by Tya Marie
“Chastity—” Eric warned, grabbing her by the arm.
“No,” she shouted, shrugging out of his grip. “I’m sick of your shit, Eric! If you can’t treat me right then another nigga—”
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Shots rang out through the club. Eric launched himself over Chastity, knocking them both to the floor. I ducked behind a pillar, brandishing my piece as the shots continued below. Drea was down on the floor, following Eric as he led the women to safety. I poked my head out to see who the shots were aimed at. The dance floor had cleared, in the middle of it lay a man no older than us, bullets riddling his back.
“It’s safe to get up,” I called out, rushing over to help Drea off the floor.
Eric did the same, brushing Chastity off and pulling out his Glock. The other VIP sections were empty, their inhabitants disappearing through the emergency exit. We followed behind them, taking the stairs two at a time. Chastity held on to Eric’s belt, blubbering apologies over the sound of chaos coming from outside. Drea remined calm, her steps in sync with mine. She let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of the cool night air rustling over us. On the street people milled about, staring back at the nightclub. The entrance doors busted open, giving birth to a melee in front of the establishment. A group of four men were carrying one of their friends, each one holding a limb.
“Somebody call 911!” the woman beside them screamed, her phone shaking too hard in her hand for her to call anyone.
Drea dug in her purse for her phone as we started down the block. “A fucking shame none of these niggas even thought to call the cops! Lemme find my phone…”
I kept my eyes peeled on the crowd, my trigger finger itching to go off. I spotted him from the corner of my eye, his hoodie pulled low as he cut through the crowd of people more concerned with the bleeding man. His gun raised the same time as mine. I shoved Drea to the ground with my other hand, shouting for Eric to do the same. A hail of bullets came from another direction, too many for Eric and me alone. I watched in horror as my best friend dropped, but not without taking out two of the three gunmen who appeared. I clipped the one in front of me, hitting him right between the eyes. The last gunman dissolved into the crowd, which had now turned to pandemonium once again.
“Eric,” Chastity screamed at Eric’s limp body. “Baby, you gotta wake up! Eric, stop playing and wake up!”
Drea appeared, hovering over me with tears in her eyes. “Quill, you gotta hold on, okay? I’m going to get you to a hospital and they’re going to—”
“No,” I wheezed, placing a bloody finger over her mouth. “I’m ready to go, Drea.”
“I’m not letting you go anywhere! 911? I need an ambulance at—where the fuck are we…” Drea screamed into her phone as Chastity cradled Eric in her lap.
My eyes rolled to the night sky, each blink heavier than the last. The noise of the night was drowned out by the blood rushing to my ears. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I pictured Kelsey’s face. I was lucky she wasn’t here tonight to celebrate with me or to witness me dying. Relief washed through me, disguised as numbness, creeping up my body. Drea slapped me on the chest and all I could think of was how Legacy would be stuck with Bull for a father. Kelsey would have to settle for Peace. Adrian would go to prison for the rest of his life. A fire burned through me. I couldn’t die, not with all of these loose ends.
Drea jumped as I locked my hand around her wrist. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said, my voice stronger than I felt. “I got business to handle.”
16
Kelsey
My eyes snapped shut at the sound of the door opening. I rolled onto my side, emitting soft snores as I pretended to be sleep. Peace entered the bedroom a few minutes later, standing in the doorway, listening to see whether I had woken up or not. I mumbled like Daddy told me I did in my sleep, slapping at my face and continuing to snore. Satisfied with my act, Peace disappeared down the hall to the bathroom. Where had he been? Some nights he would disappear to handle business or convene with his team, but tonight felt different. For starters, he took me out to dinner at my favorite steak house, gave me a full body massage, and wore me out in the bedroom. For some it might be flattering to be showered with such a romantic evening; for me, suspicion coursed through me as his side of the bed dipped not even an hour later. No kiss on the forehead, or a whisper in my ear that something came up. Peace snuck out and he wanted to make sure I was asleep. A buzzing from the nightstand interrupted my thoughts. A chill crept through my body at the familiar number.
