Face Off--The Baddest Chick 4

by Nisa Santiago

  “It don’t make any sense all of us gettin’ locked up or killed at this moment. Till next time then.” Kola lowered her gun and took a few steps back from the threat aimed at her.

  Terri still kept his weapon trained at her, but he wasn’t going to fire.

  Kola turned to look at her sister and said, “You better not die on me like this. I still got unfinished business wit’ you.”

  Apple was too weak to respond. Simply breathing had become difficult for her.

  Kola eyed her sister and then went the opposite way, leaving Terri alone with Apple. He immediately rushed to her aid.

  Apple was against him staying. “Leave, nigga!” she managed to say weakly.

  Terri looked confused, but then he suddenly understood. He would be no good to her if he were incarcerated. The police were coming, and he was a known felon carrying a large gun. Kori and Crunch were dead, and Chicano drove away in the Range Rover, after Terri advised him to. The vehicles were dirty, and the last thing everyone needed was the police snooping all into their shit.

  “I’ll be back.” Terri darted into the darkness, leaving Apple alone.

  ***

  Police came rushing into the lobby with their guns drawn. They flooded the area like ants and found Apple lying unconscious in a pool of blood. They didn’t know if she was dead or alive.

  Ten minutes later, EMS workers came storming inside pulling a gurney behind them. They saw the chaos and rushed toward Apple and began trying to save her life. The paramedics quickly assessed the situation and began placing an endotracheal tube into her lungs to help her with her breathing. And then they started an IV to give her fluids.

  ***

  The trauma unit hurriedly wheeled Apple into the ER of East Orange General Hospital. Apple was in critical condition. One bullet nearly pierced her heart, and the second bullet left her with a collapsed lung. The hot bullet was still inside of her, moving around freely, causing extra damage to her bodily functions. After she was wheeled into the ER, every available doctor and nurse in the trauma center was aiding to keep her alive. They had to stabilize her blood pressure and repair her damaged lung, and they had to remove the bullet, if possible. She’d also suffered swelling in some crucial areas.

  The doctors had to perform surgery fast. They cut the bloody clothes from her skin and began prepping her for surgery. Her blood pressure had dropped dramatically, and she was touch and go, barely clinging to life. The medical staff was clueless about her history. The only thing these doctors saw was a young girl shot by a high-powered rifle, and by some miracle, she wasn’t dead.

  After three hours of surgery, the doctors had stabilized Apple’s condition, but the danger was far from over. They were able to remove the bullet, but she was still in a risky stage and had to be monitored twenty-four/seven.

  ***

  Terri sat outside the hospital in a parked truck seething with rage, his pistol on his lap and specks of blood on his face and clothing. He refused to leave Apple. He had to make sure she was okay, confirm that she was still alive. He knew she was vulnerable to her enemies. It was easy access to her, and he needed to prevent it. The shooting came suddenly out of nowhere, and if Apple hadn’t missed her footing, she would have been dead.

  Terri gripped the pistol with a frown. He was watching the hospital entrance like a hawk. He needed to go inside and check on her, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. He needed to clean himself up, but he couldn’t be in two places at once.

  “Shit!”

  He noticed two federal agents walking into the hospital. He knew they were FBI by their dark, sharp attire. In fact they walked like the feds. And Terri knew exactly who they were going to see. With the FBI visiting Apple, he definitely couldn’t go see her now.

  He got on his cell phone and dialed Houston. Guy Tony picked up.

  “We got a problem,” he said.

  “What is it?” Guy Tony asked indifferently.

  “Apple’s in the hospital. She’s been shot.”

  “What the fuck, Terri! How did this shit happen?”

  “We walked into an ambush. A sniper hit us.”

  “How bad?”

  “It’s bad. I think she’s been shot twice. And the feds just walked into the hospital.”

  “Fuck me, Terri. You’re supposed to be keeping her alive. And the feds . . . what the fuck is goin’ on up there?”

  “I know. I fucked up.”

