by Renta
WHO SHOT YA 1-3
Lock Down Publications and
Ca$h Presents
Who Shot Ya 1-3
A Novel by Renta
Lock Down Publications
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Copyright 2018 by Renta Who Shot Ya 1-3
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First Edition July 2018
Printed in the United States of America
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Acknowledgments
I hail from the mud. I heard it was beauty in the struggle, but the blocks I come from created monsters outta innocence. Ain’t no beauty in that, I salute the fam. I ain’t got too many, yet the few I do have, the love is pure. I owe y’all the world. When I fight for a breath to breathe, y’all do CPR. When I’m on my other shit, y’all blow me off and do shit to get me right.
Only when it’s real, mayne! Cash and the LDP, fam, what’s up? I honestly don’t know how far this pen will take me, but just for the opportunity to see, I salute the squad. At times I don’t know if God is listening. If He said ‘fuck me’ or if I am talking to the wind, but just in case, I’m still trying to understand.
Either or good lookin’ my, ‘G’. I owe you one. Moose I ain’t gotta say it, at times like this, I just hope you can see me. To my readers, I do it for y’all.
Chapter One
Free My Mu'Fuckin’ Brother
Sweat dripped from his forehead as Nutz crouched outside of Destiny Kendricks’ red brick home. The bushes concealing him made a good cover as he awaited her arrival. He’d been camouflaged behind those bushes for at least four hours. Yet, four hours held no measure compared to his crooked intentions. Darkness had fallen upon the tainted streets of Denton, Texas, and the four lines of the white he'd indulged earlier had him anxious. As well as prepared to execute whoever, and whatever dared come between him and his brother’s reunion.
“Fuck this bitch at?” he wondered out loud.
As if God had heard the frustrations lacing his voice, headlights from a gray Dodge Charger, illuminated the exterior of the four-bedroom house. A crazed smile touched his lips as he screwed the silencer onto the P.89.
“Showtime,” he whispered.
He observed intently as Destiny unknowingly strolled right past the bushes where potential death sat, awaiting the right moment to monopolize. She was fumbling with her keys, trying to balance the bag of groceries on her hip, while inserting the key into the lock, all at once. A woman’s intuition is the feminine attribute of a man’s instinct and ten times more powerful. As if Destiny could sense Nutz presence, she nervously glanced around.
“Damn, I wish Sa'Mage hurry up and bring his ass home,” she said aloud.
Destiny turned back to the door finally getting it open. Just as God allowed her this small blessing the devil appeared in the form of a gangsta. Fear suddenly gripped her as she felt the muzzle against the back of her neck, causing her to inhale deeply and freeze on impact. Nutz slid closely behind her and began whispering his reasons for invading her place of safety.
Nutz aggressively grabbed a handful of her hair. “Dig this, sweetheart. My beef ain’t with you, feel me? I don’t intend to harm you, but if you go against the grain, I'll push your next thoughts through your forehead.” Nutz used the barrel of his gun to emphasize his point. Then he ran it down her pretty face. Fear vibrated through her body as he brought his lips’ inches from her ear. “Me and your pussy ass husband got some bidness to ‘tend to. Since I know, you’re the Queen of the board—” He ran his tongue over her ear, then continued. “I must snatch you up to see if he’s the type of playa, that depends on his Queen to win. Or is he as heartless as I am and can play without his most powerful piece? I'm gonna ask you right now can you follow instructions, love?”
Destiny struggled against him and inhaled deeply. Nutz jammed the barrel into the side of her face, so hard it broke the skin, and a small tear of blood ran down her face.
Urine escaped from Destiny as she lost control of her facilities. Tears formed and fell from her eyes as the realization of her predicament set in. She nodded her head in confirmation. Nutz brought his face inches from her neck. She could feel his warm breath on her perspiring flesh, as her body shook from sobbing.
“Let’s hope your boy loves you enough to lie under oath,” Nutz hissed.
Destiny’s mouth was suddenly covered with a wet cloth. She held her breath trying not to inhale the odorless gas until her lungs screamed for oxygen.
“Just breathe, mama. It will be over before you know it. Destiny was still fighting not to inhale. “Damn, just relax mane.” He sang in her ear and as she continued to fight, her vision slowly dimmed.
The bags of groceries shattered to the ground, her hands instinctively went to his hands, and she scratched him weakly to no avail. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as his dick pressed against her.
Right before she faded to black a strange thought crossed her mind- ‘Damn, this nigga dick is big and harder than steel. I can’t believe the last dick, I’m gonna feel belongs to the nigga that’s gonna murder me.’
