Blood of a Boss III
Page 23
“Absolutely, I’m two steps ahead of you,” Sonny said, placing emphasis on the word “ahead.”
“That’s good,” Grip confirmed. “Now, about tomorrow night, we’re leaving La Casa Moreno at nine o’clock, sharp. It’s about a two hour drive, so I need you to be on time.”
“That’s a no go,” Sonny declined. “I’ve got a lot of shit to take care between now and then. So, it’ll be better for me to just meet you there.”
Grip was reluctant to agree, but he realized that he didn’t have a choice. “All right, but just for a little insurance, would you mind if I came to pick up the twins? You know, just in case.”
“I don’t see that being a problem,” Sonny said in a calm voice. “I’m at the club on Broad Street, so just come through and holla at me.”
“All right,” Grip replied. “I’m on my way.”
Click.
“Yo, why are you smilin’ so hard?” Rahmello asked him as he disconnected the call.
“Because your brother,” Grip continued smiling, “he finally came to his senses and did the right thing.”
“What did he do?”
“He took care of those goddamned twins. That’s what he did. And believe me when I tell you, that was the best decision he ever made.”
“So, what about Oli?” Rahmello asked him. “Now that we have the twins, we can keep her out of this, right?”
“We won’t even mention her name.”
***
At Club Infamous
Sonny was all alone in the Block Boy Room. A burning Dutch Master was nestled between his left thumb and index finger, and he was standing in front of the picturesque glass front window, looking down at the empty dance floor. Nipsy and The Reaper were at The Swamp getting ready for what he had planned for Daphney, and the headless bodies of the twins were downstairs in the basement wrapped up in old blankets.
“Talk about the worse day ever,” he said to himself, and then took a pull on his Dutch Master. As he exhaled the smoke, his cell phone vibrated in his pants pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was a text message from Troutman.
How much longer do you want me to watch the house? The bedroom lights were just turned off, so I’m assuming that she’s done for the night.
After reading the text message, Sonny hit him right back.
I already got the information I needed, so you can go. I can handle the rest.
Troutman replied a couple of seconds later.
All right, buddy, you take it easy.
After looking over the last message, Sonny noticed he had a missed call from Gangsta. He clicked on his voicemail App and pressed play.
“Sonny, it’s Gangsta. Whatever you do, you can’t trust Grip. Him and Muhammad are plannin’ to kill you. I’ve been try’na call you for the last half an hour, but you’re not answering. Hopefully, you’ll get this message before it’s too late.”
Sonny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He looked down at the diamond ring that his grandfather gave him and anxiously bit down on his bottom lip. “This grimy ass nigga,” he snarled through clenched teeth. “He was settin’ me up the whole time.” He started to walk away from the window, but a slight movement in the corner of his eye stopped him dead in his tracks. Looking down at the front of the club, he saw three mutha’fuckas creeping towards the back staircase. They were dressed in all black and strapped with M-16s.
“Yo, this nigga’s really try’na park me.” He tossed the Dutch Master and ran over to the bar. Reaching under the bottom shelf, he pulled out a Thompson M-1 that was equipped with a 150-round drum. After cocking a bullet into the chamber, he ran back to the window and aimed down at the three assassins. “Hey, yo, dick heads, look up here.”
Three gunmen looked up and before they had a chance to react, a loud burst of gunfire shattered the window.
***
Back at La Casa Moreno
Muhammad was sitting at the dining room table eating a plate of spaghetti when Grip stepped into the room and approached him. “I’ve got some good news,” Grip said as he took a pull on his Cohiba. “Sontino took out the twins.”
Muhammad dropped his fork and used a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth. “Come again.”
Grip smiled at him. “Sontino, he did the right thing. He took out the twins, and now we gotta go pick ‘em up. We’re gonna need ‘em for the meeting tomorrow night.”
“But as far as Sontino, we’re still gonna kill him, right?”
“Not at all,” Grip replied. “I’m proud of him. He did what he had to do for the sake of his family. Now, don’t get me wrong, he’s still a little rough around the edges. But in due time, I’ll smooth him out.”
Muhammad’s face turned to stone and he shook his head slowly. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I think I might have fucked up.”
