11
Shannon
“So, Ms. Marshall, where is the money?” Dray the crooked fed asked.
“I don't have it here,” I lied. I was shaking all over.
“Well, you don't fucking have it in a bank, either,” Dray barked, lifting his gun up menacingly.
“I have it put away,” I said sarcastically; shit, at this point if he was going to kill me, he was just going to kill me.
“Okay, well, I'm waiting to hear where that is,” Dray said snidely.
“I bet you are,” I retorted.
With that Dray pointed his gun at Jock and shot him in the leg.
“AHHHHHH!!!” Jock let out a screeching animal-like scream, his head falling in to his chest as he tried to catch his breath from the pain. Blood was pouring out of Jock's leg. I started crying when I heard Little Todd start crying upstairs.
“Please! Let me get my son,” I pleaded with Dray, looking him in the eye to appeal to any mercy he may have.
“Baby girl, all you got to do is tell us where the money is so we can get the fuck up out of here. See, I don't have beef with you, I had the beef with Bobby Knight so his money belongs to me . . . you know, payback, restitution,” Dray growled, his eyes looking all fucking crazy. He was a DEA agent but obviously he wasn't sticking to no fucking code of honor right now.
“The money is in a safe in the closet.” I surrendered because my son was screaming and I was so scared he would open the door and run downstairs and see what was going on. It wasn't worth it.
“Go,” Dray said, nodding his head to his partner. The man left. I heard his gun go off as he shot the fucking lock off the safe. I jumped hoping he didn't try to hurt my son.
“There's no money in here!” he called out.
As soon as Dray turned his head to the side in response to his partner telling him there was no money in the safe, the next sound I heard was voices screaming, “POLICE!!! POLICE!!! Drop the weapon, drop the fucking weapon!!!”
My jaw dropped when all those cops came trampling up in my apartment. I was really confused as hell now. Dray turned toward the cops that were rushing in and raised his gun. Before he could get a shot off, like ten of the cops that were filing in the door let off shots on his ass. I heard Little Todd crying louder at the top of the steps. All of the screaming and chaos must've scared my baby almost half to death.
“Oh my God!!! Please don't shoot my son!!!” I screamed, closing my eyes as tears flowed out of them like a river. The other guy that had been with Dray came running out when he heard the shots, and the police officers shot him too. The remainder of the cops came rushing in and started barking orders.
“Call an ambulance! Untie them! Get the kid!” I was glad they had an ambulance called for Jock, because he looked like he had lost a lot of blood. The cops finally untied me and started asking me questions. One of the cops that walked over to me I recognized from Norfolk. He was one of the fucking cops that was always after Todd. “Ms. Marshall, we followed you all the way here and you're lucky we did or you'd be dead. Andre Burkett was an undercover DEA agent that was not satisfied that you'd gotten away with the money he felt he was entitled to. When he didn't get his way, he went AWOL from his team. Luckily, Jock led us to you and we figured out that Agent Burkett was coming after you,” the cop said. He noticed the look on my face.
“I am Sergeant LaBeckie from the Norfolk Police Department gang and narcotics unit. Ms. Marshall, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can be used against you. . . .” I just stared at him in shock. When Dray's partner said there was no money in the safe, I knew immediately Jock had turned the tables on me.
I jumped out of my sleep soaked with sweat and with my heart racing like I had been running a marathon. I looked around my cell and realized I was still in prison and had just woken up from reliving the nightmare of the day I got arrested and the day I found out Jock had betrayed me. The dream was so real, it was like I was back on the scene all over again. I could still feel the pain in my chest when those cops told me I was under arrest and the pain in my heart when they said there was no money in my safe.
“Yo, Shan, you a'ight?” Lady, my new bunk mate, asked. Lady was cool. She and I had gotten close since I had cut my old crew off after Dee's death and my beating. Lady was locked up for beating the shit out of her lesbian lover and another chick she found her lover in bed with. Lady carried herself like a dude, but she had the softest heart. She always wore her hair in cornrows going back and she used Ace bandages to flatten her chest. But Lady couldn't hide that pretty face of hers. She acted like a dude but she didn't look like one. She had smooth caramel skin, beautiful slanted eyes, and perfect heart-shaped lips: a real feminine face. She acted hard, but I had heard her crying hard more than once. She had confessed to me how she had really loved this last chick and thought the chick loved her. I could totally relate to Lady's heartbreak. So far, Lady had shown herself to be loyal, which was important inside.
