Tick, Tick, Boom! Read online

  “Hold up, trick. Who you think you talking to like that? You got me all the way twisted,” Marco snarled ready to tear something up. “I swear, I’ma kill you about that smart mouth of yours! So yeah, okay, I just saw ol’ girl and some big dude leave. Okay, nigga, so did she smack the fire out that ass for banging her man or what, you gutter side piece?”

  Jordan knew by his informative statement, Marco must’ve been not too far away. She was terrified, but she knew as long as she was inside Storm’s domain she’d be safe. “Nigga, didn’t I say die in your sleep? So why you calling me? Kick rocks! Matter of fact, you coward, let me call Sprint right now!”

  In between the dog’s constant barking and the piercing sounds of the smoke detectors still going the noise level was too much to bear. Jordan had to do something to calm her shaky nerves. Taking a deep breath, she had no other choice. As she eased toward the other side of the kitchen, her heart raced. She would have to overcome her fear of the wild animal. Bravely walking toward the rear door, she unlocked it so some fresh air could circulate throughout the kitchen.

  * * *

  MARCO

  Marco burped. Rubbing his stomach, he laughed at all the various items he had recently consumed. He’d spent the day and evening before cooking everything poor old Mrs. Farrow had in her refrigerator. And he’d snacked on everything in her cabinets. Having been on the run, the few measly meals he’d eaten at the hotel only put a small dent in his otherwise huge appetite. In between talking to the elderly woman’s deceased body and eating he was in a weird zone. Strangely he propped her now rigor frame up in a chair to keep him company as he watched Wheel of Fortune and several reruns of The Wire on HBO. To pass the time away, Marco dialed Jordan’s cell repeatedly. He was going ham, threatening the dancer with what he was intent on doing when he caught up to her. Although Jordan acted brave-hearted, he knew the goofy female was shook. That chickenhead act like Storm can save her? Shit, that gay boy ain’t gonna be able to save his own damn self! I’ma be on both they heads and anybody else’s who gets in my damn way. Anyone who steps to me can get this work.

  Watching out the front picture window from the side, he could easily see the comings and goings at Storm’s condo. After observing some random dude who apparently stayed there now leave, then Storm, Marco increased his “ho, I’m gonna body that ass” calls to Jordan. When she chose to answer, he went in, and when she didn’t, he left bone-chilling messages until her mailbox was completely filled.

  Minutes after she’d sworn to get her number changed, Marco saw a dark SUV slow down in front of the old woman’s condo. Damn, who in the fuck is this about to be? Running to get his gun, he was soon relieved when it finally rode past his new Honeycomb Hideout. As he exhaled, he still stayed on guard as the vehicle turned into Storm’s driveway. It took him all of five seconds to recognize a familiar face. “Oh, it’s that crazy trick.” He made reference to Kenya who’d just gotten out before her ride disappeared into the garage. “This about to be good as hell. Damn, I wish I was a fucking fly on the wall when she sees Jordan’s bitch ass all up in her crib like she the queen bee! It’s about to be some real-life horror movie bloodshed popping off inside that motherfucker.”

  Marco kept a careful eye out on the front door and the driveway and his ears wide open. He didn’t want to potentially miss a thing. After a few minutes, he started to glance at the time on his cell phone and then back on the front door of the condo. He was posted. Even the crazy part of Omar getting killed by that little thug hopper couldn’t steal his attention away from the window. Waiting for Jordan to be dragged out on the front lawn by her weave, fifteen or twenty minutes later, Marco was confused and speechless. The truck, which had parked inside the attached garage, pulled out and simply drove off. There was no big confrontation. There was no gunfire, no “bitch, who the fuck do you think you are,” and no broken windows. The only thing Marco saw was just Kenya sitting in the passenger seat looking screw-faced pissed. Disappointed he didn’t see hair ripped from Jordan’s scalp or two sets of bare, exposed breasts flapping in the wind from torn shirts, he shrugged his shoulders.

