Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 4

by J. M. Benjamin

  Arthur Love kneeled down. He checked the body’s left wrist for a pulse. “We got a 187.” Arthur Love stood up.

  Andre Randle couldn’t believe it. “You think it’s connected?” he asked Arthur Love. He had called this one wrong and was now unsure.

  “This was a hit,” Arthur Love announced. “Mafia style,” he added.

  Andre Randle shook his head. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t a gambling man,” Andre Randle confessed.

  Andre Randle couldn’t believe their bad luck. He also couldn’t believe how the bad guys seemed to always stay one step ahead of them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Twenty-eight-year-old Carl Davis peered up at the entrance of the store at the sound of its doorbell ringing off, alerting him that he had a customer. He flashed a welcoming smile at the couple who had just stepped foot into the establishment that his elderly father had owned but he had proudly managed for the past six years, seven days a week. No one knew more about motorcycles than Carl, not even his father, let him tell it. Since a young boy, he had learned how the machines worked inside and out. He had built his first motorcycle from the ground up by age thirteen. By the time he was twenty-one he had a degree in engineering and a certification in mechanics. Had it not been for his father having a stroke, Carl Davis would still be in school furthering his education to become a master on bikes. Nonetheless, he couldn’t be happier doing what he loved, which was fixing and selling motorcycles.

  “Good afternoon, may I help you guys?” he greeted them as he came from behind the counter.

  “We’re just looking right now,” Treacherous announced in a nonchalant manner.

  “Okay, no problem. Well, let me know if you guys need any assistance.” Carl flashed another customer-friendly smile. Treacherous’s demeanor did not faze him one bit. Within the past six years, he had sold bikes to or worked on them for people of all walks of life. He believed if you had a love for bikes, then there was a universal love and respect you had for those who did as well, no matter race, gender, or where you grew up; so he got along with even the hardest of people.

  Carl Davis made his way back around the counter. Treacherous and Baby browsed the many rows of bikes inside Davis Motors.

  “These bikes are for whites and old people,” Baby turned to Treacherous and said. “We need something with more power to make a statement,” she added.

  Her words carried just enough to catch Carl Davis’s attention. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, not to be in your business, but—”

  “But you are.” Baby shot him a murderous look.

  Carl Davis’s eyes widened at Baby’s rebuttal. Still he continued from behind the counter. “And I do apologize; it’s just that I may have—”

  “You may have what, mutha—” Baby snapped with attitude cutting Carl Davis off for a second time. But she too was cut off in midsentence.

  “Babe, chill.” Treacherous jumped in. He rubbed the back of Baby’s arm to calm her. “We not here for all of that,” he reminded her in her ear. He swept the establishment visually and saw the video cameras in each corner of the walls. He knew the last thing either of them needed was to cause a scene and draw unnecessary attention to themselves. They had more than enough money now to get what they came for without any incident. They were there for one reason and one reason only: to find two bikes.

  Treacherous’s words caused Baby to relax. By now, Carl Davis was just mere inches away from Treacherous and Baby. “She’s right.” He directed his words to Treacherous. “These bikes aren’t for you guys. You need something with more style . . . and power!” he added with excitement in his tone. He snapped his fingers to put emphasis on his words.

  Baby and Treacherous looked at each other. It took everything in Baby’s power to keep from laughing. Instead, she smiled at Treacherous with her eyes. Carl Davis knew he had their attention.

  “Follow me.” He waved them on as he began to walk toward the back of the store behind a curtain. When Treacherous and Baby entered the back room, their eyes widened. It was as if they had just stepped into motorcycle heaven. Some of the dopest and most powerful bikes in existence lined the walls.

  “Welcome,” Carl Davis announced. He was used to the reaction Treacherous and Baby had once he revealed his back room to them. Being a white kid who knew about bikes made him accepted by all. He was actually responsible for the majority of the tricked-out bikes that roamed the streets of Virginia. His reputation preceded him and he had received countless referrals by satisfied customers.