“Shit, I had a crazy dream . . . nightmare rather,” I huffed, swiping my hands over my face to get some of the sweat off. “I hate when I put myself back at the scene of some shit I've been through because really, it's living that shit all over again,” I grumbled.
“I know how that shit is. I always picture me walking in on my girl with the next bitch's head buried between her legs and I feel the same anger I felt all over again . . . like I could almost kill them both all over again,” Lady said through her teeth.
“Let's change the subject, man,” I replied. I couldn't have Lady getting all riled up because every time she did, she ended up getting into some shit. She was the one holding me together lately; I couldn't afford for her to get thrown in the hole.
“Yeah, you right. No sense in dwelling on the fucked-up-ass past,” she agreed.
“Any word from your cousin?” Lady asked. Damn, I wanted her to change the subject, but not to that. I had lied and told Lady I was waiting on a visit from my cousin to tell me how my son was doing. I didn't trust anyone enough to tell the truth about why I was waiting for LaShell's visit.
“Nah . . . not yet,” I replied, my voice trailing off. I had tried not to get anxious all day every day waiting to hear from LaShell. I knew from experience that any good plan needed time, but my nerves were wrecked waiting.
It had been almost three weeks and today was the day I was expecting the visit from LaShell about the progress of our little mission against Kaufman. If LaShell could bring me pictures or proof that the job had been done, I was going to tell her where my final stash spot was. It was one of the many storage companies in Virginia Beach, but I wasn't going to reveal which one until I was sure I could trust LaShell. I had hidden one hundred thousand dollars of the heist money at the storage place among some of the things I had salvaged or managed not to sell from my old house. I had paid up the rental of the storage for two years so I never worried about them auctioning off my shit for non-payment. Of course I didn't anticipate being locked up with no possible idea when I would get out, either. It had already been eight months that I had been locked up. Two years would be up in no time so I had to get my money out of there before it was time to pay for the rental again. All I could do was pray that LaShell could be trusted and that she would get everything done as we had discussed.
“Here this bitch go,” Lady growled, nodding her head toward our cell door. I was so busy lost in thought about the money and LaShell that I hadn't seen CO Dugan standing there with a crazy-looking smirk on her face. This was becoming an everyday occurrence with Dugan. She was always lurking around me. When I showered, when I ate, when I had visits, in the yard, and when I was in my cell. Shit, you would've thought I had personal security with the way she seemed to be so obsessed with hanging around me. When I saw her this time, I smiled back.
Two can play her little game,
I thought to myself. I quickly grabbed my prison shirt and shrugged into it, making sure I buttoned up all of the buttons. I jumped down from my bunk and glared at Dugan as I buttoned the last button on my newly issued shirt. I tilted my head to the side, exchanging a knowing glance with Dugan.
“Yo, why is you always coming up in here every day smiling and snickering and shit? You got something to say to one of us?” Lady snapped, standing next to me like my bodyguard. Lady despised Dugan and had told me she would fuck Dugan up for me if I wanted that. Everyone knew Dugan had something against me . . .
everyone
.
“Shut the fuck up, dyke,” Dugan spat, talking to Lady but keeping her eyes on me.
I could tell Lady was about to go ham on Dugan and I couldn't let her do that. I stepped in front of Lady with my arms spread and pushed Lady back a few steps. I wasn't about to back down from Dugan's punk ass though. I was sick of her always staring at me and lurking around me anyway.
“I think her beef is with me,” I said snidely and I struggled to keep Lady from attacking Dugan. I knew more about Dugan than she could ever imagine and so did quite a few people that were interested.
