Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 2

by J. M. Benjamin

  That night the two of them talked until the sun came up. That very same night Rich confirmed her thoughts, allowing her to make them become her own and for the next few weeks the two of them went over Rich’s plan until they ate, slept, and breathed it.

  Chapter 19

  “I’m tellin’ you Troy don’t count my Cowboys out this season. Jerry Jones is gonna build Dallas back up the way we were in the nineties. I mean, come on, you know football. Romo got Terrell Owens and Witten out there, not to mention Adam ‘Pacman’ Jones alongside with Terence Newman. And let’s not forget Tank Johnson to clog the middle and stop the run. Hell, come to think of it, we may be better or just as good as the Troy Aikman, Michael Irvin, Emmitt Smith days,” Gus continued. “You remember. When we spanked you guys,” Gus ended with a chuckle. This was a ritual for him and Troy. Today it was football, other days it was baseball or basketball. The two had been partners for nearly four years and were as different as night and day. Gus was a forty-eight-year-old six feet two, 230- pound half Irish, half Italian ex- marine who loved rock and roll, fast cars, fast bikes, and fast women, not to mention a love for draft beer and even more for Cuban cigars. Troy, on the other hand ,was a thirty-four-year-old African American nondrinking, nonsmoking grad of Hampton University. He was originally from Long Island, New York, but moved to Virginia his first year in college seventeen years prior. Standing five feet eight, weighing an even 210 pounds, rock solid, compliments of his dedication to the gym and past boxing training, light skin with light brown eyes to match and natural wavy hair, he would have appeared to be the ladies’ man–type, but he was actually a one-woman man. He had been dating the same female since his freshman year in college, had been engaged for the past six months, and just added a new addition to their lives a month ago. It was his dream to become a homicide detective or crime scene investigator, but somehow settled for an armed security position. When he and Gus met, despite being opposites, the two hit it off immediately due to their common interest in sports.

  “G, why do you continue to live in the past?” Troy returned with a chuckle of his own. “Everybody knows that the New York Giants pound for pound are the best team not only in the NFC but in the NFL.”

  “Bullshit,” Gus spit out through the phony cough in a humorous manner as he covered his mouth. “Back at you, if you think the Cowboys are,” Troy retorted.

  “I never said that, my friend, but we’re definitely one of them. The proof is in the pudding. Five rings, young man. How many do you guys have?” Gus questioned, already knowing the answer. “You give your New York Midgets too much credit, but it’s understandable, that’s how you Northerners are, cocky sums’abitches.”

  “That’s right, and we got three,” Troy said, proud to be from New York and a New York Giants fan.

  “My point exactly. And just know, we’re in a much better position to get our sixth ring before you bums get your fourth.”

  “Whatever,” was Troy’s response. He reached for the volume of the truck’s radio to increase the song’s sound.

  “Oh no you don’t, it’s my turn to pick the next song,” Gus announced, reaching to change the radio station.

  “Come on, Gus, this is my jam, after this one I promise I’ll listen to whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

  Music was another topic the two debated over throughout their four years as partners and friends. They had been on the road since 6:00 a.m., alternating their preference of music back and forth. It was now a approaching 7:00 a.m. and they were due to arrive at their destination by 8:00 a.m. and nothing would make Gus happier then to be in control of the radio for the remainder of their journey to and fro. “Troy, you know all this hippitee-be-bop gives me a headache, but I tolerate it,” Gus replied. To those who didn’t know him one would take Gus’s comments offensive, but Troy knew the older man meant know harm or disrespect.

  “I know, but just this last one, besides, your music could cause me my job putting me to sleep.” The two shared a laugh.

  “Just this last one for the entire day, right?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Fine.”

  “Thanks, friend.”

  Troy nodded his head and recited some of the verses to the hip-hop artist Jadakiss’s song playing on the radio as Gus made his way down Highway 264 west.

  “Man, check out that babe right there,” Gus whistled as the motorcycle breezed past the truck.

  “G, you know I only have eyes for my fiancée,” Troy shot back, noticing the bike was occupied by a woman, judging by the figure.

