Deidre was silent. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She agreed to meet Bernard in New Jersey.
The small Italian restaurant was nearly empty, except for a couple sitting in a far off corner at a small round table.
R.J. adjusted his dark blue Yankees cap, and swaggered in the direction of his dinner guest. “What’s up?” he asked, extending his hand for a pound.
“You weren’t supposed to sleep with her,” Ricky said, ignoring R.J.’s requested for a pound. “Ay, I’m a man. She’s a beautiful woman,” R.J. replied, with a smirk. “You weren’t supposed to fucking sleep with her!” Ricky growled, lighting his customary cigar. “Look, you told me to make it all seem real, and that is what I did. Shit, I sacrificed my best friend for this shit,”
R.J. said, taking a seat.
“And now you’re gonna throw your own sister to the wolves? You sure you still want to go through with this? I mean, Chastity is your sister,” Ricky reminded him.
“Look, I’m supposed to be the head nigga in charge, not my fucking baby sister!” R.J. growled, leaning close to the table so that the patrons in the restaurant wouldn’t hear him.
“You fell in love, didn’t you,” Ricky changed the subject. “I can’t love,” R.J. replied, averting his eyes away from Ricky’s. “You know somebody has to take care of Deidre, and it can’t be me,” Ricky warned. “I can do it. I’m a man. My father didn’t raise no punks,”
R.J. said arrogantly, pointing to his chest. “Okay, Ramon, Junior. I like your style,” Ricky com mented, sipping his gin and tonic. “Didn’t I tell you never to call me that?” R.J. griped. He hated to be reminded that he was named after his father. He was still angry with this father for walking out.
“I just like to fuck with you. I think that’s a nice name. You should really look into your Dominican roots,” Ricky responded, chuckling evilly.
R.J. had no idea that Ricky knew all about his father. He also didn’t know that Ricky had tortured and killed his mother because she wouldn’t give him the money Ramon Sr. had left behind.
“So, when is it going down?” R.J. asked.
“The next meeting. As soon as the drop is made, we will have the heat on Chastity, and she will go down. We’ve got enough on her to put her away for life without ever implicating you,” Ricky informed.
“What about the dyke?” R.J. asked.
“She’s going to resist arrest—if you know what I mean—and we’ll take care of her,” Ricky replied. “But you still need to keep up your end of the bargain,” he reminded R.J.
“Oh, no doubt. I’ll find out where that sexy ass Agent Aponte is hiding out, and it’s done. She’s in love with me,”
R.J. replied, flashing a winning smile.
“Good. You get what you want, and I get what I want,” Ricky reiterated. He was really upset by R.J.’s last comment. He felt that Deidre wasn’t ever supposed to love another man. Nonetheless, money came before anything, so Ricky shook R.J.’s hand, sealing their deal, and they both continued to eat their authentic Italian meal.
Bernard looked over his shoulders nervously as he waited for Deidre to arrive. They agreed to meet behind McGuire Air Force Base in Trenton, New Jersey.
Deidre drove slowly, looking around for any signs of other cars. She’d already spotted Bernard’s vehicle. As she approached, her sweaty hands slipped around the steering wheel. As soon as she came to a stop, Bernard quickly jumped into the passenger seat of her car. Deidre jumped fiercely, almost coming out of her seat. “Fuck! You scared me!” she yelled, with her voice cracking.
“I’m sorry. I had to move quickly. Keep driving until I say stop,” Bernard huffed. He was just as nervous as she was.
Deidre used one hand to feel her gun, which was tucked under her left thigh. “So, what’s this all about, Bernard?” she asked, anxious to get to the point of their meeting.
“Stop here,” Bernard instructed. Deidre complied.
“Turn off all the lights,” he said, and she did as she was told. “Aponte, I’ve known you since you were a little girl. I just want you to know that I would’ve never done anything to hurt you. I respected your father a lot,” he began.
“What are you talking about, Bernard?” Deidre asked seriously.
“Your father, Ricky, Lewis and I were into some things you wouldn’t understand. We got in over our heads, and money started coming in all directions. Ricky slowly started taking over things . . .” Bernard began, but Deidre cut him off.