“Oh yeah? You think so. And just why would I give a fuck about a lowlife inmate like you enough to have beef with you?” Dugan sneered, her eyes going into little dashes. “You ain't shit to me,” Dugan spat. But I knew she was fronting. She clearly saw me as a threat. Even with my scarred face and limp I was still better looking than Dugan. She had huge lips, short nappy hair that she attempted to cover up with bad weaves, and her skin was like a rocky road of acne and dark marks. Not a pretty sight at all.
“I think you're jealous of me. You see me as a threat. You want what I've already had,” I snapped, hopefully enough to provoke Dugan to run her big-ass mouth. She started laughing raucously like I had made a joke.
“I think it's the other way around, inmate. I already have what you used to have and it's real good to me too. It stays with me every night and loves all up on me. Matter of fact, it sends its love and this,” Dugan said, dropping an envelope at my feet. I didn't even look down at the envelope; instead, I kept my eyes squinted and glared at Dugan. We probably looked like two snarling dogs ready to attack each other because that is certainly how I felt.
“So you proud that you fucking my husband Todd? A fucking jailbird that wouldn't even give an ugly bitch like you the time of day unless he could use you?” I came right out. Lady sucked in her breath like she was shocked. Dugan let out a short burst of air like I had kicked her in the chest with my words. She sucked in on her bottom lip and curled her face into a frown.
“Yeah, I'm proud, bitch, and when I have his baby and we run away together, you'll be sitting in here rotting away. Happy reading, bitch. I guess you weren't as smart as you thought you were, huh?” Dugan hissed, rubbing her stomach for emphasis. Lady stepped from behind me, about to get in Dugan's face but I pulled Lady back again.
“She's not worth it. She'll get hers,” I chortled confidently. “Bet that bitch will get hers.”
We both watched Dugan turn on her heel and saunter out of the cell like she had just won a prize. I knew better than that. In my world what goes around always came around. Karma was a bitch and I was a living testament to that fact, but I also meted out my fair share of karma too.
I picked up the letter and knew immediately it was from Todd. I looked at Lady pitifully and the letter could barely stay in my trembling hands. I could only imagine what he had done while he was out in the world. My biggest fear was that he would get my son and I would never see Little Todd again. My heart thumped wildly now just thinking about the reality.
“You gon' open it?” Lady asked softly. I could seethe sympathy on her face.
“I don't know if I want to. It can't be nothing good,” I croaked out, my voice trailing off. Lady took the letter from me and tore at the envelope. I slumped down on my bunk and closed my eyes. I didn't know if I was ready.
12
Todd
“M
mmm! Mmmm!” Jock moaned through the bandana I had stuffed in his mouth. His battered body was going limp against the chair I had him tied to. I guess he was finally weakening from the blows I had been inflicting on him. Blood, piss, and shit leaked down his legs and the smell of raw meat gone bad and shit was giving me a stomachache. I guess all these years when I was thinking Jock was one of my strongest soldiers, I had been wrong. This nigga was the weakest of them all after all.
“My main man Jock. Damn, man, I missed you while I was locked up,” I said snidely, walking over to him after picking up the bloodstained knife again. I could see him start shaking and his eyes went wide as he stared at the knife in my hand. I ran my fingers over the blade menacingly. “Did you miss me, partner?” I asked, an evil smile curling on my lips.
“You used this to fuck my wife, right?” I asked cruelly, pointing the tip of the knife to his dick.
“Huh? You rammed this up in my fucking wife?” I growled as I made another slice on Jock's dick with his own kitchen knife. Five deep gashes in total is all it took for his dick to look totally shredded. Guess it wasn't that big to begin with. I laughed as Jock's head flew back and the veins all over his body popped up against his skin. I cut him again, this time a little deeper.
“Grrrrrr!” he let out a muffled howl behind the gag. His head rocked and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He bucked his body, making the chair thump slightly against the floor. I laughed at him when I saw more piss spilling from his bladder. I didn't know one person could hold that much piss inside of them. It was like a small pool on the floor now.
“Damn, nigga, I didn't know you had a bad bladder,” I said evilly. Then I got close to his left ear and spoke directly into it.
