Who Shot Ya Box Set

by Renta

  So, why would she help the man that her husband was undoubtedly trying to kill? That was my thought when my desk phone jarred me to the present. “Harrison speaking,” I answered.

  “Harrison—this is Paul down in forensics. I think you need to come on down to the basement to have a look at this,” the voice proposed in an excited tone.

  I wasn’t really in the mood for the scientific breakdown of a case Paul had been trying to help crack for months now. He was a good guy, but at the moment, I was foot over ass in open cases.

  “Uh—Paul, I think I’m going to have to take a raincheck. I’m cock deep in unsolved cases and if I don’t hurry up, and solve them, I’ll be working down at the nearest IHOP.” I chuckled to take the bite out of my decline, but I was the one that needed to soften the blow.

  Paul returned the chuckle. “Well—if you don’t get down here like five minutes ago, you won’t even be able to get a job at the nearest crack spot,” he said, pun intended. “I don’t know if you know this, but there’s no such thing as two people with the same DNA, not even identical twins. You do know that, right?”

  The prick was starting to piss me off with the pokes at my intelligence. “Yes—I know that jackass. What the hell does that have to do with anything!” I demanded.

  I could feel Paul’s excitement exuding through the phone before he caused me to bolt from my chair. “Well—that case that you’re working, the—the Russian case. The one where we found the girlfriend with her throat slit?” he stated.

  “Yea—what about it, Paul? Stop busting my balls and tell me what you’ve found!” I demanded.

  “Well, unless DNA profiling has somehow evolved or some other strange occurrence. The Jane Doe we found isn’t Pandora ‘Snow’ Jacobs, in fact, it’s her sister.”

  ****

  ~Snow~

  “She used to meet a man that I later found out was her partner. Detective Hunter who was in alliance with the fed boys. He was the key to it all, my intuition told me to watch him closely, low and behold,” I waved my hand in a dramatic effect. “One day I followed him to the outskirts of the city and there, in a none descript car, he and Brains traded info. Brains gave him what he wanted on us, but in return what neither could anticipate was a president of a fortune five-hundred company named Ashford Jordan turning us over to the cops. In an attempt to save each other, Brains sacrificed us in exchange for his freedom, and Hunter would become a hero for taking down the infamous Kreek Organization.” I watched it all register on Assata’s face, confliction battled with his rationality as he was forced to believe what his heart didn’t want to. “That’s neither here nor there—that’s not what has your mind moving at the speed of light is it, handsome?”

  A creaking sound from above caught my attention. My eyes shot skyward at the same time Assata’s did. The beam that he was swinging from had splintered—if he kept up his struggle, he’d snap the old wood in half. My eyes flew to Assata’s—he smiled down at me with crooked intentions swimming in his pupils. I returned his smile, the .38 special that was in my purse was my solace.

  “You remember the night I met, Russia—” I paused to allow him the time to reflect before I helped jog his memory. “Yes, at the Art Gallery—I’d already had it in my mind that I’d switch sides. Your uncle was being pressed to speed up his part of the deal, and I was pressed to be free from his grasp.” I took one last drag from the imported cigarette before tossing it to the floor and snubbing it with the toe of my Balenciaga boot.

  “Fuuuck!” Assata screamed in agony.

  I knew his arms had to have been in excruciating pain from the stretched limbs and tight chains. He swung his body until he heard the groan of the beam singing a melody that must have been the melody that aroused the beast within him because he roared and rocked harder in attempt to aid the destiny of the only thing that prevented gravity from reuniting him with the ground. I paid no mind as I revealed to him how I not only became the first angel he saw floating around in a pair of seventeen-hundred- dollar houndstooth Balenciaga Boots, but also the feminine impersonator of Machiavelli.

  “After that night—after I got in the bed with the enemy, literally.” I giggled at my own twisted sense of humor as Assata continued his pursuit for liberation. As my mind carried me back to my betrayal, I stared off into space. With each word, my pussy moistened—I could feel my nipples hardening. “Listen close, baby boy, because this is not only the tale of how I fooled the world, but how I got revenge on a morbid sister that introduced me to prostitution!”

