so selfish? It was just getting good to me. Why you stop?” Griping, Gina moved into place. “Thought you liked making me feel good.”
“I do, but I’m not the one got a new vehicle yesterday. Do yo’ thang, boo.”
Gina mumbled something and got busy stroking his love stick. “My sweet, selfish one,” she swooned.
Topps had situated himself to the left of the pillow where his weapon lay underneath. While Gina did her thing he reached for it, just in case.
Gina was running her long, hot tongue up and down his engorged member, almost taking him to the level he sought. His eyes were about to roll back into his head until he heard something that put him on alert.
Sucking faster, Gina’s head was like a piston in a high-performance engine, up and down. The next moment was like a blur. In the blink of an eye, a rough-looking intruder he’d never seen before rushed into the bedroom shooting. Pop. Pop. Pop. Topps zipped to the right. He had his gun ready, too. A flash of instinct had him grabbing Gina up as a shield. One bullet whizzed past his head, but two caught Gina in the upper back as she screamed.
“What the fuck! You want some of this, mutherfucker!?” Topps reciprocated with two shots, one to the neck, one to the chest. The intruder went down. “You crazy bitch, I shoulda known!”
Gina had set him up. No doubt she had discovered the large cache of cash he kept at her place. He let her limp body fall to the floor. “You stupid, stupid bitch!” She looked dead, but as mad as he was he wanted to kill her again. Topps pumped two more bullets to her head, then kicked her body so hard it felt like he’d broken his toe. “Damn you!”
That skank Gina had ruined everything. He couldn’t stay there at her condo now. He couldn’t go back to his house that was already empty and in escrow. Maybe it was time to pull up and leave California for good.
Topps heaved a big breath looking around at the damage and mayhem. He walked over and turned the intruder over for a better look. “Damn. A fucking kid.” The boy couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. He wondered how Gina had swung that deal? Did she promise him some “monussy?’
Time to get the hell on. Where could he go to start over again? Someplace nice. A lot of greenery and not a lot of summer heat that plagued Los Angeles or Phoenix. Seattle, Washington. Yeah. Up north sounded pretty good.
First though, the matter of getting his kids had to be solved for once and for all. Obviously the scare tactics he’d been employing hadn’t worked. It was time to get serious. The sooner he had his kids back, the sooner he could get the hell out of dodge.
He pulled out his cell phone and called for an accomplice. A bona fide killer that went by the name of Zoot. Not that he had a problem popping a nigga himself, but maybe some back-up could help him get the job done faster.
“What up, my nigga? Got a job for you. Easy money, but it could be an overnighter. You game? Good. I’ll slide by your crib in about two hours.”
Later, after showering twice before opening the safe that he kept at Gina’s condo, Topps had all his money packed up in two large duffle bags, He used a smaller bag for clean underwear and clothes. His money stored in Swiss accounts could sit for a while, but it was his habit to keep large amounts of cash on hand in case he needed it to score drugs or for a payout. After he loaded the money bags in the new Land Rover he’d bought for Gina, he cleaned out all his personal effects from his Denali and wiped it down good for fingerprints. He did the same for Gina’s condo. The Denali was two years old and had served its purpose. After the job was done, he’d give the vehicle to Zoot along with some cash. Perfect planning. Gina wouldn’t be needing that new Rover anyway, and him sporting a new whip might do him good.
Tonight he and Zoot both would make the hour-and-a-half drive to that hot-ass hell-hole they call Victorville. Once his business with Hattie was done, Zoot could go his way, and Topps could hit the highway going north. He didn’t care who had to lie, cry or die, this was the final showdown. He wasn’t leaving California until he got what he wanted.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Great. Another thug.
Hattie couldn’t take her eyes off the big hulk of a man that arrived at the house on time. Not five minutes before, not five minutes after, but at nine o’clock sharp. Dark and muscular, Bruno Kelly was an inch shy of six feet. Judging from his confident persona, that inch was the only thing shy about him.
“B
runo. Good to see you again.” Myra held the door open.
“Likewise. You’re looking well.” Bruno Kelly stepped inside and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “How’s the family?”
“The kids are fine. How about yourself?”
