Brother Rasul tried his best to hide his hard-on, hoping not to embarrass himself or disrespect their solid friendship. “It’s going on noon.”
“Oh, my God, the baby!” Kenya jumped out the bed forgetting she had just a T-shirt and a pair of pink panties on. “He needs to eat!”
Allah, please forgive me. His dick saluted once again. “Don’t worry, li’l sis. I fed and changed li’l man before I went to Kmart. He’s ’sleep right there.” Brother Rasul pointed to the huge dresser drawer he temporary cleaned out.
“Kmart? Dang, I’ve been knocked out that long?” Kenya reached back pulling the sheet off the bed and wrapping herself in it.
“I knew you needed to rest. After what you told me last night, I know you couldn’t have been thinking to clearly. I figured after a good night’s rest, some hot food in your stomach, and a shower you could tell me what really went down.”
Not wanting to relive what was the worst day of her life, Kenya stalled. “But I already—”
“Kenya, we done been through a lot, so don’t ask me to try to help you if you ain’t ready to keep it real okay?”
“Yes.” She nodded indicating he was correct.
“Now here’s a towel and a washcloth. Mi casa es su casa.” He tossed them to her from across the room. “Okay, I’ll be downstairs waiting. We need to talk for real, truthful, and up front, especially since I just lied to Storm.”
With her body trembling, Kenya headed toward the shower still wrapped in the sheet. Allowing it to fall to the marble floor, she stepped into the glass-enclosed stall. Lost in the pulsating, steaming hot water, she knew when she got out all hell was probably going to break loose. Damn, I know Storm done told Ra I just let London die. She sobbed closing her eyes wishing she could turn back the hands of time. And I sucked Doc’s dick. What have I done? My whole life is so fucked up!
Chapter Nine
POLICE
Rushed through the same emergency room as O.T. had been days before, Police Sergeant Kendricks was still semiconscious reeling from the massive blow he’d suffered at the hands of the deranged killer Marco Meriwether. Hallucinating as the doctors examined the clotting injury on the rear of his head, they discovered it was worse than they originally thought. Using several packages of gauze to soak up the excess amount of blood matted in his hair, the nurse did what she could do to keep her patient as calm as possible.
“What caused this size gash?” The doctor put on surgical gloves before probing his finger along the sides of the open wound. “It’s extremely deep.”
Detective Malloy was infuriated with his partner, recently distracted from his job, while still concerned for his well-being. Standing over to the side, he finally answered the question, “Yeah, we believe it was a desk stapler. It was found on the floor next to him.”
“A stapler?” the doctor quizzed seeing the depth of the hole.
“It was a pretty big one, office size, real heavy-like.”
“Oh, I see.” He raised his eyebrow. “Okay, everybody out, we need to run a few tests.”
Checking in with the chief commander of the task force apprehension unit, Malloy paced the floor wondering just what in the hell went down in his and Kendrick’s office that gave handcuffed Marco Meriwether the chance to attack his valued colleague, not to mention escape. “None of this bullshit makes any sense,” he shouted into the phone before he got chewed out from the chief.
“Look here, Malloy, shit happens, but not no bullshit like this. We all put in a lot of overtime manpower hours to lock that lunatic up in the first place. Now you and your man is gonna take the heat for this one.” He swore as his other lines flashed indicating a flood of other incoming calls. “That damn city councilman he jacked and the fucking mayor been on the television all morning questioning the entire department’s competence!”
Confused at the circumstances himself, Malloy could only lower his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. He was locked up when I left.”
“At this point, it don’t matter what happened when you left! It’s on both y’all, you and Kendricks!” the chief, frustrated in attitude, angrily fired back. “Now if you’re finished over there holding your partner’s hand, I’d suggest you get over here and suit up with the rest of the men and hit the streets. Until that fool Marco, whatever the fuck his name is, is recaptured, ain’t nobody on this goddamned force resting, especially you!”
