by K'wan
Being a war vet himself Gutter understood that the man was still unsure about how far he could trust them. Since the war first kicked off the older cat had been on the front line racking up a long dossier of enemies. People like him were forever doomed to live on the edge of life and death, not knowing when or where their numbers would be called. As Gutter examined him he wondered if he wasn’t looking at a sneak preview of what he was to become, if he even lived to see that age.
The tension between the two clicks was so tight that you could almost feel the very air constricting around your throat. Gutter nodded to his comrades and matched the man’s steps, until they were within a few feet of each other. In the still of the night in a darkened Long Beach parking lot Gutter stood toe-to-toe with not only a sworn enemy, but the man who held the secret to Gunn’s murder: O.G. Trik.
chapter 29
DIRT BILL was finally starting to have fun. The girls saw him with Goldie and Hollywood so they thought he was someone important. For the past twenty minutes he had been in the ear of a sensual chocolate gem, trying to get her head rates to drop from sixty to thirty-five. He was finally starting to make headway when he felt someone bump past him to get to the bar.
“Pardon me, Blood,” Major Blood said, squeezing up to the bar.
“Loc, I ain’t ya Blood, that shit don’t rock up here. This Harlem, cuz,” Dirty Bill said, not even recognizing the threat.
“Word? I thought we were in the Bronx?” Major said sarcastically with his hand casually at his side.
In every group there was one. A cat so quick to make a show that he doesn’t bother to assess the situation or measure the odds. Nine times out of ten it’s gonna end nasty, but the poor bastard has gotta make a show of it. This was the case when a cat that had been kicking it with Bill decided to add his two cents to the mix. “Harlem Crip, nigga. Fuck is you smoking?” the kid snarled.
“Crabs!” Major said, placing one of his guns under the kid’s chin. The kid opened his mouth to say something, but Major Blood put a bullet through his chin and out the top of his head.
Goldie moved with the grace of a jungle cat as he grabbed the stripper closest to him and held her in front of him like a shield. In true gangsta style he hoisted his pistol and started busting back at Major Blood, who was scrambling to get out of the way.
“Not in my muthafucking house!” Desire, who was the bartender, shouted as she came up from behind the bar with a pump. The twenty-two-year-old bartender might’ve weighed about a hundred and ten pounds on a good day, but she had the heart of a giant. The burst went wild, shredding through a beam and an unlucky patron, but never touching anything from the red side. Tito bounded on top of the bar and placed his gun to her forehead. Desire pursed her lips to spit in his face, but ended up kissing the barrel as her brains squirted onto the Coronas in the cooler.
HOLLYWOOD LAY back in the leather recliner with one foot slung across the arm, while Lexi gave him some gangsta-ass head. Hollywood suspected that she was about her business from the way she came at him, but the love boat ride she was currently giving him would net a mint on the streets. He needed to have this little freak bitch with him.
Hollywood was about to crack for the pussy when a faint noise caught his attention. The office was soundproofed from the music on the main floor, but there was no mistaking the sound of a gunshot. He lifted his head to say something to Lexi and barely got out of the way as a switchblade came whizzing past his chin. Lexi looked up with murder in her eye and bellowed, “Die crab!”
Hollywood was stunned by what was unfolding, but he shouldn’t have been. From the time Lexi opened her mouth at the bar she smelled like a snake, but Hollywood let his dick send mixed signals to his brain and now he was caught literally with his pants down.
“That’s on Blood I’m gonna open yo pretty ass up,” Lexi vowed, jabbing at him with the blade. When she came with a wild swipe, Hollywood made his move. Throwing himself backward in the recliner he brought his knees up into Lexi’s chin, snapping her head back and throwing her off balance. Instead of trying to get farther away from Lexi and her blade, Hollywood threw himself in her direction. He tried to knock Lexi to the floor so he could pen her, but miscalculated his lunge and was only able to subdue one arm. By the time he realized his mistake the razor was grazing his jaw.
