The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set

by Jerry Jackson

  “Ms. Robertson, come into my office, please.”

  She followed the doctor as requested. Her heart rate sped up in her chest as she thought of her son and any bad news. The office was tiny, but neat. Ne-Ne stood up while the doctor took her seat. She put both hands on the desk, clasped together, and looked directly at Ne-Ne before speaking.

  “Ok, so this is what’s going on. Surgery was somewhat a success. We didn’t get far, but we got something. All your son’s vitals have increased. However, he is still supported by the machine. He is still brain dead, and more surgery is required, but first we want him to heal up, rest some. We will watch his vitals and see if they increase any more before we try surgery again.”

  The information the doctor gave Ne-Ne was music to her ears. She felt so good hearing the news that a bright smile appeared on her face. “Thank you so much, Doc. Thank you!” Ne-Ne stressed her appreciation and also thanked God, because it was good will that kept Junior fighting for his life.

  “No problem. So what we will do is give him two weeks to see if anything good or bad happens. He’s a strong kid, a fighting soul, and to be honest, this is a first this has happened,” the doctor said. She was also thankful that there was now a fighting chance for the baby. She was happy to add to Ne-Ne’s joy.

  Leaving the office, she went into the waiting area to share the news with her sister, then texted and told Gangsta exactly what the doctor said. She knew he needed to hear some good news about his son. It was late, so she didn’t expect a reply. Ne-Ne pocketed her phone. She wanted to shed tears of joy, she was so happy at the moment.

  “Come on, let’s ask the doctor if we can see him.” Erica took her sister’s hand, also happy about the news.

  Chapter 14

  FBI Agent Latrisha Williams

  Her heels clicked loudly as she rushed down the hall, late for her meeting with Captain Oliver Brown. Sweat appeared on her forehead, as she was moving at a quite pace, not wanting to be even more late. The room was crowded with federal agents. When she finally made it and opened the door, her captain was standing behind a podium. He was in the middle of talking when she entered. The entire room turned to see her. The captain stopped speaking until she found her seat in the back.

  “Welcome, Agent Williams. You only missed a small portion, so I will start over from the top,” the captain spoke to her, looked down to his paperwork, then back up to the crowd. “Now, back to what I was saying. This operation has not been approved yet ‘cause we do not have proper grounds to stamp it as a drug war. However, it doesn’t stop us from running an investigation trying to find links and connections of these recent crimes. Agent Grace and Agent Marcello are assignment to the shootout on Hollywood Road. Agent Williams and Norris, you take the kidnapping case, since y’all have already started in that direction.”

  “So how do we do groups?” one agent asked from the front of the room.

  “We will have two shift teams. Everyone report to the head, and please do not get out there and force something to make a case. We need to get the approval from front office before we can go to locking people up and charging them with crimes we think they did.”

  The captain clicked on the projector, and a picture of Bam popped up. The captain took a seat as another senior got up. It was the FBI Chief Director, Mrs. Mathis. She looked upon all the agents in the room, then picked up a ruler she pointed to the picture.

  “We have reason to believe Bernard Gresham, AKA Bam, is linked into this circle some kind of way. A few days ago he lost our surveillance team. Disappeared right into traffic.”

  “Isn’t he a government informant?” came a question from the back of the room.

  “Yes, Bernard will soon testify for the government. He’s been working with us a few months now,” Mrs. Mathis addressed the questions. She clicked to another picture. It was a photo of a Mexican, an older, frail-looking man. His hair was full and white as snow, Latrisha noticed. “This is one of Mexico’s top cartel leaders. His name is Mr. Play, and this,” she clicked to another picture, “this is his son, Chavez, who runs the entire operation for his sick father.” Mrs. Mathis clicked another picture. It was a clean-cut looking Mexican. He looked more like a business owner than a criminal. “His name is Loco. This is the son of Chavez. He runs the drug trade through Atlanta and Miami. All of this is assumptions, because we are still trying to get Bam to give up his connection.”

  “So, do we think that ‘cause Bam turned informant, the cartel is after him and it’s war?” someone asked out of the crowd.