“You were the last person I had to see, Jock. My man . . . my ace . . . my homie since fifth grade. You really fucked my wife and ratted me out to the jake . . . mmph mph mmm. If niggas in the street would've told me it was you, I would've shot them muthafuckas dead defending you. But, when those feds and five-o told me and showed me, I had to believe it. A fucking snitch . . . damn, man, was you that jealous of me all along that you became a fucking snitch?” I whispered harshly in his ear. Then I took the tip of a carving knife and swung it across his earlobe, cutting off an inch of it. Blood squirted out of his ear like a running water faucet. Jock's body bucked and he made a sickening wheezing noise.
“That must've been real painful. Maybe I should do the other ear?” I asked in a maniacal voice. I was starting to enjoy torturing Jock. Now I see why these crazy-ass serial killers keep killing people: it was a rush that no drug could give you.
Jock was moaning and shaking his head from left to right like he wanted to tell me to stop.
“Urgh!” I growled as I jammed the knife into his kneecap this time. “I should cut your fucking tongue out and make you swallow it. That's a fitting punishment for a snitch . . . don't you think.”
“Mmmmm!!!” Jock moaned loudly, which I knew would've been a full-out scream if he wasn't gagged. When I saw the tears running down from his eyes I finally felt a tiny bit of satisfaction. I had inflicted enough pain on that nigga to satisfy the pain and hurt I suffered when I learned about his betrayal. I smiled at him one last time.
“So tell me, was Shannon's pussy worth dying for, son?” I asked through my teeth. “Nah, I won't even ask that because I could care less about that heartless bitch. I don't want you to think I care enough about that bitch to kill you over her bird ass. I'm going to fucking kill you for setting me up. The way you did that shit was smooth, I gotta admit. You knew I would do any fucking thing for you, so you called me to come get that HK and then you led LaBeckie straight to my crib. You told them where I stashed my shit. You told them everything. You was so jealous that you took my entire life away from me just by being a fucking snitch. That's a violation of every street code there is, nigga,” I growled, feeling a wave of emotion welling up in my chest. With my nostrils flaring, I used the knife to slice the bandana from Jock's mouth. I figured even a snitch deserved to defend himself before I sent him to hell.
“Any last words before I mirk your sorry ass?” I said through clenched teeth.
“It's . . . it's . . . a . . . set . . . set-up,” Jock said through labored breaths. Blood dribbled over his lips and fell onto his chest and stomach.
“What, nigga? What the fuck is you talking about?” I growled. “Your game ain't gon' work, nigga . . . you good as dead. Nothing can save your ass but the cavalry right about now.”
“They . . . they . . . use . . . used you to . . . to ki . . . kill me,” he croaked. “They . . . they . . . know,” Jock gasped.
“What? Who?” I asked. I didn't even give that nigga a chance to answer my question.
“Yeah, right, muthafucka. You can say what you want, nothing can save your ass,” I growled. Then I walked over to him and swiped the knife across his neck with the precision of a surgeon.
Jock started making a sickening gurgling noise and gasping. I swiped the knife again in the other direction this time. I had no idea slitting a nigga's throat was so hard. They made that shit look easy on TV.
Blood spilled from Jock's mouth, the slit in his neck and maybe even his eyes. It was so much blood I couldn't even tell anymore where it was coming from.
“Rot in hell, traitor-ass nigga,” I spat, hawking a wad of spit onto Jock's dead body.
I walked over to the money I had made Jock take out of his safe before I tied him up and picked up the duffel bag filled with the cash. Even working with the feds and being in witness protection, Jock had still managed to get away with at least a hundred G's of the heist money. He was crafty like that. The money belonged to me now. It was enough to get me out of the country. LaBeckie would be waiting for me to signal him to bust in on the fake meeting he thought I had set up with Abe. By the time LaBeckie figured out that I wasn't going to call or signal and that there was no meeting, I would be on my way out of the country on a nice little single-engine plane I had chartered for me and my son. In my world, money always talked and bullshit always walked.
I guess in the end, I was the nigga pulling off the last heist. So far, I had gotten Jock and Shannon for their paper and I had gotten the cops for my freedom, or so I thought.