***
Sa’Mage Kendricks’ and two of his colleagues sat around the bar in Bennies Bar and Grill. They were celebrating the closing argument, that would seal the trial of, David ‘Ice-Berg’ Swanson versus the State of Texas. Tomorrow they’d make history. It was headlined across the front page of every major newspaper and magazine in the state. Tabloids made such a controversy about it, the people up high thirsted for a guilty verdict. Not only would they be taking down one of, Dallas and Fort Worth’s most lucrative drug dealers. They’d also be sending a clear message to the streets. That no one was above the system. Even if they had to cheat and fabricate, they'd get you if they wanted you.
Sa’Mage was the lead District Attorney, and if tomorrow was a success his name would go straight to the desk, as the Bureau’s gr
eatest hero. He may even get the early retirement he'd been leaning towards.
“Let’s make a toast gentlemen to success and justice.” he smiled wickedly. “And to hefty raises,” he added raising his shot glass full of, Remy Martin.
His cohorts acknowledged his offer with a drunken toast, “To success and hefty raises.” As if they could care less about the justice part.
All three men laughed at the inside joke. Unbeknownst to either, tomorrow would end a crazy turn of events that couldn’t have been anticipated, even if they had been forewarned.
Nutz sat in the stolen Caprice observing Sa’Mage’s reactions. He took a deep pull of the peach flavored Phili and laughed silently, witnessing the usually well-poised attorney come unglued, as he read the text. Once Sa’Mage pulled into his driveway next to Destiny’s car shit played out real funky, and he sobered up quickly.
“I wonder why she didn’t pull into the garage?” He questioned unaware of his surroundings.
Sa’Mage was tipsy and horny, so he didn’t notice the door to his home was ajar, or the groceries scattered all over the ground until he was up close. The scene caused him to panic instantly. His first reaction was an irrational one. He stormed the house, screaming his wife’s name, hoping at any moment, she’d jump from her hiding place and tell him it was all a cruel joke.
As he paced back and forth, he turned back to the doorway. He studied the scene once more it was obvious she’d been grocery shopping. Then as if they magically appeared, he finally noticed the keys in the lock. Tears formed in his eyes as he became apparent a struggle had ensued.
“How the fuck could someone enter a gated community, and touch a District Attorney’s wife?” He questioned, panic turned to fear, and he finally became coherent enough to think rationally.
He reached in his pocket for his cell, his mind was set on calling the authorities until he noticed he had three missed calls and two unread messages. He checked his messages first.
If you call the police, you will be responsible for her blood spill. In five minutes I’ll let you know the bidness.
The signature at the bottom of the text read, ‘The Reaper’
Nutz smiled as Sa’Mage reread the message for the third time. “Bitch, ass nigga.” He gritted as the last minute ticked into the five minutes he’d been waiting.
He grabbed his phone from the console, then speed-dialed the distraught man. After the second ring, Sa’Mage answered screaming obscenities and making threats he’d never have a chance to fulfill. Nutz listened intently, as the D.A. cried like a little bitch, and inordinately shot off questions of his Queen’s whereabouts.
Tired of his ranting Nutz decided to speak. “Shut the fuck up, pussy.” The silence was golden as Nutz relished in the power he held over the ever so powerful, District Attorney. His nostrils flared, as he allowed anticipation to torture the moment. “It seems as if we both hold treasures that belong to one another. I’m not an unfair man, so let’s compromise,” he proposed.
Sa’Mage was beside himself with confusion. He was shaking as he racked his brain in an effort to figure out how he could be so careless.
“Who the fuck are you?” he seethed. “What do you want from me? Don’t you know who the fuck you’re dealing with?” Sa’Mage took the phone away from his ear in fury. He placed his lips close to the mouthpiece and screamed into the phone. “Where is my wife, you, son of a bitch?” Rage sent him spiraling as tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t possess anything of yours and if it’s money you want, I only have four thousand in cash. Anything more you’ll have to wait ‘til the bank—
Before he could finish his statement Nutz lost his cool. Slapping the steering wheel, he boiled with rage. “Dig this you uptight, Uncle Tom, ass nigga.” With each word, Nutz pounded a closed fist against the top of the dashboard. “I— don’t— want— your— fuckin’ money!” he glared at the man from the tinted windshield, Nutz couldn't stop the thought of torturing him from playing inside his head. “This shit is bigger than any amount of currency you could afford me. This shit is bigger than your career and your wife!”
Rustling could be heard from somewhere in the back of the car. As if he could see her through the back seat Nutz took a quick glimpse in the rear-view mirror, before turning his head back to Sa’Mage.
“In this life family is sacred. For mine, I’ll defile every religion, go to war with God, and give my right nut.” Nutz took the gun off the passenger seat and stared at it lovingly. “So, again you have something that belongs to me. More like someone, that I share air with through two different lungs. I miss my nigga, just as much as you’re missing yo’ bitch, right now. So, are we gonna do bidness or what?” Nutz aimed the tool in Sa’Mage’s direction, taking mock shots.
