Not Forgiven: A Thriller and Suspense Novel: Ungoverned Series

by Shawn Raiford

  The thug yelled out when he landed because he used the bad wrist to break his fall.

  He grabbed the spot my steel-toe kicked on his ankle. I didn't think I broke it, but the ankle might be tender.

  Sucked in more delicious air, then I stood up shakily.

  The linebacker lay on the floor, peered up at me. "Who the fuck are you?"

  My head hurt now. "Rose."

  He stood on both feet; the ankle supported his weight. "Why are you here?"

  "I need information."

  His attention turned to his homie, with the zip tie around his neck, squirming on the floor. "We don't know nothing and the only thing that will happen is I will take you into the bedroom and rape you. Then, I might kill you and then rape you again."

  In all likelihood, the linebacker did not mean that he was into necrophilia. So gross. He talked big to scare me. "Please, you're just a puppy, your nuts haven't dropped yet. Who put the hit out on my friend, Sarah? You tell me that and I might let you live, cool?"

  He shook his head and charged me. Not at 100 percent, but I would bring the pain.

  I let him swing and miss. The trick was not to look at their eyes, but to watch for movement in the hips and shoulders. Any boxer or MMA fighter would say the same.

  "I'm giving you a chance at living. All you have to do is give me a little information."

  The guy with the zip tie around his neck squirmed on the floor. Not sure why he didn't walk into the kitchen to search for a knife.

  "None of us will tell you shit." The linebacker, moving towards me, punched again, and missed.

  "You missed. Are you drunk?"

  "Fuck you!" he shouted, holding his wounded wrist.

  Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my knife.

  He swung again and on the other side of the swing his ribs were exposed. Quickly, I stabbed them with the blade of my knife, twice.

  He bowed bringing his arm down to cover up the new wound. Blood leaked out.

  Not wanting to give him a chance to think, I brought a spiked boot up into his crotch. His eyes bugged as he exhaled. The thug fell, landing on his face. Not dead, he was just in a lot of pain.

  On my part, there was no remorse for this asshole. I gave him a chance. Straddling him, I plunged my knife's blade into the base of his skull.

  I stood, leaving the knife in. HIs body fidgeted like he had epilepsy. After several seconds he stopped. Then, I pulled the knife out.

  The other guy with the zip tie around his neck, who hadn't passed out yet, miraculously stood tall. He grabbed at the zip tie, knocking into the coffee table, guns and ammo falling to the floor.

  He tripped over the LazyBoy and fell to the floor, gasping.

  Not going anywhere, so I didn't bother with zip-tie guy. Before he gained consciousness, I moved over to the guy who I knocked out with the brass knuckles and tied his wrists and ankles.

  Walking back over to the one choking, I peered into his eyes.

  He reached up, his eyes begging me to help him.

  I nodded. "Come on, I'll help up into the chair."

  He got up wobbly, still grasping at the zip tie. He sat in the lazy boy.

  "Alright, sit here, don't waste your air. I'll find a knife from the kitchen." I didn't move though.

  His eyes demanded: Why aren't you getting a knife? Managing to fit a few fingers under the zip tie, he sucked in air.

  I pulled out the butterfly knife from a pocket on my pants. I stood. To the side, my hand danced in the air as if I was conducting an orchestra.

  His eyes bulged when I jabbed the knife in his neck. Blood squirted out, splashing my jacket sleeve. His left hand gripped my wrist, attempting to stop me, but he was too weak.

  The sharp blade cut through his windpipe, blood pouring out of his neck like water in a flooded bathtub.

  His hand let go. Then his neck yawned open as his head fell backward.

  Four men.

  All down.

  Two dead.

  Two subdued.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Triple That Amount

  When Terri got pregnant, he screwed up any hope of getting rich.

  His parents were happy about becoming grandparents, but his father was disappointed, wanted more for his son.

