by Ashley
“Rocko, wake up. I can’t get you into your house alone,” she said urgently. “Rocko!” Liberty exited and ran around to his side. Opening the door, she immediately noticed that the bottom of his car was stained in red. “Please, Rocko, wake up!” she shouted. He stirred slightly, causing Liberty to breathe a sigh of relief as she lowered her head. “Come on, Rocko, just help me out. Stay awake,” she pleaded. She pulled him out of the car, and all two hundred pounds of him weighed down her shoulders.
“Aghh, fuck!” Rocko howled as the pain of his injury caused him to crash back into consciousness. “Damn it, Liberty!”
“I know! I’m sorry! Just a little bit farther!” she cried.
She entered Rocko’s home and guided him to the couch, where he collapsed. A mess, she was covered in blood and sweat. “Where the fuck is this doctor?” she asked, emotional.
“She’s coming,” Rocko said. “Come over here and sit down. You freaking out like that got a nigga thinking he dying. Come talk to me. Distract me.”
Liberty shook her head as she tried to pull herself together and then sat next to Rocko. “You would think I’m the one who got shot,” she cracked.
Rocko chuckled as he breathed deeply to dull the pain. For the first time, he noticed the scratches on her face, and he frowned. “What happened to you? What were you doing at Po’s?”
“I was shot at, well, I think you were shot at . . . I was driving your car, and gunshots just rang out. I think Po sent someone for you,” Liberty admitted. “He would never do that on his own, Rocko. Dahlia is an evil bitch. She is single-handedly turning him against everyone who loves him. I went to his house to confront them, but instead, I found you . . . like this.”
Rocko’s eyes went cold as he thought of his best-friend-turned-adversary. It had come to gunplay between them. He never thought he would see the day, but if Po wanted to play it that way, Rocko had no problem schooling Po at his own game. There wasn’t a nigga alive who could say that he had pulled out a gun on Rocko. Rocko was a thoroughbred and always clipped his loose ends. Anyone who had tried his hand had always lost. He only wondered, if the time ever came, could he deliver the same fate to a man he had once considered to be his brother?
As if Liberty could read his thoughts, she grabbed his hand. “No, Rocko. It’s Po.”
“Yeah, I hear you, but Po ain’t Po, if you know what I mean,” he responded.
Her eyes misted, and her chin hit her chest in defeat.
Rocko lifted her chin with his finger but said nothing as he stared her in the eyes. For the first time, he saw what the hype was about. Liberty was a beauty, inside and out. Her treacherous cousin had beaten her, and the loss showed all over Liberty’s face. He was always indifferent when it came to Liberty. She wasn’t his concern, but now, as he stared at her, he felt sympathy.
Ding dong!
Liberty rose from the couch and rushed to the door, grateful for the interruption. The tension in the room was on full, and she exhaled in relief as she opened the door. A tall blond goddess with Caribbean-green eyes stood before her in blue scrubs, with a large bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Is he here?” was her greeting.
“Yeah, um, please come in . . . hurry.” Liberty moved to the side and motioned for the goddess to come in.
She quickly went to work, using Liberty as her assistant.
“I need boiling water and as many towels as you can find,” the blonde said. Liberty retrieved the items and then rushed back to Rocko. As soon as the woman touched him, Rocko growled in agony. He clenched his teeth to stop himself from waking up the entire neighborhood. Liberty stood to the side, brows furrowed as she winced, as if she could feel Rocko’s pain.
“Are you a real doctor?” Liberty asked in concern.
The blonde worked diligently. “I’m a resident,” she responded. “Rocko pays me very well to be available if he needs me.”
Liberty watched warily and talked Rocko through his at-home surgery until the bullet was removed and the wound was sealed. Two hours later, the blonde had left, and Rocko sat with his knee wrapped and elevated as the pain pills he had taken relaxed him slightly.
“Are you OK?” Liberty asked.
