Maxine was burning up inside. She saw the man alive and well on the phone with Layla. She felt Miguel had lied to her after taking her money and some pussy for himself. He probably believed she was stupid.
Suddenly, her mood changed, and she needed to get back home and have a word with Miguel.
“I need to go,” she said to Layla.
“Go? Go where?”
“Back home.”
“But it’s only been two days,” Layla said.
“I just need to go. I have things to take care of. And I’m still on parole.”
“I told you I had that taken care of.”
For all Max knew, Layla was probably setting her up for a parole violation to have her sent back to jail. It would be the easiest way to get rid of her. There was no way Layla could convince her to stay any longer.
“I need to go!”
***
The following morning, Max was on the next flight back to New York City. She was still curious about what was placed inside the garage that day. Maybe next time she would find out, but right now she had other plans.
35
Miguel ran around the apartment chasing his three-year-old. When he finally caught up with her, he tickled her playfully, and they both laughed while rolling around on the floor. His four-year-old son joined in on the fun, while his six-year-old daughter watched TV on the couch. Miguel had bought each one of them a gift with the money he’d received from Max, and they’d talked to Nadia on the phone via collect call.
Spending quality time with his kids was priceless, and talking to Nadia from prison was comforting. In so many cautious words, he told Nadia that everything would be okay, that he had taken care of “that thing” for their friend.
It was getting late, and Miguel was ready to put his kids to bed. It had been an eventful day—the movies, fast food, shopping, and the park.
As he was tucking his youngest into bed, his cell phone rang. It was Max calling. He answered.
“Hey, I need to see you,” she said.
“Now?” he asked.
“Yes, now. It’s important. I need to discuss some business.”
“Max, it’s late, and I got my kids. I’ll come by tomorrow morning.”
“Come by tonight. I’ll make it worth your while.”
Thinking with his dick and knowing how good her pussy was, he sighed heavily and replied, “A’ight, give me an hour.”
“Don’t have me waiting long.”
“I won’t,” he said and hung up.
Miguel had a dilemma—three kids and no babysitter. He thought about doing the unthinkable. Knowing his children were heavy sleepers, he woke up his six-year-old girl and told her to watch the others, and that he’d be right back. He reminded her to call his cell phone immediately if there was any problem.
“Goodbye, Daddy,” she said.
“Daddy will be right back, sweetheart.” He kissed his daughter on the forehead and exited the apartment, making sure everything was locked.
He climbed into his old Accord and headed off to see Max. His dick was already growing hard just thinking about his rendezvous with her tonight.
It wasn’t long before he pulled up in front of her home and called her cell phone. “I’m outside,” he said when she answered.
“Five minutes,” she said.
It was a cloudy night, with the clouds blanketing the sky and covering the moon, and a fall breeze was gusting through the quiet Brooklyn Street. It was after midnight.
The front door opened, and Max stepped out onto the steps looking sexy in a green tank flare dress, a pair of embellished thong sandals, and carrying a purse. She smiled his way, and he smiled back. The anticipation was growing inside of him. Never in a million years did he think he would be infatuated by Max.
Max got into the car and said, “Drive from in front of my house.”
“I can’t go far. I have my kids tonight, and they’re home alone.”
His problems didn’t fall on her. She didn’t care. “Drive away. We don’t have all night.”
Miguel shifted the gears into drive and moved forward. While doing so, he glanced at her long legs crossed over each other in the front seat. They gleamed like they had been rubbed down with baby oil. The view stimulated him. He wondered if she had on any panties under the dress she wore.
“Make a left,” she instructed.
They had small talk inside the car, but Max seemed focused on something else.
They were now five blocks away from her home and still traveling. “How far away?” he asked her.
“It’s not that far.”
They drove down Fountain Avenue and parked under the freeway bridge, a secluded area with thick shrubbery and open areas of land near the water—no homes or businesses for a mile. He killed the engine.
Max looked at him deadpan and asked again for the details on the Bugsy hit. Why she wanted to hear it again boggled him, but maybe the details turned her on. Once again, he told her about the break-in across the street and holding the old couple hostage, tying them up, and how he waited and waited until Bugsy finally arrived. He told Max about the rifle he used, and that he shot him in the chest and saw him go down.
“I have another job for you,” she said.
He nodded. “I know. I still owe you for the ten you got on credit. Are you ready for me to kill Lucky or someone else? Honestly, I hope you add someone to the list, ’cause I could really use the money for my kids.”
“Well it’s your payday ’cause I want to add Meyer, the remaining twin. I want you to kill him and Lucky together. I’m tired of the games, all games, and want to get this over with.”
“You and me both. The sooner the better.”
“Half now and half later,” she said.
“I can’t do that, Max. I need the entire payment now,” he said. “I’m taking all the risks here. Besides, I’m worth it, with one down, two to go.”
A moment of pause came from Max. The look in his eyes was truthful, but she knew he was fucking playing her. He used her just as Layla had done. Anger fizzled inside of her.