  Terri's dad had pressured Felix, so they got married. He and Terri didn't love each other, not sure if love ever existed for them. Just a couple of horny high school seniors who got drunk in Felix's bedroom. One thing led to another, and he decided not to put on the condom and she decided to allow it.

  Worst decision of their young lives.

  They weren't even dating at the time, flirting with each other since they were sophomores. Felix played soccer and baseball a popular athlete, and Terri was a cheerleader, very popular.

  They graduated from high school and two months later she gave birth to Jeanette. Felix joined the Army shortly after that.

  Jeanette, now eighteen, was a senior about to graduate high school. Felix could not believe how beautiful his daughter turned out to be. She favored Terri, but got his natural caramel skin tone.

  His wanted his son to have a better life, but Felix wouldn't be around as his son got older. He just hoped Nate wouldn't get a girl pregnant at an early age.

  He pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex and hoped that Amber was horny.

  His burner chirped.

  Shaking his head, answer it or throw the thing away and leave town? Tony's name appeared on the phone's screen. "Hey Tony!"

  "Hello Felix." Not Tony's voice.

  Gripping the burner tighter, his entire body was tingly like he was about to fight someone. "Who's this?"

  "Well, Felix, I am Happy, your new best enemy!"

  Wonderful. He now had one of the worst psychopaths angry at him. He told Tony to leave, not to stick around. His heart began beating faster. "What are you talking about?"

  "Did you receive the pictures I sent, Felix?"

  Sweat formed on his forehead. Pictures? He swallowed. His hand trembled a little.

  Felix was a man not easily agitated. In fact, to do what he did for a living he had to be a hard man. He knew all about Juan "Happy" Morales, and knowing that he knew his name and called him his enemy, distressed him greatly.

  Felix had seen the evil and despicable things Happy Morales had done in the name of protecting his gang and business.

  HPD had attributed twenty-four deaths to him personally, but couldn't prove anything. The real number of people Happy killed was closer to triple that amount.

  Hiring Triple H to do this job might be the biggest mistake of Felix's life.

  The fear of being ass raped in prison clouded his thinking.

  "No, I didn't receive any pictures."

  "Oh, let me send you some."

  Eighteen-seconds later Felix got a series of pictures. All the pictures showed Tony. Shirtless, hanging by his arms, he appeared dead. His face and parts of his body were covered in blood. Cuts over his torso, the skin covering his knees was missing, and big safety pins hung from his nipples.

  The pictures made various parts of his body hurt.

  "Yes, I see them now. Is he dead?"

  "No."

  "What do you want?"

  He heard a muffled scream in the background.

  Happy chuckled. "Tony told me something very interesting, my friend Mr. Felix."

  He hesitated, wanting to hang up. "What's that?"

  Another scream in the background. "Felix, help me!"

  It was Tony. He would be dead soon.

  Happy responded by snorting.

  Felix heard laughter in the background then another scream. "You hear that? He wants you to help him."

  "Please, just let him go. He was doing a job for me!"

  "You know what this piece of shit told me, Felix?"

  This should be good. "What did Tony tell you?"

  "He told me that you and he are cops. You and him work in Vice. Is that true? You two are HPD pigs?"
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  Felix decided to admit the truth. "Yeah, we work in Vice."

  "You're cops?"

  "Yes, we are. Please just let Tony go. He ..."

  "I will let him go if you take his place. Why did you set up my men? Three are dead!"

  Tony, he knew, would be dead soon. Felix told him to get out of there. He had to think about himself, now. "That is not going to happen."

  "Then you understand what is going to happen to him?" Happy asked. "You understand what will happen to you, right mi amigo?"

  Felix ended the phone call, hoping Amber was horny.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Family Guy Was On

  First, I needed to secure the house.

  I doubted there were any other thugs coming. They would've heard us scuffling and come to the rescue, but I still wanted to check.

  It took a couple of minutes to put eyeballs on every room of the house. No one else was here.

  Closing all the curtains, I peeped out the window and had a direct line of sight to the street and the driveway. No one yet.