“I’m a G, ma, it take a whole lot more than a bullet to the knee to take me out the game,” he joked with a crooked grin. She smiled and shook her head. “The question is, are you OK?” he asked.
She didn’t answer, because she wasn’t sure.
“Time isn’t on our side, ma, and quite frankly, the way I’m feeling, I might not stop Zulu from getting at Po. The nigga tried to have me hit. He almost hit you,” Rocko said, his voice low and unnerving.
“He’s not himself. You know he wouldn’t do that. It’s Dahlia, she makes him . . . different,” Liberty whispered as she folded her arms in front of her chest.
“The nigga’s stupid. He moving real sloppy over a bitch,” Rocko said.
“In his defense, she’s not an ordinary bitch,” Liberty muttered. “Please, Rocko. You know Po. You know him better than I do. Just help me, help him. Help me get Dahlia.”
Rocko’s ego had him wanting to start a war with Po, but his heart was conflicted. They had come up together and were like brothers. Yes, Po had sent bullets his way, but Rocko was supposed to be his keeper. He felt partly responsible for allowing Dahlia to get close enough to corrupt Po.
“I can’t promise you nothing, Liberty. I don’t know how shit will play out when I’m face-to-face with your man. You’re right. I know Po, and once he calls a play, he sticks by it, wrong or right,” Rocko said.
She shook her head. “Not this time. Just talk to him first. I’ll be upstairs in the guest room if you need anything.”
Rocko watched her walk out of the room, and just before she disappeared from sight, he called out to her. “Liberty . . . You still love him? After he put you out, slept with Dahlia, turned on you for your own blood. You still care about him?”
Liberty blinked slowly as she thought about his question. In her heart, she knew that she had never truly allowed herself to love Po. She had been too stuck in the past, too caught up in the memory of A’shai, even to allow Po to compete. She had pushed him away, and she accepted responsibility for the part she had played in the failing of their relationship. She nodded and finally spoke. “We both made mistakes. I just want a chance to make things right.”
“You’re a loyal woman, Liberty,” he said as he turned from her and reached for the cognac that sat in a crystal decanter.
Liberty moved toward him and took it from his hands. “Here, let me,” she said.
She poured him a glass, and her hand touched his gently as she passed it to him. He grabbed her hand, and she gasped as her heart skipped a beat. She quickly snatched her hand away.
“You never know if you’re loyal until it’s not easy to be,” she whispered. She shook her head and forced a smile onto her face as she stood. “Now, do you have anything I can change into? This blood isn’t a good look,” she said, lightening the mood as she motioned to her clothing. “I can wash them tonight. I just need something to sleep in.”
Rocko gave her a slight smile. It seemed awkward on his face, because before today, she had never seen him smile. In fact, this was the most communication they had ever had. She was getting to know him for more than just his role as right-hand man, and she liked what she saw. She was learning that there was much more to the hardened hustler than what met the eye.
“Yeah, there are clothes in the closet in the guest room. One of my button-ups should do,” he said as he licked his lips.
“I suppose it will,” she responded. She smiled but then stopped, catching herself. Is this flirting? she thought guiltily as she flushed, suddenly turning red. Liberty didn’t know what had changed the tides between her and Rocko, but they both knew that nothing could come of it. They were linked through Po, nothing more and nothing less.
“The laundry room is on the second floor. I don’t fool around in there too muc
h, but you can go for what you know,” Rocko offered.
“Thank you,” she said. “Good night, Rocko.”
Her voice was like the soft melody of his favorite song. He didn’t know if it was the pain medication that he was on or if he had truly been blind before, but it was as if he was suddenly seeing her for the first time. Her beauty, her appeal, her loyalty—it was all wrapped in one perfect package. She had bid him good night but hadn’t moved. She stood in front of him, staring down at him as he stared up at her in silence. His bad leg was draped out as the other one was cocked in an L shape, and his arms were sprawled over the back of the couch.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything to me before?” she asked.
“You belonged to Po,” Rocko stated, his eyes low from the effects of the cognac.