  “Safe to say, yes.”

  “Do we have locations on Chavez, Loco, and Mr. Play?” another agent asked.

  “Chavez and Mr. Play boarded a private flight back to Mexico eight hours ago. Loco’s time is mostly spent in Buford, Georgia. Intel got him at four different houses throughout Gwent County,” Mrs. Mathis confirmed.

  The meeting lasted another hour. Latrisha was taking down every note possible. This would be her first lead in an investigation. She was only twenty-nine years old. She had been with the force three years and was slowly making a name for herself with her quick wit and charm. She was very smart and driven. She loved her job and everything about it. She was there to prove herself to anybody who didn’t believe she could make it up to the top. It was her pretty face and nice body that made people assume she was soft and too girly to be a federal agent. What people didn’t know was that she came up in a rough neighborhood in Augusta, south side projects with some of the worst criminals she’d met. Latrisha was self-driven and has seen far past being in the hood with a dope boy for the rest of her life. True indeed, she liked the rough-around-the-edges type, but what she liked and what was important were two different things. She had a family to take care of, and if she didn’t do it, then nobody would. So that was her sole reason for going to school, through college, and into the police force — Not because she wanted to be police, but for career choices.

  Latrisha went to her office. She pulled the file up on Bam and began to read up on him, determined to figure this case out.

  ***

  Gangsta

  Gangsta and Loco were leaving the airport in College Park, seeing Chavez and Mr. Play off back to Mexico. During the ride to the airport, Chavez continued to vividly paint pictures of what it would be like to have Gangsta as their sole distributor in Atlanta. All Loco did was agree with a shake of his head each time his father made a point, and all Gangsta did was listen. He had a plan, but being an Atlanta drug dealer was well out of the door now. He would leave that position to the next person. Gangsta would be the sacrifice to his son’s healing, just as his son was the sacrifice to his karma in the streets.

  The deal Chavez was giving him was all that he, Kash, and Dank had ever wanted. This opportunity was the one they worked hard for, took many lives for. They hurt a great amount of people to see this day, but to Gangsta that dream had long died. All he wanted was revenge. It was more important than riches, so Gangsta’s mind was already made up. But he wouldn’t be a fool and just keep bluntly declining Chavez’s offer. Gangsta finally told Chavez that he would work for him under one circumstance.

  “Name it, my friend,” Chavez said.

  “Give me one week to get shit lined up and we got a deal,” Gangsta said, looking across to Mr. Play and Chavez. This would be their last time seeing each other. Chavez just didn’t know it. He would disappear on them without notice, and nine times out of ten never come back. Gangsta didn’t want to do it like this, but if his plan was to work, then he had no other choice. Chavez wouldn’t let him say no, Loco either, so Gangsta went with the idea, but really all he cared about was his son’s well being. Nothing else mattered, not even his own life.

  “We have a deal, my friend.” Chavez smiled, then spoke to Mr. Play in Spanish, who in returned smiled at Gangsta with a nod of his head, happy Gangsta took the offer.

  Gangsta and Loco made it back to Gwent, meeting up with Jeter and Longo at Melody and Mya’s house.

&
nbsp; “Way, I got business to handle that requires me to ride throughout the city limits. If you want, you can join me. Or do you have other plans?” Loco asked once they got out of the range rover and everyone dapped each other.

  “Naw, way, I don’t have no plans, but I’m good on riding. I’ma just chill here a few hours to collet my thoughts before heading out,” replied Gangsta.

  “Cool. Make yourself at home.” Loco patted his back as they walked inside the house.

  Mya was standing over the stove cooking when they entered the kitchen. Loco kissed his sister’s face. She eyed Gangsta with a look he never noticed. Longo went to the already-done food and dug in. Mya playfully swung at Longo. He laughed, moving out of reach. Gangsta looked on and laughed at them both. Mya was looking good in tight jeans and a tank top. Her ass bounced with every step she took, he couldn’t help but notice. Mya was one of them hip-hop types. She was into all the fashion and music, she knew all the slang and swagger. She acted as if she was black, is what Gangsta thought.