  Walked to the kitchen and washed the blood off the blade and my sleeve. Then I walked back into the living room, turning off the Playstation.

  Then, my stomach growled. My hands trembled. Time was of the essence, but I needed to eat.

  Before I could eat, I needed to get them ready. I found a box of trash bags under the sink in the kitchen, grabbing one bag and leaving it on the coffee table.

  After I dragged Spider into the house by his ankles, his face scraped the floor and I put him on the couch next to two guys. I cut off their clothes and put the rags in the trash bag along with their shoes. These rags, one hat, and shoes, or what cops called evidence, weren't important to me, however could be used later in setting up someone.

  My head hurt.

  I headed to the kitchen again, checking the fridge. The contents were: a half-full, two-liter Pepsi bottle, package of corn tortillas, mustard and mayo, jar of peppers, and lunch meat. A full loaf of bread lay on top of the fridge. I was starving, so I got a plate from the cabinet. Got the lunchmeat, bread, and mustard out. I made a sandwich.

  Plucking the Pepsi from the fridge, I sat down, facing the living room, at the kitchen table.

  Unscrewing the top, I took a swig. The Pepsi tasted good, burning as it inched down my throat. Then I took a bite of my sandwich. It too tasted good.

  All while watching TV.

  Family Guy was on.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Box Opened Slowly

  Rogelio woke when his cat jumped on his bed, bumping into his face.

  The cat's name was Gato. The feline came around last year and he fed it once, and it stayed. Rogelio considered Gato to be mice repellant.

  "Hey, Gato."

  Gato purred.

  "You must be hungry."

  Rogelio checked his watch and noted that he slept for a couple of hours. Good enough.

  His head hurt.

  He got up and went into the kitchen, grabbed a big glass from the dishwasher and fill it with water from the faucet.

  Then, he grabbed the coffee from the fridge. Spooned in the right amount of grounds, a little extra to make the brew stouter. Filled the water up to match the amount of coffee grounds. Then Rogelio pushed the ON button.

  Gato meowed at him.

  "You hungry, huh?" He opened up the cupboard and found a can of cat food, or what most people called tuna fish. Rogelio ate fish, never tuna, sparingly. His favorite, Salmon or Halibut because it was always fresh. His chef, Brian, was a culinary genius at preparing fish.

  More of a beef-and-pork man.

  He opened the can and placed the cat food down on the floor. "There you go, buddy."

  Gato tore into the food.

  He stared out the window above the sink. It was a pretty day.

  His head hurt, but the coffee would help.

  Opening up the fridge, he searched for the creamer. He didn't see it at first, but then found the creamer hiding behind a container of arroz.

  He got a coffee cup from the sink, rinsed it out. Poured a cup, added a little sugar.

  He went outside to a small patio. His bathrobe kept him warm. The sky was beautiful, blue with no clouds. He liked this time of the year. The cold felt good on his skin.

  Finished up his coffee, Rogelio walked back into the kitchen and filled his cup again. His head began to feel better.

  He noted that Gato disappeared, and the tuna fish can had been emptied. He picked the can up and threw it in the trash.

  With his coffee in hand, he returned to the living room. Gato lay on the couch, its tail curling up and then dropping. The cat had the easy life. Grabbing the TV remote, Rogelio thought about watching TV, but his mind wandered.

  He wanted to see it.

  Rogelio ambled down the hall, entering his study. He liked this study more so than the one at the main house. It was quieter here.

  The main house was where his wife and he lived. This house was off book. No one knew about this place except Felix and Tony.

  They ran the side business from here. That business made him extra money that allowed a few extracurricular activities.

  He turned on the lamp. His cup still half full, he sat silently, finishing his beverage.

  They called to him. Being in their proximity, made his heart rate steadily increase. To experience her, again would be wondrous.

  He opened the top drawer, and stopped breathing as he pulled the box out, and placing it on the desk. The box opened slowly. They were there, and Rogelio ran a finger over the plastic edges.

