It seemed like an eternity, but the whole altercation hadn’t lasted more than three minutes. A shaken Deidre listened to the wail of sirens in the distance.
VOLUME 9: THE TRUST FACTOR
Deidre’s mind whizzed a mile a minute as she rushed out the back door of the Candy Shop. Soaked in Reemo’s blood, she concealed the two guns used to kill the robbers. Leery, she looked up and down the block. With her heart pounding, she jumped into her car, hitting the radio power button twice and flashing her high beams to open the hidden compartment behind the GPS screen. She immediately threw the guns into the space, quickly closed it, and took a deep breath before she pulled out of the parking spot.
Two more police cars flew by as she approached the corner of Flatbush Avenue, adding to the gang of blue and white vehicles parked outside the club. The EMT’s were already inside trying desperately to revive Reemo.
Deidre’s hands shook as she navigated her vehicle down several side streets before arriving at the apartment. Her mind raced in many directions, but her first concern was making the murder weapons disappear. The correct protocol was for her to keep the weapons as evidence against R.J. and Reemo, which would be used against them in court once she made her case. R.J., Reemo, and the F.A.B. would just think she made the weapons disappear, which is exactly what she wanted them to think.
She felt confident that her actions in the club had sealed her fate with the F.A.B. Saving R.J. and Chastity’s life was sure to garner her some trust points from the crew. What she was afraid of were the questions that might follow, like, “Where did you learn to shoot like that?” and “Why did you save the lives of people you don’t know?” Those girls were far from dumb. She just hoped that they didn’t figure her for a cop or an undercover.
After finding a parking spot, Deidre rushed into the house.
Amos listened intently as Deidre’s feet thundered up the stairs. He looked over at his cable box and read the time. Three-ten a.m. Making a mental note, he picked up the telephone and dialed a familiar number.
Once inside, Deidre locked the door and rested her back briefly against the cold metal before she slid down to the floor. She’d just experienced her first brush with death, and it wasn’t a very good feeling. Not to mention, the combination of alcohol and adrenaline pulsing through her veins left her feeling nauseous as hell. Crawling over to the bed, she barely made it to the high mattress. I just gotta lie down for a minute, she told herself.
The loud sound of the phone ringing invaded Deidre’s ears. “Ahhh!” she winced, grabbing for the receiver. Her head was pounding. “Hello,” she whispered.
“We need to meet. Did you see the news today?” It was Ferguson, and she did not sound happy.
Deidre struggled to open her eyes, as pain shot through her cranium. Sitting up, she realized that she still had her clothes on from the night before. Blood had soaked through the expensive black fabric of her dress and caked her skin an awful rust color. She felt disgusting, and the smell of Reemo’s dried up blood was making her gag.
After assuring Ferguson that she would meet her in Canarsie at the Arch Diner, Deidre turned on the television to see what Ferguson was talking about. Flipping through the channels, she finally found an all-day news broadcast on NY-1. As she pulled her dress over her head, she heard the reporter speaking about the incident. She quickly raised the volume, listening intently:
“. . . A brazen robbery at the cabaret-style gentlemen’s club, the Candy Shop, located just feet from the MetroTech business center in downtown Brooklyn, left five people dead, including two of the gunmen. One person was also critically injured. Police say the club closed its doors to the public for a private celebration for one of the club’s investors, when three gunmen sneaked inside posing as food caterers. Police say the gunmen had hidden their weapons earlier that day while delivering food, in order to avoid the club’s security checks. One of the people killed was off-duty police officer, Andre Henderson, who was moonlighting as the club’s bouncer. Police have confirmed that they have one of the gunmen in custody . . .”
Deidre couldn’t believe that the bouncer she once called Andre the Giant was really Andre the cop. She turned off the television and immediately began wondering about R.J. and the girls. Before she left the Candy Shop, she’d scribbled her number on a crumpled napkin and handed it to Leticia. She told Leticia to call her after all the police activity was over. Leticia whispered a low, “Thank you!” to her before taking the paper and putting it in her pocket. Deidre seriously hoped they would take her up on her offer.