“Hello?” I said, sitting up in bed.
“May I speak to a Ms. Kelsey Mackenzie?”
“This is she…”
“I’m a nurse from Methodist Hospital. William Evans has been in an accident and you’re his emergency—”
I darted out of bed, tripping over my slippers to get to my clothes. “I’m on my way.”
There was a fire in my body, engulfing everything it touched, as I dressed with haste. Terry, who was accustomed to my nighttime adventures, told me he had the car gassed up and ready to go. I was jumping into my sneakers at the door when Peace appeared fresh from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes narrowed a fraction, motioning for me to explain.
“There’s been an emergency,” I said, unlocking the door. “I gotta go.”
“Is it your pops? I can come with you,” he said, resting his hand on the door, pinning it shut.
I shook my head. “No, it’s not my dad. You don’t have to come either.”
“So then what emergency has you jumping out of bed at two in the morning?” He paused for a beat. “Oh. You going to see that nigga.”
“Peace, it’s complicated—”
“No, what’s complicated is that you told me you were done with him, ready to be with me, and here you are running to tend to your ex every time he gets shot.”
His response gave me pause. “I never said Quill got shot.”
“What else could it be?” Peace countered. “He gets shot like five times a year. I’m starting to think…you know what? I’m not going to even go there with you tonight.”
“No, go there,” I dared him.
Peace leaned in close, his minty fresh breath brushing across my face. “You like fixing him. You complain that Quill can’t do shit right, but the reason why is because you always go running after him to clean up his mess. Heaven forbid you let him suffer the consequences of his actions without trying to be his savior.”
I leaned in pressing, my nose against his. “If Quill dies because I had to stand here listening to your quasi psychobabble bullshit, I will never forgive you. Move your fucking hand out of my way.”
He backed off, slamming the door hard behind me. Terry met me on the elevator, his expression grim. It was unusual for him to come upstairs, unless he felt like I was in danger.
“Terry,” I said in the privacy of the car. “Do you keep track of who enters and exits Peace’s building?”
“For your safety, yes,” he replied, locking eyes with mine through the rearview mirror.
Interesting. “What time did he leave out?”
“Around 11:30.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Miss Mackenzie…”
“Terry.”
He shook his head. “All black. That friend of his picked him up and dropped him off.”
“Terry, would it be plausible to assume—”
“Miss Mackenzie,” Terry said, turning his attention to the road. “In my line of work we rely on our intuition. Your gut speaks before your brain. If your gut is speaking to you, I suggest you listen carefully.”
Terry’s words sat with me for the rest of the ride. Peace had never made his feelings for me a secret—my actions didn’t curb them in the least bit—but would he really go as far as to kill Quill? I thought back to Morris’ reaction to me after he was exonerated from Sandra’s murder. He was frightened of me, and later admitted to someone warning him to stay away from me. A few kn
ew of our breakup, everyone in Sandra’s office, Sam, and—
“Kelsey? You have got to start calling me at a more decent time,” Sam groaned into the phone.
“You were right,” I cried into the phone. “I should’ve fucking listened to you, Sam.”
“About what?”
“Peace.”
Sam bolted upright in bed. “What did he do to you?”
“It’s not what he did to me. Morris…Quill…I want all the information you have on him, Sam. I’ll tell you everything as soon as I put this together.”
I heard a man ask, “Samantha, where you going?” and a rustle of Sam climbing out of bed. “I’m on my way, Kelsey.”
“No, I don’t want you caught up in my bullshit,. He’s hurting everyone he thinks is a threat. If something happens to you—”
“I wasn’t asking for your permission. Just because we stopped being friends doesn’t mean that I stopped caring for you, Kelsey. I have a huge dossier on Peace, which I’ve had sitting aside for the moment he stepped out of line. You think I’m sitting on the sidelines for this battle? Nah, I’ll be there in a few hours. Hang tight and stay safe, babe.”