  Touching the drivers licenses excited him. So many faces came to mind, dozens of them. He spent many hours studying them, consuming the details over and over helped him to relive his kills.

  The urge to look at them was overwhelming, but he couldn't right now. He would have to wait until after meeting with Felix.

  After closing it, he placed the box back in the drawer. Then Rogelio went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  And Ripped It Off

  In the darkness he heard screaming.

  Who's screaming, yo? Shut up.

  Then he started to feel something. Pain in his head.

  He woke.

  Spider's head hurt bad, worse than any hangover. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Swallowed and blinked his eyes open.

  Spider sat on the couch, recognizing the video game on the TV. He took a breath. His head was killing him.

  His arms bound behind him, made both his arms and shoulders hurt. Glancing down, he saw his ankles were tied. That did not concern him at the moment. His nakedness did.

  Spider leaned back a little and tried to pull his legs up but the pull on his wrists was strong. His wrists were tied to the rope that was looped around the couch to his ankles.

  He glanced to his right. Santi was tied up also, sitting on the couch a foot away, tied up the same way.

  Face down, and not moving, Marcos was sprawled out on the floor off to the side. His left wrist bent the wrong way. The blood on the back of his neck and under his head told Spider that his homie was dead.

  Santi began crying. He was young, seventeen, but very tough like a man twice his age. Spider had never seen him cry like this. "Yo, what's up?"

  "She cut my fingers off!"

  Then a woman walked around from behind the couch. It was that bitch from the backyard. "You?" It was the gringa.

  She waved. "Yes, me."

  Spider became enraged. "Yo, you know who we are?"

  My eyebrows shot up. "Uneducated street trash who deny being homosexual?"

  Spider didn't like that, yet grinned at her. "We are going to hurt you bad."

  Reaching to the side of his head, she pinched the bottom of his ear, then tugging upward. Although the pain was intolerable, he would not scream. It would be a sign of weakness.

  He spotted his detached ear in her hand. "You cut my ear off?"

&nbs
p; The bitch chuckled and held it up to her mouth. "Yes, I cut your ear off."

  "You bitch, I'll kill you!"

  She tossed it on the floor next to his feet.

  "What do you want?"

  "I wanted to show you some of my work," she said. "He came out of nowhere and we danced, but then I killed him. Knife to the spot where the spine connects to base of the skull. Dead before his body hit the floor. He didn't feel anything."

  Spider glared at his dead friend, trying to bring his arms around, but whatever held his wrists together would not give.

  "I can't say the same for you two champions."

  Santi sniffed loudly. "What are you going to do to us?"

  Ignoring the question, she walked over to the chair. Spider's brow furrowed, because he did not notice the man sitting in the chair.

  Someone, wearing a pumpkin, sat in the chair.

  It was Javi; Spider recognized the shoes.

  Something sat in his lap, covered with a towel from the bathroom.

  "What do you think?"

  Spider didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

  Then she removed the pumpkin.

  He and Santi squirmed on the couch. "What the hell, bitch?" Javi's head was missing.

  "Oh, yeah, I forgot. Here it is." She revealed Javi's severed head under the towel.

  Although escape was not possible, they struggled.

  Santi yelled, "Oh my God! She cut Javi's head off!"

  "Why are you doing this? We didn't do anything to you!" Spider asked, hoping that playing dumb might help him.

  She grimaced. "You and your buddies killed my friend and her two-year-old son. And your buddies killed other people and other kids at the scene. So you all have to go, nothing left of any of you."

  Triple H members were not punks, and this bitch was in here doing this to him and his homies. His blood began to boil. "We are going to chop off your hands. Then we are going to slice off your tits, then your toes..."

  The bitch punched him in the stomach. It hurt and took him a few seconds to take a breath. An acid taste sat at the back of his throat for a moment before he vomited.

  He had a burger and fries a few minutes before she showed up in the backyard. Now, he stared at pieces of chewed onion, bits of meat, and Dr. Pepper in the vomit in front of him.