  “Yeah.” Treacherous nodded. He rubbed his hands together. “This is what we need right here.”

  Baby scanned the room. Her eyes had already zeroed in on a few bikes to choose from.

  “What did I tell you, huh?” Carl Davis was in his element. His tone had become more confident. Baby was not feeling his cocky attitude. She was tempted to check him, but sided against it. She knew Treacherous would disapprove. Besides, she couldn’t deny it; Carl Davis possessed some great bikes.

  “So, what’s your choice of drug?” Carl Davis asked. “Suzuki? Yamaha?”

  Neither Treacherous nor Baby answered. Instead they made their way over to the bikes that had caught their eye. Carl Davis just watched. Treacherous was the first one to stop next to a bike.

  “Ah, yes, great choice!” Carl Davis scurried over to where Treacherous stood. “The Kawasaki Ninja ZX-14R,” he announced. “Superlative performance. This is actually the fastest and strongest sports bike in the world!”

  Treacherous glanced over at him. That was something he did not know. Carl Davis continued, explaining about the front and rear suspension and the special ABS brakes. He finished by saying, “It’s definitely a great twenty-thousand-dollar investment.”

  Hearing the bike’s price made Treacherous cut his eyes over at Carl Davis. He was familiar with the terms Carl Davis was using but he was not interested in any of that. He was only concerned about one thing in case of emergency. “How fast does it go?” he asked abruptly.

  “Oh, good question.” Carl Davis smiled. “This baby has 180 on the dash.”

  “I didn’t ask you what was on the dash; I asked you how fast it can go. Or how fast can you make it go?”

  By now, Baby drew her attention over to Treacherous and Carl Davis. A confused look appeared on Carl Davis’s face. It took him a second to process what Treacherous was asking him.

  “Um, that’s not legal.” Carl Davis’s words came out choppy. “Besides, it’s expensive,” he added. He took another look at Treacherous and then over at Baby. They did not strike him as the type who could afford what Carl Davis believed Treacherous was inquiring about. For the first time, Carl Davis had taken a good look at Treacherous and Baby.

  “What’s your price range? And what does your credit score look like?” he asked in the nicest tone he could conjure up. He was beginning to regret bringing the couple into the back room without establishing all of that first.

  Baby was the first to take offense. “Motherfucker, did we say we were looking to finance something?” she snapped. She bobbed in and out of the rows of bikes making a beeline straight for Carl Davis. He was clueless as to the imminent danger he was faced with but Treacherous knew. Before Baby could reach where they stood, Treacherous pulled out a wad of cash containing nothing but one hundred dollar bills.

  “There is no price limit and we prefer cash over credit.”

  Carl Davis’s eyes widened. He realized he had literally just judged a book by its cover. Holy fuck, that’s got to be at least fifty grand, thought Carl Davis.

  He was now clear on exactly who and what he was dealing with, so he thought. He never noticed that Baby was just about to draw her gun, intending to send his brain matter flying across the room before they helped themselves to what they had come for. She had released the butt of her pistol when she saw Treacherous pull out the money.

  “I understand,” Carl Davis retorted. “How about you guys pick the bikes you want, tell me what you need
done to them, and you pick them back up first thing in the morning?” Carl Davis flashed his customer-friendly smile once again.

  “Nah, we need ’em today,” Treacherous corrected him.

  Carl Davis thought for a second. He stared out at nothing in particular as if he were searching for an answer. Then just like that, he said, “Okay, later today it is! I’ll give you guys some time alone to decide what you want. I’ll be up front when you’re done,” he concluded.

  “Cool,” Treacherous replied. Baby rolled her eyes. She badly wanted to put a bullet through the cheek of Carl Davis to give him a permanent smile.

  “What’s up with you?” Treacherous asked as soon as Carl Davis disappeared behind the curtain.

