by Erica Hilton
When Mateo ended the call with her, he turned to Pyro and said, “I need to move ASAP. I got a bad feeling about her sister and her man.”
“It’s like that?”
“Yeah. I can’t shake that shit, Pyro. Them two are bad news.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
God placed two Glock 17’s on the bed, along with a .380, a Walther PPQ, and a sawed-off shotgun. It looked like he was ready for war.
“You think you got enough guns?” Charlie said with sarcasm.
God was a gun fanatic. “You can’t ever have too many guns.”
God was ready to move on Mateo and Chanel. Charlie came through with the information they needed, and now it was up to them to go in like a beast and take what they wanted. And they wanted everything.
God and Charlie didn’t know that Chanel and Mateo were about to fly out to Hawaii soon to get married. God was ready to move in now, but Fingers wanted to plot first. The Bronx was a tricky location. It wasn’t the suburbs, and Mateo lived in an apartment, not a private home. An apartment meant close neighbors, nosey folks, and more of a risk. But they weren’t amateurs. They’d raided couples in apartments before and gotten away with it.
“We need to do this soon, God,” Charlie said.
God cocked back the .380 to check inside the chamber, inspecting his tools of death. When he heard Charlie say “we,” he turned to look at her with bad news.
“You not comin’ wit’ us,” he said.
“What the fuck you mean? Yes I am. She’s my fuckin’ sister and I was the one that set this shit up,” she barked.
“No, Charlie. Fingers and me got this shit.”
“I’m coming! I wanna make sure shit don’t get out of hand.”
“What the fuck I say, Charlie? No! You stayin’ here. Even ski-masked up, your sister can recognize you, and we can’t take that chance,” he said.
Charlie frowned. She knew he was right. Chanel knew her too well. Even behind a mask or disguise, she would be recognized.
“Fine. But only Mateo gets got, not Chanel,” she said.
God looked at her deadpan.
“I’m serious, God!” she exclaimed. “Do not touch her. I don’t want her hurt or injured at all. Kill Mateo, take what you need to take, and leave her alive,” she commanded.
“I won’t hurt her, Charlie,” he replied halfheartedly.
Charlie didn’t like his reply. She stepped closer to God while snatching one of the guns from off the bed. She placed the barrel of the Glock to God’s head and looked squarely in his eyes and sternly repeated, “Don’t pistol whip her, don’t stab her, slice, or fuckin’ shoot her anywhere. I’m serious, God!”
God smirked. He looked undaunted by the gun in his face. Nonchalantly, he replied, “You done?”
Charlie removed the pistol from his face and was immediately met with a backhanded smack that sent her crashing to the floor.
“Don’t you ever put a fuckin’ gun in my face like that again, bitch,” he threatened.
She glared up at him. She had a trickle of blood coming from her mouth.
“You got my word, Charlie. I ain’t gonna touch your fuckin’ sister,” he growled. “I’ma kill that fool and take it all, but Chanel won’t be harmed.” God continued to ready his weapons.
Charlie picked herself from off the floor. She had to believe him. She knew that they were all killers, and she wanted to be specific with him.
***
The plane tickets had been purchased and the venue in Hawaii had been secured. Mateo and Chanel were to be married at a lovely resort on the beach. It was going to be an intimate ceremony. Chanel’s family still had no idea that she was getting married in a few days.
The couple had sent the wedding dress and the tuxedo ahead of time to be delivered to the lavish hotel on the beach. Chanel and Mecca planned on arriving 72 hours early to have Chanel’s “last days as a free woman” shenanigans. This meant that Mateo would also have his free time as a single man in New York. Chanel didn’t want to spend one day without Mateo. She was jealous and she also feared that he would fuck someone during his final moments as a single man. And then there was the bachelor party Pyro had planned for him.
But Mecca, like always, was there to comfort her friend and give her some friendly advice, telling Chanel not to worry about anyone because he was putting a ring on her finger. To help bolster her point, Mecca used Jay-Z cheating on one of the hottest chicks in the game and how Beyoncé made lemonade out of it.
