“Um, my pussy taste good,” the girl cooed, releasing the sex toy from her mouth.
“I already know,” Mia agreed.
“I can’t wait for you to taste it again,” the girl said.
Mia backed away from the girl as she released her wrist. “We’ll see.”
“Hope so.”
“I gotta go, I’ll hit you though.”
“Please do. Until then, I’ll just finish what you started.”
“Yeah, do that.”
Mia slipped on her True Religions jeans and Nike Foams then snatched up her NJ fitted and baby nine off the dresser before heading for the door…
Chapter Nine
“Okay, so your contact guy is Sheriff Jesse James.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. I know. It took everything inside of me not to laugh while on the phone with the guy.”
“What an irony. Parents must’ve been huge outlaw lovers,” Detective Saleski chuckled.
“Just be nice when you get down there.”
“Scouts honor.”
The two partners shared a laugh.
“I still think you should have brought your snitch down to the station and let me handle her. Sometimes I really think you need to brush up on your interrogating skills. You’re too nice, too humble. You have to use force and muscle,” Detective Crawford advised as they cruised the streets of New Brunswick. He had just got finished filling her in on the late night interview he had with one of Anita Abram’s old running partners. It was no secret that Crawford used as much force and muscle that she could get away with during interrogation. She only respected other law officials or taxpaying citizens. If you didn’t fall under those two categories, you were liable to feel her wrath. “A little bit of respect goes a long way little lady. Try it sometimes. You’d be surprised,” Saleski commented, pressing down on the gas, shooting through a yellow light that had just turned red.
“Yeah right, it sure didn’t work for you last night. You said yourself that you knew that she was lying. See I would’ve handled that entire situation differently.”
“Tell me how. Humor me for a sec,” Saleski smiled.
“Well first of all, I would’ve came at her like she was in some type of trouble, like maybe an old warrant popped up, or her name was mentioned in a robbery of a john, something like that. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince a dope fiend, prostitute, stripper or whatever the hell she considers herself to be. I’m sure she’s done her fair share of dirt. That would’ve been my leverage. I wouldn’t of gave her any say so in the matter. The ball would’ve stayed in my court at all times. But I want home team advantage too, so I probably would’ve slapped the cuffs on her behind and took her for a little ride, away from that flesh factory that she calls a job. Make her sweat a little bit you know? Her brain would’ve been racing, trying to figure a way out because nobody, not even a seasoned criminal like Sheila wants to go back to jail. By the time I questioned her, she would’ve gave me info on her mother if I had of asked. Let’s not forget, it’s because of my great detective work and interrogation skills that you’re that much closer to closing a case. After a one on one with me, voila, instant results,” Crawford boasted.
“You’re something else,” Saleski chuckled, shaking his head. He drove the unmarked Chevy Caprice through some of the drug infested blocks, intentionally slowing down to cause panic amongst the drug dealers who strolled the block or stood posted in front of corner stores. They warily eyed the detectives, giving them mean, hostile looks, having no fear of them whatsoever as they boldly made drug transactions in broad daylight, pushing their products as if they had a license.
As soon as Saleski and Crawford passed by, a voice screamed out, “Cookies & Milk.” It echoed down the block, alerting all the block huggers and corner standers that the enemy was in the area. That was the nickname the streets gave Saleski and Crawford. Saleski thought the name was funny. But Crawford couldn’t stand it and was always anxious to lock anybody up who yelled it out. Detective Julissa L. Crawford was a unique mixture of a woman. Puerto Rican, Cuban and African American to be exact. The racial blend produced a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Her beauty was captivating, stunning and mesmerizing all in one lump sum. God had been in a very good mood the day he created Julissa thought Saleski. Whenever she walked by a crowd of men, she always got a neck breaking response. Other women even stopped and stared. At 5’5 ½ and piercing eyes so dark that Saleski swore they were black, she was definitely a sight to see. She tried to downplay her beauty by not wearing any make-up and keeping her long mane of silky black hair pinned up and covered under a baseball cap, but it was no use. She was too damn sexy to hide it. She was definitely one of the most attractive women Saleski had ever laid eyes on and he always wondered, what would make an exotic beauty like his partner want to be a cop. With a face like hers, she could’ve been a supermodel he thought. Crawford had earned the nickname, “J.Lo” at the precinct, for several reasons. One, the initials to her first and middle name, two, she was a Hispanic woman and bore a slight resemblance to the famous Latina actress and last but definitely not least, she had been blessed in all the right places, particularly in the hips and backside department. She had a big, shapely ass that caused chaos in the station and on the streets, so much that she usually kept a jacket or sweater tied around her waist to cover it.
When she first was transferred from the Essex County Task Force to the Middlesex county police department, all of the guys at the station made bets on who would get between her legs first. But they soon found out that the pretty mami with the bodacious body took her job very seriously. She had a very short temper and zero tolerance for sexual harassment. So several crushed, bruised egos later, the word spread throughout the station that she was off limits. It was rumored she was a lesbian. Crawford had heard the rumor mill and never confirmed nor denied the allegations. The last officer that approached her made the mistake of patting her on the ass and received a swift kick to the ribs and a hard punch to the nose that put him out of work for several weeks.
