by Wahida Clark
Mac knew he was at the end of his rope, so he wasn’t too proud to beg. “Dark, I know I fucked up. But please, man, gimme one mo’ shot, maine. Please. I’ma be one hunned. Just one mo’ shot!”
“You want one mo’ shot? Put Baby Boy on the phone.”
Mac handed the phone to Baby Boy.
“Yo the nigga want one mo’ shot. Give it to him and after that, come back up here. I need you.”
“Yep,” Baby Boy replied. Then, without hesitation, he shot Mac twice in the stomach, once in the knee, and once in the shoulder. “Oh yeah, one mo’ shot . . . like you asked,” Baby Boy chuckled and shot him in the dick.
Moaning and gasping on the ground, Mac wondered why he was still breathing. It didn’t take him long to find out. Ray Ray and Lenny picked him up and began to carry him into the pigpen. With every ounce of strength he had left, he managed to reach for the small pistol in his sock. He fired several shots, with his last one hitting Lenny right in the knee. Lenny yelled out in pain. Ray Ray began kicking him in the face.
“No, maine, please! Just kill me, please!” he pleaded, but all he received was sarcastic laughter as his answer.
“Nigga, man the fuck up!” Baby Boy barked. “You mighta lived like a coward, but you can still die like a man.”
Mac was hearing none of it. He was too busy crying like a baby. “Please, I’m sorry! Oh God, please!” he sobbed.
Baby Boy and Ray Ray dropped him in the mud of the pigpen.
“I told you they’d eat anything.” Ray Ray chuckled as he walked away.
Mac watched as the pigs closed in, hungry, slobbering, and snorting. He howled as the first pig bit him in the side, ripping out a huge chunk of bloody flesh.
“Nooo! Arrgghh!” he howled and screamed.
Dark could hear him because Baby Boy held out the phone. Mac screamed out in agony as the pigs tore his flesh apart. It was like a scene straight out of the movie Silence of the Lambs. Baby Boy shuddered as his body parts flew up in the air. He then put the phone to his ear.
“He done, big bruh. What you want me to do with his bitch?”
“I don’t give a fuck. Just get yo’ ass up here ASAP.”
“Say no mo’,” Baby Boy replied, then hung up.
He eyed Heather. She eyed him right back. The lust in his eyes told her he wouldn’t kill her.
“I’m not his bitch,” she said, never losing eye contact.
“I know you ain’t,” Baby Boy shot back. “He dead.”
“Never was. I’m just tryin’ to eat, like everybody else.”
“So is them hogs,” Lenny yelled out, ready to see her white flesh torn to bits.
She paid him no attention and looked at Baby Boy. “Trust. I’m a rider . . . long as you don’t end up like him,” Heather remarked.
“Shit, I ain’t gonna never end up like him.”
“Then you got a rider for life.”
Baby Boy smiled. He liked the white girl’s style.
“Where that nigga money?” Baby Boy probed.
“In the trunk.”
Baby Boy turned to Ray Ray. “About them ten bricks that nigga wanted . . .”
• • •
Dr. Muhammad knew something was wrong as soon as he saw him. He looked like a regular janitor. He had the mop bucket, the cleaning supplies, the dirty overalls, and even the slow gait. The only thing he didn’t have was the shoes to match. He was wearing brand-new Jordans.
No black janitor would wear his new Jordans to do janitorial work. But he kept it discreet. The man pushed the bucket straight down the hall, keeping his head down, avoiding eye contact. He kept walking until he got to Janay’s room. That’s when he stopped. Muhammad sped up his pace and approached the man quietly. By the time he entered the room the janitor was approaching Janay’s bed and pulling a 9 millimeter equipped with a silencer from the small of his back.
Muhammad called out, “Excuse me!” buying himself a precious half second.
The janitor turned, spinning to his right, which Muhammad anticipated because he was carrying the gun in his right hand. The janitor fired, but Muhammad had already moved to his left. By the time the janitor tried to fire a second shot, Muhammad was on him. He grabbed the wrist holding the gun, then hit him with an elbow to his ribs hard enough to crack two of them. The janitor was knocked windless, his legs buckled under him. Muhammad used the same elbow to deliver a crushing blow to his jaw. The janitor crumbled at his feet, unconscious.
