The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set

by Jerry Jackson

  Coco held his arms in the air over his head, preventing Gangsta from shooting him. Coco saw one of the bouncers. He screamed for help.

  “Call the cops! Help me, man!” He was struggling under Gangsta’s strength as Gangsta’s hand was slipping loose. He kneed Coco in the nuts, catching him off guard, then he twisted his body. Coco’s back was now against the building. Gangsta kneed him again. That’s when Monkey hit Coco over the head with the gun, then he aimed the gun at Coco’s face. He surrendered, letting the barrel of Gangsta’s gun go, throwing his hands high in the air.

  “Ok, Ok, you got it, bruh. You—”

  Gangsta took a step back and aimed the glock directly at his face. He shot Coco twice between the eyes, sending his body crashing into the building, sliding down it. By now the bouncers had got the hell on. Gangsta ran to the 442. He and Monkey jumped in and smashed out of the parking lot and down the street.

  “Fuck!” Monkey said, looking back as Gangsta did about eighty miles per hour down the streets. Now it was time to get away. They ended up jumping on the highway on MLK, headed to the south side.

  “You good, nigga?” Gangsta asked while they flushed down 285.

  “Hell yeah, I’m straight,” Monkey replied, then Gangsta pulled his own phone out and called Loco, who picked up on the second ring.

  “My friend.”

  “He was a no-show, way. Give me the address to Mount Zion. I’m going to end this shit once and for all, way. It’s a headache,” Gangsta said, only to get a pause first.

  Then Loco said, “Way, do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, the Feds are crawling all over his place, Gangsta. That’s no good move, my friend.”

  “Good or bad, way, I’m going in.”

  “What about the plan we made with my father? All we have, my friend, is our word, so why would you abandon responsibility?” Loco asked, but Gangsta wasn’t hearing him.

  “Plan is the same, Loco. I got it, trust me. I’m just not walking these streets another day with Bam living, way. That’s real talk, my friend.”

  “Way, the FBI is all over his home. He cannot leave. He is on restricted house arrest.” Loco had intel on almost everything that happened in Atlanta.

  “I can get in, way. I got this. Just text me the address, and then we can proceed wit’ business.” Gangsta wasn’t taking no for an answer, and Loco finally gave in, even though he didn’t want to. He supported Gangsta’s decision, because he understood the most important thing was Gangsta needing his revenge before anything else.

  He and Loco got off the phone and, moments later, the address came through with a picture of the home. Gangsta looked over to Monkey.

  “Bruh, I’m ‘bout to drop you off, my nigga, ‘cause this mission I’m going on is suicide, and you have done enough for me, my nigga. That’s love, Shit got to happen tonight, do or die, bruh.” Gangsta had his mind made up. With no plan, all he knew was that he was going headfirst, no stopping, murdering anything that was in his way.

  “So, if you don’t make it, I’m just out of the plug?” Monkey asked.

  “I don’t know what to tell you on that, bruh, but I’m not planning on losing,” was Gangsta’s reply.

  “I feel you, but I done came this far. Might as well ride this shit out, bruh. I’m with you,” Monkey informed. He was willing to take it there with Gangsta because he felt his pain, he saw the hurt in him, and Gangsta was a good nigga. Good niggas shouldn’t go through that.

  “Ok, bet that. Then, my nigga, I gotta make a run to get more ammo. I need to drop you somewhere a few hours, and we’ll pull up in the wee hours of the night.”

  “That’s cool wit’ me,” Monkey replied. Gangsta took him to a hotel close to Jimmy Carter Boulevard, then he made it out to Melody’s house. He used the key given to him to enter. He walked inside. Mya was on the floor, counting money with the machine. Melody was coming down the steps.

  “Hey, Gangsta,” Melody spoke, then joined her sister on the floor.

  “What’s going on, y’all?” he spoke back. Mya waved and went back to work. “Where is everybody?” Gangsta was headed up the steps when melody replied.

  “It’s just us here. Loco is out on business.”

  When he made it upstairs, he went into the room and got the guns he needed. He stripped down out of his clothes and hopped in the shower really quick to wash that pussy-nigga blood off him. He felt kinda better, being that he had seen his son and that his condition was getting better, but the issue with Ne-Ne was still at hand. It bothered him, but it couldn’t be his focus. And even after this situation was over, Gangsta knew that he and Ne-Ne couldn’t be together anymore. No matter how much he was in love with her, there would be no them.

