Book Read Free

City Lights

Page 5

by George Sherman Hudson


  Milo continued to run hard, not looking back. He came up on a residential neighborhood after clearing the woods. When he did finally look back, he saw no signs of the uniformed officers. Coming out of the woods and trying not to look suspicious, Milo walked briskly through the neighborhood. A few minutes later, he was breaking into a car and stealing it for his long ride back home.

  The uniformed officers lost sight of Milo in the darkness, so they doubled back and got the dogs. After combing the woods with the dogs, they concluded that the other man had gotten away. A few minutes later, they were focusing back on Saul, who was laid out on the wet grass. The EMT arrived minutes later, but it was too late. Saul coughed hard one last time before he took his last breath.

  Chapter 16

  Real pushed the Range Rover down the interstate, exceeding the speed limit on his way to the golf course. B-Low and Jesse bobbed their heads to the Scarface playing from the Chevy’s two-knob cassette player as they pushed the Chevy to the limit, trying to keep up with Real in the Range.

  All Real could think about was Constance. He prayed the men didn’t hurt her. Two hundred and fifty thousand was a small price to pay for his soul mate. Racking his brain still trying to figure out who was behind the kidnapping, Real grabbed his cell phone from the console and dialed Moretti’s number.

  “Hi, Real. How’s it going? You ready so soon?” Moretti asked, sure Real was only calling about the next shipment.

  “No, I’m calling on another matter. The last time I spoke with you about Rossi, you told me you handled the problem.”

  “Surely there are no worries anymore. Is there a problem?” Moretti asked, concerned.

  “Yeah, there is! Some mutha fucker snatched up my lady friend and want a quarter mil to get her back. I spoke with the man on her phone, and I’m sure he was Spanish or Italian, so I just wanted to make sure your man Rossi didn’t change his mind,” Real spat heatedly as he neared his exit.

  “Real, one thing about the families is that we are judged heavily by our loyalty and our word. The old man Rossi would never go against the family’s demands. I’m pretty sure Rossi wants to live out the rest of his days. I can give you my word, Real. This end is clear. If you need my help, let me know. I have good men that are very loyal to me,” Moretti told Real as he sat on his back balcony looking out over the ocean.

  “I appreciate it, but I got everything under control. I’m just trying to find out who’s behind this so I’ll know who to kill when this shit is over,” Real said forcefully as he exited the expressway with B-Low and Jesse tailing him.

  “I’m pretty sure you will find your man. Call me if you need me,” Moretti said as he entered the call.

  After hanging up the phone, Moretti thought about all the kilos he had just dropped to Real. He then looked back on why he hated dealing with Black men. They were too quick to kill without thinking things through. He swore under his breath, hoping Real lived to pay him.

  Real turned on the road leading to the golf course. B-Low and Jesse followed close behind. They planned to bypass the course and find a spot up the road to keep a close eye out on Real as he made the transaction.

  As Real rounded the corner, all he saw was emergency vehicles and police lights. “Shit! Road block,” Real cursed to himself as he reached over and grabbed the bag of money and placed it in the back on the floor before he slowed the truck down.

  Getting closer, he saw that it wasn’t a road block after all. A car had run off the road and down the embankment. An officer stood in the middle of the street, waving traffic by. As Real passed by the scene with B-Low and Jesse following close behind, they came up on the golf course. To their surprise, there were blue lights and emergency vehicles up there as well. Real had a funny feeling something was wrong. Bypassing the course, he kept straight until he reached the brightly lit Waffle House. He turned into the Waffle House parking and pulled out his cell phone to call Constance’s phone.

  A man answered in a heavy Southern drawl. “Hello?”

  All Real could hear were sirens and police radios. He knew then that Constance was in the midst of the blue lights. His heart raced as he questioned the man.

  “I’m looking for my wife. Who is this? Is she okay?” Real asked firmly.