Crawford had been transferred to the New Brunswick PD with glowing recommendations, but a sidebar that read, “Highly efficient officer, though prone to reckless and violent behavior.” This sounded like a subtle warning to Saleski. He then found out the reason behind the transfer. Detective Crawford had two justifiable homicides on her record. When the second one occurred, Essex County thought it was best to place her in a less hostile, violent environment. Thereafter, she came to New Brunswick and got paired up with Saleski, who was the total opposite. Saleski had no choice or say so in the matter. The decision had already been made way before he was called into the Captain’s office. Saleski decided to do his own personal investigation on his new partner to find out just how justified her two homicides really were. All it took was two phone calls to get what he was looking for. He was told, “If the arresting officer had of handled the situation differently the homicides could’ve been avoided.” Translated: Crawford had murdered twice and got away with it both times. It really bothered Saleski that the higher ups kept everything hush-hush and swept the deaths underneath a rug as if they never happened. But what really burned Saleski up was how Crawford walked around like she didn’t have a care in the world. Like the murders meant nothing to her. So their first week working with each other, Saleski swung by his favorite breakfast place, ordered them both food then calmly informed Julissa that she was no longer working in Essex County and was no longer part of the task force. He let her know that what might have been acceptable over there was definitely not flying in Middlesex county. Saleski told her that he knew about her two so-called justified homicides and he didn’t agree with them nor condoned what she did. Saleski let her know that she was now on his turf and he called the shots and she was to follow his lead at all times. That she would not be conducting herself in Middlesex County like she had in Essex County. Saleski said all of this without letting her get one word in. She calmly sat
across from him with an amused expression on her pretty face. Saleski laughed to himself remembering her reaction to his speech. “Bravo! Bravo! Finally, a man with a pair of balls between his legs. Not fazed by my so-called beauty. A take charge type of guy. My kind of man. I thought you were supposed to be nice and humble? For a second I thought you were about to reach across the table and slap the hell out of me. Don’t worry detective, I’m not here to cause any waves. I’m going to go with the flow. I know I’m in your house now so I have to abide by your rules. I have no problem with that. Sheesh!! Me and you are really going to get along I see. I love how you just read me my rights like that papi. That got me wet,” she said, reaching across the table and shaking Saleski’s hand and winking at him at the same time. That was a year and some change ago and to this day, Saleski still wondered had she been telling the truth about being wet.
Saleski glanced over at his partner in admiration. He couldn’t have had a better one he felt.
Slowly but surely he began to learn and understand his partner, who was an absolute firecracker, capable of exploding at any given time. He tried to draw her into a light, friendly conversation, but she kept it strictly surface with him, keeping her personal life to herself.
Fourteen months as partners and Saleski still knew absolutely nothing about Detective Julissa Crawford, but trusted her with his life just the same. She knew just about everything there was to know about him. His two failed marriages and his only child, who was in her last year of high school. Saleski had exposed himself to her. He even told her about his justified homicide that he still had nightmares about even though it happened eleven years ago. Unlike his partner, Saleski’s homicide really was justified. Responding to a call, Saleski chased a suspect down through the projects that once stood off the highway in the city of New Brunswick and had him cornered. He was in the process of telling the perpetrator to put his hands in the air when the suspect spun around, firing his weapon, striking Saleski twice. He went down shooting, killing the suspect instantly. It was a close call for him. One of the slugs had struck him in the chest, the other in the gut. Saleski went into surgery and they successfully removed the bullet in his stomach, but opted to leave the slug in his chest because it was too dangerous to remove.
While he was in the hospital, he learned that the armed suspect, he was forced to kill, was a sixteen-year old boy. The news rocked Saleski and he almost quit the police department. Two things in his career haunted him and that was one of them. He knew he couldn’t do a damn thing about one, but the other Saleski intended to get rid as soon as he could. He shook his head and gritted his teeth at the thought of Heavenly Jacobs’ escape.
“What are you thinking about big guy? Hmm?” Detective Crawford asked, bringing Saleski back to the present.
“Huh? Oh umm, thinking about these robberies that’s all,” he answered.
Crawford stared over at him. “You’re a terrible liar you know that? That’s not what you’re thinking about. Come on, tell me what’s on your mind. I’m your partner, you can talk to me.”
“You got the nerve to talk. We’ve been partners for a little over a year now and I still know nothing about you. Nada. Zilch. I’m starting to take it personal too,” Saleski replied.
“Well today’s your lucky day. I’m in a pretty good mood. So what do you want to know?”
Saleski’s right eyebrow went up. “Okay, first of all I’ve always wanted to know how old are you?”
“Tsk, tsk. Shame on you, asking a woman her age. I know your mother taught you better than that. I’m in my early 30’s if you must know. Way younger than you old man,” she said, laughing.
