Bury Me a G 3 Read online

  “You ready ta tell me sometin’ now?” he asked, squared jaws pulsating, knuckles grasping the spear tighter, ready to decapitate his catch if he didn’t talk.

  Breathing hard, Juvie closed his eyes and made his lips into a tight line. He nodded and said, “Okay, okay...”

  Juvie stood on the no snitching mantra, but with the threat of having more of his body parts hacked off, he folded like a bad hand in poker.

  “Good, good bwoi.” Uche patted Juvie’s cheek and then examined his hand. The young hoodlum was squirting blood from where his fingers were severed. The African couldn’t have him bleeding to death, so he whipped out a Zippo lighter and heated his spear until it glowed reddish orange. He brought the hot metal to his capture’s severed fingers.

  “Aaahhh!” Juvie’s head snapped back as his eyes doubled in size. He wailed so loudly that he quaked Uche’s and Uduka’s eardrums. The Eme brothers winced and turned their heads, irritated by the deafening noise.

  “Hold ‘em steady, Duke!” Uche barked. He held tightly to the young thug’s wrist and pressed the ember glowing spear head to the nubs that once were his fingers. It sounded like a cigarette being disintegrated to ash when the hot metal met the flesh, stopping the holes from spurting blood.

  “Arghhh!” Spittle flew from Juvie’s lips. Uduka frowned as he held him about the waist, but he still was able to squirm. The pain he felt was excruciating and he was trying to snatch away from his restraints.

  “Stop ya belly achin.’” Uche balled up a rag and crammed it inside of his mouth, duct-taping it down across the lower half of his face. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and took off his suit’s jacket. He threw it on the floor and got a better grip on his knife. “Stubborn bastard, ya stay still ‘fore ya bleed ta death.”

  He tucked Juvie’s arm under his firmly and went about the task off sealing off the blood squirting holes of his nubs. The young thug howled as loud as he could muster, feeling the sizzling hot metal pressed against his skin. Once the oldest Nigerian finished his business, he passed out cold, head hanging.

  “Let ‘em go, Duke.” After releasing the hoodlum’s arm, he turned to his brother, out of breath. He dropped down to the floor sitting Indian style and stabbed the spear into the surface. His sibling sat down right beside him. He too was panting.

  “Wat do we do now, Uche?” Uduka peeled off his suit’s jacket.

  “We wait fa him ta come to, den we find out weah dis Don Juan character has taken solace.”

  “Den?”

  “We make ‘em regret da day he took da life of our brudda.” His face contracted with hate.

  ***

  Ta’shauna stood out on the terrace of Faison’s Malibu home, dressed in a white floral knitted gown. Her pretty pedicure feet gripped the cool granite tiled floor, while her hands held on to the ledge as she peered out into the ocean. Although she couldn’t see the view before her, she could imagine it. Her mind spun images of what the scenery could be hearing the water crash onto the shores of the sandy beach and smelling the faint traces of salt in the air. A smile emerged on her face as she inhaled the fresh air and then exhaled.

  Suddenly, she became deathly still and her smile disappeared, as she wondered how he’d gotten into her brother’s home. Her eyes darted to their corners and fear gripped her heart knowing his botched attempt at murder had landed her in her current blind state. The only thing she could think was that he’d come to finish off the job. She couldn’t see him, but he’d just entered the bedroom. She could smell him. The scent of his aftershave gave him away as soon as he darkened the doorway. She’d never forget that aftershave, he’d worn it the three years they’d been together.

  “Tiaz?” She gasped and turned around.

  “What?”

  “Oh my God, how did you get in here?”

  Recalling previous visits, she tapped into her memory for the layout of the house as she jetted off of the terrace and into the study, brushing passed him. He tried to grab her arm and ended up grasping the sleeve of her gown. She blindly swung on him, cracking his jaw. He fell to the floor taking her flower print gown along with him.

  “Ooof!” He winced as he hit the floor on his side, feeling a sting in his ribs as the wind was knocked out of him. “Come here! Get back here!” He scrambled to his feet, slinging her gown to the side and holding his ribs. He staggered out of the study after her, grimacing and rubbing his side.