“Wait! Are you trying to tell me my father was a dirty agent?” she asked, biting into the side of her cheek. She was tired of people demeaning her father’s memory.
“I know you may not believe it, but we were all a part of it. Aponte, the money came so easily!” Bernard replied regretfully.
“No. No. I don’t believe you,” Deidre said, shaking her head from side to side.
“I know it’s hard to believe, but just listen,” Bernard continued. “We got in over our heads, and everybody started pocketing money on the side. It was supposed to be one time, but Ricky kept going further and further. Ramon, Lewis, and myself wanted out, but Ricky wouldn’t hear of it. So, your father and Lewis decided to take matters into their own hands, and that’s when things got ugly,” Bernard stated. He was going to finally provide Deidre with the truth about her father’s death . . .
“Listen man, I’m getting out now before it’s too late. Diego is expecting too much from us,” Ramon complained.
“I agree,” Bernard said.
“Me too,” Lewis agreed.
“No one is getting out of shit! This is millions of dollars we’re talking about here!” Ricky screamed.
“It’s also years behind bars. I just moved my family. I had to leave my other life behind. I can’t do it, man,” Ramon replied, throwing his hands up.
“Fuck that! You can’t get out now!” Ricky growled, pushing Ramon in the chest.
“Hey, man!” Bernard interjected.
Ricky punched Bernard in the face. He was like a man possessed.
“Rick, man, you’re losing it over this shit,” Lewis said calmly, trying to appeal to Ricky.
“I said no one is getting out until I say so!” Ricky said through clenched teeth.
“We’re all grown men. I am out of it!” Ramon retorted, walking toward the door.
“Where’s your half of the money?” Ricky said, rushing after him.
“That’s my money. I worked for it,” Ramon replied, turning on his heels.
“It’s my money!” Ricky barked, drawing his weapon.
Everyone stopped dead in their tracks.
“Hey, Rick man, you’re going too far. We want out, and that’s that,” Lewis said, trying to back Ricky down.
Bernard remained silent. He didn’t even have a weapon on him. They were only supposed to meet to discuss the last deal they were going to make with the Mexicans.
“Shut up!” Ricky screamed, pointing the gun at Lewis. “Walk over there next to your punk ass gringo friend,” he demanded, waving the gun in front of him. “You . . . walk forward,” he said to Ramon. Ramon held his hands up in front of him in surrender and walked forward. “Get on your fucking knees, like the traitor that you are!” Ricky commanded.
“C’mon, Rick. We’ve been friends for years. Is it really worth all of this?” Ramon pleaded, getting on his knees.
“Friends don’t stab friends in the back,” Ricky growled, a thick vein bulging from his forehead.
“How did I stab you in the back? Leaving now is what’s best,” Ramon said.
“Where’s the money?” Ricky asked.
“Rick, I don’t owe you any money. We split everything down the middle, and you promised to pay Diego,” Ramon said, swallowing hard, trying to stay calm.
“Where’s the fucking money!” Ricky roared, his voice echoing through the empty warehouse. He placed the gun to Ramon’s lips.
“Think about this, Ricky! C’mon, man, Ramon’s your friend! You’re his kid�
�s godfather!” Bernard pleaded, trying fruitlessly to appeal to Ricky’s conscience.
“Shut the fuck up!” Ricky screamed. They were no friends of his. Ricky saw them as a means to a way. His hatred for any other culture other than his own was embedded into him, and it was not going away. “Where’s the money?” Ricky asked Ramon again.
“You’re going to have to kill me before I tell you,” Ramon said, not taking Ricky seriously.
Ricky was sweating and his pupils were dilated. His adrenaline was pumping and he couldn’t think. “Did you just say you would turn all of us in?” Ricky asked, blinking rapidly.
“What?” Ramon asked.
“Did you hear that, Baker and Lewis? Aponte has threatened to turn us in!” Ricky announced, sounding deranged. They all looked on confused. Suddenly Ricky rushed forward, stuck the gun to Ramon’s lips and fired. “Bang!” Ramon’s brains burst out of the back of his skull and his body dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“Oh my God! You killed him!” Lewis yelled, covering his ears with both his hands. Bernard dropped to his knees.