  “Yeah, you fucked up. You my best man, Terri. How’d you allow this shit to happen? You do whatever possible, but you clean this shit up ASAP!”

  “I understand. And I will.”

  ***

  Guy Tony hung up, leaving Terri pondering his next move.

  Guy Tony wasn’t as forgiving and loving as he appeared to be. He needed Apple alive because she was his key in escaping the RICO charge developing against him. He had a few government officials in his pocket. He’d paid off cops and agents generously, and they were feeding him inside information on upcoming raids, indictments, and other drugs crews in the city on a regular. He’d found out that prosecutors were ready to open a RICO case against him for his dealings in the Southern underworld and his ties with the Mexican cartels. Jail wasn’t an option for him. An inside official advised him to find someone to take the fall. He needed a scapegoat, a much bigger target for the feds and special prosecutors to chase, and Apple was it.

  He’d rescued her from that Mexican brothel for his own selfish reasons. He took her in, gave her love, and allowed Apple into his world, familiarizing her with his organization. He knew she would take the bait. She’d once played and manipulated him to kill Supreme, but he would now turn the tables against her. She’d take the fall when the feds came knocking with a slew of indictments.

  Guy Tony knew Apple would be hell-bent on revenge against Shaun, and that meant a war, and war meant bodies and bloodshed. And the multiple and brutal murders going on in Harlem because of that bitch was becoming national news. The nation couldn’t ignore it.

  He’d sent Apple to Harlem to do what was expected of her, and she didn’t fail him. She was doing a fine job as a terrorist in her community. He had Terri, one of his best killers and soldiers, to protect her, because he didn’t want anything to happen to her. So when the feds came knocking, he would point the finger at her as the HBIC—head bitch in charge. It was a genius plan, and so far, it had been going fine . . . until this shit.

  Twenty-three

  Denise rushed into the hospital with tears in her eyes, her heart feeling like concrete. She had Yandy by her side.

  “I need to see my fuckin’ daughter!” she screamed out. “Where is she?”

  The overnight receptionist was taken aback by Denise’s loud outburst. The screaming mother was catching everyone’s attention.

  The feeling of guilt and apprehension became overwhelming for her. Yandy was there for comfort, but it seemed like everything was going from sugar to shit. It was unbelievable. Denise was so traumatized after the hearing the news, she threw up for hours in the bathroom.

  Denise pounded her fist on the receptionist’s desk and shrieked, “Where is my fuckin’ daughter? I need to see her, right now! Oh my God, this can’t be happening. Not now. Not now.”

  “It’s gonna be okay, Denise. We gonna find her,” Yandy said.

  “Don’t tell me it’s going to be okay, Yandy! What the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “What is your daughter’s name?” the reception asked.

  “Apple. She was brought in a few hours ago. Y’all need to hurry the fuck up! My daughter better be okay!”

  “Ma’am, there’s no need to get so hostile.”

  “Don’t fuckin’ ma’am me. I need to see my fuckin’ daughter!”

  Two security guards walked over and tried to defuse the situation. They towered over Denise.

  One of them said, “Miss, just calm down.”

  “I don’t need to fuckin’ calm down.”

  “Denise, relax!” Yandy chime
d. “I’m here. We’re going to get through this. Just let them do their jobs, okay?”

  Denise glared at Yandy. She was in fear for her own life but came out of hiding to tend to her daughter’s well-being. The tears trickled down her face. And the truth of what her life had become over the years suddenly came to light in her eyes. She had been a no-good mother for so many years, teaching her girls the wrong values. She made them dishonest, and taught her babies to manipulate and take advantage of niggas, especially weak-minded niggas, the way she’d done with their father, who’d killed himself, leaving the twins without a father in their life.

  As Denise stood in the bustling hospital area, the realization suddenly swooped down on her like a heavy downpour—she was alone, bitter, scared, and a marked woman. Too many years, she’d whored herself to the drug dealers, pimps, and ballers in the hood, straddling the fence with her kids’ well-being, causing Nichols’ demise. Too many years, she’d lived on Section 8, making a living through tricking and stealing. Too many years, she’d scolded and abused her daughters. Too many years, she had been that unemployed, lazy, ghetto-trash, alcohol-drinking, cursing, cigarette-smoking, partying black woman living in the projects.