  Going into the kitchen to make yet another bowl of cereal and figure out his next move, Marco had to call Jordan in hopes of seeing if she’d gotten that ass smacked up or what. After a few rings, she picked up and cursed him out basically telling him what a rotten piece of shit she thought he was. With those insults along with being a coward, Marco couldn’t hold his composure any longer. Throwing the bowl of Corn Flakes against the wall, he grabbed his gun. With contempt, he headed out the rear entrance of the elderly woman’s condo. Once in the backyard, Marco was ready for war. As if he was some sort of an amateur contortionist, he somehow wedged his body through a hole in the fence connecting Mrs. Farrow’s and Storm’s properties. Thanks to Storm and his anger originally kicking the hole, Marco was easily creeping under the kitchen window. Listening to a dog barking and what sounded like smoke detectors, he peeped inside just in time to see Jordan head toward the door. Now would be payback time. Now he would teach her a deadly lesson about that “say anything to anybody” mouth of hers. Ol’ girl ain’t tap that ass, but I’m that nigga; fo’ sho.

  Thinking today must’ve been his lucky day, Marco grinned at the impending satisfaction. He knew in a matter of seconds he would be dancing in the devil’s playground. One person on his long hit list would be getting what she had coming. Preparing himself to do whatever he needed to do, Marco took a deep breath. He leaned his body close against the rear wall of the condo as he saw Jordan push the steel gate open. As her arm was extending out, hand gripping the doorknob, he knew it was now or never. With one swift movement, the sworn killer yanked down on her wrist. Snatching her thick frame onto the concrete walkway, it was like Christmas, Easter, and his birthday all rolled into one.

  “Oh my God, what the hell?” Jordan screamed out just before Marco’s hand wrapped around her throat. Her eyes were already red and half shut from the bleach shower rinse Kenya had blessed her with; however, they popped wide open. Using all the strength she had left, Jordan tried to fight back, but she quickly realized she had no win as Marco’s grip tightened.

  “What’s up with you, bitch? What’s good, hood rat?” Marco forced her back on to her feet. Laughing as if she were a joke, he fast walked her into the doorway knocking the side of her head against the frame. “I told you your ass couldn’t hide from a nigga like me. See you used to dealing with them lames like Storm and his crew. Me, see, I ain’t fake with my gangsta. I’m about that life for real.”

  “Wait. P . . . please,” Jordan stuttered seeing the murderous rage in his eyes.

  “Naw, girl, you wait. I wanna know what was that bullshit you was talking a few minutes ago, huh? You wasn’t nothing but a waste of my sperm, a cum Dumpster.”

  The grasp he had on her boney throat was starting to cut off her air. Jordan soon felt her feet lift off the ground. Her feet started to kick as she fought to live. In the struggle, Marco’s pistol fell to the ground. With the sounds of Jordan sobbing, Marco talking shit, and the gun hitting the marble floor Reckless continued to bark, even increasing his deep pitch.

  “Urgg . . .” Her eyes rolled to the rear of her skull the more he applied pressure. She squirmed around while trying desperately to pry his hands from around her neck. She grew dizzy, and her lips started to tingle and feel numb. They were losing all of their color.

  “You the first to go and when Storm get back to this motherfucker he gonna be the next. That’s my word,” he vowed with fury as he dragged her by the throat across the room. With no godly remorse, Marco slammed Jordan’s head back and forth on the walk-in freezer door. With each jerk of her neck, he laughed. He wondered what Storm was gonna say when he came home and found him hidden behind his front door waiting to put a couple of hot ones up in him. These busters gonna get enough of underestimating me! They only play at being gangstas. That shit ain’t learned; you born with it.

  The black-hearted killer was
tired of toying with his once prey. With Jordan still fighting to live, Marco let go of his strong neck grip. He then decided to bring an end to his revenge where she was concerned. Vindictively, he raised his foot kicking Jordan dead in the stomach causing her to throw up at his feet. Repeating the dreadful action, she was about done as Reckless continued to go crazy. Any other time, old Mrs. Farrow would be probably ringing the doorbell complaining that there was too much noise and commotion coming from Storm’s condo, but of course, that was not a factor.