“Now, no one is getting out. We are all in this until I say so. Now, help me find that seven-million-dollars,” Ricky said calmly. He was heartless.
Moving like a zombie, Lewis walked over to Ramon’s body. He bent down, dug into Ramon’s pocket and took out his wallet and keys. Ramon had instructed him to do that if anything had ever happened to him in the field.
Deidre banged her fists on the steering wheel of the car. Tears were running down her face like a faucet on full blast. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She reached under her thigh and grabbed her weapon. She drew it and placed it at Bernard’s temple. “I don’t believe you!” she sobbed.
“I’m not afraid to die. I am telling you the truth. Go ahead and kill me,” Bernard replied.
“Why?” Deidre cried. Everything Ricky had done for her was a lie.
“I’m sorry!” Bernard cried. He’d finally purged himself.
“So, what does all of this have to do with me?” Deidre asked, sniffling back snot.
“Senator Reeves was a part of the original deal. Diego Esperanza funded his campaign, made sure he got the Senate seat, and in exchange, Reeves was supposed to keep the National Drug Control policy from being passed. Reeves reneged on the deal, under pressure. Ricky decided to take revenge, and used Amber Reeves as an example. The case was a set up from day one. I’m so sorry,” Bernard apologized.
Deidre lowered her gun from Bernard’s head. She was speechless. All this time she was sleeping with Ricky, he was the enemy. “The fucking criminals are more loyal than the feds!” she screamed.
“I know,” Bernard said, hanging his head in shame.
“What about the F.A.B.?” Deidre asked.
“They were just pawns. Ferguson was a part of this, and they had it planned to blow your cover so that the F.A.B. would kill you. They never fixed the tag or set up your identity. They sent gunmen in so that you would blow your own cover, but none of it worked,” Bernard said, sorrow dancing in his eyes.
“Did Ricky kill Amber Reeves?” Deidre asked.
“No ...I did. She bled to death,” Bernard confessed in an almost inaudible whisper. In one motion, he took his trembling hand out of his pocket, and before Deidre could react, he placed his gun to his temple and squeezed the trigger. “Boom!”
“Aggghhhhhh!” Deidre screamed. Blood leaked from a perfect hole in the side of Bernard’s head. It also ran out of his nose and eye sockets. “Oh God!” Deidre yelled, as she snatched Bernard’s car keys from his lifeless hand and fought with her car door to get out. “Oh shit!” she cursed, running back to the car.
She reached onto the driver’s side floor, with the smell of fresh blood making her want to vomit. She hit the trunk release and popped the trunk, and retrieved the Louis Vuitton duffel bag and her sliver briefcase. Still trembling, she ran towards Bernard’s car. Fumbling with the keys and quaking all over, she jumped into the car and reversed out of the dark area back onto the highway. This time she kept heading south.
Sandra Reeves had watched the number of FBI agents that were in her home dwindle each day. She supposed that this was a sign of how much hope they had left to find Amber alive. After the fingers were confirmed, things changed. It seemed the urgency to find Amber had waned. “Richard,” Sandra turned in the bed towards her husband. There were things she needed to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth once and for all about how she felt. He didn’t answer. “Richard, I want to talk to you,” she shook his shoulder. His back was to her as he lay on his side. Still no response. Sandra moved closer to him and leaned over his shoulder, her weight causing his body to slump all the way over. “Richard? Richard?” she shook him with urgency. He never slept this hard. Sandra’s throat became dry as she continued calling her husband’s name. After the tenth try at rousing him, she looked around frantically and noticed the pill bottle on the floor next to the bed. “Ri-char-d!” she screamed, knowing that her husband would never answer her again.
VOLUME 20: THE BITCH’S END
Chastity glanced down at the newspaper on her bed, shrugging her shoulders. She’d just read the newspaper articles about Officer Duke and Tori, and she was unfazed. “One hundred,” she mumbled as she continued counting the last of the money she had stashed. Reaching into her Hermes bag, she picked up the two airline confirmations and looked at the clock. R.J. was supposed to be meeting her at five o’clock sharp, and she knew he was never late.