“Fuck those dumb bitches, Chanel. He only wants you. Your nigga is about to fly you to Hawaii to marry you on your birthday. Mateo is giving you the world—a car, money, a ring, and he’s marrying a virgin, girl.”
“What if I’m whack in bed, Mecca?”
Mecca locked eyes with Chanel for a moment before they both burst out in laughter.
***
It was four days before the wedding, and Mateo wasn’t supposed to spend the night with his fiancée. Chanel and Mecca would be leaving on a 6 a.m. flight to Hawaii, and the next time he would see her again would be on the afternoon of their wedding.
However, Mateo didn’t want to be away from her for so long. He wanted to hold her and kiss her lips, touch and caress her face, hold her hand, and just stare at her.
Chanel had looked incredibly beautiful when he’d left the apartment that morning, and he was rushing home to see her off. Originally, they’d wanted to miss each other—some cloak and dagger type of setup.
He’d called and told Chanel that he was coming to her tonight instead of staying at the hotel. He wanted one more moment with her. They talked dirty to each other for a moment. It was an exciting time. They couldn’t believe they would be husband and wife in a few short days. For Chanel, it felt surreal.
“I love you,” he proclaimed.
“I love you too,” she happily replied.
***
Charlie paced around the bedroom looking impatient. A few days had gone by, and she wanted to know when they were going to rob Chanel and her man. Charlie wanted to get back on top. She wanted the finer things in life by any means necessary, even if it meant taking from her little sister and putting her in harm’s way.
She kept listing off her demands to God.
“Make sure you take her engagement ring and her earrings. Oh, and I saw that bitch’s closet, and it’s stuffed with furs and a bunch of nice shit that she won’t wear. Make sure you get all her shit. Don’t leave her with a fuckin’ crumb. Take her shoes, clothes, everything!” she demanded.
“Yo, we ain’t about to walk out that bitch wit’ just trash bags of clothes for you. Any trash bags we got, that shit gonna be filled with cash and jewelry,” God exclaimed. “Shit, this ain’t a fuckin’ shopping spree for you. You can’t wear her shit anyway. We ain’t tryin’ to get caught.”
Charlie knew that she couldn’t wear any of her sister’s clothing. She didn’t want Chanel to have it, though, after they took from Mateo and killed him. She would rather toss all of Chanel’s belongings in the trash than to have her own little sister out-dress her.
“Then destroy that shit, God. You fuckin’ hear me? Fuckin’ throw bleach on all her shit—burn that shit or sumthin’,” Charlie uttered with absolute scorn pouring from her voice.
God looked at Charlie like she was this parasite all of a sudden. The contempt she had for Chanel was unreal. What did she ever do to her? She didn’t want him to harm one hair on her head, but she wanted him to take everything from her and destroy it. God had done a lot of grimy shit over the years and he would continue to do so, but this was Charlie’s little sister. She was a good girl who was naïve and nice and wanted to please everyone. God somewhat liked Chanel, even though she always gave him the cold shoulder and an odd look.
Why be extra cruel? he thought.
He didn’t care that his behavior
was abhorrent because she wasn’t blood. If he had a brother, he would never do such a thing to his blood.
However, Charlie felt that she was doing Chanel a big favor by setting them up a few days before her birthday. She felt that getting robbed and losing her man violently on her birthday would be extra cruel. Wouldn’t it?
She did have some kind of heart. She thought so, anyway.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was a balmy night with a full moon shimmering in the sky. Four more days and Mateo was going to be a hitched man. He was excited about the date. He was excited about becoming a one-woman man—an honest and married man. He was excited about having their honeymoon in Hawaii, and he was excited about their wedding night, when he would finally have Chanel sexually. He was willing to wait until they got married to experience something special, and Chanel was special. He didn’t want to treat her like some regular whore or bitch. Chanel deserved a ring on her finger.
Mateo remained upbeat as he drove home to spend one more night with Chanel before she and Mecca headed to Hawaii. It was a beautiful night, and he was living a beautiful life.