  Staggering from the brutal force of the last shoe sole she felt an inch above her navel, Jordan flew into the empty pantry door. In an effort to get away from Marco’s vicious attack, Jordan reached her arm up. Her T-shirt somehow snagged on the doorknob turning it slightly enough for it to open. Jordan, bruised and battered, then fell back hitting her head on the marble flooring. She was dizzy. She was out of breath. She was feeling herself fighting to live. The kitchen seemed to be growing dark. Seconds before losing consciousness, the always arrogant, self-serving, scheming female gasped in horror as the huge, anxious-to-be-free albino pit busted out from behind his in-house cage. Wanting nothing more than to taste blood, the overweight beast pounced on Marco knocking him into the wall.

  “Oh, hell naw. What the fuck? Awww naw.” Marco panicked not expecting the brutal attack. The self-proclaimed thug hustler used both hands trying to pry the animal’s sharp teeth from his upper shoulder blade just as Jordan had attempted to do to his. “Oh, shit! Fuck! Fuck Damn! Naw!” Aggressively he fought the four-legged creature the best he possibly could. Yet as the seconds seemed to drag by the grueling assault never let up.

  Reckless was in rare “attack, crush, kill, destroy” mode. He was trained to go and was doing just that. The animal that hadn’t been fed since the evening before happily enjoyed the taste of human flesh. Every movement Marco made, the pit bull counteracted by increasing his iron mouth grip. Digging deeper into his victim’s skin, Reckless’s teeth ripped away at chunks of the human’s neck making his way down his body.

  Panicked and almost out of breath, Marco widened his eyes, desperately searching for his gun. They darted from one side of the floor to the next. He finally made eye contact. Unfortunately, his trusty weapon was yards away. Making an attempt to get in that direction, he felt Reckless temporarily loosen his massive jaw hold from his bloodied shoulder. Marco knew it was now or never if he wanted to survive. He had to make his move, and he did. Crawling on the floor, he went over Jordan’s motionless body.

  In a matter of mere seconds, Reckless showed Marco the same amount of compassion as he had shown Jordan: none. He was doomed. Marco collapsed from the weight of the dog attacking him from behind. Tearing away at his jugular vein with razor-sharp paws, Reckless seemed to be in heaven. Marco wanted to yell out to the dog to suck his dick, but he couldn’t; his vocal cords were severed. In the midst of the one-sided battle, it soon became apparent that Storm would no longer have to be concerned with Marco and his revenge-filled threats. Out of all the men, women, and even kids Marco Meriwether had brutally murdered, beaten, raped, disrespected, harassed, taken advantage of, and had no overall regard for, finally it took a wild, untamed animal such as himself to bring an end to his reign of terror.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  POLICE

  “Okay, everyone suit up and get prepared. With all the information Sergeant Kendricks has provided us with over the past few days he learned from Paris, it’s a definite go. The prosecutor’s office rep will be here momentarily with the signed warrants. And then Tony Christian aka Storm will be regretting the day he was born. We finally have enough evidence to lock him up for the rest of his natural life.” Detective Malloy was trying to contain his glee. With a brave confidence, he put his own bulletproof vest on just a couple of blocks away from Storm’s condo. Incidentally, it was also the location of the recovered stolen minivan that had been discovered with Marco Meriwether’s fingerprints inside.

  With anticipation of finally closing several major cases that had been dead ends up until now, Malloy checked his revolver. Seeing it was fully loaded and ready for action he then proceeded to check his riot pump as well. This was the day he and most of the entire department had been waiting for. The day Storm, always eluding getting caught back up in the system, would be put in handcuffs. It didn’t matter his suspended partner Sergeant Kendricks had conned the damning information from Paris. It didn’t matter that she was deemed mentally unstable. All of that was beyond the point. The hard, cold fact still remained that Storm was going down, dead or alive this go-around. And as far as Detective Malloy was concerned the choice would be his.

  * * *

  STORM

  “Look, Kenya, I want to see my damn baby. Nothing more nothing less. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  “So damn what? ‘I wanna see my damn baby,’” she spitefully mocked after reading him the riot act about Jordan being back at the condo. “People in hell straight want ice water, but oh, well. You know how that bullshit go.”

