Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 14
Knowing the already economically stressed law enforcement department would be focusing in on that particular area of the city, he knew this was his perfect opportunity to make his escape from the room. Using Doc’s cell, he sent another text. Tucking the police-issued pistol down in his pants, Marco grabbed Doc’s lightweight jacket off the floor putting it on. With Doc’s wallet, jewelry, cell phone, and car keys, Marco raised the metal towel bar once more crashing it against Doc’s skull and rendering him unconscious. Creeping out into the hallway, he put the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob to buy him some time before someone actually came into the room and discovered he’d been hiding out there.
Placing Big Doc B’s designer sunglasses on his face in hopes of somewhat disguising himself, Marco exited the hotel and went toward the parking lot. Hell yeah, I’m out that motherfucker! With the BMW specialty cut keys in hand, easily he spotted the coupe. Using the keychain alarm, Marco clicked it unlocking the doors. Now let’s see how much bullshit Jordan gonna be talking. He used Doc’s cell phone once again before pulling out the hotel parking lot.
* * *
JORDAN
Opting to get a French manicure on her toes, Jordan sat back relaxing while daydreaming about being a kept woman just like Kenya had been over the past year. In the middle of her conniving thoughts, the feeling of her cell vibrating snatched her back to the moment. What the fuck? she immediately wondered reading the new text message. This ain’t this fool’s day to be on my trail. Typing back her response quickly, there was no way she was gonna turn down money, especially free money.
Where r u at?
In d-town area.
Happily waiting for her toes to dry a little before getting up, Jordan smiled when Big Doc B texted her back telling exactly where she could meet up with him and pick up the extra cash he’d won from a high-stakes card game he’d played the evening prior. She texted back, Roger that! Doc was always doing a little this and that for her from time to time, so this donation to her ghetto-balling lifestyle was, of course, welcome and not a surprise.
I’m glad he didn’t say the hotel room, because that spot is definitely a thang of the past until Marco is locked back up and out the way. She slipped on her flip-flops, tipped the Korean woman, and headed toward the door. Matter of fact, I’ma tell Doc, for the time being, he can just let that room go. Besides, Storm’s fine ass about to be paying all my bills.
Pulling her car into the semi-deserted parking lot in the back of an office building, Jordan saw the rear of Doc’s Beemer. Glancing at the dashboard clock, she knew she only had ten maybe fifteen minutes top to kick it with Doc’s tricking ass before she had to be on her way to meet up with Storm at his condo. Parking directly next to his car, Jordan looked in her mirror, making sure her makeup was cute, before jumping out. Prancing over to the vehicle with dark tinted windows, without looking inside first she eased inside shutting the door in one seemingly fast motion. Seconds later, caught completely off guard, she felt Marco’s rough hands wrapped around her throat, squeezing.
“Yeah, you stupid ho! What was that shit you was blowing out your grill last night?” His grip tightened as she struggled. “You’s a boss bitch, right? Right? So boss the fuck up now!”
Gasping for air, Jordan’s hands tugged at her attacker’s trying to get away. The more she pulled, the harder Marco seemed to bear down. Fighting for her life, she used the only thing she had for a weapon: her fingernails. Wildly reaching up, Jordan clawed deep into Marco’s skin gouging a huge chunk of skin from each side of his cheeks momentarily causing him to let up.
“Nooo, nooo, stop!” She leaned on the passenger door hoping it would magically open and she could escape.
Feeling the stinging from the scratches, Marco retaliated by two strong palm smacks across her face. “Shut the fuck up!” he demanded finally reaching between his legs revealing his gun. “If I gotsta say that shit again, I’ma put something hot up in your brains besides this good dick you use to having there, you feel me?”
Scared out her mind, Jordan did as she was told. With a face full of tears and nursing a now sore neck, she breathed in and out rapidly. “Why you doing this?” she managed to ask.
“Yo, for real, are you kidding me?” Marco wanted to just smoke her and be done with it, but he knew she had information he needed to follow through on his plans to kill Storm before he left town. “Ain’t you the one who told me to go fuck myself yesterday? I should leave you right in the back seat of this bitch with two to the head.”