We pulled to a stop in front of the hospital. I hopped out, two of my guards flanking me. Inside of the emergency room was pure chaos. People dressed in club attire occupied every inch of the waiting room and hallways. A hand waved at me through the crowd. Drea clamored over to me, Eric’s girlfriend, Chastity, trailing behind her.
“Quill’s in surgery,” Drea said, wiping at her eyes. Concern brimmed in her eyes, genuine, unlike the last time I was at the hospital for Quill. “Eric too. They got into a shootout outside of the club. Four niggas rushed us like they knew we were coming out.”
I nodded. “Where’s the doctor?”
The women escorted me to a private waiting room where family of the nightclub’s victims waited. A group of men covered in blood took up one half of the room. We sat to the right, Drea and Chastity on either side of me. Two hours passed before anyone came to see us. A nurse came down to give us an update on Eric’s condition. Most of his wounds were through and through, with the bulk of the surgery time being spent on stopping some internal bleeding. As for Quill, we were still waiting for an update.
“What if he doesn’t get lucky this time?” I asked, pulling my jacket closer to me. “His insides are torn up, barely healed, and now he’s back under the knife.”
Drea squeezed my hand. “He’s holding on for you.”
“The family of William Evans?” a nurse said in the doorway.
We hurried over to the nurse. Her expression was grim. “There is a lot of internal organ damage. We’re working hard to make repairs, but as a precaution we would like to discuss your options. If Mr. Evans’ heart stops we need to know: do we resuscitate?”
“No.”
Amos Winthrop stepped around the corner, his hulking figure flanked by LaKeith and Bull. Behind them were more of his goons, looking ready to start some shit. My guards weren’t with the shits, rising from their lay positions in the waiting room, standing vigilant behind me. The nurse shot us warning looks.
“The decision on whether or not to resuscitate remains with the patient’s medical proxy—”
“Which is me,” Amos said with a Cheshire cat’s grin. “This boy has placed my daughter’s life in danger one too many times. The lives that will be saved outnumbers wasting resources to preserve his.”
I shook my head. “No, I’m his proxy. I never let my father file the papers. So like I said, take the DNR request off of his file,” I said to the nurse, my eyes never leaving Amos’.
“I can solve this problem with a look at his chart,” the nurse said, sifting through the file in her hand. Her eyes met mine. “Mr. Evans’ medical proxy is…Ms. Mackenzie. I’ll have the DNR lifted and we’ll be sure to keep you updated.”
The hallway was so silent you could hear the fluorescent lights buzzing. Even the group waiting for an update on their friend stared at the scene. Amos took a menacing step toward me, creating a shift in our security. Terry appeared at my side, standing tall, unmoving against these hardened street thugs who would take out anyone at the drop of a dime.
“Well played. I’m impressed,” he said in a voice that said otherwise. “You love him, don’t you? For all his faults? He’s going to be your downfall, little girl. Mark my words. Come on, Drea.”
Drea shot me an apologetic glance before following her father. Bull gave me a thorough once over, smirking as he fell in line with the rest of the Winthrops. Chastity plopped down in her seat, shaking her head.
“Niggas really have no idea who you are, huh?” she said, her eyes fixed on me.
I let out a hollow laugh. “They know, they just don’t give a fuck.”
“You gotta make them. Shit, I know a little something about you. All I’m saying is that if it was me, I wouldn’t let some geriatric, wannabe Bishop Greenleaf looking motherfucker step to me making threats.”
“What exactly did Eric tell you about me?” I asked, stifling a laugh.
She beckoned me to come closer. I sat down next to her, leaning in to keep the perked up ears in the room from hearing. “He told me you’re the reason why he was able to get his mom and sisters out of Mott Haven. They live in his brand new building. We moved up the block from them into this cute little two-family house. I can take my son out to the park without worrying about a shootout. You’re family. Me and your cousin had some light beef, but once I found out she was helping Eric and Quill, I felt like a bitch.”