  Chapter Six

  Reflecting

  ~Armani~

  I laid stretched across the sleigh bed—a skimpy pair of boy shorts hugged my curves perfectly and being topless allowed my chocolate nipples to salute the Gods as my mind ran wild with thoughts of Assata’s sexy ass. He was a real man and had an animalistic sex game to seal the deal. I’d slept with my share of men within my twenty-eight years of living, but none did my body the way that man did. As I allowed my thoughts to wrap around stolen moments we’d shared, my heartfelt betrayed—manipulated! Though we weren’t official, we had an understanding; yet just like so many other street niggas, as soon as I gave him my pussy, he was gone in the wind.

  I hadn’t heard from Assata in almost a week and a half. All three of my calls and texts went unanswered. I tried not to fear the worst, but the truth was, I did. So many thoughts rushed at me from every corner of my mind.

  ‘Did he think I was a hoe? Did I give in to early—was it all a game?’ Thought after thought set my soul on fire.

  I knew there was no way for a woman to control a man. Men looked down on women when they seemed easy. They assumed that if it was that easy for them, it was the same for the next cat. That’s why I tried to protect my reputation with each step I took, but damn, Assata—he just did it for me. Somewhere along my crazed reflections, my mind detoured to the night of passion me and Assata shared. He was a different type of man, all street, but his heart was good. I’d noticed how distant he’d become after the hospital visit with his aunt Lovey.

  He seemed stressed—constantly looking over his shoulder as if he expected someone to sneak up on him. Instinctively my eyes drifted closed—my body yearned to console him—to feel him taking his aggression out on my lower lips. Heat radiated from my body with the thought of each stroke he’d given me that night. I was so lost within the fantasy that my hands took on a mind of their own as I slid my finger into my warm mouth while allowing my free hand to fondle my right breast.

  An intense moan slipped from my lips as my fingers made their descent—over the hill of my nipple—a slow, pleasurable trail down the flat plain of my stomach until they slipped beyond the point of no return and landed on the imprint of my hairless peach. Slowly, I teased myself by massaging my pussy through the fabric of my shorts. I could feel my juices saturating my thong as my full lips parted slightly, and my breath quickened. I went further and peeled the shorts along with my thong completely off.

  I spread my legs apart as far as I could. “Assata—As-sata!” I moaned as I split my fruit open with my finger. No one knew how to touch a woman’s body like she did, small circles on my clit as I pinched my nipple made me arch my back as I pictured Assata deep, strong and hard inside of me. “Fuck—me!” I demanded as I worked my clit faster and pinched my nipples harder. “Uhh!”

  ****

  ~Twisted~

  I fell through the door of the spot—my shoulder and leg felt like they would fall off at any moment. I’d been shot before, but neither time made the experience any less painful. I had to give it to the boy Pain, the bitch ass nigga thought fast on his feet. That just goes to show you that when self-preservation kicks in, a mu’fucka will come up with some innovative ways to preserve their life.

  “What the fuck—what happened to you, homie?” Crazy Loc raged as I stumbled over to the couch and fell onto it without an ounce of strength left.

  My whole body burned, the homie pulled his burna, and rushed out
the door—I’m assuming to ensure I hadn’t been followed.

  Moments later he rushed back in. “Lil Ben—B.G., you niggas put that shit down for a second and come help me with, Cuz,” he yelled to the back.

  My lil’ homie B.G. appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, a blunt hung lazily from his lip as he assessed me. His mind must have been clouded by whatever he was smokin’ because his eyes rolled over me a few times before the blunt fell from his lips, and he rushed over to me on some real active shit.

  “Nigga, just say the name and I’ma go dress they mama up in that black dress—on Fo’tray, homie.” He pulled out a cannon and began waving it as if the enemy was somewhere in the room.

  B.G. was a lil’ homie off the Noff side of Fort Worth. An eighteen-year-old Fo’tray gangsta that moved up to Denton to stay wit’ his pops as a means to get him out the gutta. I guess his T-Jones didn’t know much ‘bout the S.E.D cause she just shipped him from the jungle to the zoo with no cages, one fucked up community to the next.