“Sorry, Loca, I couldn’t bring you along. Sorry that you’re gonna get blamed for the murder too. You were right, there is no such thing as death before dishonor, and no honor amongst thieves,” Chastity said under her breath as she bound each stack of money with rubber bands.
Leticia had no idea Chastity was leaving, nor did she know that Chastity had tipped the police off about Tori’s murder. While Leticia sobbed uncontrollably over Tori’s death, Chastity took the murder weapon from Deidre and slipped it right beside the body. Chastity felt that she had made too much money off of Deidre to blame her. She planned on doing more business with her. The only difference was that Chastity would be in a different country, and she would be making one hundred percent of the profit with Leticia and Tori gone.
Chastity walked over to her floor-length mirror and looked at herself. Beautiful as usual, she thought.
Straightening the jacket of her cream colored Tahari blazer and sliding her feet into a pair of camel colored Jimmy Choo pumps, she completed her look. She was ready to go. Chastity took pride in her appearance no matter where she was going. She shook her head from left to right, allowing her hair to dance around her head. Satisfied, she picked up her cell phone and called R.J. “Hey, big bro, I’m ready.”
“Give me a few . . . I’m tying up a few loose ends,” R.J. replied.
“Hurry up. Our plane leaves at seven, and we have to be at the airport two hours earlier for international flights.”
“I know. I’ll be there soon,” R.J. confirmed.
“A’ight. Hey, before you hang up, have you spoken to DeeDee?”
“Nah. I think she went back to D.C.”
“Call her. Maybe she wants to go with us,” Chastity offered. She really liked Deidre, even more than her own girls.
“I will. I’ll be there soon. Love you, baby sis!” R.J. said, and with that, he was gone.
“Where you wanna go eat at?” Leticia asked the raven-haired hottie she had on her arm as they left Leticia’s front door. Leticia had been secluded in her apartment, keeping a low profile since Tori’s death.
“Anywhere you wanna go, mami,” the girl answered, stopping to let Leticia lock the door. Just as the girl stepped down the first step on the stoop she heard, “Freeze! Don’t fucking move!”
Leticia turned swiftly, only to notice six black Chevy Impalas filled with FBI agents in raid jackets, with guns drawn and pointed at her.
“Leticia Ruiz, you are under arrest! Walk down th
e stairs slowly with your hands up!” Ferguson announced through the bullhorn. The FBI had gotten to Leticia before the NYPD.
“What the fuck did I do?” Leticia screamed. Her lady friend ran away.
“Put your hands up now!” Ferguson commanded. A small crowd had begun to gather.
Leticia started walking down the stairs. “Fuck the police! I didn’t do shit! You got the wrong bitch!” she yelled, and in one motion, she reached into her front waistband and drew out two guns. Lately she never left home without them.
“Gun!” Ferguson yelled, ducking behind one of the cars for cover.
“Fuck the police!” Leticia screamed, extending both of her arms and firing both weapons. She had promised herself that before she went back to prison, she would go out with guns blazing.
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!” Shot after shot rang out. Every FBI agent on the scene emptied at least one magazine into Leticia’s body. The first several shots hit her in the chest, sending her flying back into the steps, but she kept shooting. Her body jerked fiercely as more and more shots burned through her skin. Leticia’s eyes popped open and blood spilled from her mouth, yet her hands kept firing. Finally, one shot hit her between the eyes, and all motion stopped. Her head banged into the steps and both of her arms dropped. The weapons slid to the ground, as did her limp, dead body.
When the smoke cleared, Ferguson walked over to Leticia’s body and looked down into her beautiful green eyes, which were wide open. “A fucking waste!” Ferguson commented. “Get crime scene down here!” she yelled to the other agents. One down, two more to go, she thought to herself.
“What’s the first thing you wanna see when we get to Mexico?” Chastity asked her brother.
“Maybe the Mayan temples,” R.J. answered, looking over at his baby sister. He navigated his BMW X-5 down the Belt Parkway towards the John F. Kennedy Airport.
“You think we’ll ever be able to return to Brooklyn?” Chastity asked.
“Not with all this money we owe our connect, and all the shit that’s happened,” R.J. replied regretfully.
Hush Page 17