“That’s what they told you?” I said, bristling at the mention of Briana.
“Yeah, for a minute I was thinking she was being a troublemaker. Turns out it was that friend of hers. Jamel. Nigga was batshit crazy, threatening Eric on numerous occasions, accusing him of still fucking with her. Come to find out, he was the one causing all this beef.” Chastity shrugged. “Word even has it he’s the one who set her up to be shot at in her building. Eric said it fucked up her mental. Had she stayed in Mott Haven any longer, she was liable to lose her mind. With a friend like that, who needs enemies? I’m rambling, my bad.”
I shook my head. “No, you’re good. You put some stuff into perspective for me.”
A familiar face appeared in the doorway. Sam held her arms out to me. “Kelsey!”
“Sam!” I exclaimed, hugging her tight. “Thank you for coming.”
“Girl, that’s what friends are for.”
I blinked back tears. “I haven’t been much of a friend to you over the last six months. I don’t deserve your help or your grace. I am sorry.”
“We’ve all been there over some dick,” Sam said, brushing off my apologies. “If I told you half the things I did to my homegirls over a new flavor of the week, you’d learn this was my karma…”
After making introductions, Sam jumped right into it, pulling out a thick binder labeled “Dreaux Fontaine.” As it turned out, Peace’s name was a pun on the real monster he was. The reason he was found not guilty on the murder charge for his ex-side chick was because his wife was currently on trial for said crime—a wife he failed to mention to me. Sam had spoken to her, promising help with her legal fund if she came forward to give us insight into the real Peace. He was a ladder climber, willing to murder whoever stood in the way of what he wanted. Sam mentioned Morris’ case and according to Nita, it was one of his signature moves used to intimidate. She asked if Peace had ever killed outside of anything business related.
“His ex-side chick Sentena,” Sam said, reaching the near end of the binder, “her boyfriend was murdered in a club shooting days after Peace began pursuing her. Guess where he was shot up?”
“Right in front of the club,” we said at the same time.
Chastity’s jaw began working. “So you’re saying this crazy son of a bitch shot up my Eric to lock Kelsey in?” Her eyes rested on me. “What’s the plan? You’re not going to let him get away with this, are you?”
“Plan? We’re t
aking this to the police,” Sam said, looking at Chastity like she was crazy. Her expression transformed to unsure when she saw the look on my face. “Kelsey, you can’t go up against that man! He could kill you!”
I took Sam’s hands into mine. “You were right when you said I was hiding something from you, Sam. I’m not who you think I am. I want to tell you more, but in your field, plausible deniability is best.”
“It’s real, isn’t it? The Trust,” she mouthed the end like the secret it was.
“I have to handle some business, Sam. Chastity, will you keep me updated on Quill?” I said, rising from my seat.
Chastity nodded. “Put that motherfucker in the ground and spit on that shit after.”
“Trust me,” I said, giving her a knowing look, “by the time I’m done with him, he’ll rest in anything but peace.”
__________
I knocked on Peace’s apartment door, placing my hands in my pockets, wrapping the left one around the Glock I was carrying. It belonged to Terry, who was livid at me ordering him to fall back. I knew how to deal with a beast like Peace; if he thought I knew his secrets he would shoot first and ask questions later. The best way to get the upper hand was to play into his weakness: me.
“What do you want?” Peace asked through the crack of his door.
I batted my eyelashes, releasing a current of tears. “You were right.”
Peace opened the door wide enough for me to slip through. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, his ball sneakers on his feet. I damn near swallowed my tongue at Burna sitting on the couch, sipping on a bottle of Gatorade. Overpowering Peace was one thing; I wouldn’t be able to take out him and Burna. This was a suicide mission. I wanted to pull the plug, call Terry for help, but he wouldn’t make it to me in time. He raised his bottle to me. I took a seat at the kitchen island, swiping at my eyes like a hurt teenage girl.