  He made his shower quick, then got out. He was standing in his boxers when the door was opened and Mya walked in. She stopped when she noticed his ripped muscles and six-pack glistening from the water. Gangsta reached for his tank top first, looking at her. She was seemingly stuck.

  “What’s up, Mya? Is everything good?”

  She walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. She looked back at the door, locked it, then looked to Gangsta.

  “I never been with a man such as yourself.” She walked closer to him. She reached out and touched his chest.

  Gangsta smiled. He was flattered, but sex was the last thing on his mind right now, and Mya was for sure bad. She ran her finger down his stomach. Gangsta grabbed her hand to stop her.

  “Loco ain’t like—”

  “Loco know me and Melody likes you, so don’t throw him up. I just want to sample you, not lock you down. I know you stressing and got so much more going on than what I want, but you are here now, half naked, so let me help you ease that pressure,” Mya said and reached for his dick, which by then had begun to get hard just by the words she spoke. She was aggressive, and it was cute.

  “You’re very demanding, you know?” Gangsta spoke as she reached into his boxers, freeing his member. It hung out semi-hard. Mya stroked it, surprised at the size of it. She squatted down and licked just the head. She looked at it, stroked it some more, then put it in her warm mouth. Gangsta had forgotten how good pussy and head felt as he began to brick up in her mouth. Mya sucked and stroked him. She pulled off the dick, lifted it up, and licked up the shaft of him. She suckled on his balls, which made Gangsta grab her head, nearly standing on the tips of his toes. A silent moan escaped his mouth. Mya put the dick back into her mouth and went down as far as she could, gagging a little. She pulled back, inhaled deep. She spit on his dickhead and went back to sucking and stoking him. Gangsta started gyrating his hips, fucking her pretty face. He pushed his dick down her throat twice, making her gag again, then he lifted her up by the chin.

  “Bend over.”

  Gangsta turned her around. He pulled her tights down to her ankles. She had a fat ass. He took his dick at the base, then rubbed his dickhead between her warm pussy lips. Mya spread her legs wider as he pushed inside her tightness. She moved a little, but he wouldn’t let her go too far.

  “C’mere. Uh! Uh!” Gangsta slid into her and started pumping in and out. Mya gripped the sheets. Gangsta gripped her ass and went to work. It was soft, how his hands sunk into her fat ass. Her pussy was super wet. Mya was moaning and trying to run from his size, but Gangsta wasn’t having it. He was in a zone.

  They both climbed on the bed. She was now lying flat on her stomach as he pinned her down at the small of her back.

  “Papi, no. No! Papi, take some out! Oh. Oh, papi!” Mya continued to try to slide up from him beating her guts. He was near his peek, so he laid flat down with her and started deep stroking, talking in her ear.

  “Where you want this nut?” he asked.

  “My ass, papi,” she said back.

  “Ask me where I want to put it.” Gangsta dug up in her. She winched out in pain.

  “Where, Papi?” she nearly yelled.

  “In your mouth. I want you to taste me.”

  “Ok, Papi.”<
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  As soon as she said the words, Gangsta pushed up off her, holding his dick at its base.

  “Turn over,” he said, and she did as told. She flipped over on her back. Gangsta aimed his dickhead at her mouth. She opened up wide as he released his thick, white sperm.

  It shot in her mouth the first time. The second load hit her chin. That’s when she grabbed his dick and put her mouth over its head to catch the rest of him. She sucked like a vacuum cleaner, making Gangsta moan and shiver. He had to snatch his dick out of her mouth, feeling like she was draining the life out of him. Mya smiled and wiped the remaining cum off her chin, put it into her mouth, and swallowed everything he let out. Gangsta was on his knees, holding his limp dick, looking at the beauty laid on her back and looking at him

  “Thank you, papi,” Mya smiled and got up. Gangsta didn’t reply. He only flopped down on his back, wishing he didn’t give in to the lust that took over him, but it had already happened. He laid there another minute in thought, then finally decided to get up. He had business to handle.

  When he made it back to pick up Monkey, he was dressed in all black, just like Gangsta. He got in the 442. There were two choppers on the backseat and a vest.

  “Put that on, bruh.”

