by Ashley
“Ooh,” she whispered. Her hands wrapped around his torso as she spread her fingers wide, decorating his back with her long, red, stiletto nails. Po and Dahlia didn’t make love. Their sex was carnal. They fucked like animals every time they were intimate, each trying to outdo the other, battling for control. Po’s stroke was relentless as he hit her, working his hips with no mercy as he pushed down on her left thigh while holding her right leg straight into the air. He spread her open and went as deep as he could, driving her crazy as her head fell back in pleasure. Dahlia could feel her release coming, but as she looked behind Po, she saw red and blue lights attached to a U.S. Coast Guard speedboat in the distance.
Right on time, she thought. In order for Dahlia to take Po’s place, he would have to give it to her. She couldn’t kill him and expect to step into his shoes. No, Po would have to give the streets his blessing to work with her, and she knew only one way to make that happen. Set up his downfall. Unbeknownst to Po, Dahlia had boarded the boat with a bag full of cocaine—twenty bricks, to be exact. Having given an anonymous tip to the Coast Guard, she knew that it was only a matter of time before they found the rented yacht.
“Hurry,” she urged as she threw her hips at Po, trying to get hers before it was too late. Po crushed into her, and Dahlia closed her eyes and felt the rush as she reached satisfaction. She didn’t even let him finish before she pushed him off of her.
“Po . . . something’s wrong,” she said as she sat up and nodded toward the Coast Guard. Po turned around and saw the speedboat slowing as it approached. He pulled off the condom, tossed it into the nearby garbage, and adjusted his clothing.
“Fuck is this about?” he muttered.
Dahlia’s eyes widened in uncertainty as she adjusted her swimsuit.
“I’ll handle it. Just let me do the talking,” he assured her. She nodded, and the look of fear in her eyes could have won her an Academy Award.
Dahlia watched as Po transformed before her eyes. It was as if his high was immediately blown. He squared his shoulders, and she could see the anger pulsing through the veins that bulged in his neck as he gritted his teeth. The Coast Guard stopped several feet away. Po quickly assessed the situation. There were two men and two guns against his one. He didn’t foresee the situation escalating, but he liked to know the odds he was facing, just in case. I’m clean, nothing to worry about, he thought.
“Can I help you, gentlemen?” he asked almost pompously.
“We have reason to believe you are carrying drugs aboard this vessel. I need to see your hands,” the guardsman said sternly as he kept his hand near the gun that was holstered securely at his side.
“There are no drugs on this boat,” Po scoffed. Under normal circumstances, he would have requested a warrant, but he had nothing to hide. He just wanted this encounter complete so that he could go about his business. “Be my guest.” He motioned for the guardsman to come aboard. The guardsman behind the wheel maneuvered the boat so that it was aligned next to Po’s and then watched as his colleague climbed aboard the luxury yacht.
The guardsman’s facial expression was cold and hard as he pointed to the deck of the boat. “Sit down, both of you, on top of your hands. My partner will keep an eye on you while I search the boat,” he stated harshly in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “We’ve got reason to believe that this boat is transporting narcotics.”
“Reason to believe?” Po questioned, his irritation now apparent as he complied with the guardsman’s request to sit on the deck.
“An anonymous tip,” the guardsman replied. “Sit tight.” He disappeared down the short staircase that led to the lower deck of the boat.
Po turned toward Dahlia and noticed the weird expression on her face. He couldn’t read her, so instead of guessing, he just asked. “What’s the face about, ma? There something you not telling me?”
Dahlia opened her mouth to respond, only to be interrupted by the guardsman as he emerged from the bottom deck. “Well, well, what do we have here?” In his hands, he carried a Gucci duffel bag. He revealed the contents to Po.
The invisible punch to his gut took his breath away as he saw the crystal-white kilos inside. It was so pure that it sparkled like diamonds. The fact that it was uncut was even worse. The Coast Guard would bury him under the jail just for the purity alone. Po’s temper flared, and he saw red. He knew that the guardsman had not planted the drugs, because he had seen him get on the boat with nothing in hand. There was only one other person to whom the bag could belong. Po shot Dahlia a look that could kill. They were in international waters. That amount of drugs could land him in prison for the remainder of his life. This wasn’t a game, and now everything was on the line.