“Still kind of secretive, but we’re getting somewhere. Are you into men? You aren’t a lesbian are you?” Crawford’s smile faltered a little bit. “I see you’ve been listening to the big house rumors floating around about me. No I’m not a dyke.”
Saleski noticed that she didn’t answer the question about men, so he pressed the issue. “But are you into men? Are you dating anybody?”
“Enough with the questions!” Crawford snapped.
“Aw damn, I was just getting warmed up. I was about to ask you what color panties you have on,” Saleski teased.
Crawford glanced over at him with an amused look on her face, raised one of her perfectly arched eyebrows, clucked her tongue and said, “Who says I wear any at all.”
“Wow! Good answer. Good fuckin’ answer,” Saleski replied, grinning. “Okay, that’s enough for the day. You just got my blood pressure rising for the no panties answer. Let’s get back to work,” Saleski chuckled.
Crawford smiled and nodded in agreement.
“I wish I could go down there with you,” Crawford added.
“Yeah, that would have been cool,” Saleski solemnly responded.
“I hate that I won’t be there watching your back.”
“I’ll be fine.” Saleski smiled.
“I’m sure you will. Still, just be safe. You never know. Those aren’t your average females,” Crawford cautioned her partner.
“Tell me about it,” was all Saleski could say…
Chapter Ten
Later on that day, on the other side of the city…
Between the night fall and the inconspicuous car he drove for the evening, Bobbie Grims aka The Grim Reaper seemed almost invisible sitting in the rusted beat up old Caddy a short ways up the street from where all the action was taking place on Troop Avenue.
He had been sitting in the same spot, going un-noticed for hours, waiting for one person to show. And now, his patience had prevailed. Grim watched with beady eyes as the maroon CLS 550 pulled over and parked on the strip. He clenched his jaws as the driver exited the luxury vehicle and wasted no time shaking hands, giving daps and extending hugs. Although Grim was there on business, this particular situation was personal for him. Since kids, he simply didn’t like his intended target. Grim’s mind sent him back in time as he reflected back to the first time he had built a dislike for his intended target. Despite the fact that it was nearly twenty years ago, Grim became angry at the sight of the intended target all over again as if it were yesterday. The thought of how he had constantly teased him about the clothes he wore when they were in grade school together and making Grim the butt end of his jokes during lunch time or afterschool caused the hairs on Grim’s back to rise. The teasing continued throughout junior high school and turned into bullying when they had reached high school and Grim had turned down the intended target’s offer to work for him after he became a hustler. The bullying became so overwhelming for Grim that he dropped out of school in the ninth grade and ran away from home, because he was too embarrassed to tell his mother what was going on. He never knew his dad and his mother was an only child so he really didn’t have anyone else to turn to. After a couple of weeks of living on the streets of New Brunswick, sleeping on card board boxes, eating out of garbage cans and begging for change, Grim had met someone just a few years older than him that offered him an opportunity and changed his life forever. A year later, Grim returned to the apartment he once called home to reunite with his mother, only to find out she had been struck down by a stray bullet, while walking home from work during a crossfire shooting that had broken out in the neighborhood. The news devastated Grim. He was stricken with grief and wanted nothing more than to avenge his mother’s frivolous death. The man that changed his life forever found out the parties involved in the shooting and passed the information along to Grim. One by one, Grim snuffed the life out of the half dozen of names given to him, earning him the monarch The Grim Reaper by his boss. It wasn’t until years later, Grim discovered that the shoot out which lead to his mother’s demise was over one guy messing with another guy’s baby mother. That guy was none other than his intended target. By the time Grim discovered the news, the intended target had been sent to prison for ten years. Now he was home and back in the swing of things. Had it not been for his inability to handle his business affairs properly, Grim may have
never known the intended target was back on the scene. The base from the car that just passed by returned Grim back to the present. Grim removed both safety’s on his weapons, then cocked each Glock back. He pulled his black on black Yankeese fitted as low as it could go and exited the vehicle, headed towards the small group of hustlers gathered around the intended target.
See right there, her partner blowin’ me while she eatin’ her out from the back. I’m actin’ like I’m texting but I’m really recording the shit,” Free chuckles as everybody witnesses the ménage a trios on his I Phone.
“Damn baby girl thick to death,” one of the viewing hustlers stated.
“I wanna see what their faces look like,” another chimed in.
“You will,” Free replied. “You probably know them too, but watch this part right here though.”
All men were so engrossed and pre-occupied with the x-rated footage on the I Phone screen that none of them noticed the approaching figure.
“Yo, this nigga strapped?” a hustler emerging out of nowhere yelled out.
His announcement and the shot that sent him crashing to the ground alerted Free and the other surrounding hustlers of the imminent danger before them.
By now, Grim had both his weapons stiffly pointed at the five man crowd. “Death is in the air,” Grim’s deep baritone voice informed them. “I only came to take one life, but I don’t have a problem with extending that list. So, either toss your guns in front of you or take your chances and see how quick you are. Your choice.”
Each hustler looked back and forth at each other. Then one of them spoke on all their behalf. “Ain’t nobody packin’ my dude.”
One Way To Heaven Page 4