Nutz watched as Sa’Mage racked his brain pacing on his lawn. He could tell the man loved his wife.
Sa’Mage was still confused. “I—I—I just told you. I don’t have anything that belongs to your family. Do I know you? Who have I prosecuted that—” Sa’Mage stopped midsentence, as the epiphany hit him like a Mac truck, ‘David Swanson, aka Ice-Berg! Nobody else in the state would have balls big enough, nor be treacherous enough to violate the home of a federal prosecutor.’ With tears in his eyes, the wee hours of a Monday night were tainted by Sa’Mage’s laughter. The sound was so foreign it echoed through the serenity of the upscale neighborhood. He had to admit, David Swanson was an admirable man. Even from the supermax federal facility, the drug dealer was persistent.
Sa’Mage had spent the last five years trying to corner the infamous, Ice-Berg, but the crook was too slippery, always on his game. He was untouchable like Nicky Barns. Until he made the foolish mistake, of beating one of his workers half dead for trying to play him over fifteen hundred dollars on a brick he owed. This resulted in the dude yearning for revenge, siding with the F.B.I, in an attempt at bringing Ice-Berg and his team to their knees.
Now, after all his hard work and manipulation. Ice was attempting to simply walk away from being brought to justice for his bawdy ways, damn!
Noticing his demeanor change Nutz assumed the D.A.’s brain was that of a fortune teller’s. “I see we are on the same page, being as though, you haven’t finished your sentence.” Nut awaited his response only to get none. “You don’t have to speak, Counselor. Just listen, when all is said and done, we’ll both get what we deserve. Tomorrow you and your office will fail to submit enough evidence. Better, yet let it be known, that the evidence you used to paint the picture of my people has been tampered with. This means all the wiretaps and fake ass witnesses you have go out the window.”
Sa’Mage was furious. “So, what the fuck am I supposed to tell the Judge—my superiors?” he raged.
Nutz took the phone from his ear and stared at it as if it had offended him. Placing the phone back to his ear, he hissed his next words, “You tell them pussies to free, my mu’fuckin’, nigga.” He disconnected the call and tossed the phone out the window.
As he started the ignition, he heard a muffled scream. He smiled deviously, as the sound grew more consistent. Just as he was passing by the Kendricks’ residence, he hit the horn and sped off. All the while, Destiny was tied at the wrists and ankles with rope, and a piece of duct tape covering her pretty lips.
Nutz slowed down to the regulated speed limit thinking, ‘It would be a hell of a time to get pulled over in a stolen car, with the D.A.’s wife in the trunk.’
Chapter Two
Business & Pleasure
Not in That Order
Snow strutted into the Fortune Five Hundred Company as if she owned the place. Her bow-legged walk demanded attention, her firm, yet round ass encouraged every investor and lawyer in the vicinity to commit visual adultery. Her blonde hair was hot combed bone straight, causing it to hang mere inches above her voluptuous ass. Her 5’9 height, said a whole lot of something.
Once she reached the receptionist, she tapped her perfectly manicured nails against the granite and marble countertop, in
an imposing way. The middle-aged man behind the desk stared, becoming awestruck. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her erotic look. Her sun-kissed skin, glowed under the luminous lights, causing her ocean blue eyes to exude a sense of a mystery, a sexuality.
“Excuse me, sir,” she began. “I have a meeting scheduled for twelve o’clock with, Mr. Jordan, and I’m about, ummm.” She glanced at her fashionable women’s Rolex. “Uh, ten minutes late due to heavy traffic. You wouldn’t believe the hell, I’ve been through, but that’s neither here or there. Could you be a dear and let him know, I am truly sorry, and I’ll make it up to him over brunch?”
As if he finally realized, the beautiful feline standing before him was real, he stuttered his response. Mr. um, Mr. Jordan, is currently in a meeting, but he’ll be done in a few. I’ll notify him of your presence, whom may I tell him you are?” He asked as he turned to the schedule book. Getting no response, he glanced back up at her.
Snow licked her lips as she replied. “Tell him, Ms. Pussy, is here to see him and I apologize again for being late.”
The man was shocked. “Excuse, excuse me? Ehhh, what did you say your name is, again?” He looked as if he’d been hit with a thousand bolts of electricity.
Snow couldn’t keep the smile gracing her full lips. “Ms. P-U-S-S-Y!” She spelled it out for him.
The man’s face flushed. “You may take a seat.” He pointed to the sitting area.
Brains sat across from Steven and Jordan’s Investments. He listened intently, as Snow deceived the receptionist into believing she actually had an appointment with the multi-millionaire investor.
‘So far so good’, he thought as he continued listening from the microdevice, he and Snow communicated through.