“Is that what I’ll always be? A man’s possession?” Her voice was sad as her eyes misted, causing Rocko to sit up. He reached for her hand, and there it was again, that spark. Rocko released her hand instantly and leaned back on the couch. He had never been a snake, and he couldn’t start now. Despite the fact that Po had tried to kill him, he still couldn’t cross the line with Liberty.
“You should head to bed,” Rocko insisted. “We have a long two days ahead of us.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Not until I know what that is.” Her voice trembled.
“What what is?” Rocko questioned.
Liberty sat on the couch next to him and grabbed his hand again, intertwining her fingers with his. Her heart sped up as he closed his fingers, sealing their grip. It felt as if a current was flowing between them as Rocko sucked in a sharp breath.
“That . . . What is that feeling between us, Rocko?” she whispered, confused by her own emotions. She looked up at him. She was lost, intrigued, and guilt-ridden all at the same time, and it showed in her gaze.
Everything about her in that moment was meant for Rocko. He could feel his body reacting to her, his loins filling with a familiar need. Fuck is you doing? he thought to himself. He uncurled his fingers and cleared his throat. “I need you to go upstairs, ma, before we both do something that we will later regret. This feeling . . . it is fear. We put our lives on the line together for Po today. It has us thinking unclearly. That’s all it is, your fear pushing you toward a nigga that’s no good for you. You belong to Po,” Rocko said sternly, regaining his focus.
“He doesn’t want me,” Liberty replied as a tear fell down her cheek. Rocko wiped it away.
“I don’t believe there is a man on this earth that doesn’t want you, ma. Go to bed.”
Liberty rose and retreated to the safety of the second floor.
Rocko watched her disappear up the stairs and then shook his head as he blew out a deep breath. He tilted his head back and downed the glass of dark liquor. “Po, you’re a lucky mu’fucka, my nigga.”
THREE
PO MANEUVERED THE YACHT INTO THE DOCK slip and immediately disembarked. He grabbed his bag and headed for his car parked at the end of the port. The trip back to L.A. had done nothing to calm his temper. He had barely avoided an arrest, and the close call had him on edge. He powered on his phone to see that he had ten missed calls, all from Li’l Mikey. A twinge of guilt shot through him as he recalled the hit he had put out on Rocko’s life. He was surprised that Li’l Mikey was still living. He had half expected Rocko to lay Li’l Mikey down in the process. He listened to the first voice mail. Li’l Mikey’s voice blared through the speaker.
“Big homey, you need to call me ASAP. I put that work in, but the shit went south. I’ve been blowing you up. Hit me.”
Po quickly hung up and dialed Li’l Mikey as he slid into the passenger seat. Dahlia sat next to him, ears perked but eyes staring out of the window, pretending not to care.
“Man, where the fuck have you been? I’ve been blowing your phone up, homey,” Li’l Mikey said as soon as he answered the phone. The urgency in his tone caused Po concern.
“Is it done?” Po asked.
“Nah, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Rocko wasn’t in the whip. I swiss-cheesed that bitch only to find your girl inside,” Li’l Mikey said.
Po’s heart fell into his stomach, and Dahlia noticed wrinkles of tension fill his forehead.
“I will murder you, li’l nigga,” Po threatened. “If one hair—”
“Nah, nah, boss man, hear me out. I love the air in my lungs, fam. When I ran up on the car to finish the job, I saw that it was her. I walked away. I left her breathing. I couldn’t see through the tint—”
Po disconnected the call and sped away from the pier, headed toward his home. He had no words for Dahlia. He was too consumed with thoughts of Liberty to even care. If she had been hurt under a hit that he had green-lighted, he would have never been able to forgive himself. Fuck was she doing in Rocko’s Rover? he thought, jealousy surfacing as he gripped the steering wheel. Dahlia had told him that Rocko and Liberty were dealing with each other intimately. Rocko had broken the G code, or so Po thought. He had picked up Liberty after Po had left her behind, which was the ultimate disrespect. Liberty had been wifey. She was more than a one-night stand. The fact that Rocko was keeping time with her burned Po to the core. It was the reason he had pushed the button on Rocko to begin with, but hearing that she was riding around the city in his best friend’s whip made it all too real. Where is she now? Po asked himself, unable to tear his train of thought away from Liberty. He pulled onto his estate and popped the locks.