After the shooting, the entire F.A.B. was transported to Brooklyn Hospital.
Chastity was given a cold compress for her eye, and was assured by the doctors that she would not be permanently scarred. She’d taken a pretty hard blow from the butt of a gun and her face was now colored green, blue and purple.
Tori was treated for post-traumatic stress because she refused to talk. She just shook her head from left to right, and rocked back and forth for several hours after the incident. Although she had arranged for many murders, she never took part in them. Just the sight of blood made her cringe.
It was no time before the DT’s showed up, cheap polyester trench coats flapping behind them. It was also no time before they got shut down. The F.A.B. wasn’t talking. It was a robbery. That was their story and they were sticking to it. Even if the F.A.B. had a responsible party in mind, they wouldn’t tell fucking Jake anything. They despised cops, except for the ones on their payroll.
After leaving the hospital, they all decided to stick together. Not only were they spooked, but they needed to figure out who was responsible for the incident. Their number one concern was with how the gunmen got into their club with weapons.
“I’m telling ya’ll, it was fucking Reemo!” Leticia screamed, pacing the floor.
“Nah, yo. I’m telling you that nigga may be a little retarded, but he ain’t grimy,” R.J. argued.
“You don’t know who set that up,” Tori commented.
“Fuck who did it! We all in a jam now. The Candy Shop was the entire business after Amber got ghost,” Chastity explained. “Those chicks was bumping all our shit within hours, but now with the club being a crime scene, the block is hot. I gotta hit my connect off, so we all gonna have to get our hands dirty,” she announced, looking from face to face with her one good eye.
“I’m down for whatever, but I’m telling you, Reemo set that shit up!” Leticia screamed.
“We need to call his out-of-town partner. Reemo has made big returns, thanks to her,” R.J. said. He couldn’t stop thinking about DeeDee.
“Yo, she was gangsta last night too! That bitch blazed like a dude!” Leticia said, excited. She liked the way DeeDee looked too.
“Or like a fucking cop,” Chastity mumbled.
“I don’t think she’s a cop. Like I said, I seen firsthand the kind of return she is bringing in off that crystal,” R.J. informed them. Reemo had come back with two huge returns, and R.J. knew he couldn’t have done it by himself. Reemo wasn’t smart enough to make his money double that fast.
“She gave me her number,” Leticia said. The entire room was silent for a minute. Everyone’s mind was racing with ideas.
“Call her,” Chastity instructed.
Deidre’s meeting with Ferguson wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. She was told that she would no longer have a twenty-four hour tail; it was too risky. After last night, Deidre’s cover would’ve easily been blown had there been any undercovers inside the club with her. Now that Deidre was almost in, she would be on her own for the most part. It was the safest way, according to Ricky and Ferguson. She didn’t have a choice. Ferguson told her she needed to wear a wire whenever doing business with the F.A.B. Deidre agreed. Both women arranged to meet under the Williams-burg Bridge once a week for updates. Deidre would call for surveillance, as needed. She would be fully undercover and all alone—unless she called in for backup.
Deidre left the meeting feeli
ng indifferent. She didn’t know what to make of all of the unorthodox occurrences on the case, and again, she ignored her instincts.
Back in her car, she noticed that she had a missed call. She immediately called the number back.
“Yo!” the person on the other end answered.
“Somebody call me from this number?” Deidre asked.
“Yeah, it’s Loca,” Leticia announced.
“Oh, wasup? Ya’ll a’ight?” Deidre asked.
“Yo, we never talk on the jack. How long you in town for?” Leticia asked.
“I’ll be here for a minute,” Deidre said calmly.
“A’ight, we wanna meet with you tomorrow. I’ll hit you back with a time and place,” Leticia said, and hung up the phone.
Deidre’s heart thumped out of nervousness and excitement. Tomorrow sounded good to her.
VOLUME 10: THE FIRST MEETING
Deidre sat across the table from the F.A.B. inside Caliente’s in the Village. For some strange reason, she wasn’t nervous.
“Where you from, DeeDee?” Chastity asked, looking Deidre straight in the eyes.
