Trust No Bitch 3: Deadly Alliance

by Ca$H

  “Nah, Slim, Big Zo is one hunnid. He would never flip on a nigga,” his partner disputed.

  “Mark my muthafuckin' words, a caged bird will only fly from side to side so many times before he starts trying to figure out how to open the lock,” Jason said, taking a seat on his bunk.

  Unlike the others he was not willing to give a Big Zo the benefit of the doubt. He could smell a rat when it was in his presence.

  Chapter 29

  Phantom Of The Night

  Isaiah knew that the nigga he was hunting would underestimate him and eventually come out of hiding. He had searched everywhere leaving bodies in his wake. He was like a phantom; he would pop up and if a nigga didn't have the right answer he would push his shit back and fade into the darkness again.

  When Isaiah wasn't hunting Chino, he was following one of the girls. Always moving in the shadows with a steady supply of coke in his pocket and weapons within his reach.

  The other day he'd gotten lucky, a machete to the throat of the best friend of one of Chino's women had induced the proper answers. Isaiah had left the bitch mutilated anyway but at least she had served a purpose before leaving this earth, he reasoned as he stood in the darkness taking a bump of powder ever so often and watching the house across the street.

  The temperatures had risen up in the high fifties as winter in the Midwest began to slowly release its grip on the climate. But Isaiah was still dressed like an Eskimo and he was sweating as if it was the middle of summer.

  His eyes lit up and his blood filled with adrenaline when he saw the front door of the house across the street open and the suave figure step out into the night. He crouched down further in the darkness and retrieved his machete off of the ground.

  Chino held his gun down by his side as he squinted his eyes and surveyed the block. It was a little after 3AM and his jump off's street was quiet but he remained on point. Kiam was in jail but JuJu wasn't and as quiet as it was kept Chino respected that young nigga's murder game.

  Chino's head was on a swivel as he moved to his truck and hit the remote to unlock his doors. Once he slid behind the wheel he placed his banger under his seat and started his ignition.

  As soon as he pulled off he realized that something was wrong. “Fuck!” he spat, banging his hand on the steering wheel.

  Chino pulled over to the curb, threw the truck in park and hopped out. One look and he saw that his shit had a gangsta lean. He walked around to the other side and noticed that both tires on that side were flat. He bent down and checked the front tire and came up cussing as he tried to figure out which bitch of his had slashed his muthafuckin’ tires.

  As he stood up he heard someone running up behind him. On instinct his hand shot to his waist but it came out empty. He spun around and saw the ghost of a muthafucka that he had killed.

  Isaiah eyes bulged out of his head and foam ran out of the corners of his mouth as he raised the machete over his head and brought it down across Chino's shoulder. It landed with a sickening crunch and Chino cried out like a banshee. He staggered back against the side of the truck and threw up his other arm to try to ward off the second blow.

  “You can run but you can't hide, pretty muthafucka,” Isaiah gritted as he chopped Chino's arm off at the elbow with one powerful hack.

  Chino cried out like a bitch, but his attacker was a bitch hater.

  Blood poured from Chino's stub and he tried to run. Isaiah reached out and snatched him back by his ponytail slamming his head into the window of the truck. Whimpering, Chino looked into the eyes of a madman and screamed.

  Isaiah raised the machete high in the air and brought it down with lightning speed. When it landed blood splashed all over the windows and the side of the truck. Chino's head dangled from side to side— held on to his neck by a flap of skin as his body slid down to the ground and landed against the truck in a seated position.

  Porch lights came on and eyes peered through parted curtains but the darkness covered the grisly scene that was unfolding. Isaiah swung the machete once more and completely severed Chino's head from his body.

  Laughing maniacally, Isaiah picked up the severed head and dashed through a yard to his car that was parked on the next street over. Inside his vehicle he placed Chino's head on the passenger seat and drove it home to add to his collection.