  “Yo, I’m serious as fuck. I’m not playing around with you no more. If you still care anything about a nigga, at least you’ll let me see my kid. I mean, damn. I know you bitter as fuck behind everything that jumped off.”

  “Bitter? Me? Now, why would you think I was bitter? Because you got me all out here in these streets looking stupid as hell while you banging every ho at the club? Or bitter because you had the nerve to get my own sister knocked up in the house I lay my head down at night? Which one, nigga? Please tell me.”

  “Look, you silly-ass little bitch,” he fired back tired of all the cat-and-mouse insult games she was playing. “Right about now I’m working on a short fuse and trust me when I tell you this ain’t the time to try to be all tough. Now like I done said a million times before, I ain’t fucked none of them dancers at the club, and now all I wanna do is see my baby, my seed. Where the hell is London at anyhow? Do she know about you doing all this shit to block me from seeing our baby?”

  “Damn, all right now. I heard that. You said ‘our baby’ prouder than a motherfucker. That’s all you give a hot shit about with your shady, slimeball, backstabbing ass: that baby and my sister.” Kenya hung up the phone but answered it when Storm called right back

  “Yeah, whatever, with your jealous, insecure ass. And like I just said before you hung up, where is London at anyhow? She letting you play games with the baby like you doing?”

  “Fuck your baby momma London, fuck you, and double fuck y’all bastard-ass baby,” she hissed with intense fury. “Y’all can all three be a family in hellfire for all I care. I’m good doin’ me.”

  “Please, Kenya! Why you doing this bullshit? I always had your back and you doing me like this? I done dogged out motherfuckers and bitches who been crazy loyal to me over the years just because you didn’t like them. I had them to get the fuck on instantly just on the strength of your word and you bugging. You questioning my loyalty to you.” Storm managed to beg to see his son in between Kenya still cursing him out for Jordan being at the house and hanging up on him again. Of course, he called back.

  “Okay, bitch, I’m done fucking around with your dumb ass. You had a nigga all in for you, jumping through hoops to be down for you, loyal to you. And now you a straight-up bug.”

  “Yup, I showl in the hell is,” she hissed not trying to hear or accept anything he was saying. “I see you was so damn loyal you got a baby by my sister and one of your hoes lying up in my house washing her stank ass in my shower. Boy, bye.”

  Storm had been keeping his eye on the road the entire time he had been arguing with who he thought was the love of his life. Having lived with Kenya all this time, he knew she was prone to go through one of her many emotional tantrums. He prayed this was just another and she would calm down and come home. Quickly he swerved the car up in front of his condo behind Jordan’s. Damn, why I even let this dumb ho come and crash here? I knew that shit was gonna blow up in my face. Fuck! Storm’s t
ires screeched as he slammed down on the brakes. Paying careful attention to each and every vehicle on the block, sadly he didn’t see any signs of Kenya. His heart sank. He also didn’t take notice of the man the funeral director described who he had assumed must’ve been Brother Rasul. He started to get a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Noticing the garage was wide open, Storm knew that at least Kenya had actually been there since no one else but him, O.T., and she had the security code. I hope this fool is just inside posted on the couch with London and my baby. Maybe they both got Jordan ass hemmed up in a closet scared to come out. Damn, this been the worst few months in my life. All a nigga wanted to do is live right. Take care of my girl and my seed and get money. Damn!

  Anxious to see if Kenya was possibly still inside with his newborn, Storm turned off the engine. Desperate in his intentions, he jumped out of the car. Before the visibly distraught thug could walk across the grass, he was startled. A woman suddenly appeared from behind one of the bushes. “Damn, where you come from?” Storm paused while still keeping his eyes focused on the front door of his condo.

  “Hey, now; what up, doe.” Anika smiled showing damn near every tooth in her mouth. “What’s going on, dude? How you been?”

  Storm was thrown off by her presence; however, he did see her name on O.T.’s guestbook back at the funeral home. “Well, you know this past week ain’t been the best for a nigga, ya feel me? I mean all things considered.” He lowered his head before looking back up in her eyes. “I saw you stopped by to pay your respects to my brother. Seriously, no bullshit, I appreciate that for real.”