by Brick
“They gotta catch me first. Until another day, nigga. I have a present too sweet for you. Can’t kill you just yet and I got a game to win, so holla at’cha,” I muttered against his ear. That nigga squealed like a pig in a pot of boiling water and it made me laugh. “Ahh. Ah, nigga. Ah, you just hit a note higher than Mariah Carey, bitch. Damn I love it when you scream.”
Micah squirmed trying to get his footing, but I reached for the other blade he had, stuck that shit right through the back of his hand and then twisted. I chuckled as that nigga twisted and screamed. His face held a look that said the pain he was in was too much to handle.
“Thank you for coming out to see the show. If you hadn’t then we wouldn’t be enjoying this dance between us, yeah? Anyway, homie, I got you right where I wanted,” I said, smacking his head. I pulled out a small object from the side of my ski mask.
“The fuck is that?” he garbled against the dirt.
“Oh, shit, just a little evidence, Mr. Federalie. A little show and tell of me defending myself against you. A camera. Say cheese.” I showed it to him then chuckled before slamming his head against an iron pipe.
Brushing my gloves off, I tucked the camera I had back in its place. Voices were multiplying in magnitude outside. It wasn’t my time to be caught up so I had to bounce. Micah was a fucking thorn that just wouldn’t stop being a prick. He was a foul cancer and, with time, I knew we could snuff his ass out. That was why I also was enjoying the pain I was giving him. Everything was a process. Everything was going down with reason. Me getting caught now would mess that up.
“Until we meet again, niggarali,” I said, kicking Micah in his ribs then bouncing.
I quietly made my way out of the big building then sprinted away finding my ride. Relief had me letting out a huge sigh then cranking up some music. I drove away then headed to my safe house to handle the wounds that were leaking all over the place. Damn I couldn’t wait for him to see his house in nothing but ash.
Making it to my safe house, I headed upstairs, stripped out of my clothes, and turned to glance in the mirror at my wounds. My eyes scanned over my tats, my abs, and the cuts and bruises against my golden brown skin. He had cut me good, but where his blade hit my jaw, I knew that my beard would hide the scar it would leave. I guessed I had to walk away with some reminder of him. Wasn’t shit I was tripping off because I planned upon paying him back tenfold.
Stepping into the shower to clean the blood and dirt away, I enjoyed the sensation of the heated water washing out my pains; then the sound of Jay-Z popping off let me know I had a call.
Grimacing in pain, I reached for the cell then hit speaker. “Yeah?”
“Hurry up and meet us at the house, honey; we have a lot to talk about. Angel was snatched but it worked in our favor,” Shy urged in my ear.
As I quickly laced up my black Timbs, wrapped my waist with bandaging, then pulled on my shirt, I asked, “Is she hurt?”
“No, baby, she’s good. Healing up so she can go turn herself in. Did Micah come out and play?” my mother asked, with a slight tone of amusement in her voice.
“Yes, ma’am, as planned. Wasn’t sure if he was going to do it but he did eventually. Fucked me up real good but I got him like we set up,” I explained while quickly heading out to my ride.
“Good. I love you, and come home safely. I want to see the wounds so we can heal you up better, okay?” she demanded, which had me chuckling.
“Yes, ma’am, on my way. Love you back.” I hung up.
Speeding away, I took the back roads. My body ached and my jaw was tender. Parts of me were raw and dripping and it annoyed me. I hoped that nigga was enjoying the knife in his back because I had more where that came from. To kill Micah would be too easy. I really wanted that nigga to suffer now that I thought about it. I wanted him to suffer the same way he was trying to make me suffer. I was tired of the cat and mouse because this shit needed to come to a head, immediately. Tapping my hand on the steering wheel, I silently hoped that the next phase would get us moving faster and bring all his skeletons out.
Chapter 14
Angel
I hadn’t expected any of what had happened to go down the way it did. It felt like Micah had chased me and Enzo to the end of the earth. The game he was playing seemed like a revolving door. Shit reminded me of an episode of Tom and Jerry and I was over it long before it started. Still, the game I was in had no time for whiners. In the Trap, that kind of weakness would be your downfall. So you had to suck that shit up and keep it moving.