Mateo made it a habit to always check his side and rearview mirrors to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He was a cautious man, knowing he lived in a dangerous world with wicked people, and he always took extra precaution with his safety and his woman’s, along with the safeguard of his finances. He was satisfied that he wasn’t being followed. But God and Fingers didn’t need to follow him home because they already had his location.
Mateo had already made arrangements and bought a larger condo apartment in a more affluent area of the Bronx. He and Chanel would move in as soon as they came back as husband and wife. The building had tight-knit security with CCTV cameras and a doorman, and it was near a police station. He wanted his new bride to be safe at home. While they were off in Hawaii relaxing, sunbathing, swimming, and having sex, he would have a moving crew and an interior designer come to the new condo to put everything in order. He had it all planned down to the letter.
Mateo parked on the block and climbed out of the vehicle. He observed his surroundings and there appeared to be no abnormalities in the area. Everything looked copasetic. With a concealed .38, he made his way toward the building. He punched in his code to get into the main door and made his way toward the elevator. Alone and composed, he stepped inside the elevator and rode it silently to his designated floor.
“Four more days,” he said to himself.
He already had his luggage packed and the arrangements made. The only thing everyone had to do was get to Hawaii via plane.
Before Mateo could step off the elevator, he felt the presence of two shadowy figures charging his way, and before he could react and remove his .38, they accosted him inside the elevator. God brought the butt of the gun across Mateo’s face, spewing blood and right away dazing him. Fingers quickly threw duct tape over his mouth to keep him silent.
“You wanna die tonight, muthafucka?” Fingers said into his ear.
It was a bold move, attacking him in a public building. He had neighbors, but it was late, and the two goons knew what they were doing and when and where to confront him. Most of the scuffle took place inside the elevator, away from any neighbors’ eyes and attention.
“Chill the fuck out, muthafucka, or I’ll kill you right here!” God scolded him at gunpoint.
They disarmed him and told him to take them to the apartment and open the door. Mateo became defiant—no way. He refused to put Chanel in harm’s way.
If he could speak, he would have shouted, “Kill me right here, muthafuckas!” But with the duct tape over his mouth, his insults and voice were incoherent. He wanted to curse and rant, but he could only mumble angrily. His heart was pumping a mile a minute. So many thoughts darted around inside his head. How did they get inside his building? How did they know the code? And how did they know where he lived? He was going to die. He knew it.
God struck Mateo in the head with the butt of the gun again, leaving a gash across his forehead. “Don’t fuck wit’ us, nigga! We can make this go easy on you and your bitch,” God growled.
Mateo’s mind was on his innocent and beautiful Chanel. He refused to tell them the apartment. He feared what they would do to her. Mateo huffed and puffed and cringed for the worst. He said a prayer to himself and hoped they killed him quickly.
“You wanna be a tough guy, nigga?” Fingers said. “We already fuckin’ know the apartment. So let’s do this shit the hard way.”
Fingers snatched Mateo’s keys from him, and they hurriedly forced him down the hallway toward his apartment. Mateo wanted to struggle, but his mind and vision were still blurry from the attack. He could barely stand now.
Fingers used the key to open the door. They pushed Mateo inside the apartment with an unsuspecting Chanel. She was in the living room, lying on the couch watching TV, until the sudden disturbance. When she saw the masked gunmen and Mateo being violently pushed onto the floor, her eyes swelled wide with fear and she couldn’t move. She was frozen.
At once, both of them were subdued with duct tape around their mouths, wrists, and ankles, and thrown to the floor in the corner, their fate unknown. They looked at each other in fear. Mateo felt that they’d caught him slipping; now they both were going to pay the price. He didn’t care what they did to him, as long as they left Chanel alone and let her go.
God and Fingers started to rummage through the entire apartment looking for valuables. They took their time. They went room to room, finding money, jewelry, coats, and a kilo of high grade marijuana.
“Shit! This nigga is definitely a fuckin’ payday!” Fingers hollered.