  “Nothing!” she replied dryly. “I just don’t like that shit-eatin’-grin muthafucker,” she confessed. “From the time we walked in he had that same fake-ass smile on his face he been flashin’ us.”

  Treacherous shook his head and chuckled. “That’s his job, Baby. Come on, let’s pick out these bikes before you catch another body to add to our laundry list.”

  That made Baby smile. “I already know which one I want,” she replied.

  “Okay, me too. Let’s take care of this and get the fuck out of here.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Baby agreed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Neiko opened the door and found Sammy Black Jr. sitting behind a long brown-marble desk in the office of the Black’s family restaurant.

  “Long time no see,” Sammy Black Jr. greeted Neiko Bellini as he entered his office.

  “Yes, it has been, my friend,” Neiko Bellini agreed.

  Sammy Black Jr. stood and stepped from behind his desk. The two men exchanged hugs and kisses on the cheek. There was a mutual respect between the two men, despite the differences in their career choices, and for good reason.

  “You hungry?” Sammy Black Jr. wasted no time asking.

  “Sure, I can eat,” Neiko Bellini replied.

  “Good. Follow me.” Sammy Black Jr. instructed. He was really glad to see Bellini. There was no doubt in his mind that with the help of him, he’d soon have those responsible for his father’s death in front of him. After all, he had prevailed in the past, many of times. Sammy knew there was no way his family could have been as powerful as they were without the help of their inside law enforcement connect. He was introduced to Neiko Bellini, a half-Irish, half-Italian twenty-year-old, by his father when he was a young teen, fresh out of the academy. Since then, Sammy had linked up with the crooked cop, back when he was just a rookie. With Sammy’s help, Neiko took down some of Richmond’s biggest crime bosses. The information contributed to the opportunity of their family business expanding.

  Twelve years later, the two were still loyal crime partners. Whether he had to sweep something under the rug to keep Sammy out of the limelight, destroy or manipulate evidence, or take out other competition to keep Sammy’s profits high, Neiko stuck to his word and took care of it.

  The last four years had tested Neiko in a way that he had never been tested before. He was used to only handling things within the city limits of Richmond for Sammy. But Sammy, on the contrary, was very ambitious and wanted to branch out more. Neiko’s police perks were truly tested as he found ways to negotiate deals under the table with other law enforcement officers who also did business with their city’s organized crime. The dirty cop role was something he had perfected, and if asked to do so in the future for another heavy hitter in the underworld, Neiko would jump at the chance.

  Sammy and Neiko met each other at a mom-and-pop diner located in downtown Richmond. It was a small, private place where a criminal and cop could converse without being noticed. The fact that it was owned by a relative of Sammy’s made it that much more of a safe place for the meeting. There wasn’t a soul in their family who hadn’t heard what happened to his father. He had the full support of everybody who was connected to the Blacks’ bloodline. Which is why they had no problem when Sammy asked to utilize the establishment for his meeting with Neiko Bellini.

  “Sorry I go here so late. There was a meeting at the department. How’s everything?” Neiko said, taking a seat in the empty chair across from where Sammy sat. He noticed two of Sammy’s henchmen in a booth across from where they sat. He could spot an Irish gangster a mile away.

  Sammy’s response drew his attention back to him. “I ought to be asking you.”

  “About the motel clerk.” Neiko paused briefly before continuing. “You guys are covered. They don’t have any evidence linking anybody to the murder. There were no eyewitnesses to place your cousin or anyone else at the murder scene.”

  “Good.” Sammy nodded. “This is for you, a present.” He tapped Neiko on the leg under the table with an envelope containing $10,000. “I’ll make sure the rest is in that account before the day is out. Now, let’s get down to business.”

  Neiko took the money and slipped it into his pants pocket. “They do, however”—he cleared his throat—“know that you guys are on those black kids’ tail. So, you may get a visit from two of mine.”

  Sammy Black grimaced. “What the fuck for?” he growled.