Shy had told me the best thing to do would be to turn myself in. Beat Micah at his own game, she had said. I couldn’t front like I wasn’t scared shitless because I was. I didn’t want to be anywhere near a jail. For some reason just the thought of being locked behind bars reminded me of being locked away in Dame’s mansion. On second thought, shit, if I had survived Dame’s world then maybe I could survive prison.
I was so nervous that my pussy had started sweat. Felt as if the boy shorts I had on were too tight. The fact that I was battered and bruised from my time with two bum bitches only solidified my appearance as a victim. I didn’t know how Shy’s plan would work or if it would work, but I trusted her. Still, what I didn’t expect was for my ride to be Caltrone Orlando and his pet bitch, Lilith. The man didn’t like me, as was apparent by the disdain on his face when Shy had told him who I’d become to her and Enzo.
We’d met at a safe house so Caltrone wouldn’t know where Shy laid her head. As I walked out to the car, he stood there with a cigar in his hands while he casually talked to his driver. Shy was behind me and I had to admit that she played her part well. If you didn’t know any better you would think she fit right in as the queen of DOA. I couldn’t wrap my mind around how deep the evil of the Orlandos ran. The son, Lu, had been obsessed with Shy, but it seemed as if the father was too. It made me wonder what kind of power the women of the African Queens had over the Orlandos. I said that because Dame had been smitten with Anika. It had been so obvious back when Dame was alive that Anika had that nigga by his balls whenever she was around. He wouldn’t dare utter a disrespectful word to her. Wouldn’t even smack the shit out of one of us when she was around.
Shy must have felt my discomfort because she laid a hand on my back and said to me, “It’s okay, Bianca. I wouldn’t send you if it wasn’t. Tap into that inner queen you’re destined to be and handle this nigga.”
I glanced at her over my shoulder. Anytime the street in her came out it always baffled and surprised me. The African Queens were women of many faces. I turned to look at the woman who had become the only mother I’d known.
“I don’t want to ride with them, Shy. I’ll do what you asked of me, but can’t Mirror take me or something?” I asked out of nervousness and, quite frankly, fear.
“No. We have to beat Caltrone at his own game. You have to show him that you’re worthy to stand next to Shawn. I know it sounds crazy, and it is. But these men have great disdain for women who show any kind of weakness. It takes a powerful queen to bring an Orlando to his knees. Understand? You can even show him that you’re afraid, but do it in a sense that leaves this motherfucker trying to guess just who you are. Do it so that when he looks at you he sees something, the same thing he sees in me. And as sick and disgusted as you may be, keep in mind that he’s considered the sane Orlando. As we both know, that ain’t saying much.”
I studied her for a long while. Although she stood regally, I could see the fatigue in her eyes. I’d come to know her well enough to see when she was trying to hide her pain. She should have been somewhere laid up in recovery, but not Shy. She wouldn’t hear of it, wouldn’t rest until her sons were safe. I turned back to look at the man. Even in old age he was a head-turning, panty-dropping male chauvinist asshole. While his smirk may have been painted on by God Himself, the malevolent intent behind it was anything but godly.
I forced myself to walk forward. All I had on was a thin sundress and a pair of flats that strapped ar
ound my ankles. So while the woman standing beside Caltrone was dressed in everything designer from her head to her feet, my threads came from Goodwill and the difference was apparent. Still, that didn’t faze me and neither did the properly trained attack dog at Caltrone’s side.
I made my way to the man in the most docile of manners. Didn’t make any sudden movements, but I wouldn’t break eye contact with him. I wouldn’t let his ominous gaze force me to look at the ground. Dame had done that to me enough. I wouldn’t give Caltrone that kind of power over me. I walked to stand in front of him. Took the hand with the Orlando crescent ring on it, and then placed my lips gently against it. My whole face went cold, my body went rigid, but I played my part.