  “Aaahh! Aaahh!” Ta’shauna screamed as loud as she could, running and spinning down the hallway in a panic, clad in just a black bra and panties. She fell on the floor and pulled herself back up on the wall. Calm down, Ta’shauna, and stop screaming, bitch. You can’t see, so you’re gon’ have to feel yo’ way up outta here. You gotta hear ‘em coming, too, so shhhh. Okay, girl, get a grip, she coached herself inside of her head.

  Being blind was very frustrating for Ta’shauna. She knew that if she lived through this that it was going to be hell trying to get adapted to her new handicap. Sight was one of the most important of the five senses. If she couldn’t see then she wouldn’t have an idea of where she was going or where she was being led to. It was valuable, especially giving the scenario that she was in.

  Threat, Tiaz’ best friend and crime partner, was sent to kill Ta’shauna once he’d found out about her playing him for her baby daddy back in prison. He’d caught the newlyweds just as they were leaving the church and didn’t waste any time cutting loose on them. He domed her baby’s daddy and he slumped, sending the car flying out of control before slamming into a light post. Afterwards, he hopped out of the car and strolled over to Ta’shauna, pulled her head back by her hair and put one in the top of her skull. She was thought to have been dead, but her will to survive was stronger than the grips of Death. Having fully recovered, Ta’shauna found herself out of the hospital and being ushered to the awaiting limousine by her brother Faison. That’s when her ex launched a second attack that left her mother, father, uncle and Faison’s hands dead. By the grace of God, she was able to escape with her life. She was brought to her brother’s house out in Malibu, California where she was told that someone would come and transport her to a safe house where they would watch over her until he returned. Now here she was again fleeing for her life from yet another madman. It was like history just kept on repeating itself.

  Ta’shauna pressed her back up against the wall, feeling along the wall as she traveled beside it. She made sure to keep her antennas up in case he came to finish her off. She was sure he’d come and she wanted to hear him when he decided to strike. Sensing that she’d reached the end of the corridor, she stuck her foot out and felt the first step. A smirk curled the corner of her lips and she felt a sense of relief. She was in the home stretch now. If she could just make it down the staircase and to the front door then she would be home free.

  Ta’shauna was just about to make her move when a strong hand grasped her arm. Her heart dropped and her eyes bulged.

  “Get offa me!” She swung wildly, catching him a couple of times in the face. He lowered his head and moved it all around to avoid her assault, still keeping a hold of her. His head shot up when she kicked him in the balls. His eyes bugged and he squared his jaws, veins bulged at his temples. That shit hurt! He dropped to his knees and grabbed for her. She was heading down the staircase when his hand clutched her about the ankle, tripping her up. She went tumbling down the steps, arms and legs flying every which way. She hit the end of the staircase and slid across the floor, lying in an awkward position.

  He ran to the beginning of the stairs and looked down. “She’s dead!”

  ***

  Scurrrrrr!

  Don Juan brought the Porsche truck to a halt. He and Lil’ Stan hopped out. They jogged across the street, narrowly missing being hit by cars. Hearing screams coming from above, they looked up and were devastated at what they saw. Tiaz was standing in the window wearing a black bandana over the lower half of his face. In one hand he held
a gun and in the other he held tightly to the back of a naked Kiana’s neck. She grimaced and cried, tears rolling over her lips and dripping.

  “Wait! Hold up!” Don Juan panicked, scared for his wife’s life.

  Please, God, don’t let ‘em hurt her!

  “To hell with holding up! You fuck with the bull, you get the horns, homes!” Tiaz spat unmercifully, he was about to lynch that bitch. He wanted her nigga to feel the devastation of losing someone that he loved, like he did when he stole Threat from him.

  Tiaz looped a noose around Kiana’s neck and shoved her out of the window. The wind blew upwards ruffling her hair as she screamed to high heaven, eyes stretched wide open. She flailed her arms and her legs moved as if she was running on air.

  “Noooooooooo!” Don Juan bellowed, with horror etched across his face. For the first time in his life he regretted the choices he’d made, because they all had led him to this moment, which could very well be his wife’s death.