  “Not the babe on the bike, knucklehead, I’m talking about the bike, she’s a beaut,” Gus clarified, admiring the machine the female was riding.

  “I knew that, just messing with you,” Troy said, hoping Gus hadn’t caught his embarrassment for thinking the obvious. He knew how much Gus loved motorcycles.

  “She’s riding that son of a gun. That’s one of those R-ones right there. A lot of power in that sucker, kiddo. And see those chrome pipes, the best money can buy. She could come through an area and make that bike roar like the king of the jungle, doing about a hundred with ease right now.”

  “Is it faster then your Harley?” Troy asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to show interest in his partner’s love for bikes.

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  Troy smiled.

  Just then another bike blew past Gus and Troy on the right shoulder, passing both them and eventually the female.

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” Gus roared.

  “And that, my young friend, is what I’m talking about. That’s a Boss Hog right there, my kind of bike, music to my ears.” Gus gloated at the sight of the Harley-Davidson motorcycle that was no longer in eye distance.

  “Look at them go,” he continued to admire as the motorcycles both had now vanished up the interstate.

  Ten minutes had gone by before Gus noticed the back of the female motorcycle in view up ahead, but the Harley was nowhere to be found. He knew she had to have made a pit stop if he was able to catch up to the powerful bike.

  “There goes your baby again,” joked Troy, noticing the same. They were just a few miles away from their intended exit before Troy dozed off. As the miles closed in so did they on the motorcycle.

  “A nice morning like this and all of this open road. If I were her I’d be opening that bad boy up,” Gus commented to no one in particular on the fact the bike was just cruising.

  “Here we are,” he then said to himself since Troy was sound asleep, seeing the exit ahead now only a thousand feet or so away from the bike that was to the left of them. The right-turn signal of the motorcycle lit up and Gus instantly caught it. Being a fellow rider himself, he slowed for the bike to cross over, seeing they were getting off on the same exit, but apparently the female rider hadn’t noticed. She continued to ride in the left lane as they approached the exit. After the failed attempt Gus accelerated as he began to get off the exit. The bike made an attempt to exit also after nearly missing the turn simultaneously to Gus exiting.

  “Holy shit!” Gus shouted as the unexpected happened.

  Teflon could not have timed and executed her next move any more perfectly then she had. She and Rich had gone over this countless times. She could see the driver of the truck courteously signaling for her to exit before them. She intentionally disregarded his gesture. Seeing that he had given up, Teflon watched as he sped up to get out of her way so she too could exit. She too sped up, hooking a sharp right, just inches from missing the turn. Had she not gunned it as much as she had the truck would have knocked her into the right divider, but Gus was an excellent driver and was able to come to a screeching halt. The first thing he saw when he stopped was Teflon losing control of the motorcycle and going down on the exit ramp.

  “What in the hell?” Troy questioned, waking out of his slight stupor compliments of Gus’s choice of music.

  “The crazy broad on the bike almost missed the exit
and tried to make it,” shouted Gus, already unfastening his seat belt.

  “No, I’ll go and check on her, you call it in,” Troy suggested, unhooking his seat belt, as well as reaching for his issued weapon out of the glove compartment.

  “Just stay here, I got it,” Gus insisted, hand already on the handle of the driver’s door.

  “Okay, you want me to call it in?”

  “Hold off, we may need to call an ambulance first if she’s hurt, or she may just have the wind knocked out of her. Believe me, I know,” he said as he hopped out of the truck. Against his better judgment Troy rolled with his partner. Gus made a beeline over to where the fallen female lay. It dawned on him that he had left his weapon back in the truck. His first thought was to double back and retrieve it, but shook off the notion as he was just feet away from the female and bike. Troy watched attentively as his partner made his way to the motorcycle.

  Teflon could hear the heels of the truck driver’s click-clacking on the pavement as he approached her.

  “Ma’am?” His voice let her know he was close by.

  “Ma’am can you hear me?” Gus kneeled down.