Dahlia stared at him peculiarly. “You’re not coming up?” she asked, slightly irritated.
“That was my man on the phone. I’ve got some business to see to. I won’t be long,” he said.
His voice was clipped, and she sensed the coldness behind his words. She stepped out of the car, completely taken aback. She could feel Po pulling away from her. The web that she had weaved wasn’t as sticky as she thought. She glared at the red taillights as she watched him pull away. Her hold on Po was slipping, and she needed things with him to be smooth if she wanted to take over his spot. Sure, she could kill him and get him out of her way for good, but that required too much dirty work. If she took the hard route, then she would have to throw her hat in the ring with a bunch of come-up kids looking to take his place once he was in the dirt. No, she needed Po’s endorsement. She needed him to hand her his crown so that she could adopt his position and all of the soldiers he had riding with him, too.
She turned and headed toward the front door but halted in her tracks when she noticed the blood trail that was before her. She gasped, and her eyes darted to the house as the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Dahlia wondered if there was someone in the shadows, watching her every move. She shuddered as the nagging feeling of vulnerability haunted her. Dahlia realized that someone had been inside her home. Wishing that she was strapped, she shook her head. All of the lights were out inside. Only the pale yellow of the porch lamp illuminated the surroundings. Cautiously, she walked up the cement path and stepped onto the porch. The rapid beating of her heart thundered in her ear as her pulse quickened. She reached for the knob and then pulled her hand back as if it were hot to the touch.
Come on, Dahlia, go in the damn house, she told herself. She glanced over her shoulder and then put her key in the door and nudged it open with her shoulder. Her fingers slid against the wall to her left as she searched for the light switch.
Click.
She flipped the switch, and light illuminated the foyer. When her eyes took in the bloody mess that Zulu had left behind, she backpedaled until she was right back on the porch. She gasped in shock, and her hands flew to her mouth, covering it as her eyes grew wide. Dahlia felt like a deer in headlights as she stood, exposed, under the moonlit sky. She ran away from the house until she was in the middle of the yard. Is there someone in there waiting for us? Who did this? She wondered anxiously.
She picked up her phone and dialed Po. She danced around, shifting from foot to foot, as she listened to the phone ring. “Damn i
t, Po!” she muttered as she jammed the red button to end the call. Her eyes fell on the house. There seemed to be no movement inside. She made her way slowly to the house and crept to the kitchen, where she kept a small-caliber handgun. With the stealth of a cat, she maneuvered silently, as her mind played tricks on her. She was just waiting for someone to jump out at her. She reached up, opening the oak cabinets, and retrieved the .45. The cold steel reassured her slightly as she went from room to room of the massive home. Dahlia searched until she was sure that she was alone. She ended up back in the same place she had begun, the bloody foyer.
“What the fuck happened here?” she asked herself aloud. Po was unreachable, and the fact that he was MIA when she needed his assistance angered her. Someone had come to the place where they laid their heads. Fortunately, they hadn’t been home, but someone had been. Dahlia’s mind spun as she tried to put the pieces of the unknown puzzle together. Prey. She had become the hunted, or, at the very least, Po had. She needed to know what adversary they were up against in order to survive.
* * *
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Liberty raced down the stairs, heart pounding as the banging on Rocko’s door sent chills down her spine. She looked at Rocko, who sat in the same spot he had been in hours before, still sipping cognac. He appeared too calm as Liberty rushed over to him.
“It’s Po,” he revealed as he nodded his head toward his television. He hit a button on the remote, and the TV showed split screens from the cameras that were posted around his property. Sure enough, Po was standing on his doorstep, his facial expression vexed.