* * *
MARCO
Staring down at the knob turn, Marco readied himself for what he might find on the other side of the door. Knowing Jordan and her whorish ways like he did, there was no telling what guy or girl she had spent the night freaking with, so he had to be prepared.
“I didn’t order any room service.” Jordan smiled while naïvely opening the door slightly.
Using his strength, Marco slammed his free hand on the wood knocking an unsuspecting Jordan to the floor. Rushing inside with his gun pointed ready to fire if need be, Marco pushed the door shut behind him. “Who the hell else in this motherfucker with you?” he demanded as his eyes peered at the bathroom threshold and his nostrils flared. “Who fucking else?”
Jordan couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. It was as if she were looking at a ghost. In between talking to Storm and masturbating she hadn’t bothered to turn on the news to worry herself with the outside business of the world. If she had, she would’ve been possibly prepared for Marco’s gun being pointed at her. Hearing him ask her once more if she was alone, Jordan finally found the courage to speak. Swallowing a lump in her throat, the words came out. “Ain’t nobody here, Marco.” She trembled scared of what he was gonna do next. “I thought you—”
Marco headed toward the bathroom to double-check for himself. “Yeah, I know you did.” He knew what she was about to say. “The ho-ass police can’t hold me the fuck down.”
As if she were waiting for permission to move, Jordan stayed down on the floor. “Well—”
“Well, my motherfucking ass, bitch! Even before them punks knocked me, you had been fell off dealing with me. When my money got low and ran out, so did you!”
When he lowered his gun, she felt it was okay to at least get up and sit on the edge of the bed. “Marco, I swear to God it wasn’t nothing personal.” Jordan held her robe tightly closed acting like she and Marco hadn’t been fuck buddies for months back when he was still making money with Royce. “It’s just that—”
Marco laid the pistol down on the dresser knowing Jordan wasn’t foolish enough to make a play for it. Just hours ago, he believed he wouldn’t have the pleasure of female companionship for the rest of his life. Now, Marco grabbed at his dick. Roughly shoving one of his hands underneath Jordan’s silk robe, he felt up her breasts. Sensing she wasn’t feeling his advances, Marco got caught in his emotions. Yoking her up, his hand tightened around her neck. “Bitch, I know you ain’t tripping is you?”
Seeing the look of fury, revenge, and murder in his face, Jordan quickly decided it would be in her best interest to play along. “It’s not that, Marco. I just was wondering how you got out so soon that’s all.” She struggled to speak.
“Later for all that; first give me some of that fat cat of yours.”
“Wait a minute, Marco, okay?” Jordan wanted to get a drink to settle her nerves first.
“For what? I know you don’t think I’m about to pay for this tore-up motherfucker no more!” He rammed his hand in between her legs sticking two fingers inside of her.
Wanting to jump up and smack the shit out of him for talking to her like that, especially without paying for the privilege, Jordan knew he was desperate and had no problem whatsoever adding her to his ever-growing list of victims. “I just wanted to take a shot that’s all.” Still terrified, she nodded her head over to the nightstand where a bottle of liquor was sitting.
Marco stopped violating her innards long enough to see his three most favorite things in the world after pussy within arm’s reach: money, Hennessy, and a blunt. “Damn you
ballin’! You up in this bitch partying like a motherfucker ain’t you!” First snatching up the $400 Big Doc B had left for Jordan, stuffing it in his pants pocket, Marco laughed. Twisting the cap off the bottle, he then took the dark demon to the head. Shaking his shoulders after the stiff morning eye-opener, he reached for the half-smoked blunt that was resting on a manila envelope, firing it up. “Now this is what I’m talking about!” Inhaling two good times, he noticed the name ALLEY CATS written across the envelope. What the fuck? he thought as he choked on the strong weed. Picking it up, he held the blunt in between his lips as he opened the packet. “Yo, what you doing with some shit that say Alley Cats on it?”