Hollywood never felt the cut, but he knew something was terribly wrong when his face got moist. Lexi had opened him up from his earlobe to his lower lip with more precision than a surgeon. Hollywood didn’t have to see it to know that his beautiful face was ruined, and thus his pockets would take a hit. To this day nobody really knows if it was the vanity in Hollywood or the fact that Lexi had cut him, but he slammed his fist into her skull so hard that it cracked, breaking his hand in the process.
“Con’n bitch.” Hollywood kicked her in the ribs as he took stock of his hand. There was no doubt that his right hand would be no good to him that night, but he could shoot just as well with his left he thought as he grabbed his hammer off the desk where he’d left it before the near fatal blow job, and headed for the office door.
As soon as Hollywood opened the office door, a bullet slammed into it. The club he had vested so much in was being shot up and torn apart like a saloon. Three Spanish-looking cats were by the entrance wilding the fuck out. He recognized Tito and Miguel, but the light-skinned kid with the braids was a new face. From the way he was clapping shit up that had to be the infamous Major Blood. The way they were cutting loose it would only be a matter of time before the Crips were overrun.
Hollywood boogied back to the office desk and wrapped on it a series of times, popping a false panel out of the side. Nestled in the panel was the grand opening gift Wiz had given him. Tucking his pistol into his waistband and checking the barrel of the gift, Hollywood stepped out onto the main floor.
THERE WERE five of them in all; five lambs who had successfully escaped the slaughter. They had all began the night with different reasons for hitting the spot, but they were exiting with a common thought; survival. When the shooting had started everyone broke for it. Drinks were abandoned and some of the girls jetted wearing nothing but thong and clear heels. Outside meant life, so in a massive wave they pushed for the door.
Eddie knew they’d be coming, but he was still startled when the club doors flew open and people began spilling out onto the street. None of them were Crip soldiers, but they had all been sentenced to death. How many innocents would die that night to claim the life of one enemy?
“Live by it, die by it,” Eddie told himself, stepping off the curb.
A big butt stripper, whose weave was sitting at a funny angle from her frantic exit, was making swift strides in Eddie’s direction. Eddie laughed at how funny she looked trucking on the six-inch heels to keep his mind off her face, which had twisted into a horrid mask as the bullets from the Mac ripped up her chest. As her blood drained into the gutter at Eddie’s feet he thought how Major had surely condemned him to hell. But he would rather pay in the afterlife than go against Major Blood in this one. With that thought in mind Eddie began sweeping the crowd with the machine gun.
THERE WERE so many people trying to get out of the crosshairs that Miguel could barely raise his gun, let alone get a shot at the wild man, Goldie. It seemed like every time he even thought about pulling the trigger someone darted out in front of him. The whole spot was thrown into utter chaos, and from the look on Major Blood’s face he was enjoying every minute of it.
Through the tangle of arms and heads Miguel could see Goldie now had his back to him. With a smirk at the stripes he would get for smoking Goldie, he took aim and pulled the trigger… A split second later he felt the intense heat.
“IS THIS a private party, or can anybody join in?” Hollywood capped before pulling the trigger on the oddly shaped sawed-off.
The recoil from the Dragon-Mouth round was so powerful that the gun almost flew out of Hollywood’s hand. Even with the stalk braced against his hip the weapon was difficul
t to control with only one hand. The aftermath of the blast was thick smoke hanging in the air and the smell of sulfur damn near choking Hollywood, but seeing the carnage the blast had caused made it almost worth the vomit that was trying to escape the back of his throat. Wiz had warned against firing the thing in close quarters and now he understood why.
The young Chicano had come up with some very interesting gadgets over the years, but the Dragon-Mouths were the best yet. A Dragon-Mouth was a shotgun shell that had magnesium shavings and mercury packed in with the gunpowder. When the pellets burst from the casing they ignited, making the spray look like a horde of tiny fireballs.
Miguel was barely able to throw himself out of the way as the embers ignited his clothing and singed his cheek. The more he swatted at the flames the more they seemed to spread. Man’s natural fear of fire caused him to momentarily forget his enemies and try to strip out of his jacket. This gave Goldie a clear window.