Calmly, she replied, “Okay. Tomorrow I’ll have it all for you.”
He smiled. “You look breathtaking tonight.”
A quick smile developed on her face. “Thank you.”
“You said you were going to make this trip here tonight worth my time, remember?”
“I did, right?”
“Yeah.” He looked at Max hungrily, wanting to fulfill his needs at once. He was like a drug fiend aching for his next high. “Let’s fuck in the backseat,” he suggested.
Max agreed.
Miguel climbed over the front seats and situated himself in the middle of the rear seats. Max lifted her legs to hurdle the seats, and he saw she didn’t have on any panties, which turned him on even more.
He sat back and allowed Max to straddle him slowly. It was a treat he was ready to snack on.
“You like fuckin’ me, Miguel?” she whispered into his ear.
“You know I do.”
Max gyrated her hips in a circular motion into his lap, feeling his erection growing underneath her. Her arms were wrapped around him, and her breath was against his neck.
Miguel desperately wanted to unzip his pants and slide his penis inside of her. She snuggled her thighs against his waist, fully facing him. She looked into his eyes and felt her sexual power over him. She was in control. She ran the show.
He couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to penetrate her. His dick was about to tear from his pants and slam inside of her. He was that hard.
Max placed her lips to his ear and continued to tease him. Then, in a quiet whisper, she said, “You lied to me.”
“What?” He was confused. “I lied about what?”
Unfortunately for Miguel, he would never kno
w the answer.
Swiftly and abruptly, the sharp blade pierced the side of his neck, and he jolted from the pain, his eyes open wide in shock and panic.
Max plunged the blade deeper into his flesh, and he twitched violently against her. It was scary how she kept her cool and continued to straddle him while watching him die right before her eyes. He couldn’t talk, and he couldn’t breathe. He gurgled and spat out blood. His body became numb, and soon he was dead.
Max lingered atop of him for a moment with the knife protruding from the side of his neck, as his body lay slumped in the backseat. Blood trickled, but it didn’t spray everywhere.
She took a deep breath and removed herself from the body. She felt no remorse. She cared nothing about his three kids. Rage toward Nadia simmered inside her. The only thing Max cared about was herself, and her revenge.
Carefully, she wiped the car clean of her fingerprints and placed dead hair that she’d collected from the hair salon in his hand and in the back and front seat. It wasn’t anything too crazy, just little strands of hair here and there. After that was done, she closed the car door and walked home.
36
The sniper’s bullets came crashing through the car window out of nowhere, and two rounds barely missed Scott. The attack sent everyone in the area into immediate action and panic mode. The two bullets meant for Scott pierced the skull and neck of one of his bodyguards, and he dropped dead, his blood pooling on the ground.
Scott took cover behind a parked box truck, as his goons scrambled to protect him and return gunfire. The warehouse Scott was coming out of was out of the way near the harbor, a location that not too many people knew about. But somehow the sniper after him had found it.
Another three shots from the sniper screamed at him, but they boomed into the box truck.
Scott remained crouched low. “Shit! Muthafucka!” Scott yelled. He found himself helpless, while four of his goons went on the defensive.
“Kill this nigga!” he yelled.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bak! Bak! Bak!
His men’s machine guns and handguns exploded, but they were shooting blindly, since they didn’t know the exact location of the sniper.
When the smoke cleared, one man was dead.
Hurriedly, they escorted Scott into the black Escalade and sped off. It was the second attempt on Scott’s life, and though he escaped unscathed once again, he was furious.
Hours later, Scott held court with many of his lieutenants and soldiers. The Long Island building and the entire area was heavily guarded by men armed to the teeth. Scott wasn’t taking any more chances with his life. The loss of one man was tragic, but they knew the risk when he’d hired them into his organization. The man’s family would be well taken care of.
Bugsy stood by his father’s side. He too was angry, and he wanted revenge. But Bugsy warned his father to think evenly and not to do anything irrational and stupid. Lately, his father had not been making wise choices with his businesses, his movement around town, and his love life.
“We need to get ahead of this thing smart and subtle,” Bugsy said.
“I am ahead of it,” Scott growled. He looked deeply at every man in the room and said, “The fuckin’ price just went up on Deuce and his crew. Fifteen million dollars for Deuce alone, and for every man dead in his crew, I’ll pay up to a quarter of million.”
A whistle was heard from someone in the crowd. It was a lot of money. It would create havoc in the streets not just in Delaware, but in the DMV area too.
So far, the West organization had come no closer to finding Deuce. They’d caught and murdered many soldiers and associates of his crew throughout the DMV area, but he continuously brought in more reinforcements and was becoming harder to deal with. And since Scott wasn’t going anywhere, the two forces were frantically trying to kill each other off.
It was now about ego and pride. Neither man would give up, despite the heavy loss of life on both sides and the money both organizations were losing.