  “Yuuuckkkk!” An ugly noise escaped Kiana’s lips as she was caught by the snag of the rope. Her face contorted and turned from red to purple, her eyeballs looking like they were about to burst out of their sockets. Veins crept up her neck, temples and forehead. She swung from left to right, trying desperately to loosen the slack from around her throat. “Gagggaggghh!” She clawed beneath her chin, breaking the skin and staining her fingers red. Her legs thrashed around wildly as she danced at the end of the rope.

  “Gaaaahh!” She gagged, sounding like a choking dog. Her eyes bled her pain and fright, slicking her cheeks wet. Her vision blurred and her head began to feel light. She could feel the icy hands of death grasp her about the ankles and pull her toward the other side.

  Kiana knew about the double life that her husband had led, but he’d promised to keep her out of harm’s way. She believed him, but at this moment and time, she couldn’t help but feel that he had failed her. She didn’t have a clue of what Don Juan had done to drive a man to lynch her like an unruly slave, but whatever it was she wish he would have stayed his hand because his actions were about to lead to her demise.

  “Hold on, baby, just hold on!” Don Juan screamed up at his wife.

  “I’ma see if I can catch ‘em, man!” Lil’ Stan drew his iron and threw open the door of the complex. He hauled ass toward the elevator, punching the up button repeatedly. When it didn’t come as fast as he wanted it, he swung open the staircase door and ascended the steps, two at a time.

  Don Juan hopped into his truck and fired that big mothafucka up.

  “Get outta the way goddamn it! Move!” He swept his arm around so that the bystanders would move out of his path. Cars honked their horns as he recklessly made a turn in the middle of the street, halting the traffic. “I’m here baby, I’m here! Just hold on for me!” He drove upon the curb and stopped the truck beneath Kiana. He climbed upon the roof of the car to find that she’d gone slack on the rope, slightly twitching as yellow droplets trickled from between her legs. “Awww, no, aww, baby no, don’t do this to me, sweetheart. I can’t live without chu.” Tears streamed down his face. He wrapped both of his arms around her legs and hoisted her up, lessening the restraint of the rope.

  Don Juan held her up and scanned the area. There were people standing around watching. Some wore looks of sadness, while others wore solemn expressions. “Somebody call the cops, goddamn it! Just don’t stand there!”

  Someone within the crowd pulled out their cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. An older white stud in a trucker cap and plaid shirt pulled a Swiss army knife from his back pocket. He triggered its blade and climbed upon the roof of the SUV.

  “Hold her still, I’m gonna cut her down.” He worked the knife back and forth across the rope until it came loose. Don Juan took his wife into his arms and lowered her to the roof of the truck, looking into her eyes. The stud in the trucker’s cap took off his shirt and passed it to him. He thanked him and draped Kiana’s nakedness in it.

  “I’m sorry, Lover, I’m so, so sorry about this.” He said to her as he stared into her open eyes, death lying in them. With a sweep of his hand, he closed her eyelids shut and kissed her tenderly on the lips. “I should have taken you far, far away where no one could ever touch you and DJ. DJ?” His eyes shot open when he suddenly realized that the mad man had his baby boy. He kissed his lady’s forehead and jumped down into the street, just as police cruisers were pulling upon the scene. He reached inside of his truck and grabbed his gun, running inside of the complex.

  Meanwhile

  Boom!

  The door to the staircase flew open and Lil’ Stan spilled out, sweat dripping from his brows, breathing hard, and head darting all around while gripping his head bussa. He looked alive when he saw Tiaz run out of the condo with DJ held close to him. He stopped where he was and lifted his steel, sending some heat his way. Lil’ Stan dove to the floor. He hit the carpet on his palms and looked up to see Tiaz’ back as he broke down the corridor. The lines of his forehead deepened and he twisted his lips. He hopped upon his feet just as the elevator dinged and Don Juan came running out. Don Juan saw Lil’ Stan raising his gun. He was about to set it off again when the Trap God bellowed.

  “Stoooopp!”

  Bloc!

  The shot went wild and struck the ceiling, causing debris to fall when he smacked Lil’ Stan’s hand down. He forced him up against the wall with his arm across his chest, looking him in the eyes with a scowling face.