  “Cool. So, do you got a plan?” Monkey asked while reaching to grab the vest. Gangsta pulled off into traffic.

  “Yeah, murder, I never been to this nigga’s shit, so I guess we case the spot to see how the Feds are posted and we get around them. See, one thing I know is the Feds will not think, nor Bam, that a nigga would bring this drama to his front door.” Gangsta jumped on the highway.

  “I know, but what if it’s a load of Feds? Then what?”

  “Then we lay ‘til the opportunity presents itself. Either way, bruh, it’s going down tonight.”

  “Shid, I’m with you,” Monkey replied as Gangsta’s phone started ringing. He looked at the number and saw it was Kash. He picked up, even though he didn’t want to.

  “Whoa.”

  “Shawty, what’s up?”

  “Lurking, bruh. What’s hap’, foo’?”

  “Officer told me I’m leaving tonight, going back to the county. Said my judge granted some out-of-time motion,” Kash said, which made Gangsta smile and tap Monkey. He pointed to the rolled-up blunt in the cup holder.

  “That’s the move, shawty. You ‘bout to hit these streets, my nigga.”

  “Bruh, I still want to know your plan, my nigga. When you gon’ share?” Kash asked and laughed, because he, too, was happy at the thought of freedom.

  “You gon’ know, foo’. I’m not gon’ say it just yet, but trust me, it’s what you deserve, shawty,” Gangsta said.

  “I can dig it, bruh. I can’t wait to get out and we take this shit over. I miss you, my nigga. Whatever you got going on, I know it’s good, so I’m with you, shawty.”

  He and Kash talked a while longer, then Gangsta ended the call when he made it to Clayton County. It was now or never. The nervousness washed over him, then quickly passed when he thought of his son, his babymama, and all that Bam had taken him through. Gangsta parked the 442 at a shopping center and cut it off. He and Monkey smoked two blunts, listening to Monsta Swole.

  “We walking to this nigga’s spot, shawty, so we can get away and look normal when we just walking,” Gangsta said once the blunts were over. He opened the door and got out to the night sky. It was almost 1:00 a.m., so most folks should be asleep.

  “You ready, bruh?” asked Monkey.

  “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  The walk was ten minutes. They walked past so many big homes and finally made it to Bam’s house. Gangsta was surprised, and so was Monkey, at how big it was, plus it was gated with cameras all over in every corner. There was no way possible for them to get past the gate that had to be opened from the inside. They walked down the street and still couldn’t figure out how to get in without being seen by the many cameras, the Feds, or the neighbors. Gangsta wouldn’t give up. He had to come up with another method, so he and Monkey made the ten-minute walk back to the car.

  “Let’s go eat real quick,” Gangsta said.

  They jumped back into the 442. He was not that hungry, but he needed somewhere to put his thoughts in order, because this was the last shot. Gangsta knew that tonight he might die, so the move he made had to be his best shot.

  They ate at the Waffle House, went inside and got seated. Monkey instantly picked up the menu. A waiter walked over.

  “How are y’all today? You ready to order?” She was a white girl with a beet-red face and long, curly hair.

  “No, not yet. Bring us some water, though,” Gangsta told the girl, and she left.

  “You think we can jump that fence?” It was a random question that came out of nowhere.

  “Fuck no,” was Monkey’s stiff reply. “We might as well ram the gate if we gon’ do that.”

  While Monkey was talking, Gangsta noticed a familiar face, but really couldn’t place it. He was seated at the bar, having drinks in a business suit. Gangsta stared so hard that Monkey looked back over his shoulder to see what had Gangsta’s attention. “What’s up, bruh? What you see?”

  “That nigga over there look like I know him.” Gangsta pointed on the low.

  Monkey then saw who he was talking about. His eyes got big. His voice low, he reached across the table and touched Gangsta’s arm. “Boy, that’s one of Bam’s drivers,” Monkey said, excited.

  Gangsta looked out to the parking lot and spotted the Benz, which confirmed the dude was indeed Bam’s people.

  “Oh, we finna snatch him up,” Gangsta said. He watched the dude eat his fresh food and flirt with the waiter. Monkey and Gangsta ordered their food also. He never took his eyes off the dude, not for one second, because this was the closest he would get to Bam. Right now, Gangsta needed the Benz, because it would get them past the gate, and all he needed was to get in. Another couple minutes and the dude was about to leave. Gangsta got up and so did Monkey, leaving no tip. The driver was oblivious, walking toward the Benz when Gangsta ran up behind him, pushing the gun into the small of his back.