  “Ma’am can you—” Gus attempted to repeat only to have his next words cut short.

  The three shots in succession from the silencer weapon pierced his flesh and lodged into his lower abdomen just under his bulletproof vest. Gus never had time to think or had a chance to regret stepping out of the armored truck to aid the female without his weapon as a fourth shot followed, ripping into his skull as death greeted him. Troy sat impatiently, glancing at his watch, wondering what was taking his partner so long. They were indeed behind schedule and that was unlike his partner. Something wasn’t right, thought Troy. He could feel it. Unable to wait any longer, Troy honked the horn. Already they were in violation according to policy by stopping. On top of that they hadn’t called the stop in. Noticing that Gus continued to kneel hovered over the female rider and not responsive to the sound of the horn, Troy opened the passenger door and stood out onto the running board. He was so focused on Gus that he had no way of knowing what awaited him outside the armored truck door. Had he just taken a second to scan and secure the area the outcome of what was about to transpire may have been different.

  “Gus,” he called out. “Gus—aagh!”

  Like Teflon, Rich carried out his part of the plan to a T. It couldn’t have gone any better then he had envisioned it in his mind a thousand times so far. He had done his homework on the white security guard enough to know that Teflon’s seeming accident would cause his plan to unfold the way it was now. What little he had found out about the younger of the duo was enough to convince Rich that he was the least of a factor. Even now, seeing his carelessness by opening the armored truck’s door was only confirmation in Rich’s eyes that the caper would go as smooth as he intended. Teflon’s diversion had done the trick, thought Rich, as he crept up from the side and scaled the armored truck. Just as the door opened Rich partially saw the black security guard’s body exposed and immediately sprang into action. The penetration and heat of the first shot of one of Rich’s infamous .38 revolvers caused Troy to scream out in agony as it shattered his hip bone, causing him to lose balance in the doorway of the armored truck. As Troy fell onto the highway’s pavement, Rich hovered over him. At the sound of Rich’s weapon, Teflon released her hold of the white security guard, who she had been firmly holding onto to prevent him from falling back and alarming his partner of danger. She was grateful for all the working-out she had done while in prison, for had it not been for the physical strength she had built while incarcerated she didn’t think she would have been able to hold him as long as she had. She then slid herself from under her bike, raised up, lifted her motorcycle onto its kickstand, and stepped over the lifeless body. As an extra precaution and confirmation, Teflon dumped two more slugs into the slain security guard’s melon before locating and retrieving the keys to the armored truck, then made her way over to the vehicle. She checked her watch, which was synchronized with Rich’s and running on stopwatch time. They were right on schedule according to the time that had elapsed since her staged fall.

  Troy lay there helplessly wondering what had just happened. Furthermore, where was his partner? All types of thoughts were racing through Troy’s mind as tears poured out of his eyes, soiling his face. Each time he tried to open his eyes he was met with a blur. All he could see was his life flashing before his very own eyes and thought to himself this was not the way he wanted to die. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of voices. “We need to get a move on things,” Teflon stated. Despite for the most part being calm she couldn’t help but to be somewhat antsy. Not out of fear, but out of familiarity. Since Rich had laid down what they had to do and what was expected of her, it had Teflon revisiting the last time she had to ride for a man she had loved and would lay her life on the line for in such capacity. Never in a million years would she have thought she would find herself in a similar type of predicament that had cost her her freedom and the one man she ever truly loved. The ride or die chick in her convinced Teflon that this time was different, gonna be different, for a different cause.

  “Absolutely,” Rich agreed. “Soon as I finish this,” he added, pointing his guns at the security guard’s body. Hearing those words sent an indescribable feeling throughout Troy’s entire body. It was evident to him now that the female rider was a part of the setup, just as it was apparent that his partner was dead. As if on cue his eyes popped opened and his vision became clear as his survival instincts kicked in. The first thing he saw was Rich towering over him with two revolvers in hand pointed at him. “Please man, don’t kill me!” screamed Troy, raising his hands up as if they would be able to prevent shots they might be intended for his face. “Please, I’m begging you,” he continued. “I have a family. A wife and little boy,” he offered for sympathy. His words were disregarded, though.