  “Your wife was abducted by two men, but she’s fine. One of our units came across them and more than likely saved her life. The poor boy wasn’t so lucky himself. Your wife is being taken to Grady Hospital for some minor bruises, but overall, she’s fine,” the officer explained.

  “What? I’m on my way. Thanks!” Real shouted, playing the part. He was more than happy to hear that Constance wasn’t hurt. He took a deep breath and smiled.

  “What’s the move, because shit looking real crazy back there?” B-Low asked.

  “I just found out the police got to the kidnappers before we did. They’re taking my old lady to the hospital now. She’s cool. I’m going to have Cash shoot y’all a lil’ extra for your time,” Real told them as he placed the truck in reverse.

  “Shit! That’s all good both ways, and good looking, people,” B-Low said as Real turned the truck around and burnt rubber out of the parking lot.

  Looking through the glass window at the people being served, B-Low and Jesse decided to grab a bite to eat before they headed back. They had a bad case of the munchies, thanks to the cush.

  “I’ll take a smothered, covered, chunked sirloin, well done… and a Sprite with no ice,” Jesse told the old White waitress that looked at him with disgust as he ordered.

  “You, sir?” she asked B-Low with pen and pad in hand.

  “Cheeseburger, regular hash browns, and a Coke,” B-Low uttered, high on the cush. She wrote down his order and walked off.

  “Man, I need a quick come up. You see how that nigga Real rolling? The nigga got a club, moving much weight, all kind of whips…and I can imagine how his house sitting,” Jesse said out of the blue.

  “Man, I ain’t going to lie. I was thinking about the same thang. On the one, bro, I’m fixing to retire the pistol and get me some work. Shit, we’ll make way mo’ money putting down work!” B-Low said with enthusiasm.

  “I’m going to holla at Cash tomorrow and see what he can do for a nigga,” Jesse said as the old White lady returned to the table with their drinks.

  “Man, fuck talking to Cash. We need to get at that nigga Real,” B-Low shot back.

  “Naw, bro. It’ll be better going through Cash. We’ll make him feel like he ain’t got no choice because of all the work we done put in for ‘im. Then you know Real ain’t going to just come out and fuck wit us like that. Today was the first time I ever really heard the nigga talk. Man, straight up, we got to holla at Cash,” Jesse insisted.

  “Yeah, I feel ya. I’m going to get at him first thang in the morning. Fuck this pistol play. I’m ready to get some real money,” B-Low barked as the old White lady sat their plates on the table.

  Chapter 17

  Real jumped back on the expressway and pushed 120 all the way out to Grady Hospital. On the way, he called Cash.

  “Yo, Cash, everything good? Some kind of way the police got involved, but Constance is okay. I’m on my way out to Grady to get her now,” Real told Cash in an upbeat tone.

  Cash’s first thought went to the wire he wore. “That’s cool, bro. Did you ever find out who was behind all this shit?” Cash inquired.

  “Man, I don’t know. After I get Constance, she’ll fill me in. I’ll make sure I keep you posted,” Real said as he neared his exit.

  “Yeah, make sure you do that,” Cash replied as he pulled up at the stash house. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Trey’s number after he unlocked the door and stepped in. Trey was a young dealer from the west side of Atlanta that usually bought three or more blocks every trip.

  “Say, young Trey, how many you working with?” Cash asked, feeling real awkward knowing the feds were listening in.

  Cash had been contemplating removing the wire long ago and ju
st taking his chances. Throwing the idea around now, he thought back on the papers he signed and remembered the twenty kilos they no longer had. Hell, they don’t have anything, for that matter, he reasoned. Standing inside the stash house on the phone, he came to the conclusion. Fuck the feds! And snatched the wire off. “I’ll be out your way about five,” Cash told Trey as he hung up the phone and threw the wire in the trash.

  A few minutes later, he was loading up the contents of the stash house, planning to just take everything and disappear. Now that he was wireless, he knew the feds would be curious, but he figured he would have enough time in between to pack up and get away.