  “Let’s go, fellas,” Loco announced ten minutes later after he had gotten situated. Loco was heading out the door.

  Gangsta took a seat at the dinner table next to Longo, who wasn’t playing with his plate of food, knocking off the last of it.

  “Anything you need, my friend, just say the words. You know the number. I will be back in a few hours,” Loco reminded him when he stopped before completely going out the door.

  “Cool, way. I probably be here when you get back. However, if I’m not, it won’t be long before I do show up,” Gangsta said.

  Loco left with Jeter and Longo, leaving Gangsta alone with this beautifully put together Mexican girl. Mya was bad, he had to admit, with a fat ass to go with her almost-perfect body.

  She caught Gangsta looking at her while fixing him a plate of food. She didn’t speak on it, and neither did he. Mya was most definitely a sight to see, and under different circumstances Gangsta would have been all over her, but right now pussy was the last thing he wanted. Right now, no matter how much he was lusting, he refused to give in to it. He had entirely too much business to handle.

  The food was good, he had to admit, or he was starving. Mya had left him at the table when he went back for seconds. Gangsta took that time to make some phone calls. The first person he called was Nikki so he could get word on what was being said on the west side.

  Nikki surprised him when she stated, “They got Poonie, charged him with all six murders and everybody that got injured.”

  “Damn, for real?”

  “Yes, I’m going to visit him today,” Nikki spoke.

  “Fuck! You think shawty made a statement already?”

  “I don’t think so, but I don’t know,” replied Nikki.

  “Ok, look, tell him I got the lawyer. Just sit back. He won’t get convicted. Tell him I promise he won’t. Check this out, though: I got a check for you and Roxanne for keeping it clean. I’ma drop something extra on you for Poonie, to hold him down ‘til he bounce. Text me the address y’all at. I’ma pull up later.” It was the least he could do for them, because they did help him along the way, and he respected them for that.

  Gangsta finished his food, then headed to the spare room where his duffle bag was hidden in the closet. He grabbed it, pulled it out, tossing it on the bed. Gangsta pulled another cellphone out of his pocket. He sat on the bed and activated the phone. Gangsta was now moving forward on his mission. He had a ton of shit to put in place, making sure everything was on point. He had a bunch of people to involve in order to succeed in his plan.

  After he had the phone activated, Gangsta sent a text to Bam’s number.

  Bitch-ass nigga you can’t run and you not protected.

  Gangsta cut the phone back off, took the battery out, and smashed the phone up. He had no more use for it.

  Gangsta got up and tossed the duffel bag full of money and drugs over his shoulder. Reaching under the pillow, he grabbed a brand new .45. He removed the Beretta from his hip and placed it in the drawer with another gun and a chopper clip. When he stepped out of the room, Mya was standing in the hallway in a long t-shirt and he could only imagine what else. Gangsta looked at her. She looked at him. Neither said anything for a moment, but then Gangsta straightened up. He had to stay focused.

  “You leaving?” asked Mya.

  “Yeah. Got some business to handle,” Gangsta replied and walked past her, saying, “Excuse me.” Mya held a disappointed look on her face. He had to get out of there before he got off course, because he could be reading it wrong, but it surely looked like Mya was ready to be fucked. He jumped into the 442 Cutlass and found the highway. He was going to see Mr. Swinn.

  Chapter 15

  Bam

  He met Trina and her cousin with his crew at one of his warehouses on Fulton Industrial. Trina’s cousin was a real hothead with a squad that call themselves Murder. His name was Coco, an east Atlanta rider, born and raised on Glenwood.

  Bam took everyone into the warehouse. He heard a few mumbles and a couple deep inhales when they all saw Pam badly beaten, her guts hanging out of her stomach. As she was cuffed overhead, her hands were turning blue from no blood circulation because she was so weak she couldn’t stand on her own two feet. Bam paid it no mind while taking a seat on the table, legs swinging. He looked the squad over for a brief moment, then he spoke.