Hardly winded, Muhammad looked at Janay. He could tell she was heavily sedated. But behind the haze her eyes were alert. She had seen the whole thing.
She slowly closed her eyes and turned her head.
No more than a half hour later the hospital was up in arms. Nothing of that magnitude had ever happened like that before. An assassination attempt on a patient. Someone had leaked the news to the press so several reporters were trying to get access to the floor. The police knew someone had tried to kill Janay at the funeral, and now that there had been a second attempt, they were taking no chances. They assigned an officer to guard her room 24/7 and added extra uniforms downstairs. They also questioned Muhammad extensively and suspiciously.
“And after that, I called for security,” Muhammad explained calmly for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Sherman nodded as he took notes. “Let me ask you something, Dr. Muhammad. You’re ex-Special Forces and military intel. Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Muhammad eyed him evenly. “I’m not following you, Detective.”
Sherman smirked. “Oh, I think you’re following me just fine. I’m asking is there anything I should know about Ms. Carter and the two attempts on her life. I just find it a helluva coincidence that an ex-Special Forces guy just happened to be around. So is there anything . . . militarily I should know?”
“Like you said, Detective, ex-military. I’m a doctor and a civilian. As for coincidence, believe what you want,” Muhammad politely but firmly said, and then stood up. “Now is there anything else, Detective?”
“Yeah, actually there is. In order to get on the Psychiatric Ward you need clearance. Since the perp isn’t an employee, any idea who could’ve gotten him clearance?”
“No,” Muhammad lied. Because he had a very good idea who it was, and he intended to find out.
• • •
Dr. Bennett sat back watching the news in an agitated state of mind. What the hell had gone wrong? No reporter could get on the floor so details were sketchy and scarce. But one thing was for sure, the bitch was still alive. He clicked off the T.V. in disgust and sat back on the couch. His phone rang. He knew who it was. Dr. Bennett answered with a question. “What the hell happened?”
“You tell me,” Wise replied. “I thought you said his clearance was official.”
“It was!” Bennett said, raising his voice a little too high, then repeated, “It was” in a lower tone. “Your guy must’ve fucked up.”
Wise chuckled. “We’ll find out.”
“Either way, I want the rest of my money.”
“You’ll get it,” Wise assured him even though he had contemplated paying him back in lead bullets. But he reasoned that if the doctor turned up dead they’d link him to the hit and possibly back to him. Wise figured paying the white boy would be easier, and if anything happened, he could easily get to him later. That’s how he had got at him from jump. Wise had heard about Janay’s escape on the news. He heard about how she beat the doctor to sleep. So he got in touch with the doctor and offered him fifty grand to help him get at Janay if she ever got caught. The doctor agreed. Janay got caught. The rest is now history. Janay killed his cousin Melky, and now he was determined to return the deed.
“When?” Dr. Bennett asked.
“As agreed,” Wise stated. “But find out what happened. I need to know.”
Chapter Sixteen
Briggen’s plan was unfolding perfectly. He had just gotten the call from Mo’Betta and a panic-stricken Shan.
/> “Oh my God, baby, I’m so scared! Please don’t let them kill me!” Shan had cried into the phone.
It took all of Briggen’s discipline not to laugh in her face. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ma take care of this, okay? Just do as he say!”
“O-okay, baby, please hurry!”
He had stopped to get some chicken wings on the way. He ate them as he drove while contemplating how he’d soon be back on top. Shan would definitely want to fall back, but somehow he’d convince her to let him be her face, just like she was Nick’s face. Once he got right, he’d handle both of their trifling asses.
He followed the GPS to the abandoned house on the West Side. The same house Mo’ had gone to kill Sharia. Briggen got out with the hundred grand in a duffle bag. The same hundred grand he had been holding to re-up with Shan.
He came up on the porch and knocked.
“Put your hands up!” Mo’ barked through the door.
Just like they planned.
