Pretty Kings 3

by T. Styles

  “You can use some of our men.”

  “I’m sorry, Bambi. But in order for me to do this properly, I need to work with men I trust. I hope that’s okay.”

  Bambi looked at me and I nodded in approval.

  “We will have Sarge run a background check on the men you’ve chosen,” Bambi continued. “If they come back clean I’m okay with that.”

  “A million dollars is a lot of money,” Roman replied. “Just for a few people.”

  Bambi walked closer and looked down at her. “I know, Roman. A million dollars is hefty.” She paused. “That’s why I must tell you. For the money, you will owe me a hundred lives.”

  She nodded and said, “Who do you want me to get first.”

  “Larry of the Reapers. I need this nigga killed like yesterday.”

  “Consider it done.”

  ****

  LARRY – THE REAPERS

  “Somebody’s shooting!” screeched a paunchy woman as she gripped her lower belly while charging through the mall. Turning around momentarily to see if the killer was upon her, her eyes widened when she witnessed a tidal wave of terror-stricken people zooming in her direction. Her heart thrashed against the walls of her chest just as her high heeled shoe failed, causing her to plummet against the grungy floor, slamming on her knees a bit too roughly. When a pain she hadn’t expected sequenced through her ankle she looked down only to see the bloody bone projecting through the flesh of her lower leg. “Help me! Please, somebody!” she begged with an outstretched hand.

  The thing was this. The horde was unmerciful and it was each man for himself. Some leaped over her, while others stepped on her limbs in an attempt to survive.

  More gunfire blazed through the gallery as another woman screamed. “God, help us all! What’s happening?” Each time shots echoed throughout the air, it would give the weary dynamism to push harder. To run faster.

  When the herd of souls reached a fork in the mall, some advanced right while others moved left, including a spry drug dealer and an old man who needed assistance from a cherry wood cane, else he would be trampled like the woman some feet back.

  Proceeding in the same direction, they both continued their search for freedom when the elderly man happened upon a beige door with a white and black sign marked Employees Only. Seeking sanctuary, his wrinkled hand covered the doorknob when suddenly the inconsiderate drug dealer shoved him to the side as if he were going into his own home.

  Although youthful, his skin was bumpy and his broad forehead was contracted in rage so that his eyebrows formed an inky line. “Get out my way, old man! Before I burn your ass down.” He raised his shirt, showing his .45. With warnings in the air, he slipped inside thinking of his own protection.

  Fortunately for the elder, he was able to make it into the darkness with his younger counterpart just before he slammed the door and the sounds of gunfire grew nearer.

  More shots fired.

  More screaming voices.

  The reign of terror seemed endless.

  When the senior stepped on the drug dealer’s toe as he struggled to get situated, he pushed him back roughly. “Move the fuck out of my way,” he whispered harshly. The senior was knocked into the brooms on the back wall, causing a shooting pain down his spine. Neither could see the other’s eyes but they could feel the tension in the tight space. “Step on my J’s again and I’ma crack your fucking jaw,” he whispered, stabbing a stiff finger in the middle of his chest.

  “S-sorry,” the old man responded, his voice quavering.

  With the matter out of the way, they focused on the closed door again and the screaming from the people outside. The young dealer was hopeful that he might make it out alive until he heard the senior’s rough breathing that whistled slightly as he inhaled and exhaled. The dealer was certain that if the gunman was near, he would hear the elder and this made him uncomfortable. He would’ve thrown him out but what if the gunman saw him? Both of them may have been killed.

  In panic mode, he turned around again. He was certainly tiring of the old geezer. So he gripped the collar of the senior’s shirt. Removing his weapon, he touched the cool steel to his nose and growled, “Either you stop breathing or I’ll stop it for you.” He cocked his bird. “What you wanna do?”

  “I’ll…I’ll try to be quiet,” he stuttered. “Please don’t kill me.”

  “Good choice,” the dealer responded before shoving him back into the wall and aiming at the door, ready to fire at whoever came inside. He deduced that the shooter was some crazed white boy, mad at the world and the parents who brought him into it.

  The older man continued to breathe heavily until his respiration ceased abruptly, along with the noise outside. There was no wind down or fade out. As if the mayhem in and out of the closet never existed, it was eerily silent. The type of silence that birthed insecurity and fear.

  Suddenly the skills the young dealer adapted on the streets―the ones that kept him alive even though he was a most hated man, due to the nights he and his crew, the Reapers, robbed competitors of their stashes―kicked in.

  “You know now, don’t you?” the senior whispered closely into his ear. His voice was different but vaguely the same. “That I’m here for you.”

  When the dealer tried to fire at the old man the warm palm of the senior’s hand pressed against his windpipe while his other hand now secured a knife at the dealer’s neck. “Don’t turn around,” he demanded. “I’m very swift.”

  Suddenly the recollection became apparent.

  He was a she.

  “What did I do?” He was certain she was some bitter bitch he fucked who went through amazing odds to get even by causing a diversion in the mall. “At least tell me who you are!”