  The homie crazy Loc snatched the .40 from the nigga. “Gimme this shit, cuz, fa you kill one of us or yo’ self.” He grilled the lil’ homie before tucking the pistol in his waist beside his own.

  At that moment, Lil Ben, one of my favorite lil’ niggas strolled in the room like he was the coolest crip nigga since Big Took. As soon as his eyes rolled over me our eyes connected in a collision of unspoken words. He was the only one besides myself, and the two bitches that knew my plans and seeing that I got touched as well as being the only one to return to the point of no return.

  “Where Tessa at, Loc?” he asked with blue flames burning in his eyes. He assessed me once more before coming to an already evident conclusion, “Homie, you need a doctor.”

  I damn near snatched one of the guns off Crazy Loc’s waist and popped his ass, but instead, I did what any otha nigga woulda done in my situation—I cried!

  “Nigga—fuck, Tessa!” I screamed wit’ actual tears in my eyes. All eyes fell on me. “Cuz—” I looked ova at Crazy Loc, “Fuck a doctor—you know I can’t go to no hospital wit’ no lead in me. They’ll put the laws on me before they put the IV in my arm.” I thought on the decision that had to be made.

  The resolve that played over my face must have revealed my thoughts before I could verbalize ‘em because Crazy looked as if I’d lost my mental. ”Say, homie, I hope you’re not thinkin’ what I think you are—” He began pacing the floor. “Twist, I ain’t no doctor, homie. What if I hit an artery or crack a bone or something? Berg will whack me—hell naw, I—”

  “Nigga shut the fuck up wit’ all that bitchin’ before I whack you!” I cut him off, then looked over at B.G. “Bruh, get rid of that GTA.” Grand theft auto is what we called a stolen car. The white Lex I’d done the deed in was as hot as a grill at a fast food joint. “And don’t be joy ridin’, homie, ditch the mu’fucka, and get back here, asap!” I growled as I began undoing my pants. “Lil Ben, go find the sharpest knife you can find, get some sewing thread, a needle, and the strongest bottle of alcohol you got.” I shot off orders as if I was in any position to do so.

  I knew that regardless of the love a nigga showed, most men didn’t believe in climbing their way to the top. That movie Scarface fucked a lot of boys up—so everybody wanted to be the boss—the chief. Nobody wanted to play the Indian, so I knew weakness could only be shown in small doses cause the slightest weakness could give a hungry nigga the strongest ideas.

  ****

  ~Snow~

  ~Reflecting~

  I stared transfixed into nothing as I opened a Pandora's box that was filled with secrets—secrets that we’d both have to go to our graves with. Though my physical form was there—in that place with a man that would no doubt murder me as soon as he was pulled free from his crucifixion. My mind was miles away transported back to the night revenge and calculation gave birth to liberation. The night that I became the face in dark.

  Russia’s fingertips traced the outline of my curves absently in deep contemplation. His radiant eyes rolled over me as we lied naked, tangled within a web of blood red satin sheets. Sweat made our skin glow under the pale flickering orange flames dancing off the candles that surrounded us.

  “So—mi friend, Ice-Berg plans to rob me, hmm?” he asked in his thick accent. “And how-how do you know all ‘tis information, my dear lady? What position do you play in all ‘tis? Most importantly—” Russia ran his hand over my exposed left nipple. “—why would you betray those that’s confided something so precious to you?”

  At that moment I wasted no time pushing him flat on his back and straddling him. Without inserting him inside me, I massaged his short length with my wet pussy lips. He hardened instantly, I stared down at him through a tangled mass of blonde hair as my pussy stole his rational thought process, and my words filled in the blanks.

  “Yes—he’s plotting with a man named Brains to rip you off. They say that your organization is weak and it’s time for a new regime. They’ve teamed up with a ruthless street organization that deals with your competitors in the drug trade.” I began to work my hips feverishly—soaking his stiff self to enter my treasure, but I grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed.

  My clit was throbbing from the friction, but self-control was the key to seducing a man. No matter the animal, pussy could give birth to something, and evil intentions alike. A hard dick had overridden a man’s common sense for years. One could acquire all the money, and power in the world but it wouldn’t change the reality. I felt my climax swell inside my essence as Russia’s hands balled into fists in antagonizing pleasure.