As he glanced over the notarized papers, Jordan could see him getting aggravated. She knew his beef with both Storm and O.T. was still very much on. “Well, um, Storm kinda made me the new club manager.” She stuttered out of fear that she was now dealing with the guy they both claimed to have hated. “And when it reopens it’s gonna be a lot of money flowing through that spot and my bills—”
“Bills?” Marco nonchalantly tossed the documents to the carpeted floor. “Bitch, please; sell your pussy or some of that good head of yours like you always do! If nobody else tearing you off, I know that doctor buster is!”
“Whatever.” Jordan’s normal reaction would be to tell the average nigga to go fuck himself then die in his sleep, but she knew Marco Meriwether’s project-raised ass was far from average. Saying anything remotely smart would undoubtedly get her beat down. I wish I could call Storm right now to get at this cocky fool!
Turning on the television, Marco grinned with sheer satisfaction watching pictures and news reports about him on almost every channel. “Look at the mayor’s faggot ass talking that shit! Ahhh naw, that crybaby buster was a councilman!” Elated he was such a “hood celebrity” he soon unfastened his pants letting them drop to his ankles. Falling back on the king-sized unmade bed like he was a true boss and not a cold-blooded fugitive, Marco gave Jordan one more command before he hit the blunt again. “Bitch, get over here and suck my dick and don’t make me ask you twice!”
Minutes into the free blowjob, he made a statement sending chills throughout Jordan’s entire body. “Alley Cats ain’t never gonna reopen and if it do your boy Storm ain’t gonna live to see it! That’s my word! Now keep at it and make this bad boy throw up!”
* * *
STORM
After relocating the shipment to a safe stash closer to his dope houses that were still fortunate enough to still be up and slinging, especially considering the full court press of the police and the murderous reign of terror Marco was putting down on the Christian Brothers, Storm and Ponytail sat down going over a careful game plan for citywide distribution. Introducing his old running buddy and new right-hand man to his few loyal street soldiers, Storm warned those of them who didn’t know that despite earlier information that Marco had been knocked, that info was now irrelevant because he’d escaped and was back on the street.
“Watch y’all back. Until we get a chance to catch that motherfucker, we gotta be on alert,” Storm strongly advised while cracking his knuckles. “He better hope the cops catch back up with his ass before I do, because at least they’ll let the lunatic live!”
Leaving Ponytail and his crew to figure out the details, Storm left to go check on his brother’s condition along with meet up with Jordan. Getting in line at the crowded valet parking driveway, he texted Jordan informing her he’d just pulled up at the hospital and for her to call whenever she arrived. As luck would have it seconds after stepping foot inside the hospital lobby, Storm ran into none other than Detective Malloy.
“Well, I’ll be damned, not you the fuck again!” Storm was not in the mood for any more interrogations or word games, and it showed. “Is you following me or what?”
Malloy, who was also not in the mood for the bullshit, especially after just having been chewed out by his commander, took a deep breath before responding. “Look, despite what you and your brother may think the entire police department wasn’t designed to keep tabs on you two. I’m here on other business.”
“Please don’t tell me your partner is the one who let ol’ boy break camp. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Y’all some clowns for real! Anyway, from what’s been all over the news, shouldn’t you be out trying to play super cop?”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job, you slimeball thug. If it weren’t for lowlifes like you and Marco the world would be perfect.”
Storm took a few steps back and laughed. “Awww, ain’t that some shit? If I didn’t have to check on my brother, I’d stay here all day and play with your nine to five ass, but . . .”
Heading toward the door, Malloy finally cracked a smile giving Storm something to think about. “Maybe we’ll take our time apprehending Marco Meriwether. That way he can finish the job that dyke started. When we were dragging him off that bus, the only thing he kept begging for was one more chance to kill you and that brother of yours. Tonight, before I close my eyes, I know what I’ll be praying for, but you”—he paused at the doorway—“you might wanna sleep with both eyes open!”
* * *
MARCO
Busting two nuts, one in Jordan’s mouth making her swallow, Marco was still full on energy sparked by his need for revenge. Flicking to channel after channel he felt some twisted sense of pride in the fact that he had the entire city on lockdown. If a person living in Dallas hadn’t heard about him and the multiple murders he’d committed prior to hitting Sergeant Kendricks in the head, escaping, and carjacking the city councilman, then they definitely had heard his name now.