Jordan started to shake. “Please, Marco, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I promise I didn’t.”
After listening to the once mouthy female beg, plead, and bargain for her life, Marco told her what he wanted from her and what she was gonna do from this point on if she wanted to live. Terrified, now realizing he could reach out and touch her at any time, Jordan swore she would tell him any and all moves Storm made the next few days. She started by letting him know exactly what funeral home Storm talked about contacting the night of O.T.’s death.
“I’m everywhere, bitch, know that! And if you even think about turning me the fuck in, I ain’t housing at that hotel no more. I left that old, slick getting-pussy nigga there taking a bath.” Marco sarcastically smirked referring to Doc. “But don’t worry, he alive. After watching this, I had to let the OG live!” Marco let Jordan watch the video once before laying down his law and letting her go. “Remember what I said, bitch! I’m every-fucking-where!”
Safely back inside her car, Jordan took at least a good twenty minutes getting herself back together before even trying to call Storm and let him know she was finally on her way. Kenya’s tramp ass been fucking around with Doc all this time. Jordan rubbed her neck with one hand while steering with the other. I wonder does Storm know and damn, is that baby Kenya having even his? Maybe that’s why she left.
Engulfed in the various scenarios that could’ve brought Kenya and Doc together in the first place, Jordan finally showed some compassion for someone other than herself: Doc. Marco got Doc’s keys and pushing his ride. I hope he’s alive like Marco said. With a shaky voice looking in her rearview mirror to see if she was being followed, Jordan dialed the hotel’s front desk. Anonymously, she informed the manager on duty there had been some sort of an accident in room 521 and someone on staff needed to enter to premises to look into it.
Realizing housekeeping hadn’t been allowed to enter and clean room 521 for over three days straight and counting, the manager believed Jordan’s claim and personally went himself to investigate.
* * *
BIG DOC B
Trying his best to hold on to life, Doc heard the paramedics talking to him as he was stretched out on the floor of the hotel room, but he couldn’t open his eyes or mouth to respond. With each second passing their voices got further and further away. Soon he heard nothing. All Big Doc B’s cheating indiscretions, marital contempt, and all-night trips to strip clubs were over. The fact that he had this love nest rented for months at a time wouldn’t be able to be questioned. Those actions along with the consequences he would’ve inevitably been faced to deal with from his longtime devoted and extremely jealous wife, who was already diagnosed as being clinically depressed and Storm when the video was finally discovered were going to be taken to the grave with him. Thank God for that.
“It looks like the traumatic force of whatever was used to make this huge lump caused some sort of internal hemorrhaging,” one EMT speculated for the cause of the man’s death.
“Oh my God!” The manager panicked selfishly thinking about his hotel’s reputation as he took a good look at the condition of the room. “Something like this has never happened here!”
“Well, he has no type of identification, so we are gonna need the information of the person who originally rented this room,” a policeman interjected so his department could notify the victim’s next of kin. “And I’m gonna need to view your surveillance tapes. He didn’t hit himself in the head and he da
mn sure didn’t tie himself up!”
Chapter Fourteen
STORM
Although he didn’t have his cell phone, Storm woke up automatically knowing time was ticking away on the first balloon payment due date. Four days and counting during one of the worst, if not the worst, times of his life, he stood tall. Waiting for Jordan to come and pick him up, Storm thought about all the things he needed to do. After a quick stop at the Sprint store, followed by solemnly going to the funeral home to make arrangements for O.T., Storm planned for Jordan to stand in for Kenya at the impound lot and get his car released. Hopefully, he’d slip the attendant a couple of dollars, and along with the title, which he had, they’d overlook Jordan not having ID that read Kenya James.
Sitting back in his favorite chair, all he could do was think about the crying sounds of the baby Kenya claimed was his. Unsuccessfully trying to get a hold of London and not having contact information for any of their relatives, Storm was lost. Kenya’s cell was also still going to voicemail, so once again out of complete desperation, he reached out to Brother Rasul. Giving him a blow-by-blow description of his and Kenya’s conversation, including the baby part, he begged him man to man to help him see his son, if nothing else.