  “I—oh shit—I’m so—so tired of being used by those people—” I moaned.

  My clit was right on the pulsating vein of his dick, my nails bit into his flesh as the explosion built up inside of me. I could feel his steel jumping from the blood that raged through it. He wanted to enter me—I could feel his intensity—his weakness.

  “They forced meee—” I screamed as Niagara Falls splashed from my waterfall.

  The look on his face was priceless, maybe he’d never met a woman that squirted before, or maybe it was the fact that he was on the verge of an explosion of his own, but either or, I slowed my massage and began making wet circles on top of him.

  “You-you're a naughty girl, Snow, but you must have a motive for telling me ‘tis—fuck!” he screamed as he shot a warm load onto my stomach.

  I continued to soak him with my wet kisses as I road him without allowing him to enter me. As I stared down at him with fire in my eyes, I laid all my cards on the table. “Yes—in fact, I do. I have a plan that will ensure your survival, and help you escape the clutches of the DEA and the FBI.” That seemed to get his attention.

  “DEA—FBI?” he inquired with a perplexed look.

  “Yes—Brains has become an informant with the bureau, and the drug enforcement agency to take Ice-Berg down, and unbeknownst to him, he and you will be the surprise guest on the federal indictments,” I revealed as I released his wrists, reached down and took a hold of his ready dick. I placed him at the entrance of my paradise as his hands cupped my breasts. My eyes caught fire as he began to squeeze my nipples to the point of pain.

  “Tell me, hmmm—how might you know that, my lady? Let’s hear your plan,” he whispered dangerously, but he couldn’t have known that pain was my pleasure.

  I lifted up, and before he could understand that he was turning me on more than intimidating me, I dropped down onto him, burying him so deep inside of me I could feel him in my stomach. “Uhh!” I inhaled. Confusion and ecstasy lit his face with the rise and fall of my rhythm. “Yasss—” I moaned and placed my hands on his chest.

  I lifted up slowly—working my pussy muscles until only the head of his strength was held by my lower lips. I squeezed and smiled down at the surprise that registered on his face. “My plan is to–shit—is–is to let them rip you off then fake my death again—” I dropped down onto him. “—allowing them to rip you off for something
small, and we’ll get it back after we murder them,” I whispered as my fingernails dug into his chest. I could feel his body tensing—his dick swelling.

  “And the D—DEA—FBI?” he asked and reached behind me to grab a handful of my ass.

  “I’m—I’m fucking the agent, Russia. He’s puttie in my hands.” I threw my head back and popped my pussy with all I had. “After we kill Brains and fake my death—yes—spread ‘em, baby!” I squealed in delight. “They’ll have to come up with another plan, but by then we’ll be somewhere on an exotic beach fucking under tropic sun rays and sipping drinks with—oh shit, Russia—with—oh, God—little umbrella’s in them!” I screamed as we both reached the finish line simultaneously.

  Wave after wave of pure power rushed through me as Russia shook underneath me. Sweat dripped from my tanned skin, and my eyes seemed to glow as I watched him look up at me amazed. A soft breeze wafted through the cracked window—as if the night blew its soft breath for that exact reason, the candles began to go out one by one until the room was bathed in pale, blue darkness.

  “Fake your death—you have me confused,” he whispered. “How will we be able to pull ‘tis off?”

  I slid off of his flaccidness and crawled out of the massive bed—ass cheeks shaking with every movement. After gathering my clothes and heading to the bathroom. I spoke over my shoulder. “It’s simple—we’re gonna kill my sister.”

  ****

  ~Ice Berg~

  I won’t deny it, I’ma straight rida/ you don’t wanna fuck wit’ me. Got the police bustin’ at me, but they can’t do nothin’ a G/ I won’t deny it, I’ma fuckin’ rida/ you don’t wanna fuck wit’ me—

  Tupac’s Ambitions of a Rida was the first thing that greeted me when I entered the trap spot we had on 525 Skinner Street. That and a strange smell lead me to the kitchen where I found a scene so mind-boggling that I paused with my jaw fallin’ to the floor.