The first bullet hit Miguel high in the shoulder and sent him stumbling forward. When he turned around, Goldie hit him twice more in the chest. Miguel crashed into the bar, sending abandoned glasses and bottles spilling to the floor. The last thing he would see in his young life was the grin on Goldie’s face as he sent a fatal round through his cheek.
HOLLYWOOD NARROWLY missed the barrage of bullets Tito sent his way, as the edge of the bar provided him with a minute to breathe. It felt like slugs were coming from every direction at once, and even with the Dragon-Mouth he and Goldie were in a tight spot.
“Cuz, we gotta make for the back!” Goldie shouted from over his shoulder.
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Hollywood said, sliding another shell into the gun. “When I let this bitch rock, be ready to bust a move!”
“Solid,” Goldie said, still clutching the girl.
Hollywood popped from behind the bar and fired, holding the sawed-off in a one-handed grip. The kick knocked his aim off a bit, but it didn’t affect the damage inflicted as the fiery pellets ignited everything in their path. While Major Blood and Tito dove for cover, Hollywood broke for the back door.
Dirty Bill, who had all but been forgotten, saw his chance and made the mad dash. He fired his gun over his shoulder, not really hitting anything, and moved as fast as he could toward the back door. Seeing his comrade dart out into his line of fire gave Goldie pause, and this was all the time Major Blood needed to react. He gave Goldie one to the chest and flipped him backward. Dirty Bill never even cast a glance at the man who he called friend as he disappeared toward the back.
BILL ALMOST broke his neck getting to the fire door. When the bullet struck the wall just above his head he almost shitted his pants. Hollywood was hot on his heels. He knew the homeys were sure to brand him a sucker for the stunt he pulled so he reasoned he might as well kill Hollywood to keep the story from getting out.
Without breaking his stride Bill lowered his shoulder and crashed through the fire door. The emergency siren went off, but Billy couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own heart thudding in his ears. He knew he was free at the moment the cool air hit him, but the thought quickly left his brain as a bullet exploded in it.
“HOW’S HE holding up?” Sharell called over her shoulder.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” Satin said nervously as she pressed her hands over the hole in Mohammad’s back. He was lying across the floor of the backseat with a dreamy look in his eyes.
“Mohammad, we should really get you to a hospital,” Sharell said, weaving the X5 in and out of traffic.
“No,” Mohammad said weakly. “We can’t risk the police getting involved. Here.” He handed her his cell, which was slick with blood. “Call Anwar, and tell him where we’re going. He’ll send someone.”
“But what if you bleed to death before help comes?” Satin asked.
“Then it will be what it will be. Just keep driving until we get to the address. Anwar will take care of everything,” he told her before closing his eyes.
“Mohammad, Mohammad!” Satin shook him. At first she thought he was dead, but his eyes fluttered open.
“Not to worry, Sharif won’t let the reaper have me. He’s promised as much,” Mohammad assured her.
“Sharell, delirium is setting in. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”
“Mohammad, don’t you go dying on us, you hear me?” Sharell called to him, but there was no answer. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see that he was still breathing, but barely. “Lord, please don’t take him,” she whispered, flipping Mohammad’s phone open to call Anwar.
chapter 30
HOLLYWOOD DIDN’T have to look over his shoulder to know that Tito and Major Blood were hot on his heels. If their heavy footfalls hadn’t given them away the plaster spraying on him from all sides did.
Just ahead of him he saw Dirty Bill hit the fire door and go spilling into the darkened alley, two seconds later he was flopping back inside. A small hole appeared in the middle of his forehead, though the blood had yet to show itself.
Trapped, was the first word that popped into Hollywood’s mind. With the two Blood assassins at his back and God only knew how many enemies in the alley he had just become the filling of a shit sandwich. Faced with the choice of having to deal with two seasoned killers or the unknown odds outside, Hollywood chose the latter.