Grip looked at him skeptically. “You think you might have fucked up? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“After everybody went missing, I took it upon myself to reach out to Chatchi.”
“You reached out to Chatchi?” Grip raised his voice a few octaves. “And told him what?”
“I told him the truth about Roberto,” Muhammad revealed. “I told him that Sontino was the one who ordered the hit, and I gave him the address to the house in Upper Dublin and told him about the club on Broad Street.”
“You did what?” Grip shouted at him.
“I did it for the sake of the family,” Muhammad tried to explain. “I did it for us. They already got to G.J. and Gangsta, and I knew that they were coming for us next. Plus, you told me that you wanted Sontino dead. I thought that I was doing the right thing.”
Without saying another word, Grip reached behind his back and whipped out his .10 millimeter. He cocked the hammer back and aimed the barrel at Muhammad’s face.
“Come on, Grip, please. I only did it for us.”
“And I’m doing this for my grandson.”
Boom.
Muhammad’s brains burst out of the back of his dome and splashed against the wall behind him.
His mouth was wide open and he was looking at Grip with a shocked expression.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The next three rounds flipped him out of the chair and left him twisted against the back wall.
“Yo, what the fuck is goin’ on?” Rahmello asked as he limped into the dining room. He was looking at Grip, and then looked down and saw the lanky old man twisted up in the corner.
“Come on,” Grip said as he breezed right by him and headed for the front door. “We’ve gotta get to Club Infamous. The Mexicans are coming to kill your brother.”
***
Back at Sonny’s Upper Dublin Estate
“I knew this mutherfucker wasn’t dead,” Daphney snapped out. She was sitting in the back seat of Troutman’s Impala. His blood-covered cell phone was clutched in her right hand, and his dead body was stinking in the front seat. “I knew that pussy ass Egypt wasn’t man enough to handle his fuckin’ business. Now, I’ve gotta kill this mutherfucker myself.”
Looking at Troutman, she realized that it wasn’t a good idea to leave a dead body in front of her house. “Fuck it, I guess I’ma have to push his ass over to the passenger’s side, and then drive him up to the garage. I’ll figure the rest of this shit out later.”
As she reached for the door handle, the door was snatched open, and a pair of hands snatched her out of the car. Initially, she thought it was Sonny, but when she looked up and saw the tatted up face, the three dimensional devil horns, and the razor-sharp teeth, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Nigga, who the fuck is you?”
“Me?” the Mexican smiled at her, showing off his one inch fangs. “I am Diablo, the one who God sent to punish the world.”
To Be Continued…
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Blood of a Boss IV: The Final Testament
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NO LOYALT
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PUSH IT TO THE LIMIT
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GANGSTA CITY II
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BLOOD OF A BOSS IV
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SILVER PLATTER HOE III
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THE STREETS BLEED MURDER III
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CONFESSIONS OF A DOPEMAN’S DAUGHTER III
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WHAT ABOUT US III
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A GANGSTER’S REVENGE IV
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LAY IT DOWN II
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I LOVE YOU TO DEATH
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SILVER PLATTER HOE I & II
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NEVER LOVE AGAIN
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BLOOD OF A BOSS I & II
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THE DEVIL WEARS TIMBS I, II & III
BURY ME A G I II & III
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THESE NIGGAS AIN’T LOYAL I, II & III
By Nikki Tee
THE STREETS BLEED MURDER I & II
By Jerry Jackson
DIRTY LICKS
By Peter Mack
THE ULTIMATE BETRAYAL
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BROOKLYN ON LOCK I & II
By Sonovia Alexander
Don’t Fu#k With My Heart I & II
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Boss’n Up i & II
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LOYALTY IS BLIND
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I LOVE YOU TO DEATH
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TRUST NO MAN 2
TRUST NO MAN 3
BONDED BY BLOOD
SHORTY GOT A THUG
A DIRTY SOUTH LOVE
THUGS CRY
THUGS CRY 2
TRUST NO BITCH
TRUST NO BITCH 2
TRUST NO BITCH 3
TIL MY CASKET DROPS
Coming Soon
TRUST NO BITCH (KIAM EYEZ’ STORY)
THUGS CRY 3
BONDED BY BLOOD 2
RESTRANING ORDER
NO LOYALTY NO LOVE