  Without responding, in the blink of an eye, the elder-turned-Impaler pressed the blade deeper into his throat, past the skin, past the arteries and through the cartilage until it could go no further. Warm blood oozed over her fingers and splashed to the floor.

  Although he was helpless and no longer a threat, the Impaler held onto the dealer’s body until she felt his spirit exit this world. When he went limp, she placed her lips against his earlobe again and whispered, “Goon.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ARKADI LENIN

  Arkadi sat in an old wooden chair in the basement of the hideout he shared with his brother. A carton of eggs sat on his lap and he picked one up and held it firmly in his hand.

  Across from him was Mellvue, his fiancé. She was sitting in a large trashcan with ropes wrapped around her arms, preventing her from moving her limbs. Although she was stuffed inside of it, he hadn’t bothered to empty the garbage contents prior to her placement. He wanted to humiliate her as he always did whenever he was angry and drunk.

  And now he was furious.

  Bambi had successfully knocked one of the legs from up under their operation by killing Larry of the Reapers. She was smarter than even he gave her credit for and as a result, he chose to bathe in his rage by abusing his beautiful fiancé.

  He raised the egg and tossed it at Mellvue. It smacked dead in the middle of her forehead. Yolk mixed with blood rolled down her face.

  “Arkadi, please,” she cried. “I’m sorry for speaking harshly to you. Still, I don’t understand why you would treat me like this. Why you would humiliate me?”

  He removed another egg, sat the carton on the floor and picked up his glass before walking over to Mellvue. When he reached her he slammed the egg down on her face. Then he swallowed the rest of the vodka in the glass, tossed it in the can with her and then undid his pants.

  She looked up at what he was doing and he released his penis. Holding it in his hand, he urinated on her head. When he was done he lowered his head and slapped her in the face.

  Her neck cracked and her spine throbbed.

  “If you disobey me again and leave my house without making your whereabouts known, I will kill you.” He paused. “Do you understand why?”

  She nodded and tried to
suppress the tears that wanted to pour from her soul. “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Because you don’t want anything happening to me.”

  He laughed. “On the contrary, that is least of my concerns.” He paused. “I don’t want the Kennedys thinking they got over on me by getting to you. So do what I say. And stay the fuck off streets. Or I will send you back to Russia where you belong.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  SCARLETT

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Earlier, Detective Morris Swanson called and told me he wanted to ask me some questions about our case. When I asked Camp was he going to the appointment with me, he said he was helping to prepare the bunker for the east coast bosses’ arrival in a few days and couldn’t go. But he was aware of our meeting.

  For some reason, I felt as if this day would come, where I would be alone with the man whose focus was exposing my secrets. But there was no way around it. I had to go. I needed to find out how much he discovered.

  In his office, I sat in a raggedy black chair and picked up a four-year-old magazine from the glass table. I was nervous and when his secretary, a twenty-something-year-old black girl with a large butt, came out to get me I was startled.

  “He’ll see you now,” she said as she popped the gum in her mouth and rolled her eyes.

  I tossed the magazine on the table, stood up and said, “Where?”

  “Go on in the back. You’ll see the door marked Morris Swanson. That is, if you can read.”

  I followed the rude bitch’s directions and walked toward the office. She’d better be glad my temper was easier than Bambi or Race’s.

  I was the quiet one. The one who didn’t use violence first. Because if I did, I may have placed a call to have her dealt with later.

  When I made it to the back I noticed his office was the same place where I first met him so I should’ve remembered.

  I walked in and sat on the other side of his desk but he wasn’t there and I was irritated. When my cell phone rang I saw it was Race and answered. “What’s up?” I asked looking around.

  There was a picture on his desk. He had his arm around his rude secretary and she was pregnant in the photo. I guess they were together.

  Gross!

  “You know the girl we have working on the file?” she asked.

  I knew she was talking about Roman who was hired to kill key members in our organization who stepped out of line, and many more in the east coast bosses’ operations so that they could see that the Russian threat was real.

  “Yeah, did she get the main client yet?” I asked, referring to Mellvue.

  “No,” she sighed. “But I know she’s on it. She’s sick with it, Scarlett,” she said excitedly. “Already handled Felicia’s hating ass from the Southeast Kittens and Larry at Mondawmin Mall,” Race continued excitedly. Mellvue is still alive but I think over time, she will prove to be a good investment.”

  I smiled hoping in the long run this Russian business would be behind us so that we could get back to enjoying each other. To spending quality time together. Everything felt so tense now. “So what can I do?”

  “Well she has something going on in her personal life. She needs a white girl to pretend to be her boss at work. To make her look good.”

  My eyes widened because I wasn’t expecting her to say anything like that. I wasn’t naive. I knew that some people in my race perceived themselves and other white people as superior.

  But I didn’t.

  I never had my family make a request to use me for my skin color until now. It didn’t bother me though. If I could help them, I would.

  “She got a full time job?” I asked, surprised someone who was given a million would still be working.