“Die young and leave a good-looking corpse,” he mumbled before rushing the fire door, with the Dragon-Mouth at the ready.
The two young men who had been staked out in the alley were so focused on Bill that they didn’t even notice Hollywood swing the Dragon around until its roar bounced off the walls of the alley. Boo managed to dive out of the way at the last second, but his partner wasn’t so lucky. He flapped around on the ground like a wounded fish as the flames ate away at his chest and face. His agony was intense, but short-lived as Hollywood tossed the spent sawed-off and finished him with his pistol. Seeing the streetlights at the end of the alley, Hollywood rushed for freedom, only to be fired on before he made it out of the alley.
HAD HOLLYWOOD not slipped on a beer bottle, Boo would’ve parted his skull like the Red Sea with the shot he let off. Hollywood fell hard on his ass, just before a bullet struck the wall above his head. The impact from the fall jarred his gun loose and sent a jolt of pain through his broken hand as he landed on it. He now found himself a bit dazed and at the mercy of the coal-black young man advancing on him. Just when it seemed like it was over, the whole alley was flooded with light and angry shouts.
HOLLYWOOD BARELY had time to roll out of the way as the Honda jumped the curb and slammed into Boo. The car pinned his small frame to the wall with a bone-cracking sound, sending blood spraying from his mouth and onto the windshield. In a rare act of mercy Bruticus got out on the passenger’s side and blasted Boo once in the head.
“Yo, Wood…” Bruticus turned to say something to his comrade and a slug slammed into his lower back, sending him crashing into the hood of the car. Another spray of bullets came from across the street where Eddie had been hiding, riddling the side of the car.
After retrieving his pistol Hollywood staggered toward the car, sending an occasional shot at the fire door to keep Tito and Major at bay. He was barely able to duck into the backseat before Eddie shredded the top of the car.
Leaning from the driver’s seat, High Side spit off with his 9, laying cover fire for Bruticus to make it back inside the car. Before all the doors could be closed, High Side threw the car in reverse, clipping a fire hydrant when they hit the street, blanketing the block in water. He felt like a coward for running, but a good run was always better than a bad stand.
“Cuz, what was that shit all about?” High Side asked, swerving in traffic.
“It was about some faggot-ass slobs stepping way out of bounds,” Hollywood panted. “Man, this shit is getting out of hand real quick.” He felt his ruined face. Even if he dropped a few stacks on getting plastic surgery there would probably still be a scar.
“Son, I’m
calling Pop Top and telling him what went down.” High Side flipped his cell phone open.
“Fuck Pop Top, nigga. Get Gutter on the line!” Bruticus demanded, trying not to pass out from the loss of blood.
chapter 31
“I SEE YOU still slumming, cuz,” Ren said, with his face twisted into a mad-dog stare. He stood with his heels touching and feet pointing out like the top half of a number four.
“I could say the same, Blood,” Trik replied. There was no emotion in his voice and his eyes remained cold as he stared at Ren. The men were equal in height as well as build, but whereas Ren was known as a brawler, Trik was a stone killer.
There was an uneasy moment where neither man said a word. There was the faint sound of thunder in the distance, but there didn’t seem to be a cloud in sight. Mongo tensed like he was about to make a move, but Jynx had him covered. When the air had finally come to a boil, both Ren and Trik burst into broad grins.
“What’s popping, family?” Trik embraced Ren.
“Same shit, different day.” Ren hugged him equally tight. “Nigga, I ain’t seen you since Christmas!”
“You know the streets keep a nigga busy.” Trik shrugged. “Tell my auntie I’m gonna come check her for her birthday though.”
Jynx looked totally confused, but Gutter and Snake Eyes shared a quiet chuckle. The main reason that Gutter had brought Ren along was because he and Trik were first cousins. Sure, they racked up one hell of a body count on opposing sides, but it never came between the cousins. Gutter reasoned that if Trik did have something dirty up his sleeve he’d have been hesitant to spring trap if his family was involved.