  “Die today or live forever, nigga. Open the door,” Gangsta demanded to him as Monkey walked up, smiling and standing at the passenger door.

  “Man, what’s going on? You can have the money.” The driver was shaken. The parking lot was empty. Not many people were out, and those that were really weren’t paying attention to what was going on at that moment.

  “Nigga, open the motherfucking door.” Gangsta nudged the gun in the small of his back. The dude reluctantly complied. Gangsta made him unlock all doors, and Monkey got in, also with his gun drawn. Gangsta climbed in the back, glad that the driver didn’t buck.

  “Crank up and pull off, fuck-nigga,” Monkey said, aiming the gun at his side.

  “Listen, man. I’m just the typical nine-to-five worker, bruh. This car not mines, my nigga. Y’all can have what lil’ money I got, but please, man, spare me my life,” the driver pleaded.

  “Bruh, crank this motherfucking car up. I’m not tryna rob or kill you, nigga, so don’t make me. I want your boss man, nigga, and you my passport into the gates,” Gangsta said.

  “Feds are there. That’s not a good idea,” the driver warned him, but Gangsta didn’t give a rat’s ass who was there. With how he was feeling, he and Bam could both die tonight.

  “Nigga!” Monkey reached over and choked the driver with one hand, pointing the gun with the other. “Crank this car.”

  “Ok, ok,” the driver said and did as told. He cranked the Benz and pulled off.

  “Now listen, you said you want to live, right?” Gangsta spoke from the backseat.

  “Yes, I wanna live. Bruh, pl—”

  “Listen, nigga. Shut up and listen. How many Feds there?” Gangsta was formulating a plan to attack.

  “When I left it was two vans there, but usually its one or two cars, at least ‘bout four agents.”

  “Do you got keys?”


  “Yeah, I got keys. But man, I don’t want to be a part of this stuff. I just want to quit right now,” the driver was panicking.

  “Look, if you want to live, I’ma let you. But check this, you gon’ get me in that house. We just finna walk right past the FBI, go straight in.”

  “Man, that nigga might scream, bruh. Then we will murder some Feds,” Monkey cut in. “Anyway, I didn’t see no fuckin’ vans when we went. It’s just a couple whips in the driveway,” Monkey said, and he was right, because Gangsta didn’t see any vans either.

  “We finna see. I’m just glad this bitch tinted,” replied Gangsta as the Benz pulled up to the gate. It automatically opened, then the Benz eased through.

  Gangsta was glad to see only one fed car with both white dudes standing in jeans and tucked-in blue shirts. They had guns on their hips and were leaned against the car.

  The driver pulled up in his designated spot. “Now what?” he asked.

  “We all gon’ get out and walk toward the door. Monkey, me, and you gon’ get the drop on them with the tool, ‘cause they ain’t gon’ be expecting it. You gon’ strip them and cuff them,” Gangsta said and was the first to open the door, leaving nobody room to protest his plan.

  Once his feet hit the pavement, it was all action, no flexing. Monkey and the driver did the same. Everyone looked normal walking toward the walkway leading to the doors. The Feds were posted there as well, looking at the three approaching. Gangsta became instantly nervous, but quickly killed it when he pulled his gun out. Monkey did too, more fearful, but ready to kill. The two federal agents were so caught off guard that they both just looked at each other, then back to the two gunmen.

  “Don’t move. Put yo’ hands high in the air,” Gangsta said, low. He knew he was taking a chance being out here like this with Bam having cameras and all, but it was a chance worth taking. The agents did as told.

  “Go,” he sent the driver. He took both the guns and the radios.

  “Bring that shit over here. Sit it down. Go get them cuffs,” Gangsta demanded, and the driver did as told. “I’m not gonna hurt nobody. I’m just going to see a man ‘bout a mule, that’s it. I’m in and out,” Gangsta informed the agents after the cuffs were placed on them. He sat them down on the curb, then searched their car for guns and more cuffs. He found some and cuffed the driver to then, checked the agents’ ankles for guns, and found that they both were strapped. He took the guns, laughing.