  After packing and loading up all the dope, Cash jumped in the LeBaron and hurried out to his house. There, he transferred all the dope into his brand new Jaguar XJ Supersport and rushed in the house to get what he needed. He packed the Jaguar with his clothes and other property and then double checked everything to make sure he was good to go. Satisfied that everything was in order, he started up the car and backed out of the driveway. Before he could get all the way out of the driveway, though, two unmarked cars pulled up and blocked him in.

  “Damn!” Cash screamed, slapping the steering wheel. They were on to him.

  It was real obvious that he was about to go on the run. He put the car in park and watched the agents jump out of the unmarked cars with guns in hand.

  Agent Blakely led the crowd coming his way. “Get out of the car!” Blakely screamed as he pointed his government-issued weapon at Cash.

  “Shit,” Cash cursed under his breath as he pushed the door open and got out.

  “Turn around and put your hands on your head,” Agent Blakely barked as the other agents swarmed Cash and handcuffed him.

  “Man, what’s this shit all about?” Cash screamed as they led him to the unmarked car.

  “Mr. Fields, you know what this is all about! You removed the wire, you emptied the stash house, and then you rushed home and pack up. Come on now, Mr. Fields. You and I both know the deal. We don’t just listen in… we watch too!” Agent Blakely said as the agents opened the back door of Blakely’s car and shoved Cash inside it.

  “Man, I don’t know what—”

  He was cut off as they slammed the car door.

  Agent Blakely opened the front door and got in. “Mr. Fields, don’t think for one minute that we didn’t think this was coming. That’s why we wired you daily. We really thought it would have come sooner. We knew you would think that since we no longer had the twenty kilos that we had nothing to charge you with, and you were half right. With the papers you signed, we could only give you five years, and your case was weak. Seeing what we had, we gambled on you and won. If you would have run off the top, you would be only facing five years and a weak case, but now with all the recorded conversations alone, you don’t stand a chance. Wanna know the best part?” Agent Blakely paused and smiled. “The best part is, we just got you again with more dope, and being that you went against our agreement, you will be charged accordingly. All in all, you’re fucked. All you had to do was cooperate,” Blakely laughed as he turned the key in the ignition.

  “Man, I wasn’t going nowhere! I swear, man! Why would I go this far and then back out?” Cash pleaded as Agent Blakely put the car in drive and took off on the way to the federal building.

  Chapter 18

  Pulling up at Grady, Real found a parking space and jumped out of the truck. He rushed inside to find Constance, completely forgetting he still had on his bulletproof vest. Overlooking the stiff feeling the vest gave him, he continued on until he reached the receptionist’s desk.

  “Could you please give me the location of Constance Simmons?” Real asked the overweight, heavily made up Black woman behind the desk.

  “Who?” she asked, balling her face up.

  “Constance Simmons?” Real asked again, this time louder.

  “Hold on a minute! Calm down, and I’ll check,” the woman shot back, rolling her eyes as she entered Constance’s name in the computer.

  Real stood at the desk, impatiently staring the woman down.

  “Second floor, Room 241,” she called out as she scratched her itching weave.

  Real took off without saying a word. Rather than waiting on an elevator, he snatched open the stairwell door and took the steps by twos up to the second floor. Hurrying down the hall, he found Room 241. A police woman was exiting the room.

  “Hi. Is this Constance Simmons’ room?” Real asked the short, thick, high yellow cute uniformed officer.

  “Yes. And you are?” she asked, looking Real up and down. Like many women, she couldn’t help being instantly attracted to the tall, dark, exotic man that towered over her.

  “I’m her fiancé. Is it okay to go in?” Real asked, picking up on the officer’s flirty gestures.

  “Yeah. She all yours,” she replied as she cuffed the notepad where she had scribbled Constance’s account of the evening’s events and walked off.

  Real didn’t give her a second look as he pushed the door open and entered the room. Constance was coming out of the bathroom as he entered.

  “Baby!” Constance screamed as she ran over and jumped into his arms, disregarding the bulky vest he wore.