Briggen put his hands up, and Mo’Betta opened the door. Briggen stepped in. Mo’ closed the door behind him and took the bag. He patted Briggen down. He was unarmed.
Just like they had planned.
“It better be all here!” Mo’ hissed, his gun pointed at Briggen’s face.
“It is, maine. Every dime,” Briggen replied, feeling like he was in a movie acting out a scene.
Just like they had planned.
“Briggen!” Shan cried out.
He saw her in the chair and rushed over to her. “Are you okay, baby? That nigga didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around him and giving him a passionate kiss as she stood up. “But you did.”
“What?”
Shan smiled. The crocodile tears seemed to dry instantly. “The Italians call that the kiss of death,” she remarked.
Then a shot rang out and his right calf began to burn as the bullet ripped through it.
They hadn’t planned for this! But Shan had and it was her movie now.
“Arrgghh, what the fuck?!” Briggen cursed. He looked back at Mo’Betta only to find two more chicks step out of the shadows. Both armed and aiming at him.
Shan stood over him, looking down at the man she once loved, married, had kids with and would’ve died for. She knew she would always love him but that love could fit inside a memory.
“Nothin’ beats a cross but a double cross, huh, Brig?” Shan said.
“What the hell are you talkin’ about? They kidnapped you!”
“You kidnapped me!” she fired back. “My own fuckin’ husband! The father of my children! So at least be a man and admit it!”
Briggen dropped his head. After seeing the tears form in her eyes, he couldn’t help but be ashamed. “You’re right, ma . . . it was me. I set it up. I . . . I just felt like you were in over your head, and I wanted things back the way they used to be. I’m sorry,” Briggen explained.
Shan looked at him, wiped away her tears with the base of her thumb, and replied, “I forgive you, Calvin . . . but I can’t forget.”
With that, she started for the door. In that moment, Briggen realized a lot more was at stake than just his marriage. “Shan! Where you going? What’s up? I said I was sorry!”
She stopped at the door and looked back. “I could never trust you again, Briggen. What if this nigga would’ve killed me? You could put me in that kind of danger? The mother of your children? No, Brig . . . In that case, I’m sorry too.” The tears streamed down her cheeks.
Shan walked out the door with Michelle consoling her.
“Shan! Shan . . . Shaaannn!” Briggen called out as the two killers closed in.
“Shan gone, nigga. This for Redbone.” Mo’ snickered and shot him in the stomach.
Briggen crumbled but spat, “Fuck . . . you, nigga.”
Mo’ laughed. “Oh, before you go . . . somebody want to say good-bye.”
Mo’ dragged Briggen over to the refrigerator and opened it. It was like opening a crypt. The stench was so overwhelming Courtney puked.
“Goddamn!” she cursed, running for the door. She needed some fresh air.
Mo’Betta snatched Briggen up by the collar and brought him face-to-face with Sharia’s corpse. He looked into her rotting eye sockets and at her final expression. He would die looking at the expression that seemed to mock him. Even in death Sharia would get her own form of payback.
Sitting in the car, Shan heard the series of shots that she knew had ended Briggen’s life. But she was all cried out. She had shed her last tear for any man. She would miss Briggen, but the man she missed had long been a memory. The streets tore them apart. The man who just died, she had loved with all her heart and soul but he acted as if he didn’t know it.
The kids. Her body froze. What have I done? Oh, God, no. She hadn’t even considered her children until she thought about Briggen taking his last breath. She started to run back inside, but it was too late. Mo’Betta came out holding the bag of money. The deed was done.
• • •
Baby Boy had never fucked a white girl before, but now he knew what all the fuss was about. They were fucking freaks! Heather could take dick anywhere. In her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass, and give it back like a pro. She screamed and squealed like she was straight out of her very own porn flick.
Baby Boy had her facedown ass up in the hotel room while she held her ass cheeks open, looking over her shoulder with that fuck me look. He slid his dick in and out of her tight puckered asshole.
“Ooh, that dick feels so good! Fuck yo’ ass, Baby Boy, gimme all that dick,” she cooed.