“You’re under arrest,” the guardsman said.
Po calmly stood while keeping his hands in clear view. He didn’t want to give them a reason to pop off. He had heard too many stories about overzealous officers to give them a reason to shoot him. Dahlia stayed seated on the deck with her head lowered. Her face revealed sorrow, but her thoughts were sinister. The boat was rented under Po’s name. They would pin the drugs on him. His arrest would signify the end of his reign but the beginning of Dahlia’s. With Rocko and Liberty out of the picture, Po would have no choice but to entrust his empire to her.
“You can take me in. You’ll get overtime from the paperwork and a slap on the back from your boss, and then you’ll go home worth the same amount that you were when you awoke this morning, or you can turn the other cheek. You found that duffel bag, but you missed the one with $150,000 down there. You and your partner can have it. It’s all yours if you just do nothing. No report, no arrest, just do nothing. Just get back in your boat and ride away. That’s your salary for two years in one day,” Po reasoned calmly. He knew that he had the guardsman, because he was still talking. If he wasn’t interested, then Po would have been in cuffs by now. He lowered his hands as the guardsmen looked back and forth between each other and him, speaking without speaking and confirming that they both were intrigued by the proposition.
“The offer is only good for the next fifteen seconds, gentlemen. What’s it gonna be—”
Dahlia watched in utter disbelief as the guardsmen exited the yacht with a duffel bag full of money. She had known that Po was extremely savvy, but never did she expect him to fast-talk his way out of a setup. Now she had to get her story together, because the fire that she saw in his eyes revealed his anger. As soon as the Coast Guard boat pulled away, Po aimed his wrath toward her. He turned on his heels and without warning slapped the taste from her mouth. The sting of his assault radiated through her cheek as her head whipped to the right. Her mouth fell open in an O of surprise. She was livid, shocked, and turned on all at the same time. It appeared that Po wore his crown better than she thought he did. This was a side of him that she had yet to see. It was attractive, and she realized that although he had potential, it was a shame that he was the one person who stood in the way of her takeover. He would be a casualty of the game. Her plot to get him out of her way had failed today, but she would find another way to get rid of him.
“What the fuck is twenty kilos doing on this yacht? In your bag?” he asked. “Do you know how you’ve put me at risk?” He radiated anger. It was so palpable that Dahlia could see his temperature rising as his skin flushed slightly.
She had to keep her own temper in check and remember the role that she was playing. “I’m sorry. We were headed to Mexico. I have a buyer down there who wants to re-up. I thought it would be smart to handle a bit of business in addition to pleasure. I didn’t know we would be stopped by the fucking Coast Guard, Po,” she said, her voice even but also stern. Po knew Dahlia, and the senseless slipup was completely uncharacteristic of her. She was too seasoned to make such a drastic mistake. He shook his head and squeezed the bridge of his nose to stop himself from blowing his top. Her negligence could have cost him his freedom, and she seemed too nonchalant for his taste. He gripped her shoulders roughly as he stared at her hars
hly, shaking her slightly as he spoke.
“What the fuck can twenty keys do for me? For us? Huh? Use your head. We don’t deal drugs anymore. Leave that for the little niggas. I’m in on the diamond mines now, and you’re this close to fucking that up,” Po chastised as he pinched his thumb and pointer finger together. “You don’t overplay your position. You come into the game when I require you to, not when you feel like it. If you can’t occupy your seat, I know somebody who was doing it just fine before you came along.”
Dahlia was stunned to silence at his threat as he pushed her away. The fact that he was throwing Liberty in her face meant that he wasn’t truly over her. Dahlia would have to hurry and get rid of Po before fate brought Liberty and Po back together.
Po tossed the bag of cocaine to her and said, “Toss this shit overboard. We’re headed back to L.A. Vacation’s over.” He stormed past her and headed to the captain’s seat to lift the anchor. “Stupid mu’fucka,” he grumbled.
Dahlia’s blood boiled, but she didn’t buck. She simply cut her eyes at him as he walked away, then took the bag and tossed it into the ocean.
Time to come up with plan B, she thought.