* * *
BROTHER RASUL
Brother Rasul left the kitchen to answer the doorbell. At a loss about who it could be, because his associates knew better than to just drop by, he looked through the security peephole. With folded arms and an apparent attitude, Fatima rang the bell once more.
“Yeah.” He opened the door not forgetting her disrespecting antics.
“Yeah, I left one of my textbooks, and I need it for class tomorrow.”
Brother Rasul knew Kenya was still upstairs in his bed sleeping. Still in bliss from the all-night pussy he’d gotten, he was far from in the mood to explain Kenya’s presence, let alone the baby’s. He was glad he’d put Kenya’s car in the garage to avoid questions from any nosey neighbors and, especially now, Fatima. “Well, wait here. I’ll get it. Where’d you leave it at?”
“Umm, I think it’s in the den by the couch.” Fatima hoped her popping up would give them a chance to make up, but he was still acting hard. “Do you want me to look for it?” She reached for the handle of the iron gate; however, it was locked.
“Naw, I’m good on all that.” He pushed the wooden door half shut while he went to locate her supposedly important book.
Fatima couldn’t believe his nerve not letting her inside. Standing on the porch, she looked down through the crack in the door and couldn’t believe her eyes. Are those a pair of female shoes near the closet? Oh, no, he ain’t got no other female up in there already. I should cut him and that ho!
When he returned without being able to find the book, Fatima was leaving off the porch done with him for good. She’d quickly come to her senses, knowing she had way too much to lose to be catching a case over dumb shit.
“I couldn’t find it,” he yelled out the door.
“Forget it. I’m good. But have you spoken to Kenya anymore since the other night?”
“Kenya?” he repeated with guilt in his tone.
Fatima had no idea whatsoever that Kenya was right upstairs in the bed she and Brother Rasul had shared for over a year. “Yeah, I just wanted to know what was going on with London. I keep calling and calling. Her phone is going straight to voicemail. So if you could at least let her know I’m trying to get in contact with her, I’d appreciate it.”
Knowing that when Fatima found out her best friend was dead she was going to be devastated, Brother Rasul felt bad, but he had to lie. He had no choice. “I haven’t spoken to Kenya since the other night, but I’ll try to call her later and check up on London for you.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Fatima sneered opening her car door. “And tell that slut you got up in there to enjoy my sloppy seconds!”
* * *
Allah, I don’t mean to question you, for you know what’s best. Please guide me.
Knowing what he had to do, Brother Rasul finished making Kenya a light breakfast before he went to work out. The baby was changed and napping. Taking the tray upstairs, he stood at the foot of the bed. There he saw Kenya, still sleeping. He knew what he was feeling was wrong, but after a night of wild, almost anything-goes sex, he was wide open. Far from being a fool, he knew she was still in love with Storm and was only banging him out of revenge, but right about now, he couldn’t give a fuck less about her motives.
Sensing him standing over her, Kenya opened her eyes. “Oh, hey,” she barely mumbled. “Good morning.”
Giving her a chance to use the bathroom and wash her face, Brother Rasul watched her eat while he informed her, rather demanded, that he, she, and Storm’s son would be making a road trip back to Dallas in the next few days.
“I’m going to get one of my close pediatrician friends from the mosque to examine the baby, then we good to go.”
Of course, Kenya strongly protested, but she eventually gave in. She trusted Brother Rasul’s word that he would let no harm come to her, whether it be from Storm or the police.
* * *
STORM
Deciding to get an altogether new cell phone number cutting ties from unnecessary people who had the first, including Marco Meriwether, Storm reached in his back pocket taking out his wallet. Finding the card with Anika’s number on it, he dialed hoping she’d pick up. When she did, he told her who he was and from this point on if the folk they both worked for needed to get in touch with him, they could do so on the new number he’d just called from.