  “Relax.” Neiko Bellini didn’t back down. “There’s nothing I could do to stop it. This freakin’ case is just as personal to them as it is for you,” he informed Sammy Black.

  “How so?” Sammy wanted to know.

  “For starters, the girl is the goddamn daughter of a hot shot black detective.”

  “Are you fucking shittin’ me?” Sammy chuckled. He leaned back and grabbed hold of his head.

  “No, wait. It gets better,” Neiko Bellini exclaimed. “The other one is the chief of police over in Norfolk.”

  A confused look appeared across Sammy Black’s face. “So, what’s his business over here?” he asked.

  “Excuse me,” the waitress, one of Sammy’s younger cousin’s, appeared out of nowhere and interjected. “Sorry to bother you cousin Sammy, but aunt Lydia told me to ask you did you and your friend want anything?” Her Irish accent made her words sound rhythmic.

  Her eyes shifted from Sammy Black Jr. to Neiko Bellini.

  Both men abruptly became silent and drew their attention toward the waitress.

  “Bring me a water with lemon and house beer please, sweetie.” Sammy smiled.

  “And for you sir?” She directed her words to Bellini.

  “Just water for me. No lemon.”

  “Okay, can I start you off with any appetizers?”

  “Just tell aunt Lydia to send whatever she feels we’ll like,” Sammy decided.

  He was eager to hear what Neiko had to say.

  “Yes, cousin Sammy,” she replied as she bowed and made her exit. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he wanted privacy.

  “As you were saying.” Sammy said to Neiko as soon as his little cousin had vanished in the back.

  “His business is,” Neiko began, “that he killed the mother of the boy; and apparently these fucking niggers broke out of a freakin’ crazy hospital, teamed up, and killed the girl’s mother and shot both of these two idiots in the process of fleeing.” He ended with a sigh.

  “Holy Mother of Mary,” Sammy chimed.

  “Exactly. So that’s why I couldn’t intervene, because I’d draw suspicion. Suspicion neither one of us needs.”

  Sammy Black nodded. “You’re right. If they come, I’ll just curve ’em. Let’s discuss more important things, like leads on these two little shits with our fucking money and chips.”

  “I’m all over it,” Neiko assured Sammy. “After the motel info, the trail’s been cold.”

  “Shit!” Sammy cursed. It was imperative that he recover the casino chips. Not only to save face among the other families and prevent a possible war, but also because the blueprint his father had left before his unexpected demise revolved around the casino chips. It was his father’s dream to open up a slew of casinos in the Virginia area like Bugsy Siegel had done in Las Vegas, Nevada, and many other
gangsters and mobsters had done down in Atlantic City, New Jersey. His father had recently found some people with the resources to make that dream come true, but first he had to prove that he could operate on a much bigger scale than he had ever before. That’s where Sammy Black Jr. came into the picture. Those chips stolen by Treacherous and Baby were the link and root of a gambling monopoly.

  He shook his head. “Okay, listen. We’re still moving forward with taking over the gambling and coke supply in Glen Allen.”

  Neiko’s eyebrows rose. As if the hassle of having to supervise Sammy’s moves in the three other cities wasn’t enough, now the man wanted to take on another. “You sure about this?”

  “More than ever. I’m ready to do this,” Sammy exclaimed.

  “But Glen Allen?” asked a skeptical Neiko. He almost knocked over Sammy’s mug of coffee as he slammed his fists down on the table.

  Sammy eyed Neiko as if he had lost his mind. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yeah, there is.” Neiko slid his chair closer toward the table. “How the fuck do you expect me to help get you out of something in Glen Allen? I’m confident about a lot of shit, but trying to find a cop gone bad out there is one thing I’m not too sure about.” He groaned.

  Sammy rolled his eyes and scowled. “Stop ya worryin’. I see you don’t know nothin’ about Glen Allen. That place is full of crooked cops like you.” He couldn’t help but remind Neiko of his position. “Besides, I’m already in talks with one: my stepbrother, Charlie Vecky.”