  “Fuck is the matter witchu? I coulda got ‘em!” Lil’ Stan grumbled.

  “He’s got my son, you coulda hit ‘em,” he barked, spittle jumping off his lips.

  “Ahh, shit.” He came up off the wall.

  “Come on!” Don Juan waved him on as he went after Tiaz. They fled down the hallway in hot pursuit of the buff neck thug, hoping that he didn’t get away before they could get the baby back.

  Coming upon the window at the end of the hall, Tiaz pointed his Beretta and let it go. Boc! Boc! Boc! The glass cracked into several spiders webs. He tucked the steel on his waistline and held the baby to him with both hands. He bowed his head and gritted his teeth, leaping through the window.

  Craaaassh!

  He went flying through the glass, carrying shards along with him as he fell toward the ground. Seeing this, Don Juan and Lil’ Stan’s eyes grew as big as saucers and their mouths formed Os. The Trap God raised his hand as he chased after him, like he could reach him before he made his dangerous escape. Don Juan and Lil’ Stan reached the window and looked down. They found Tiaz climbing out of the trash bin with a crying little DJ. He landed on his feet and peeled the blanket the baby was wrapped in open, looking inside. Little DJ was fine. Tiaz looked up at his opposition and saluted them with the middle finger before taking off, whipping his head bussa from his waistline.

  Seeing him fleeing, Don Juan tucked his banger and made to hop out when Lil’ Stan gripped his shoulder.

  “Wait! You finna jump?” The little nigga frowned.

  “Yeah, I’m finna jump! This mothafucka got my son!” He snatched away and leaped down. Crunch! He landed inside of the trash bin on top of the black garbage bags and cardboard boxes. Crunch! Lil’ Stan landed inside of the bin right beside him. Together they climbed out and landed onto the wet graveled ground of the alley. They took off down the dark path and came spilling out into the sidewalk. Their heads snapped all around, as they were trying to locate the buff neck thug. He wasn’t any where in sight. It was like he had vanished like vapors.

  “Shit! Fuck!” Don Juan vented, swinging on the air. He brought his hands down his face and blew hard. Lil’ Stan placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

  ***

  “Waa! Waa! Waa!” little DJ wailed.

  “Shhhh! It’s okay, lil’ man, you gon’ be alright. Uncle T is here.” Tiaz steered the G-ride with one hand, looking from the windshield to the baby. He glanced over his shoulder out of the driver side window and saw Don Juan and Lil’ Stan reaching the end of the alley. He saw
the Trap God fuming mad and chuckled. “Bitch ass nigga. I’ma show you what time it is.”

  It had been Tiaz’ intention to take the baby all along. He needed him for leverage.

  The Game of Death had begun.

  Chapter Three

  Chevy sat in the waiting room with her fingers interlocked and her forehead resting against it. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks had white streaks sprawled down them. They were dried tears. As of now she was no longer grieving. She was praying and bartering with The Lord Almighty to spare the father of her son. She knew all about Faison’s dealings in the streets, as well as some of the unsavory things he’d done on his way up to Top Dawg status. Hell, her hands weren’t clean of the dirt either.

  The high-yellow beauty had stained her soul on her man’s climb up the ladder. Not only had she helped set someone up to get knocked off on his behalf, but she used to transport guns and drugs for him in the beginning. She did this when he was a young upstart trying to get it, but he eventually hired some hands to take those risks for him. Things that she did to help the love of her life could have gotten her life behind bars without the possibility. The crazy thing about it is she wouldn’t take any of it back. Not one single thing. She did it all out of love.

  “Amen.” Chevy finished her prayer and slowly brought her head up.

  “Here, I thought you could use this.”

  She turned her head and found one of the nurses passing her a cup of coffee, sharing a smile of support.

  Chevy took the steaming hot cup of joe and mustered a halfhearted smile. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” She gripped her shoulder. “I’ll keep your fiancé in my prayers.”

  “Okay. I appreciate that.” Chevy watched the nurse leave the waiting room and took a sip of the coffee. She closed her eyes for a time and savored the hot liquid. It was very much needed. She cleared her throat with a fist to her mouth. Licking her lips, she was about to take another sip when a news broadcast snatched her attention.