  “Boo, you okay?” Real asked, hugging her tight.

  “Baby, I didn’t think I would live to see tomorrow. I was so scared,” Constance said as her voice cracked and her eyes watered.

  “I know, boo. Everything is okay now. I swear it’ll never happen again,” Real said firmly.

  “I love you,” Constance cried as she held Real tight.

  “Come on. Let’s get outta here,” Real said as he grabbed her by the hand and led her from the room.

  On the way out, they stopped by the nurses’ station, signed some papers, and headed out to the truck. As they walked through the hospital, Real questioned Constance about the men that had taken her.

  “Baby, it was the Italian men from the club the other night. The officer told me one of the men were killed and the other one is still on the run. They had me in some warehouse close to downtown, by the old Kessler’s building.”

  “You sure it was one of the men from the other night?” Real asked, frowning.

  “I’m positive. When I was showing him the house, I knew he looked familiar. I just couldn’t place him. Then, the crazy fucker hit me in the back of the head and knocked me out,” Constance said heatedly as they reached the truck and got in.

  Real went from zero to sixty when Constance told him about the men. He felt Moretti had taken him off guard with his guarantee of taking care of the problem. He thought Moretti had clout within the circle, but now Real thought differently. Pissed off, Real snatched up the phone and angrily dialed Moretti’s number.

  “Hello?” Moretti answered groggily after being awakened by Real’s call.

  “You said you took care of the problem! My lady said the men from the club the other night are the ones who grabbed her—Rossi’s men! I don’t know who you talked to about handling this problem, but evidently they didn’t give a fuck about what you were talking about. No ifs, ands, or buts, somebody going to pay for this shit!” Real snapped as Constance listened in.

  “Hold on, now, Real. Let’s be choice with our words, even in anger. I gave specific instructions to Rossi, and if what you are telling me is true, then he will be dealt with accordingly,” Moretti said, not liking Real’s tone.

  “Oh, it’s true! Matter of fucking fact, check around. One of his men were killed in the process!” Real said forcefully as Constance laid her seat back to get more comfortable for the ride home.

  “Okay, Real. First thing in the morning, I will check into the matter, my friend,” Moretti said, thinking to himself all the time that Real wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “I would truly appreciate it, but don’t think for a fucking second that I’m not looking to make them pay,” Real spat as he pushed the Range Rover through the night traffic. “Nobody—and I mean nobody—fucks with my busine
ss or my lady.”

  “I totally understand. I will check into the matter first thing in the morning,” Moretti assured him as they ended the call.

  Checking his bedside clock, Moretti saw that it was close to midnight. Before he fell back to sleep, he thought of several ways to kill Rossi and cut ties with Real.

  Chapter 19

  “Baby, you okay?” Real asked Constance as he leaned over and rubbed her thigh.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just listening to you,” she said, looking over at Real.

  “Baby girl, I don’t know what I would have done if you would have been hurt,” Real said sincerely as he grabbed her hand.

  “Real, I don’t want you to get in no trouble or do nothing crazy. I know you, Real, so please don’t do anything that may take you from me, please,” Constance pleaded as she squeezed his hand.

  “I ain’t going nowhere, I promise,” Real replied as he merged the Range into the right lane and exited the freeway.

  Constance was excited to be home. She promised herself after the ordeal that she would never take life for granted. She made plans with Real to pick her car up from the house where she was kidnapped from. Ten minutes after exiting the highway, they were pulling up into their driveway. They got out of the truck and hugged all the way up the door and into the house.

  “It feels good to be home!” Constance screamed as she headed up to the bedroom to strip down for a long, warm bubble bath.

  “Yeah, especially with you here,” Real chimed in as he followed behind her, admiring her wide hips and big ass.

  After taking a bath, Constance climbed into bed and snuggled up to Real. An hour later, they were sleep in each other’s arms.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, Real was awakened by the loud ringing of his cell phone. “Yeah?” he answered sleepily.

 

‹ Prev