He grabbed her ponytail, pulling her head back and started slapping her ass while he fucked her. “You a nasty bitch, ain’t you? You love this big, black, dick, don’t you?”
“Oh yes, daddy, yes! I’m a nasty white bitch!”
He smacked her ass until it was beet red. She backed that ass up like a wild stallion, which only made her come harder and Baby Boy could hold it no longer. He came deep in her ass, pulled out, and then lay down to catch his breath.
Heather got up, came back with a wet rag, and washed his dick. She was ready to slide it in her mouth before he said, “Whoa, li’l mama! Goddamn! Let a nigga get a breather.”
She giggled, lying down beside him. “Then don’t fuck me so good and have me horny for more.”
Heather could tell Baby Boy was more of a street nigga than Mac or Mook, so she decided to play her cards right, figuring it would lock her in with him and prove that she could be loyal.
“I wanna tell you something,” she began.
“What?”
She leaned up on her elbow and looked him in the eyes. “Don’t trust Dark. He ain’t who you think he is.”
Baby Boy looked at her frowned up. “What you mean?”
“He sent Mac to kill you. You got locked up, didn’t you? Whateva you did to get locked up, Dark told Mac and exposed his hand. I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure you do. So I gotta be telling you the truth, or else how would I know?” she reasoned.
Baby Boy couldn’t deny it, but he couldn’t believe it either. He had begun to look up to Dark almost like a big brother. So to hear he was marked for death made his rage twice as deadly.
“Mac told me. He told me everything. He told me that he and Mook were planning on breaking off from Dark, but when Mook got killed, Mac decided to move on his own. I’m not lying, Baby Boy. I like you, and I want you to know I got your back,” Heather explained, spilling her guts and stroking his ego and his dick at the same time.
Baby Boy shook his head. There was no loyalty in the game, but that was cool with him. He would show them he could get cold too.
“Soooo . . . can I get some more dick now?” Heather smiled, his hard dick growing harder in her hand.
He grabbed a handful of her hair and guided her wet, waiting mouth back where it belonged.
• • •
“Good morning, Doctor Bennett and Nurse Rice,” Muha
mmad greeted as he entered the break room.
They both returned his greeting, then Nurse Rice walked out. While Dr. Bennett fixed his coffee, Muhammad locked the door. Dr. Bennett heard it lock and looked around.
“Doctor Muhammad, what—”
Muhammad walked up on Bennett and towered over him. Bennett was five feet nine and barely one eighty while Muhammad was 6-feet four and a solid two ninety. The look on his face read—dead serious.
“Who are you working for?” Muhammad seethed.
“I have no idea—” was all he got out before Muhammad gripped him around the throat and pinned him against the wall. Bennett tried to dash the hot coffee on him, but Muhammad grabbed his elbow at a pressure point and the cup fell from his hand.
“Arrgghh!” Bennett howled as Muhammad kept the pressure on his elbow and throat.
“Listen, cracka, I don’t like racist muhfuckas. I’m ex-Special Forces, and I’m pissed the fuck off! You could not be in a worse situation! Now tell me who you are working for or I will break your goddamn neck!” Muhammad hissed.
Bennett’s mind screamed, “Tell him! This nigga is crazy!” So he listened to his mind.
“I-I don’t know his name! He-he approached me. I swear to God! I don’t know who he is!” Bennett blabbed.
Muhammad released him. He knew if he turned Bennett over to the police the people behind the hit attempt would disappear. He didn’t want that to happen. He wanted to know who was trying to kill Janay. He had looked her up and read all about her. His heart went out to the sister and her devastating losses. But looking at her and recalling the day he heard her cry out made him want to protect her. And now he had to protect her because he had failed before.
He looked into Bennett’s face watching as the color slowly returned to it. “I won’t turn you in on one condition. You make me the doctor of record for her,” Muhammad demanded.
Bennett hurriedly agreed. “I-I’ll do it today.”
“You’ll do it now, and if you or anyone else comes anywhere near her, I’ll kill you, Bennett, and I’ll enjoy every minute of it. Are we clear?” Muhammad hissed.
“Yes, yes—we’re clear.”
“Now do it.”