* * *
Rocko grimaced in excruciation as he sat at gunpoint in the middle of Po’s foyer. His entire pant leg was soaked in his own blood from the gunshot that Zulu had delivered to his knee. It was a warning. He had let Rocko know that he had no problem with pulling triggers. There was no hesitation behind his actions. His intentions were clear, and Rocko knew that if he didn’t tell Zulu what he wanted to know, then the next bullet would go through his head. Rocko squared his jaw and sat back in the chair as he gritted his teeth through the pain. He had come to Po’s house to confront him about his recent actions, only to walk directly into a setup—one that wasn’t even meant for him.
“I don’t know where Dahlia is, but when you find the bitch, let me know,” Rocko spat.
Zulu stood with his hands planted in front of his body, crossed at the wrists, as he stared seriously at Rocko. Men in all-black business suits stood behind him and were lined up on the balcony above their heads. They looked like a black regiment, strong and deadly as they loomed over him. The automatic weapons in their hands let Rocko know that they had come to kill. He didn’t know exactly what Po and Dahlia had gotten themselves into, but whatever it was, things were beyond repair. If the African Mafia had come across the seas to get to L.A., they hadn’t come to talk. Zulu was ready for war, and Rocko had walked right into the middle of it.
“You mean to tell me you are Po’s right-hand man, and you don’t know where to find him? Do not mistake me for a fool, Rocko,” Zulu said. His voice was low and calm, but Rocko could see by the look in his eyes that Zulu’s murder button had been pushed. Zulu was out for blood.
“If you gone pull that trigger, you gone do it whether I tell you or not. I know the game. I know how this ends, Zulu. Go ahead. Kill me. Even when I’m gone, my name gone live on the tongues of many, and a nigga will not be able to say that I bitched up at the end. I don’t know shit,” Rocko stated harshly.
A flash of anger appeared in Zulu’s eyes. “You’re a loyal man, Rocko. Stupid but loyal,” Zulu said. He raised his hand, and on cue, all of his men racked their weapons and trained them on their target.
Rocko’s nostrils flared as he breathed rapidly, trying to prepare himself for death. He could hear his heart pounding in his ear. It wasn’t fear that was pulsing through him. He felt a mixture of pride, regret, and anxiety as his chest swelled. He calmed himself. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going out as a coward. He breathed in slowly, deeply, enjoying the feeling of his lungs expanding, because he was sure that it was the last breath he would ever take.
“Wait!”
Liberty’s voice cut through the air, and instantly, all of Zulu’s loyal guns were aimed her way. Her hands shot up as her eyes widened in bewilderment. She took in the entire scene. The blood made her stomach turn as she watched it pool beneath Rocko’s chair.
“Leave, Liberty!” Rocko shouted.
“No, please, Liberty, join us,” Zulu said. “I insist. Maybe you can give me the answers I seek.”
“She has nothing to do with this, Zulu,” Rocko snapped.
“I’m here now, Rocko. Don’t speak for me,” she replied. The tremor in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.
“You’re afraid,” Zulu observed. “Do you know who I am?”
Liberty nodded. “I do, and I know who you’re here for.”
“Where are they?” Zulu asked.
Liberty looked around at the members of the African Mafia, and her heart skipped a beat. The lump that had formed in her throat stifled her response. She cleared her throat. “I might be more inclined to respond if there weren’t a thousand guns pointed at me,” she said.
Zulu looked at her curiously. He had heard a lot about Dahlia’s long-lost cousin, the infamous Liberty, but to see her up close nearly took his breath away.
“You are quite rare,” he said distractedly. “And you’re from Sierra Leone?”
“I am. Born there, kidnapped, and groomed here in L.A.,” she responded. “I have no problem talking pleasantries with you, Zulu, but my friend is bleeding out all over the floor. He isn’t who you came for. I need you to let him go. You want someone who knows everything, then take me. Rocko is just a henchman; he can’t tell you what I can. So take me.”
“Loyalty runs deep here,” Zulu whispered. “Weapons down.” On his command, the men lowered their guns.
“Liberty, what are you doing?” Rocko asked.
“What I have to,” she replied.