“D.C.,” Deidre responded, taking a forkful of her shrimp and Alfredo pasta.
“Murder Capital, huh?” Leticia commented, picking up her oversized daiquiri.
“That’s what they say,” Deidre said nonchalantly.
“You like go-go music?” Chastity asked.
“Yeah, that’s my shit!” Deidre replied, holding Chastity’s gaze.
“That shit sound like somebody banging pots and pans to me,” Leticia added. Everyone laughed. They finished their meal with light conversation and lots of laughter. Deidre was in; she was sure of it.
Deidre and the F.A.B. left the restaurant in good spirits. The laughter and camaraderie made her feel like she’d known the girls for years. Her guard down, she headed towards Chastity’s ride. “So, wasup? Ya’ll gonna let me deal without Reemo or what?” Deidre asked. She didn’t feel it was too soon. Besides, they all knew this meeting was about business.
“Be easy, ma! We got you!” Leticia assured, patting Deidre on the shoulder.
All four girls piled into Chastity’s Range. Tori sat in the front while Leticia and Deidre got in the back. Chastity peeked at Leticia through the rear view mirror. The previously light mood suddenly turned dark. Leticia slid across the seat, getting very close to Deidre. “Yo, DeeDee, I heard you a fucking cop,” Leticia growled, placing the barrel of a snub nose .40 caliber Glock to Deidre’s temple.
Deidre gulped down the lump in her throat. She sat stock-still. I knew these bitches were up to something! she thought to herself. “Yo, I don’t know whatchu talkin’ about,” Deidre said calmly, trying to watch what she said.
“You fucking heard me! I heard you was a fucking cop!” Leticia barked again.
“Loca, whatchu doin’?” Tori yelled nervously from the front seat. No one had told her about the plan.
“Shut up and mind your business!” Chastity screamed at Tori. At that, Tori rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and turned around. She wanted to slap the shit out of Chastity. I’m really sick of this bitch, she seethed.
“I’m not a fuckin’ cop. You need to get that gun outta my face!” Deidre said, playing tough, when really she was shook as adrenaline burned in her veins. She had no idea who she was messing with. Looking into Leticia’s cat green eyes, she swore she could see fire.
“A’ight, I’ll take it outta your face,” Leticia snarled, moving the gun from Deidre’s temple to her eye socket. “Now, take your bag off your arm and pass it to Tori,” she instructed, her hot breath poisoning Deidre’s breathing air.
Deidre obeyed the order. Sweat glistened on her forehead and dripped down her back to her ass crack, and her chest heaved in and out as the cold steel pressed against her skin.
Leticia ran her hand up and down Deidre’s chest, feeling for a wire. Then she made Deidre take off her shoes. Leticia enjoyed watching the fear in Deidre’s eyes. It made her feel powerful.
The car continued to move, but Deidre felt like her heart was going to stop. Peering out of the windshield, she couldn’t pinpoint their location. She hoped that Ferguson had allowed her surveillance team to tail her on this first meeting, like she’d requested.
Leticia continued to hold the weapon on Deidre as Chastity rummaged through Deidre’s purse. Taking out her driver’s license, Chastity read aloud, “Deandra Barnes . . . hm-m-m-m. When is your birthday, Deandra Barnes?” Chastity asked nastily.
“What?” Deidre snapped.
“Bitch, you heard her! When the fuck is your birthday?” Leticia barked.
Deidre had heard Chastity but she was buying time. “February 11. Ya’ll bitches is bugging! Let me the fuck out of this car!” Deidre yelled, still playing hard.
“Sit still before you get it!” Chastity commanded, scanning Deidre’s driver’s license in the darkness of the car. “Yo, I’m keeping this. T-baby, tomorrow you need to call Quita and tell her to work her magic,” Chastity instructed as she slid Deidre’s fake license into her bag.
Deidre was startled by the recent turn of events. These bitches are no joke, she thought to herself.
Quita, one of Tori’s younger sisters, worked for the DMV and could run the license in the system to check out her story.
“A’ight, ain’t nothin’ in here,” Chastity said, tossing Deidre’s pocketbook into the back seat. “Let’s rock. Where ya’ll wanna go now?” she continued, making an abrupt U-turn.