  Chapter 30

  Deep Regrets

  Bayonna walked around her mother’s hospital bed straightening up. Her visits were few and far in between but when she came she made sure to clean her mother’s room from top to bottom and replace all of her gowns with new ones. Watching her mother slowly die always took a piece of her soul every time she came. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she would get that phone call.

  “Mommy, you want something to drink?” Bayonna poured her mother a glass of water.

  Her mom nodded and Bayonna moved to her bedside and held the cup to her lips. She held Bayonna’s wrist as she struggled to drink.

  “I love you so much,” she spoke through the tracheal tube in her throat.

  “I love you too, Mommy.” Bayonna smiled at her.

  “I need you to promise me something,” her mother struggled to say.

  “Anything,” she agreed.

  Her mother tried to swallow then continued. “You have to finish school and become somebody. Life is too short to waste it,” she said, looking up into her daughter's eyes and cherishing the moment because she knew that at any time it could be her last.

  “I won’t let you down,” Bayonna said to give her comfort.

  She stood for a minute staring into her mother’s eyes then she turned to sit the cup down on the table and took a seat. She always felt so guilty that she had to lie to her, leading her to believe that she was attending Cleveland State University as a part-time student and holding down a full time job.

  Her mom had did everything in her power to raise her right and not allow her to get caught up in the streets. It would've killed her instantly to know that her only child had grown up to be a ruthless killer.

  Bayonna sat and watched a few shows with her and helped her eat then wiped her down and changed her clothes. She then combed and braided her hair.

  “You know, Bay, I would give anything in the world to have your father hold me one last time,” her mother confessed as tears came to her eyes.

  “Me too, Mommy.” Bayonna's eyes teared up too.

  “I miss him so much.” She reminisced. She had given up family and everything for him and though he hadn't been perfect their love had been unbreakable.

  “I miss him also,” Bayonna said with a pained heart. Growing up her father had always been on the road, coming and going in and out of town regularly. But one thing Bayonna could say was that he never missed a birthday or any other important event in her life.

  When she heard his car pull up in the yard, Bayonna would go flying out the door to run and jump into his arms. He would scoop her up and twirl her around and around. Then he would cover her plump cheeks with kisses sweeter than candy and begin unloading the car of boxes and bags full of gifts.

  Bayonna recalled that her mom would be standing in the doorway filled with love for the both of them. And her father would look back at her mother with that same love in his eyes.

  As she grew older her father's love for her and her mom never changed. She didn't know what he did when he was on the road but she knew that when he came home her mom and her were the apples of his eye.

  Losing him was the worst thing that had ever happened to her mother and probably the one thing that caused her to deteriorate quicker. Lupus was something many could live a long life with but for her mom, her dad was her life and strength, and without him she was just buying time.

  Bayonna wiped a tear and leaned in and kissed and hugged her mom tightly. She held her as if it was her last time because she felt like after she left this time either one of them could go.

  She sat back in her seat and held her mother’s hand as she drifted off t
o sleep. Feeling a flood of emotions Bayonna stood up and walked outside to call JuJu. The weather was in the seventies in Palm Springs, Florida where Bayonna was so she enjoyed the warm breeze that blew through her hair.

  “Hey, bae,” she said in a dour tone as soon as JuJu answered.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “Not very good. I don't think she'll be with me much longer.” Bayonna leaned against the bricks of the building and broke down crying.

  “Shorty, I'm on the plane in the morning,” said JuJu.

  “No, it's okay. You have a lot of important things going on.” She sniffled.

  “Bay, right now you're what's most important. I'll be on the early bird flight. Pick me up at the airport. I'm about to call and book it now. I'll call you right back.”

  “Okay,” she said, feeling comforted by his love and concern. “JuJu, I love you.”

  “I love you too. I'll hit you right back.”

  When he hung up the phone Bayonna wept harder than she had ever cried before in her life.

  Chapter 31

  No Turning Back

  Bayonna had been out of town for more than a week and her girls could not afford to put things off any longer. It was time to make a move before the opportunity was missed.