Considering the way she flirted with him on their ride back from the initial meeting, Storm was a little thrown off at the dryness in her tone. She agreed to deliver the message after offering him her condolences on his younger brother’s untimely death. How did she even know about what happened to O.T.? His mind puzzled as Jordan drove him to the funeral home.
Maybe it’s because she’s deep in the street game and immune to losing soldiers or maybe she just isn’t a morning person. Whatever the case was, Storm felt Anika’s overall coldness throughout the duration of their brief conversation. For a female who was practically throwing the pussy on him a few days ago, she was acting brand new. He wanted to ask her if she thought he could negotiate for another few days on the payment date but could tell in her tone that now wasn’t the time.
Besides, even though Jordan seemed preoccupied with something and looked a little bit puffy in the face when she showed up, Storm knew bitches like the back of his hand, and he knew Jordan was still ear-hustling his call. Saying anything about his illegal business dealings in front of some random strip club dancer wanting to get on was completely out the question.
Enduring the sadness of making the final arrangements for his brother, Storm decided since he and O.T. had no real blood relatives to speak of, he’d just have a viewing of the body and then a private ceremony. The director had him sign all the required paperwork and gladly accepted the cash payment from Mr. Tony Christian who he knew was a drug dealer, which made no difference to him. Some of his best clients and paymasters were criminals.
Paying an extra fee for the mortician to rush preparing his brother’s body for viewing in the next few days so the entire ordeal could just be over, Storm depressingly left with a clingy Jordan right by his side. Next, they’d go and try to get his car from the impound lot.
Unknown to him, there was a pair of eyes watching his every movement.
Chapter Fifteen
PARIS
“Everything seems so confusing. I can’t believe all these months have passed.” Paris sat up in the bed still in denial. “The last thing I really can remember is taking a bunch of pills at my apartment.”
Kendricks, who’d been forced to take a mandatory leave pending further investigation of Marco Meriwether’s escape, had been spending all his free time posted by Paris bedside. Sporting a huge bandage to hide the staples used to close his head wound, he listened attentively, hanging on h
er every word. Paris was led to believe that the man who was being so helpful was a patient from down the hall, not a policeman fishing for information she may or may not have known.
“Well, you shouldn’t push yourself.” He turned off his hidden small handheld recorder. “But I did want to tell you something I overheard some of them at the first desk talking about.”
Reaching out for Kendricks’s hand to help her get into her wheelchair so she could go to physical therapy to regain strength in her leg muscles, Paris was confused. “What are you talking about?”
After getting her safely transferred from the bed, Kendricks inconspicuously turned the recorder back on. Walking over to the table on the far side of the room, he returned with a folded-up newspaper dated a few days prior. “I just thought you should know.” Handing her the paper, he stood back so he could study her reaction to the front page headlines.
“Noooo! It can’t be! Noooo!” she screamed out not believing the tragic words she’d just read. Throwing the source of her pain to the floor, Paris tried to get up from the wheelchair, but she weakly fell to the ground alongside the newspaper. “Is that why they claim they can’t get in touch with anyone from my family? Is it?” she cried. “I don’t believe it! Not O.T.! Noooo! Why, Tangy? Why?” Her sobs got louder. “Is that why ain’t nobody been here to see about me, not even Kenya?”
Kendricks started to feel bad for the young woman he’d strangely become romantically attached to. He didn’t want Paris to suffer, yet the years of him being an officer of the law were motivating him to find out what she knew about Tony “Storm” Christian and his brother, her boyfriend, the now deceased Othello “O.T.” Christian. “I guess so.” He played dumb. “But why would your cousin kill your boyfriend anyway?”
“Oh, God, what have I been doing? Oh my God!”
She was given a strong sedative by one of the nurses to calm her down, and Kendricks recorded every word Paris mumbled about God giving her another chance to make things right in her tormented life. As a policeman, he was shocked to learn all the crimes she confessed Storm, Kenya, and O.T. had committed and even more shocked to learn the ones she’d personally taken part in herself. How can somebody so beautiful be so cold, he wondered, emotionally torn about what to do next with the explosive information he’d just learned.