Practically dragging Jordan into the bathroom with him to take a piss, Marco made her sit on the side of the tub and tell him everything that was going on with her and Storm. Both buck-naked, he finished off the bottle of liquor Jordan had, listening to her tell him how her sister who worked at the hospital originally called her and she planned a chance meeting with Storm. Although she wanted to be with Storm bad as hell and would do just about anything to prove her loyalty, she knew Marco was far from being a joke. Her own life being her first priority, Jordan had to survive, and if that meant temporarily throwing Storm and whoever else to the wolves, so to speak, then it was gonna happen.
“So you gotta meet up with his faggot ass, huh?” Marco sat back with a scheme brewing.
“Umm, yeah, he needs these papers.”
“I wish I could go with you and just sneak that bitch with some of this act right.” Marco pointed the stolen gun at Jordan trying to get his point across. “But I know the streets is too hot on my ass right about now.”
Flinching seeing the gun aimed in her direction, she prayed to God. Terrified she wasn’t gonna make it out of the hotel room she and Big Doc B had been committing adultery in week after week, Jordan hoped it was a Higher Power that was interested in forgiving her sins and just giving her one more chance to get her life right. “Please, Marco. Put that gun down. Why is you tripping on me?”
“I ain’t tripping, bitch. I’m just speculating getting at that loser,” Marco hissed after seeing the authorities had located the stolen car he’d abandoned a few blocks over.
Turning the television off in hopes of Marco calming down, Jordan tried reasoning with him. “Listen, why don’t I take him the papers and see what he saying about you?” she bargained bringing up their past arrangement. “Remember all that bullshit him and O.T. used to be spitting and I put you up on? Well, you can only imagine what he saying now!”
“Yeah, you right.” He finally lowered the gun.
“Well, since he call himself needing me all of a sudden because Kenya’s stuck-up ass is MIA, I might as well set the fool up for you. What you think?” Jordan, a hustler by nature, knew how to play the game and say all the right things niggas wanted to hear. “Now he wouldn’t ever expect to see that shit coming!”
“Maybe since that ho of his is knocked, about to drop that load, Storm might fuck around and be all in for some new pussy,” Marco c
ontemplated, sucking his teeth.
“I’m trying to tell you, he wants me.” Jordan shook bargaining for her life. “It can work!”
Not knowing for sure if he could trust Jordan, Marco carefully weighed his options. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to peel Storm’s cap back, but on the other hand, it’d definitely be in his best interest to get as far away from town as he could and never look back. “You right, but how can I know your good dick-sucking ass ain’t gonna turn me in as soon as I let you outside of this damn room?”
“Have I ever not had your back?” Jordan smirked and plotted. “I told you everything they asses was saying, didn’t I?”
Going to the window, Marco eased over the burgundy curtain of the fifth-floor hotel room seeing several police cars circling the parking lot and swarming the streets near the building. Taking a deep breath then exhaling, Marco knew at this point he was stuck and had to make the best of a fucked-up situation he brought on himself. Now, he just had to make sure Jordan would remain loyal to him if he let her go to play double agent. Yoking her up and shoving his gun down her throat, Marco gave her several hardcore reasons as to why she’d better keep his whereabouts on the low.
Chapter Ten
KENYA/BROTHER RASUL
Creeping down the stairs of Brother Rasul’s small bungalow home, Kenya heard him speaking to someone and paused.
“Look, I already told you, it’s no way in hell you gonna talk to me the way you did, let alone tell me what to do.”
“You act like that’s your woman, not me!” Fatima’s voice cried out through his cell, which was on speaker.
Brother Rasul continued to fumble with the bassinet he’d just purchased not really caring about what she was saying. “Where is this conversation going? You gave me my keys back, so that’s what it is.”
“Rasul, you choosing her over me? Are you kidding me?”
After a few seconds of dead silence, Fatima regretfully got her answer.
Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 10