  Treebie and Lissha moved around the basement of Treebie’s condo preparing for the mission at hand. Lissha walked over to the radio and pumped up Waka Flocka's Luv Dem Gun Sounds.

  RING ALARM! dem boys in town

  LIKE JOC, lay dat pussy nigga down

  I don't talk, I don't laugh, I just frown

  From da eagle to da choppa, luv dat gun sound,

  luh dat gun sound, luh dat, luh dat gun sound

  Lissha threw back a few drinks then began loading her weapon. The bass from the speakers moved through her body intensifying the liquor and weed that took over her system. Treebie bounced her head as she rolled another blunt then put on her Kevlar vest. When her part came she sang loud.

  “Murderman Flocka what the fuck are these niggas thinking, Point blank range, do this shit without blinking.”

  Lissha smiled at Treebie as she too suited up. She was ready to lay some niggas on their ass.

  Once they were in full gear they moved to the center of the room then poured one last drink. Tonight they wanted to be numb. They wanted to only feel the oneness with their triggers; everything else was dying with only one person left to tell the story.

  “Blood Money,” Treebie said with her nostrils flared and her eyes squinted.

  “You already know.” Lissha touched her glass. They downed their drinks, pulled up their mask then rolled out.

  Lissha drove in silence thinking about all that was on the line. Big Zo was on her ass, Kiam was locked up, the team was falling down around them and shit was back to just her and Treebie.

  Even though Lissha was down like four flat tires she felt exhausted. She had started making runs for Big Zo at the age of fourteen. At nineteen she had delivered her first soul to hell. She had lived through three different wars in the city and held Big Zo down through all of them. After he got sent away, she had helped Gator rebuild what little was left of Big Zo's empire. And when Gator began to live high off of the hog and neglect business, she had helped facilitate Kiam taking over the throne.

  But on the real, Lissha said to herself, the shit had become old and the game had changed. There was no such thing as loyalty or any adherence to the code of death before dishonor as Big Zo had preached to her so often she could still hear his voice ringing in her ears. His bitch ass had proven that the only person a muthafucka was loyal to was self.

  Lissha hated herself for allowing him to manipulate her into his devious plot. She had been such a fool. Before any of this happened with Kiam, she would've never thought that Big Zo would trade a real nigga's freedom for his own. For that she had lost all respect for him to the point that she hated his mark ass. The thought that she had ever loved him made her sick to her stomach.

  Lissha realized that she was not without blame, because at the end of the day she had gone along with everything that Big Zo had devised. But now she was determined to right her wrongs by riding hard for Kiam until the muthafuckin’ wheels fell off. She was going to do everything in her power to make sure that he came home and Big Zo's pussy ass died behind bars.

  “LiLi, you ready?” Treebie's voice brought Lissha back to the here and now.

  “Hell yeah,” she responded as the car came to a stop.

  They both looked around and were a little thrown off when they saw all the extra cars parked out front of the spot that they were about to run up in.

  “I thought you said it was supposed to be a few dudes.” Lissha turned in Treebie's direction.

  Treebie looked over at her. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But on the real all I see is more money. The body count will just have to increase,” Treebie spat, grabbing her gun.

  “That’s the shit I’m talkin’ about. Let’s go,” Lissha said, grabbing her door handle.

  The two women sprang into action moving stealth-like around the house listening for voices and trying to gauge the position of where everyone was at in the room. They crotched down low and peeked through the first floor window and did a quick head count. Lissha got excited when she heard the men inside talking about major weight and serious dollars. That was the type of shit that made her ratchet go off without prejudice.

  Lissha gave the signal and they made sure that their watches were synced down to the second. Treebie moved to the back door and Lissha moved to the front, pressing her body against the side of the house and stepping lightly as she summoned up the beast within.

  Treebie stood with her tool cocked and locked, and her breathing increased as she waited for the seconds to tick by on her watch.