  Denise suddenly felt lightheaded. She stumbled against the counter, nearly collapsing in front of everyone.

  One of the security guards grabbed her. “Miss, you okay?” he asked.

  When she didn’t respond, Yandy said, “Get her some water.”

  The security guard helped her over to the row of chairs lining the wall and made her take a seat.

  Denise’s tears continued to trickle. “I’ve been a terrible mother to them, Yandy.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about this, Denise. You and her are going to get through this.”

  “I don’t know. I just need to see her.”

  A cup of water was brought for Denise to drink. She refused, but Yandy insisted she take a few sips. The stress was making her dizzy and sick. Denise gulped the water down and rested a little. Her temper had calmed down, and she was at ease for the moment.

  A half hour later, Denise walked into the ICU room to see Apple. The sight of her daughter made Denise’s knees almost buckle. She felt like she was ready to fall over in grief again. Her baby looked like a character out of The Matrix, with the tubes and wires protruding from her. She was connected to several machines to help her breathe, and to keep her alive. Her vitals were steady, but she was comatose.

  The room was cluttered with ventilators, a patient warming system, a feeding pump, infusion pumps, and other critical care machines, all humming and buzzing in the still room.

  Denise’s eyes were transfixed on her daughter. Yandy stood behind her. Her own eyes became cloudy with tears. She’d watched Apple grow up, and now her life had taken another sad turn, and the pretty little wide-eyed girl with so many dreams and hopes was looking like a monster once again.

  “Look what they did to her.” Denise sighed heavily. She moved closer to her daughter and took her hand into hers gently. “I’m guilty of this, Yandy. She was comin’ to see me. You know I was ready to tell her the truth, despite the consequences, and look at this shit. Can it get any uglier than this?”

  “Just pray for her, Denise. We both can pray.” Yandy walked over and stood next to them both.

  Soon, a few doctors entered the room to inform Denise of her daughter’s condition. She was lucky to be alive. The team of doctors told her the surgery was successful, but it was going to be a long recovery.

  Denise took comfort near her daughter, gently holding and massaging her wilted hand. Her own near-death experience had changed her greatly. The two hit men that rushed into her apartment with their guns blazing gave Denise a whole new outlook on her life. She vowed to change for the better, and it had to start with family. For all the grief she’d caused in her daughters’ lives, she knew it was time to become the devoted and loving mother she never was.

  ***

  Ion sat parked outside the hospital, determined to finish what he’d started. He was truly disappointed with himself. He’d never missed a target. The bitch stumbled, and her life was spared. It infuriated him that Apple was still alive. Now he had to finish the job, or his reputation for killing would be questioned.

  When Chico had heard about the failed hit, he’d shouted, “Muthafucka, how the fuck did you fuck this up? I’m payin’ good money for that bitch to be dead, and you miss? What the fuck is wrong wit’ you?”

  “I will finish it,” Ion told him. “No need to worry.”

  “You better . . . because you came highly recommended. And if you don’t finish her off, I’ll get someone to finish you off.”

  Ion didn’t take kindly to the threat on his life. He understood Chico was upset, and at the moment, he was his employer, but Chico would be the one in danger if he threatened his life again.

  Ion watched everything from the black gypsy cab outside the hospital. He calculated what needed to be done, and how it would be done. He wanted to be in and out as smoothly as possible, but the problem was, Apple always had company. If it wasn’t her mother caring for her, then it was the goons standing outside the hospital and her room. And then there were the federal agents lingering in the building inconspicuously, or so they thought. But Ion noticed it all; he had a trained eye.

  Ion cracked his knuckles. His high-powered rifle was in the trunk of the car, and a few automatic weapons also. The two shots Apple took should have killed her, but the bitch had survived by a miracle. Ion had killed many men, and it took a young girl to disrupt his track record. Now, it was personal.