“I can’t complain. Wouldn’t do any good.” His deep, Barry White voice was calm and steady. “I know those twins have to be keeping you pretty busy.”
“You know it, too.” The two shared a brief chuckle.
Hattie stood to the side taking it all in. So this was the Bruno Kelly that was supposed to keep them safe? This was the great black hope. She scanned him up and down. “Umph.” His wide chest looked like it would burst the seams of the dark-blue tank he wore, and the thickness of his thighs was evident through his jeans. Already she hated the tattoos on his thick arms. Only crazy people marked up their bodies. Hattie immediately thought of the actor, Ving Rhames. That’s exactly who Mr. Bruno Kelly looked like, but in a sexy-thug-kind-of-way. She guessed Bruno Kelly to be somewhere in his early fifties. Seasoned, but obviously in good shape. Maybe he’s some kind of fitness nut.
“Uh, Bruno, this is my mother, Hattie Sims.”
“Pleased to meet you, Hattie.”
“Umph. You don’t look so tough to me.” Hattie half snorted. Not that she was trying to come off as rude, she wasn’t so sure about this Bruno Kelly thing. How could Myra ship her off with a complete stranger?
“Mama, please.”
“What? I’m just speaking my mind.”
Bruno chuckled. “I don’t? Maybe I need to put on my serious face.” Frowning up, he narrowed his eyes and growled.
“Oh yeah, now I see it.” Hattie grinned, admiring Bruno’s puffed-up chest. “I feel better already.” Hattie felt a little tingly but dismissed it as nervous energy.
“That’s all I need to hear,” Bruno retorted, going back to his business manner.
Myra suggested, “Why don’t we go into Glen’s study and talk.” She led them into a spacious room with a large mahogany desk, potted plants, and shelves of medical books. “I’m sure that Glen has told you of my mother’s situation.” She took a seat at Glen’s desk as if she was president of the company.
An hour later, after filling Bruno in on what mayhem had transpired, Bruno took the floor.
“I have two residences we can use, but the one I have in mind is just down the hill. It’s gated and patrolled by guard dogs. Miss Hattie, you and the children are to bring clothing only. No toys. No electronics. No cell phones.”
Hattie huffed. “What? No cell phones?”
“Cell phones are notorious for GPS tracking, which might explain how this Topps guy knows where you are.”
Hattie didn’t like him, nor the thought of staying with him. The idea of not having a cell phone wasn’t sitting right either. “But how will my daughter Neema get in touch with me? I need my cell phone.” Actually it was Brandon’s cell phone she was keeping. Hattie usually bought the cheap pre-paid phones but always disposed of them after a short use.
“Mama, it’s okay,” Myra said soothingly. “Nee knows where I live. If she calls me, I can call Mr. Kelly.”
“That’ll work,” Bruno confirmed, watching for Hattie’s reaction. “However, I do want to stress that the less family contact, the better. It’s the best way to maintain strict security.”
Hattie resented Bruno acting like such a know-it-all. “How long will all this take? I wanna be able to go back to my own house in this lifetime.”
“Mama, how would Mr. Kelly know such a thing?”
“Well, somebody need to find out, Myra. This is stressful for all of us. We need things to get back to normal.”
“Mama, hopefully, Neema will be back…” Myra halted her words. The subject of Neema was too touchy for the moment.
“So,” said Bruno Kelly, looking around with the utmost confidence. “Where are the children?”
“Upstairs playing.” Myra got up. “Forgive my manners. Would anyone care for something to drink? Coffee, tea, lemonade, or perhaps some water?”
“Cold water,” chirped Bruno.
“How about you, Mama?”
“Lemonade is fine.”
When Myra returned to the study, Brandon and Raynita were present with their suitcases. Myra had searched and found some old luggage stored in her garage. That way her mother, niece and nephew wouldn’t be toting their belongings away in trash bags. “Here we go,” she said, placing a tray of tall glasses down on the desk. “What’s going on?”
“Mr. Kelly here is going through all the kids’ belongings to see what goes and what stays.” Hattie gave a half-hearted smile.
Two large rolling suitcase were open, the contents piled along the carpeted floor. Mr. Kelly was going through each piece of clothing, searching pockets and hems for tracking devices.