  Lissha drew her fo-fo and rang the bell twice then stepped back. When a figure appeared and asked who it was, Lissha let that cannon answer for her. Boom! Boom! She blasted and stepped in on that suicide shit.

  Treebie's fo-fifth sounded off like an explosion, shattering the lock on the back door. She kicked the door open and ran inside ending muthafucka's future in a split second of Boom!

  Just that quickly the house was under siege as they blasted everything moving. Treebie put her back against the kitchen wall and moved low hitting knee caps and ankles. Her motto was “If a nigga can’t stand, he can’t run.”

  Lissha's hammer ripped through bones and vital organs, skulls and brains. She was not tryna spare nothing but time. She hit niggas high and low then dived behind the couch for cover.

  “Y’all muthafuckaz want some of this?” A tall skinny dude yelled out from his kneeled position as he emptied his clip in her direction.

  Lamps shattered and stuffing blew out of the couch as bullets came flying in rapid succession. When Lissha noticed that the nigga's gun had gone quiet she peeked around the couch to see his position. He sprang up on his feet and tried to dash up the stairs but her whistle was quicker than his feet.

  Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!

  “Bitch nigga, Blood Money is up in this muthafucka,” she yelled as her steel jumped with each shot.

  But this time her aim was errant and the only thing she murdered had been purchased at Haverty's. Just as Lissha steadied her hand and was about to blow a hole in dude's melon, a spaghetti head came running down the stairs letting off shots in her direction.

  “LiLi get down,” Treebie yelled.

  Lissha screamed and dove out of the way in the nick of time as Treebie made sure that the dread wearing dude didn't get off another round.

  Boom! His chest opened up and his body flew backwards, flipping over the banister, before hitting the floor. “Punk muthafucka,” Treebie screamed.

  Lissha scrambled to her feet. A hand shot up and grabbed her leg pulling her back to the floor. A nigga they thought they had put on his ass pressed a sharp blade to her throat. When they came up from the floor he had his forearm around Lissha's neck. With a little mo
re pressure he could've easily crushed her wind pipe.

  Lissha gagged and wiggled but the dude was mad strong. “Put that muthafuckin’ gun down nigga or I'ma do your boy,” he yelled at Treebie.

  Treebie stood firm with her pump in place, staring at him with those blood red orbs that made her look like the devil's child. Out the corner of her eye she spotted another dude rise up and reach his hand under the tattered cushion of the couch. Treebie whirled around and sprayed his thoughts all over the furniture. “Y'all think this is a game,” she spat, looking at the lone survivor of their onslaught.

  “Nigga, back the fuck up or I will end your boy’s life,” he threatened as he pressed the sharp blade to the side of Lissha's neck and used her as a shield.

  “Bleed, I don’t give a fuck about that nigga,” Treebie spat as she placed a second hand on her gun to steady her aim.

  “You must think I’m playing?” Dude dug the knife a little deeper, drawing blood. “Fuck with me and this nigga is dead.”

  “Muthafucka, all I heard was mo’ money. You gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill you then walk outta here with all this shit. I don’t give a fuck either way,” she growled, aiming the .45 semi-automatic at his head.

  He stared her in those blood red eyes and saw nothing but murderous intent. He knew that she wouldn't hesitate to do him dirty but if he was dying, he was taking somebody with him. He pulled Lissha's head back exposing her windpipe completely, but that was costly because it exposed his head.

  Boom! Treebie shot one in the top of his head sending blood and brain splattering all over Lissha. The dude's body tumbled backwards and Lissha fell forward covering her ears with both hands as they rung from the blast.

  Treebie hurried over to see about her partner in crime. She kneeled down and was relieved to see that Lissha was unharmed. “You alright?” she asked, helping Lissha to her feet.

  Lissha's ears were still ringing and her heart rate was ridiculous. But she was about that life, and with it death was always right around the corner, so her brush with fatality didn't require a hug. “I'm good, bitch,” she said, pouncing to her feet and retrieving her ratchet off of the floor. “Let's snatch the loot and be out.”