Zulu stepped close to Liberty, leaving no space between them. Liberty immediately recognized the smitten look in his eyes. “I may be inclined to leave here if I can take a prize back to Africa, a beautiful prize . . .” He lifted a tendril of her hair as he spoke.
“My possession is not up for negotiation. I’m not some object to be bought and sold . . .” She paused as tears came to her eyes. “Not anymore. I don’t know where Po and Dahlia are.”
“Then you’re wasting my time,” Zulu barked.
“If Po and Dahlia want to hide out forever, they have the means to do so. I can hand-deliver Dahlia to you, if you spare Po and the rest of us. You don’t want Po. Dahlia is the one who turned business bad. She crossed you, not Po,” Liberty said. She felt as if she were drowning as she spoke. She was clearly in over her head. Her eyes bounced around the room frantically as she looked at all of Zulu’s goons. “Please.”
“You beg to save the life of your friends, but you easily cross your cousin,” Zulu said, intrigued.
“Blood doesn’t make you family,” she said. “Dahlia has betrayed me. Giving her over to you would make for such sweet revenge.”
Zulu huffed unpleasantly and stared at her with such intensity that Liberty had to lower her eyes. “You have forty-eight hours to deliver Dahlia to me. Your life depends on it,” Zulu conceded. He nodded toward Rocko. “Take your friend.”
Liberty’s legs felt like Jell-O as she rushed to Rocko’s side. “Rocko,” she whispered as she fell to her knees in front of him. “Oh, my God, Rocko.”
“What did you do, Liberty?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she replied as she placed a hand to his cheek. “I couldn’t just let him kill you.” She made quick work of the ropes that were binding his hands behind the chair. She could barely untie the knots, she was shaking so badly. She could feel the eyes of the men surrounding them burning into her. Finally, she freed Rocko, and he rose from the chair.
“Aghh!” he hollered out as he tried to put weight on his leg. Liberty quickly tucked herself under his arm for support, and they hobbled to the door. Liberty half expected to be shot in the back as they made their exit.
“Forty-eight hours.” Zulu’s voice boomed out.
She turned and nodded obediently before leaving with Rocko.
“We’ve got to get the fuck out of here,” Rocko stated as
soon as they were outside. “Aghh, fuck!” he groaned as he left a blood trail from the front door to his car.
“You’re losing a lot of blood!” Liberty yelled. She looked back frantically at the house as Zulu’s men began to emerge. She got Rocko secured in the passenger seat and then ran around to get in. She wasted no time in pulling away from the house.
As soon as Zulu was in her rearview, she felt her tears begin to flow. Rocko reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder.
“I need to get you to a hospital,” Liberty said.
“No hospitals,” Rocko protested. “There’s a contact in my phone under ‘Doc.’ Text the number. Tell her to come to my house immediately. My address is stored in the GPS.”
Rocko’s pain took him into a temporary solace as he passed out beside her. Liberty’s hands shook as she reached over and removed his cell from his pocket. She scrolled through his contacts and sent the urgent text. Then she took a deep breath in an attempt not to panic as she let the GPS guide her toward Rocko’s home.
In all the time she had known him, she had assumed that he lived out of the trap houses that he sold from. As she drove through his well-kept neighborhood, she knew that she had been mistaken. The middle-class suburban street was beautiful, and she quickly realized that she had misjudged Rocko. She was always blind to the details when it came to him, because he was Po’s friend. She never paid him too much attention, but in Po’s absence, Rocko was now so clear to her. He was smart and loyal and had a rugged appeal that would make any woman lucky to call him her own. Liberty appreciated Rocko’s friendship now more than ever. When Po had given up on her, Rocko had taken her side. He recognized real and could see that Dahlia was anything but.
She pulled up to the home that Rocko owned. It wasn’t the estate that Po had, but it was a beautiful contemporary lot with a manicured lawn and a two-car garage. Rocko was a hustler living among doctors and lawyers. That in itself was impressive to Liberty, more so than the flashy home that she had shared with Po. Rocko knew the art of humility and modesty even when he had Gotti knots in his pocket. He wasn’t trying to stunt; he was simply trying to live. Liberty pulled into the garage and then closed it so that prying eyes wouldn’t see her pulling Rocko’s bloody body from his car. She threw the car into park and nudged Rocko.