“It’s an honor to be in your presence,” I told him.
Bile was rising to my throat and I felt the incessant need to vomit, but I didn’t. I cast a glance back in his direction as I stepped around the bitch in his snare and slid into the car. It didn’t take me long to figure out which side of the black-on-black Hummer he sat on. On one side there was water, cognac, and cigars. Lilith was such a lap dog that he could tell her to bark and she would. So it was clear that she sat on his left side. I moved to the right and waited for him.
I smiled at the man when he took his seat next to me. His muscular thighs brushed against mine and, surprisingly, I didn’t flinch. As soon as Lilith saw where I’d sat she bristled. I smirked.
“You bitches are beside yourselves,” she grumbled.
Caltrone looked away uninterested. I only giggled as the driver got into the truck and pulled off, which seemed to annoy the both of them.
He asked, “What’s funny?”
I smiled seductively, just the way his other grandson had taught me. “Queen Iya told me you had a bitch of a guard dog. I didn’t think she meant one standing on two legs,” I casually replied.
Caltrone only grunted and cast a sidelong glance at Lilith who looked like she was ready to jump across the seat at me. Her catlike eyes had turned to slits and I could see the murderous intent in them. The red cat suit she had on contoured to her petite, shapely hips and thighs and her black stiletto pumps looked as if she used them as weapons more often than not.
“What is your purpose for tagging behind my grandson like a bitch in heat yourself? We know nothing of your pedigree, what stock you come from. You could be a simple mutt. Mutts have never worked out well within our faction,” he scolded.
I glanced at Lilith then back to him. “I could be a lot of things, but what I’m not is disloyal,” I said, remembering Shy had told me the Orlandos were big on loyalty.
“How do you know Shy—”
Caltrone turned to look at her as if she had committed an offense by calling Shy her street name. Lilith cowered and then started her question over.
“How do you know . . . Queen Iya,” she spit out through clenched teeth. “How do you know she isn’t setting you up just to get her son off scot-free?”
I didn’t answer her question; in fact, I didn’t even look at her as she asked the question. I kept my eyes on the man who mattered. “Haven’t you trained your pet not to interrupt when royalty is speaking?” I asked him.
I didn’t know if I had offended the man. Judging by the way he kept flexing his hands, I couldn’t tell if he wanted to punch me or the mutt sitting beside him. The rest of the ride was silent. If he wasn’t speaking low and in code to Lilith, he was studying me and I could tell that, just as Shy had said, he didn’t know what to make of me.
When we pulled up to the precinct, my heart jumped into my throat. I looked around at the circular brick building, intimidated by all the police presence there. My attention was thwarted when Caltrone leaned forward and gripped my knee with so much force and pressure that it took everything that made me a woman not to flinch in pain.
“The only reason I wanted you to ride in my presence to this precinct is because I’m trying to do things Queen Iya’s way. But, rest assured, if you fuck this up, what my grandson may have done to you while you were his whore will be nothing compared to what I will do to you. Comprende?”
“Clearly,” was how I answered.
And although I wanted to cry out at the grip on my knee, it was in that moment that I saw where Enzo got his crazy. Caltrone’s light eyes had darkened and then returned to their light-colored essence all in one sitting. I saw where Dame’s madness was inherited from as well. Both had gotten it honestly.
When I walked into the precinct, my first mind was to turn around and run out. But I’d given my word. So my word would be what I would stand on.
“Can I help you, honey? You lost?” a female officer behind the desk asked me. She looked young and the bulletproof vest she had on made it appear as if she lifted weights for fun. Her sun-kissed skin gave her a tropical look.
“I’m looking for . . . I need to report a crime,” I told her. I had my hair pulled back into a ponytail and my dress fit a little loose. The shoes on my feet looked as if they were years old and I looked unkempt, as was the plan.
The look of concern that immediately flashed across her face let me know that I’d gotten her attention. “Come this way,” she said as she laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. She led me over to a sitting area and made a hand signal to another officer as she sat next to me. “What kind of crime?”