Leticia removed the gun from Deidre’s face. “I knew you wasn’t a cop. You cool as ice. No hard feelings, you understand n’ shit, right?” Leticia said, patting Deidre on her shoulders.
“Just don’t ever fucking refer to me as a fucking cop again!” Deidre screamed, straightening out her crumpled clothes. Everyone started laughing. Inhaling deeply, Deidre felt a sense of relief. She was finally in.
They drove around for another two hours before they agreed to call it a night. Deidre was tired, but she knew she had to do whatever it took to stay in good graces. Chastity drove her back to her car, which she had parked in the Village. They agreed to meet tomorrow to discuss business. Deidre had to admit that the girls were very thorough. They didn’t just trust anybody.
Pulling up on her block, she looked around before she got out of the car. Confident she was safe, she exited and headed into her apartment building. All she could think of on her way up the steps was getting some rest. Unlocking the door, she threw her keys on the floor and immediately began to strip. Almost out of her clothes, she flicked on her bedroom light. “Ahhhhh!” she screamed, spotting another person in her room. Holding her chest, she gathered enough air to wolf out her question. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”
“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Ricky crooned.
“Why would you come here? You trying to blow my cover?” Deidre asked, annoyed and concerned.
“Trust me, no one saw me come in. I had Ferguson make me a key,” he said, walking over to Deidre and touching her hair. Flinching, she moved away from him. “I missed you,” he whispered, knowing that his words held a lot of power. “I just had to have you,” he continued, nibbling on her ear.
“Why? So your crazy-ass wife could follow you here and let this entire block know I’m a fucking home wrecking FBI agent?” Deidre remarked, walking over to the windows to close all of the shutters.
“That wasn’t my fault. Besides, I’ve already apologized,” Ricky huffed.
“You shouldn’t be here, Ricky. I think we’re done,” she replied, closing her eyes and trying to stay strong.
“Not until I say so. I love you, Deidre. Your father wanted me to take care of you,” Ricky remarked, moving close to her again and pressing his body against her back. He knew exactly what to say and do to make her capitulate.
Her head told her no, but her heart said yes, yes, yes! She turned around and threw her arms around his neck, just as she’d done so many times as a child. “I missed you too,”
she cried into the pale skin of his neck. Deidre was starving for Ricky’s attention and affection since the incident with Lorna. She refused to admit it to herself, but subconsciously she felt she was nothing without a man’s love.
Ricky closed his eyes and smirked behind her back. Running his hands down her spine to her ass, he gripped her bottom tightly. As she kissed him and caressed him, his eyes meticulously scanned the room.
VOLUME 11 : THE DECEITFUL ONES
Ricky left Deidre’s apartment, satisfied that he still had her under his spell. He noticed several missed calls on his private cell phone. He pressed “talk” to return the last call. “Hello?” the voice on the other end greeted. It was Bernard.
“What’s the problem?” Ricky asked impatiently, frustrated by the number of times Bernard had called him.
“Listen, I spoke with the team, and Aponte is moving through these obstacles with no problem. I told you she is capable,” Bernard said.
“Listen, let me handle her. How do you niggers say it? ‘Let me lay the pipe and keep my bitch in check’,” Ricky said mockingly, as if he were an old school rapper.
“What did you say?” Baker growled through the receiver.
“Oh, are you mad because I said ‘nigger’? Huh, Bernard? Agent fucking Baker?” Ricky whined in a woman’s voice. “Shut the fuck up!” Ricky barked, squinting his icy blue eyes into slits. “Now you listen to me! You let me handle Aponte. You just hush your fucking mouth and do as I say. I need to get what is owed to me. Remember, Bernard, you got kids to feed just like me. You wanted to play this game, now play! I can ruin you. Who do you think they’ll believe? Me, or your black ass?”
Ricky’s chilled voice backed Bernard down. He looked at the phone as his dark face filled with blood causing it to take on an almost purple hue. He wiped sweat from his head as his stomach churned with fear. Ricky was a powerful and very dangerous man.
Hush Page 10