  “If you niggas not willing to die for this money, then you need to leave this place now. It’s a war I’m in, and I plan on winning it however I gots to. Each of you cats will receive a fat bonus when this shit over with, and as long as y’all with me, you will be straight. So who is down, and who is not?” Bam got straight to the point. All the niggas with Trina’s cousin said they were in, and that’s when Bam gave them the layout on what he needed done. “Yo, and somebody finish that bitch off,” Bam added while walking off. Trina followed close behind.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a message from a number he didn’t recognize.

  Bitch-ass nigga you can’t run and you not protected.

  Bam stared at the number, then dialed it to get the voicemail. He knew it was Gangsta, then wondered if he knew about his house in Mount Zion. But if he did know, Gangsta wasn’t stupid enough to bring war to his spot. And if he was that dumb, the Feds would for sure snatch him up. He wouldn’t make it past the front door.

  Bam wanted Gangsta badly, because now he was becoming a pain in the ass. Business had to continue. He was losing money as the days rolled around. He had to reorganize his go-to men with the blow or weed, but first thing first, he had to pick the right one to trust to handle business correctly.

  Coco walked over to Pam’s limp body. He lifted her head up. Both of her eyes were swollen shut, her nose broken, her lips busted, her jaw broken. She was fucked up so badly that Coco shook his head, disgusted. Then, with one vicious twist, he snapped Pam’s neck, doing her a favor by killing her.

  Everyone in the warehouse followed Bam to the back where crates of guns and ammo were piled up.

  “All y’all niggas get a choppa and two hand guns. There’s plenty ammo to go around.” He watched as everyone strapped up, getting ready to light the west side of Atlanta up looking for Gangsta.

  “Daddy, you know I will bust my gun, too, anytime you need me,” Trina said out of nowhere, bringing his attention back from deep thoughts.

  Bam looked at the message again. Just to be sure, he then sent a text back.

  lol

  “I know, shorty, but all I want for you to do is look pretty while yo’ nigga handle his business, ok, Ma?” Bam pulled her into his arms. He kissed her neck, not trying to show her signs of him weak or worried, but Trina was a girl in love, which meant she was always passing attention to him and knew him better than he gave her credit for.

  ***

  Gangsta

  His black Atlanta Braves hat was pulled down low on his face, wearing a pair of Gucci frames to hide his true appearance, giving anybody who noticed
him a different look from the pictures they saw on TV. Gangsta pulled the 442 up to Michael Swinn’s law firm, located on South Cobb Drive, Cobb County. Every whip in the parking lot was expensive, he noticed, while taking the gun under his thigh and placing it in his waistband, concealed. Gangsta got out of the Cutlass, fresh in Gucci heavy black jeans, the black sweater with white trim to match, and a pair of snow white Tim’s. He carried a tote bag inside the firm.

  It was beautifully decorated when he entered. The air was clean and it smelled very nice, smelled like business. Gangsta walked up to the desk. A white female in her late thirties was on the phone. She smiled at him, then held up one finger for him to wait.

  “I’m here for Swinn. Is he in his office?” Gangsta wasn’t about to be put on hold, and the clerk saw it in his eyes. She hung up the phone.

  “How are you today, sir?” Her voice was beautiful.

  “Swinn. I’m here for him. Is he around?” he asked again.

  “One second,” the girl said, then picked up the phone and quickly hung it up after speaking with Swinn. She gave Gangsta a bright smile before saying. “He’s waiting on you, sir.”

  “Thanks.” Gangsta walked through the door marked with Swinn’s name on it. He was seated behind his huge desk. His office was very large, the kind of office that held a bathroom, a coffee station, and had a sitting area with two leather sofas and a table.

  “Gary, how are you?”

  “I’m straight. What’s up? What’s going on with my case, though?”

  Mr. Swinn sat upright in his seat. He rummaged through a stack of papers on his desk and found what he was looking for. Mr. Swinn took his eyeglasses from their case. He put them on, then he began reading from the paperwork.

  “State was overridden by federal government, so it’s them with your case now. And the status is still the same. You are just wanted for questioning, so I’m just sitting back, waiting for them to strike so I can defend,” Mr. Swinn assured Gangsta.