“Like this here.” Bruno held up one of Brandon’s sneakers. He took out a pocket knife and cut the sole. “Tracking devices can be put in the soles of shoes.”
Hattie wanted to run over and sock the wind from his gut. “I just bought those shoes last week.”
“Don’t worry, we can get him some new ones.”
“As long as you’re paying.” Bruno Kelly was getting on her nerves already. “Humph.”
An hour later, they arrived at Bruno’s place. Raynita and Brandon had fallen asleep during the half-hour drive down the Cajon Pass. It was a good thing because Bruno’s white panel van had no windows for the children to gaze out. Their soft, even breathing was a blessing to Hattie. It gave her some time for her own thoughts. “Where exactly are we?” she inquired. Her back felt achy from sitting too long and rumblings from her stomach threatened. The drone of a large metal gate opening woke her in time to glimpse the cobblestone driveway Bruno was pulling into. The full view of the house was hidden behind a curtain of tall hedges.
“The city of Rancho Cucamonga.”
“This is high desert?” It was dark out but strategically placed lighting provided a view of green, lush surroundings.
“We’re in low desert.” Bruno replied as he carefully steered his van into a spaciously neat garage. Two large and serious-looking Rottweilers wagged their bobbed tails eager for Bruno to get out and show them some attention.
“Those dogs look vicious.”
“They are,” Bruno assured her, putting the van in park and cutting off the engine. “But well trained. Don’t worry, you’re safe unless I tell them to attack.”
“Nanny, are we there yet?” Raynita stirred in the back of the van where the two had been sleeping on the reclined seat. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” Brandon chorused.
Hattie confirmed that she had the envelope of cash that Glen had left for her. She had peeked at the cash earlier before they left Myra’s house. It had to be over five thousand dollars to help with the children’s expenses until she could get to the bank. Her stomach rumbled again. Maybe she should have suggested stopping at a McDonald’s to feed the kids. Obviously the supper of beef stew for dinner wasn’t enough. “I’m sorry, but you think we can find a McDonald’s or a Carl’s Jr. before we turn in?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Bruno assured her.
“I beg your pardon?”
“The less places we stop, the better.” Bruno opened his door and got out to pat both dogs. “How my boys doing? Huh? Miss me? Yeah, you did.”
“The kids are hungry. We should have stopped for food.”
Bruno stuck his head through the driver’s window. “I went grocery shopping earlier today. There’s plenty of food. Let me put the dogs up.”
Hattie waited for him to put the dogs outside the garage and unlock the door leading into the house before getting out. “Come on, you guys. This is home for now.”
“I wanna go home,” Raynita whined. Crying soon followed. “I want my mommy.”
“Why can’t we go to my daddy’s house?” Brandon asked. “Our momma can’t find us at this house. She don’t know this house.”
“This is not our damn house and I’m not going in!” Back to stubbornness, Brandon pouted with his arms crossed. “I wanna go to my daddy’s damn house now!”
“Little boy, what did I tell you about your mouth?” Hattie couldn’t blame him. Moving here, moving there. It had to be taking its toll. “C’mon, Nita. Let’s go find something to eat.” The two got out the van and headed into the house.
Bruno stuck his head into the van’s window. “Ice cream and cake. I got it. Pizza and hot dogs. Got that, too. We can pop some popcorn and watch a movie. I got some of the best PlayStation 3 videos, man. Come check it out.”
“You got Conan the Barbarian?”
“Sure do.”
“That’s phat.” The mention of videos seemed to do the trick.
After Hattie baked a frozen pizza, heated up some canned soup and made a salad, the four sat at the table while Bruno went over the “house rules”—mostly suggestions for keeping everyone safe. “Just so you’ll know, I set the house alarm each night at eleven. No opening the windows or doors after that. And I have to warn you about my dogs. Two dogs patrol outside and there’s one that’s trained to stay in this house. His name is Bull and he won’t come out unless I give him a signal to do so. Do not, and I repeat, do not open the bedroom door that says ‘Bull’ on it. My dogs are highly trained, but they don’t know you yet, so don’t try to befriend them. They need time to get used to your scent.”
Love Trumps Game Page 18