  “You should’ve thought about that before you chose this profession, youngin,’” was Rich’s response as he raised his two revolvers and emptied them into the upper and lower parts of the security guard. Slugs riddled Troy’s body.

  Not wasting any more time, Rich checked his watch and made his way to the back of the armored truck.

  By the time he reached the back Teflon had already transferred a great deal of cash from two of the money bags into her duffel bag and was working on a third one.

  “Only take as much as you can handle,” suggested Rich.

  Teflon paused and looked back at him. For a minute she thought she was looking at Treacherous, the resemblance now more stronger then ever and there was no doubt in her mind that his words would have and could have come out of his son’s own mouth had he been the one she was doing the job with.

  “Relax. You keep forgetting, ol’ man, that you’re not the only one who worked out in the joint. Take your own advice and try not to hurt your back,” she told Rich as she continued to stuff her bag with monies. Now was not the time for back-and-forth, Rich knew. He shook his head, chuckled, and made a mental note to finish at a later date when this was all over with. After all, this was what their relationship had been built on. Rich dove right in, pulling his duffel bag out and began following suit. Teflon glanced at her watch once again. “We gotta go,” she informed Rich. “The clock is ticking.”

  Rich looked at his own watch. In total, sixteen minutes and twenty-two seconds had gone by. They were still eight minutes and thirty-eight seconds ahead of schedule. Although he was fully prepared, Rich was grateful no other vehicles had attempted to exit the ramp. He didn’t want any more casualties then there had to be, but no one was exempt, he reasoned, if they walked into the line of fire.

  “Okay, you go ahead, I’ll meet you,” he told her.

  “See you there.” Teflon slid the duffel bag full of money to the edge of the armored, truck then hopped out and turned facing backwards. Once she had the bags strapped over her shoulders she made her way to her R1. Rich hurried to fill his duff
el bag, zipped it up, then did as Teflon had with hers. So far, so good, he thought, commending himself for putting together and executing such a foolproof plan. As he walked from around the armored truck intending to head for his Harley, he saw Teflon straddling her bike. Satisfied that she was safe, Rich began to head for his own bike but something stopped him in his tracks. Something he never anticipated.

  As Teflon started her motorcycle she thought she’d heard something other then the bike’s engine and swung around to see what the sudden noise had been. Reflexively, upon turning around her question was answered as she locked in on the unthinkable. “Rich!” she cried as she snatched off her helmet, slithered her arms out of the duffel bag’s straps in lightning speed and drew her weapon.

  Rich never saw the bullet coming that had ripped through the left side of his neck and traveled downward, finding a resting place right above his heart. The impact of the shot slightly spun him around and planted him up against the armored truck. More surprised then anything, his eyes were opened wide enough to see the second shot spiraling in midair toward his direction. He neither had the time or the strength to reach for his AR-15, which was strapped across his chest. His mind and body fought for supremacy as one alerted him of the danger approaching, advising him to stand clear while the other resisted, keeping him at a standstill. As the second shot plunged into his upper torso, Rich could hear Teflon’s cries in the distance. He knew it was just a matter of time before she made her way over to him. He was actually more concerned with her well-being then he was with his own at that moment. The last thing he wanted to see was their plans go in vain. He couldn’t believe he had been caught slipping the way he had been. There was no doubt in his mind that his final fate would be handed down to him on the exit of the interstate. He had told himself when he was released from prison that returning was not an option. Rich never thought this would be the way he breathed his last breath on earth, but this was the life he had chosen for himself, he knew, and he was content with what came behind it. He and his shooter made eye contact just before the third bullet was released. The shooter’s face was bloodied and unrecognizable from the previous shots he had endured. Rich couldn’t help but respect the man’s will to live and serve out his duty, but didn’t regret what he had done to him. The only regret Rich had was that he hadn’t finished the security guard off. Rich could hear the sounds of other shots in the distance and knew the only place they could be coming from.