They stripped Mateo of his Rolex, diamond earrings, and the cash out of his pockets—at least $1,500.
For nearly an hour, God and Fingers went through the apartment like they were in a shopping mall, stuffing everything that wasn’t nailed down into black garbage bags.
The couple could only speak through their eyes as they sat there helpless and vulnerable. Chanel’s tears were streaming from her eyes. She didn’t want to die. She was supposed to be happy and be getting married on her birthday.
The couple watched as one gunman whispered to another. Something else was brewing between them. Mateo knew it wasn’t anything good. He feared the worst. The two men towered over them with two garbage bags full of their things, and one of them had this perverted gleam in his eyes toward Chanel that made them both uncomfortable.
All of a sudden, one of the men grabbed Chanel and roughly pulled her off the floor and started to drag her away from Mateo. Mateo knew what time it was, and his worst nightmare was coming true. Chanel panicked and screamed under the duct tape, but her pleas for help were muffled. Mateo frantically squirmed against the floor with a look of anguish and horror written on his face as he desperately wanted to try and stop what was about to take place. He started to cry.
God forced Chanel into the master bedroom and pushed her against the bed, having her fall on her side. She was in full-blown fear. She wanted to fight and resist him, but her hands and feet were tied. The only thing she could see was his eyes behind the ski mask, and they were devious and malicious with a strong hunger for her.
Chanel, knowing what was coming, pleaded with her eyes for him not to do this—not to take away something that she was saving to give Mateo on their wedding day. But God didn’t care. He saw what he liked and he wanted to take it.
He turned her over and positioned her face-down on the bed. Chanel tried to resist, but he was strong and willing to take it from her by force. God cut away the duct tape from around her ankles and tore away her pajama bottoms, leaving her exposed. She tried to kick him fiercely, but a swift punch to the back of her head made her become docile and dazed.
He undid his jeans and slid the condom back onto his growing erection. He was hard, and he knew this was going to be fun. For a while
now, he had desired Chanel, knowing that she was a virgin. He’d never fucked a virgin before.
He pinned Chanel against the bed and forced her legs open from behind. He wanted to penetrate her from the back. She continued to fight to keep her virginity, but she could feel God heavily against her. His hand was firmly wrapped around the back of her neck, keeping her in place against the bed, and his sour breath was in her ear. He was going to rape her, no matter what. Chanel was helpless to stop it. Her hands were tied, the duct tape muted her cries, and her body was his to take.
Abruptly, God thrust himself inside of her—a strong jerk that pierced inside Chanel like a knife through her heart. She felt his big, hard dick fully inside of her, and it was a feeling she’d never felt before. It was excruciating to feel him moving in and out of her brusquely. She cried and cried, and the tears flooded her eyes to the point where they clouded her vision. She felt herself being ripped apart below and the blood oozing from the rough penetration. She felt everything like her body was super sensitive. If it wasn’t for the duct tape around her mouth, her cries and her anguish would have been banshee like—echoing through the room and probably shattering glass.
God could feel that he was taking her virginity. He took his sweet time in the pussy. When it got really good, he pulled out and quickly flipped her over onto her back and untied her wrists. He wanted to feel her perky tits against his chest. He wanted to see her face as he was fucking her. He wanted this rape to be more romantic in his sick and twisted mind. Falling between her legs, God thrust himself into her again, and pounded and pounded inside of her as he stared directly at Chanel’s anguish. He panted and huffed and fell closer to her petite frame and felt waves of exhilaration from taking her virginity with brute force. He could feel Chanel’s fingernails digging deep into his back from the pain he executed. It turned him on, and he fucked her deeper and deeper.
What lasted about ten minutes felt like a lifetime for Chanel. God huffed and puffed, and then came inside the condom, and inside of her, and quivered on top of her. He was finally done. He removed himself from her flesh and looked completely relieved. But Chanel was sobbing. She was torn apart and in pain. She couldn’t move from the bed. Between her legs felt like a bloody mess and she was sore. He didn’t care. God stood there looking absolutely aloof from the violent incident.