“My name is Bianca Smith and I was kidnapped when I was fourteen.”
“Excuse me?” she said as her eyes widened and she leaned forward to get a better look at me.
“I was . . . My grandmother . . .” I intentionally stammered and stuttered my words to appear more out of the loop than I really was.
“Slow down. Slow down, sweetie. It’s okay. There is no need to be scared anymore. Slow down and tell me what you’re trying to say,” she coaxed me.
I wiped the tears away from my face. True enough, what I was about to do was all a farce to bring down Micah; still, it was the emotional truth for me.
“Damien Orlando kidnapped me when I was fourteen from Garden Walk Boulevard in Riverdale, Georgia.”
As soon as I mentioned Dame’s name, the woman’s eyes got wide as saucers. She jumped up and grabbed my arm, dragging me to her captain’s office. I looked on as other officers watched us wondering why such urgency seemed to be in the officer’s stride as she dragged me along. Once the captain heard my story, the whole precinct was in an uproar. She wanted names, dates, times, places. Any- and everything I could remember, she wanted it.
“Why are you just now coming to tell us this? Damien Orlando has been dead for a little over a year now,” the captain, a pale-faced woman with blond eyebrows and brown stringy hair, asked me.
“Because the FBI has, well, Micah Tems with the FBI has been keeping me tied to him so I could still do Dame’s bidding,” I told her innocently.
“Say what now?” she asked as she stood over me. I could tell that she knew the name and she must have known a little bit more with the way she was casting the skeptical glance at me.
“Micah Tems, he’s FBI—”
“And you know this how?” she cut me off.
“When Dame was alive, Micah purchased me from him—”
“Purchased you? As in bought you like you were some kind of product?” another officer cut me off this time to ask. His name was Lieutenant Duffy, a balding black man who looked as if his face had a run-in with nails that left holes in his face.
I nodded. “Yeah, that’s because me and the other girls were product. I was fourteen when he took me, but there were girls younger than me sometimes in the house. But Micah, Micah was Dame’s inside man. That’s why it was so easy for him to fly under the radar of the FBI.”
“And how do you know all this?” Captain Roland asked again as she took notes and kept her recorder in her hand.
“On the days Micah would be able to make good on his purchase, he would take me to the hotel with him and I would overhear him on the phone speaking to his people in the FBI. I saw files and everything on stuff t
hat I wasn’t supposed to see.”
“So, if all this is true, and Micah has still been keeping you under lock and key, how did you get away today? How did you get here?”
“I was able to go out. I’m a Bounce Girl for the Nightwings, but only as a cover. Micah makes me sell pussy to the NFL players and such. I figured I needed to come in and report what I’d seen this morning.”
“There’s more?”
“Yeah, Micah had this woman and little girl he was threatening to sell . . .” As I talked, the woman was listening intently. I could see that she was either believing me or just knew that if what I was saying turned out to be true then she was on her way to another promotion.
“And where are they now?” Lieutenant Duffy asked.
“Who?”
“The girl and the woman.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know the address, but I can tell you how to get there.”
“Duffy, get somebody over at the GBI on the phone so we can see if they can share anything with us about undercover operations going on. If the FBI is in my county then the GBI would have more about it,” Captain Roland ordered. She looked back at me. “Get comfortable, honey, you’re going to be here for a while.”
On the outside I was crying, feigning the poor, innocent victim. In reality, I should have been crying for real, but my circumstances had numbed me. Inwardly, I was smiling at the easiness of it all. For over four hours they kept me in that precinct. I was questioned, fingerprinted, everything under the sun until they identified me through the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. I looked at my photos and for the first time, real tears cascaded down my face. My grandmother had looked for me. She’d done all she could until she couldn’t anymore.
The way I cried in that room only made my story about Micah more believable and even though I was beyond emotional, I had to get a hold of myself. Everything was all good until two detectives walked into the room. Judging by the way they both glared at me when the captain walked out, I could tell they were Micah’s henchmen. Not to mention, Enzo had described them to me in great detail. They did look like Deebo and Uncle Phil.