Bugsy remained nonchalant around his father. They were spending a lot of cash on this war, and too much heat had developed around his father since the first attempt on his life. His political connections were watching him closely, and Bugsy had heard from a reliable source that the feds might be investigating them too.
“I want blood to continue to run on the streets, and I want that muthafucka’s head on my fuckin’ desk,” Scott said. “Y’all niggas are dismissed. Get the fuck out and go do y’all jobs.”
They pivoted and marched out of the room, leaving Scott alone with his son. When the door closed, Bugsy said to his father, “You need to keep a very low profile, and you should leave town.”
“You tellin’ me I should run?”
“Nah, Pop. It’s not running, it’s falling back and regrouping. This is the second attempt on your life, and there was my incident in Mount Vernon. This shit is not a coincidence. We need to ask ourselves, how is this muthafucka getting so close to you and me? Who’s the snitch in our organization? Who’s working both sides of the fence?”
“That’s what I need you to find out for me, Bugsy. I need you on your A game with this one,” Scott said.
“I will, Pop. But we need you to chill for a moment, lay low, and we get Deuce another way. You’re the face of this organization, and you need to be protected. The best way I see that happening is for you to leave the city for a moment. Deuce is smart, and we’ve been coming at him incorrectly. He’s not just some ignorant thug. He’s a patient, calculating man like myself. But everyone has a weakness, and we need to find his. But we need to change up everything in our organization, starting from the ground up.”
Bugsy had his father thinking rationally now. Scott knew his son was right. They had to go about things a different way with their inner circle to not scare off their political and business connections. Scott would leave the city for a moment, giving him the perfect alibi—he was out of town.
37
Killing Miguel came too easy for Max. She’d plunged that knife into his neck without giving it a second thought. It was all done because he had lied to her. He failed to do what she had paid him to do. Max felt disrespected. She had been done wrong so many times. She had nothing, yet everyone was still trying to take from her. But seeing Miguel’s blood spill and witnessing his life drain gave her this adrenaline rush. The power and control was alluring and fulfilling. But now she had one problem—she needed another hit man.
And then it dawned on her—why not her? She’d already gotten her hands dirty, and that kill felt good—made her feel alive. A taste for blood was stirring up inside of her. Her innocence had long ago been destroyed. Twenty years in prison and the violence she endured was her cocoon of imprisonment, and now that she was free, she was ready to spread her razor sharp wings and cut down everything in her path.
There was so much to do, so where to start? Back in Florida, she told herself. Layla was hiding something on the compound that was very important to her. Max was determined to find out what it was.
She called Layla and arranged a trip, and a few days after she killed Miguel, she was back on a plane flying to Florida. Besides, she needed to get out of town after the murder and give herself some space from the city. And her stern parole officer, come to find out, Layla had handled by blackmailing him. The people she hired had found some dirt on him, which gave Layla the leverage she needed to help Maxine out. He wasn’t as squeaky clean as he appeared to be, cheating on his wife with a man, and he had a shady background that could cost him his job. He was warned to leave Maxine alone. If he didn’t, and she was violated and sent back to jail, then his secrets would come out and ruin him and maybe even put him in jail too.
Layla had her money and her resources, so she got whatever she needed. Max was thankful, but it was because of Layla she was on parole.
Her flight lande
d at Miami International Airport early that afternoon, and a black Mercedes-Benz with a well-dressed chauffeur picked her up from the terminal and took her to the nearest heliport, where she boarded a helicopter that lifted her away into the air and hurried her toward the West’s estate miles away.
The helicopter landed at the lavish estate after a quick ride, and Layla was there to greet Maxine with open arms and a kiss. She was happy that her friend had changed her mind and returned to Florida.
Max displayed her crooked smile and greeted Layla humbly.
***
Their night together was simple; they drank more champagne and talked. Once again, Layla griped about her husband’s mistress. They watched ’80s movies on the giant 90-inch TV in the vast living room, and it felt like an adult slumber party. The night was getting late, and the fifteen-hundred-dollar champagne was emptying fast. Max was stretched comfortably across the $32,000 authentic hand-knotted Persian rug in her long T-shirt and cotton slippers. When she got up to stand, she “accidentally” tipped over the champagne bottle and spilled it across the carpet.
Layla waved off the spilled champagne on the expensive rug like it was nothing. “I’ll buy a new one.”
“In that case, let me spill some more,” Max joked.
Layla laughed. It was a good night, one that Max wished had happened twenty-two years earlier. Delete the twenty-two years taken from her life, then maybe she and Layla would still be the best of friends. Maybe.
“We need another bottle,” Layla said.
Tonight, she wanted to get shit-faced. She wanted to drink with Max and forget about her troubles.
Their night was going good, and then the front door opened.
Layla was floored to see Scott walking into their home. Suddenly, everything stopped, and she gawked at him like he was some apparition.
“Scott! Ohmygod!” she uttered in disbelief. “Why are you here?”
Mafioso [Part 2] Page 19