  It was time to make his move—now or never. He had waited around for a few days to learn the inner workings of the hospital and its staff. He’d infiltrated the computer systems, learned the names of certain doctors, patients, and staff members. He’d also taken a mental note of all the exits and stairways.

  Without anyone knowing or becoming suspicious of him, Ion had walked the halls of the hospital numerous times, checking every floor and even passing by Apple’s room a couple of times and taking a glance inside. He’d observe Denise seated by Apple’s bed, holding and stroking her hand. No one knew what he looked like. He kept his identity a secret. In everyone’s eyes, he was either a visitor or a staff member moving about. But Ion was watching and scheming. He knew the exact time to strike.

  Ion stepped out the gypsy cab in a white lab coat, blue scrubs, and his fraudulent hospital ID—Jonathan Meyers, M.D.—attached to his lab coat. He had altered his physical features somewhat, with a different hair color, a fake goatee, different color contacts, and nerdy frames. He also carried a small leather briefcase. He looked harmless, like another doctor getting ready to work the midnight shift, but underneath his long lab coat was a holstered 9 mm with a silencer.

  It was late in the hour, and the staff was sparse. Most of them had gone home for the night, and the hospital floor was quiet, with security walking the floors. Ion needed to change that. He needed a distraction.

  His first move was into the men’s bathroom. He checked his image in the mirror and was pleased with his appearance. He was official, as always. He looked around, taking in everything. The bathroom was empty.

  Ion saw only one possible way to cause distraction, and he was ready to implement it. He removed a pipe bomb from the leather briefcase and walked into one of the bathroom stalls. The bomb was set on a timer, and was to go off in fifteen minutes.

  Next, he took one of the yellow signs that said, “Closed for Cleaning,” and placed it near the bathroom entrance. Then he went on the stairway and pulled out a disposable cell phone and made the call. He dialed the hospital, and a female worker answered.

  Ion was blunt with the information. He told her, “There’s a bomb in the hospital that’s set to go off in thirty minutes. You need to evacuate everyone immediately.” He hung up, leaving the young female petrified.

  Next, Ion pulled the fire switch in the stairway, and a loud, unsettling alarm went screaming thr
oughout the hospital. People started to panic. The movement in the hallways became heavy.

  The worker Ion had called instantly notified the police and other staff members about the bomb scare. Ion just lingered in the hallway for a few short moments and waited for the right time.

  Ten minutes later, the serene atmosphere in the hospital was suddenly transformed into chaos and panic. The nurses and orderlies were running from room to room, and the patients were crippled with fear.

  Ion made his way down the hallway in a calm manner. With the confusion and disorder going on around him, no one noticed how cool this doctor was. He approached Apple’s room, which was a few doors down, his pistol concealed underneath his lab coat.

  Denise was in the doorway. She shouted, “What’s happening?”

  “Miss, we’re going to have to evacuate her soon,” a staff member told her.

  “Why?” she screamed out. “What’s goin’ on here?”

  “We notified the police. We just need for everyone to stay calm.” The staff member hurried off to tend to the other rooms.

  “Police? What the fuck!”

  Ion approached Denise with his calm smile and said to her, “Miss, I’ll help you with everything. Just trust me, we’re going to get your daughter to safety very soon.”

  Denise saw his outwardly appearance and nodded. She felt he would help out with everything.

  Ion stepped into the room. He gazed at Apple. He peered at his work with admiration. Even though she wasn’t dead, his two shots had fucked her up really bad. Now it was time to end this.

  He turned to Denise and said, “I’m going to need your help.”

  Denise nodded frantically, willing to do whatever it took to get her daughter to safety.

  KABOOOOM!

  The explosion rocked the floor beneath them and sent a wave of panic throughout the hospital, with screaming, yelling, and crying. People were running and taking cover. The alarms screamed louder and the sprinkler systems were automatically activated, showering each floor with a monsoon from the ceilings.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Denise screamed.