  “No, we got to set everything up in this building she rented like she does have a job.” She paused. “I think she’s trying to throw her husband off so that he doesn’t know what she really does for a living. Normally I wouldn’t waste my time with bullshit but I need all obstacles to be out of this chick’s way so she can do her job and Bambi can stay off my back.”

  “So what is my part in all of this?”

  “When I give you the word I need you to go to the building. Just answer any questions her husband or anybody else has so that things can go smoothly. We need some girls though to be your employees.”

  “Okay, I’ll pay a few chicks who lookout for the cops for us in Morgan Projects.”

  “Make it worth their while, Scarlett.”

  “I’ll give them five hundred dollars apiece for a week to just hang out there. If Roman’s husband pops up when I’m not there, I want him to see that things are running smoothly. And when you call me I’ll go there too.”

  “No doubt,” she said excitedly. She gave me all of the information and I grabbed a piece of paper and pen off of Swanson’s desk to write things down. Before I hung up, she asked, “Are you okay, Scarlett?”

  I exhaled. “As okay as I’m going to be,” I said as I looked back at the door wondering where Morris was.

  “Just know that I’m here. I might not agree with how you handling my little shawty but it is your decision. Besides, I been over there and you right, the family looks legit. I can tell they really love the kid.”

  With raised brows, I asked, “You’ve been over there already?”

  “I only been twice,” she laughed. “Denim been every day since she got the information.”

  I shook my head. Denim was going to be a problem.

  “I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone,” she continued.

  Just as Swanson was walking in, I responded, “I know, Race. Thank you.”

  When I got off the phone with her, I addressed him. “You called me here so what’s up?”

  Instead of answering me, he walked behind his desk, pulled open a drawer and tossed a manila folder on top of it. “Open it.”

  Slowly I reached for the folder and skimmed through the contents. My heart dropped. Everything I thought I ran away from in my past was inside. He had information about my daughter, the charges for child abuse. My parents’ names, my racist brother, everything was in the folder before me. And in the back he had a picture of the Walkers with Master clutched in Mrs. Walker’s arms.

  I dropped the folder on the floor. With tears rolling down my face, I asked, “What do you want?”

  “No need to cry, redhead.” He smiled. “I’ll call you with my fee. Just be ready to deliver.”

  ****

  My knees were close to my chest and I was looking at Camp who was wearing another t-shirt with Master’s face.

  It was weird.

  Master was bigger now and didn’t even look the same, yet Camp still sported the same t-shirt, getting new ones made every week.

  He just got off the phone with Swanson who said the case was looking hopeful. And that he would call him very soon with more information.

  Things were about to blow up in my face.

  I had one question to ask myself. Should I take Master away from the Walkers so that they’d never see him again or tell my husband the truth?

  I didn’t know what to do.

  “C…Camp,” I stuttered. “Have you given any more thought to us being together and working on our marriage?”

  He exhaled and sat on the edge of his bed and put on his shoes. “Honey, the only thing on my mind right now is finding our son. I hate to be cold but it’s true.”

  I held my head down. “I know, Camp. And I’m trying not to be selfish. I just want to know that if we find Master…I mean when we find Master, I want to make sure that you will still be here for me.” I paused. “I’ve given you your space. I stay out of your way and I’ve even stopped asking about our marriage. Hasn’t that told you that I’ve changed?”

  “Scarlett, the only thing time apart has shown me is that I can do well without you. So while I appreciate it, it’s not working to your advantage.”

  My head dropped and he moved closer to me and placed his hands on the
sides of my face. It was the first time in a long time that he touched me. “I know hearing this shit hurts, which is why I didn’t want to talk about it, Scarlett. I just want you to know that I will not leave your side until Master is found. We are a team and when we find our son that still won’t change. We still have to raise him together and as his mother, I will always love you.”

  A tear fell from his eye and dropped on my face. I wondered if the tears were for me or Master. No matter what, I could feel the love pouring from his body.

  He pulled me in and hugged me tightly within his arms. I inhaled his expensive cologne and exhaled slowly. “I’m going to find our son, Scarlett.” He kissed the top of my head. “I promise you.”

  I knew he was right and that’s what scared me the most.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  DENIM

  Helping Bambi place dinner plates on the large table in the dining room, my mind was flooded. The east coast bosses were coming and one from down south was also on the way.

  Although important, I wasn’t feeling the meeting because Bradley and I were at odds but I knew there was a time and place for everything.

  Bambi wore a huge smile on her face as she got things prepared and I wondered why she was so happy. “What’s on your mind?” I asked. “You awfully excited, considering our troubles.”

  “Mellvue’s dead,” she grinned. “That bitch walked up in our house and now we put her out her misery right along with Larry.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked hopefully.

  “Yes! Roman is vicious! And the best part about it is it happened right before the meeting with the bosses. Now I can tell them that we’ve fired a shot at them in their honor. Considering they’ve all lost good men, this will be good news.”

  With Roman on the streets, Bambi was successfully able to kill a few key members in each east coast boss’s organization and now they considered the Russians to be a threat.