Married to the Shooter Page 3

  “No doubt, baby, I’ma stand strong no matter what. I mean, so far, the papers only name him as an informant against you and some of the fellas. But like I fucking said, who knows?” Kapri was usually hard as nails but fought back the tears as she spoke, lowering her gun. “Damn, this is so fucked up. Shit, for all we know, the hook is parked on the corner, waiting to kick the damn doors in. We probably under surveillance now by the Feds or DEA.”

  Those words did something to Nolan’s spirit. Kapri was right. They didn’t know what kind of time frame they were working with when it came to this situation. There was no telling how long they’d been under investigation. And she was also right. This was all his fault for bringing the virus into their world. He had let not only her down, but also himself as well.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Let me think! Damn, this shit is fucked!

  For a few minutes, the seasoned criminal paced the floor as his aggression increased. Every muscle on Nolan’s chiseled frame was on swollen. The prison ink on his back was covered in beads of sweat, and his green eyes were now bloodshot. Finally, he eased up on pacing and pounding his fist into his palm. Nolan had more than enough of reflecting on what could or would be. He paused, turning to face his visibly distraught wife. “Baby, you already know what has to come next, right?”

  With no love lost where Joe Brezzy-Bey was concerned, it didn’t take much convincing for Kapri’s confident response. She was always down with the termination of anything standing in the way of their happiness, be it family, friends, associates, workers, or in this case, a turncoat snake that deserved what he got.

  “Of course. Simple, my king. This nigga gotta die.” Kapri grinned at last, thinking of getting rid of Fiona’s cousin once and for all. Grabbing Nolan’s manhood, she slowly stroked it through his jeans, licking the remaining of the day’s gloss off her lips. “And, baby, I say the sooner, the better. So, yeah, do what you gotta do. If you run outta bullets, feel free to use mine as well. I’m here for it.”

  In the midst of all that was going on, Nolan was still aroused by his girl’s touch. He pulled her close and deep tongue kissed his constant partner in crime. “Yeah, Kapri, even if we do get knocked hard for the bullshit he done told the damn police, he won’t live to see the outcome of being a snitch.” Nolan turned, mean-muggin’ his soon-to-be-dead worker. “Say them nighty-nighty prayers, bitch, ’cause ya time is ’bout up!” His main focus was back to Brezzy-Bey and going straight ham.

  Pouncing on the traitor, Nolan pounded his face with his fist until his knuckles started to swell. He knew he should have never trusted an addict off rip, but he did. After all he’d done in the way of letting this lame slide on continuous short tickets, for Joe Brezzy-Bey to fuck him over like he had was unreal and unexpected. But Nolan had just read the bullshit in black and white. Ole boy had his own issued informant number and everything. There would be a double salute awaiting his lawyer whenever Nolan saw him. Because whoever Attorney Mims had working with him inside of the Detroit Police Department and Prosecutor’s Office had gone beyond the call of duty with this paperwork. They had basically signed, sealed, and delivered Joe Brezzy-Bey’s death warrant.

  I swear a nigga did everything he could to live righteously. A guy like me tried his best to repay his debts and make shit right. I went against my damn wife. I stayed up some nights hearing Kapri go bat-shit nuts on me for even dealing with you. Now, I gotta hear her mouth about this. Now, I gotta hear her tell me that I was wrong and should’ve listened to her off rip. And as for your damn cousin, I promise on my life if I find out she got shit to do with this for real, for real, I’ma send that ass to the upper room too. You done ran your mouth and fucked shit up for Kapri, me, and all the crew who depend on shaking that bag to pay they bills. Because you a coward and couldn’t take that little bit of time you probably would’ve got for whatever, you went straight foul. Ooo-wee, my dude, you gonna feel every bit of this beat down before you don’t feel shit no more! That’s my word!

  Not yet ready to be calm, Nolan wiped the multitude of sweat beads off of his forehead. Resentment for the betrayal boiled over. He declined to slow down, ready to snatch a soul. Imagining the number of crew secrets Joe Brezzy-Bey might have divulged to the law, Nolan started stumping the disloyal worker in the midsection. Deliberate in where his shoe landed, the premeditated pain would be unbearable. By the time Nolan finished, a suffering Brezzy-Bey would be begging for death to take him away. Every part of the man’s nude body was being battered and bruised by Nolan’s kicks and punches. At one point, he even picked up an old kitchen table and beat Brezzy-Bey across the back with it.

  Kapri stood by with a smile of satisfaction on her face. Mesmerized with the heinous work her husband was putting in, she remembered what first attracted her to Nolan. He was an official beast. Watching him do what he did made Kapri want to spend the rest of her life with him even more. Her mother had long since warned Kapri that dealing with a man just like her father would bring her nothing but heartache, problems, and grief. Yet, none of that advice mattered. Nolan was her soul mate, so the risk and hazards that came with being his wife were irrelevant.

  In the midst of watching the one-sided melee, she held the gun down at her side, angry enough to pull the trigger herself. The mood was nothing less than chaotic. The man that lived on point and principal was furious that, against his wife’s word, he had given this idiot a chance. And now he had fucked him over. Knowing what he now knew, there was no turning back and no time to figure things out. Nolan had no choice. They couldn’t allow this traitor to leave the house alive. By the expression on Joe Brezzy-Bey’s beaten face, he knew his fate as well.

  Nolan searched the basement. Finally, he found an old telephone cord in a cardboard box of trash. Infuriated, he tied up a physically defeated, nude Joe Brezzy-Bey, hands first, then feet. He was then propped up on the side of the washing machine. The newly discovered informant now had the muzzle of two guns pressed to the sides of his head after Nolan produced his. Each passing second, Joe Brezzy-Bey came to the harsh realization his time on the earth was rapidly growing to a close. He mustered up the energy to yell out for help before Nolan socked him in his already busted mouth. However, as much as he shouted and fought the notion of death, the clock was ticking. It was about to go down.

  Chapter Four

  Quick thinking was the ultimate key. The couple needed to reduce the possibility of drawing unwanted attention. As always, Kapri had a plan. “So, yeah, bae, I already know his crybaby ass gonna be making even more noise than he just was. Even though there’s no neighbors on either side of the crib, fuck somebody walking by on the humble hear his ass. Shiiid, then we gonna have to cancel they asses too.” For the first time since coming down into the basement, Kapri gave a sincere smile with no sinister intent. “So, I know what we gonna do.” She darted upstairs, but not before taking the liberty to kick their captive in his nuts as hard as she could.

  Seizing the opportunity while Kapri was gone, Joe Brezzy-Bey turned his head to the side, allowing thick clots of blood to fall out of his busted mouth. Visibly, he was in bad shape but knew his life depended on trying to fight through the excruciating pain he felt. Frantic, he thought he could at least try to get Nolan to chill and give him a break. Regretting that he’d even been working with the police, he didn’t try to deny nor confirm his affiliation at first. After urinating on himself even more, he gave in to telling the truth. Desperate, he attempted to explain what led him in that foul direction. Off rip, he claimed the narcos had beaten him up after catching him with some drugs that they said they would use to lock him up for years if he didn’t cooperate. But Nolan didn’t want to believe it was that simple. He hoped Brezzy-Bey wasn’t that much of a pussy.

  “Oh shit, what the fuck! I know this ain’t the cops about to pull me over.” Joe Brezzy-Bey looked up in the rearview mirror of his used Ford Taurus. Knowing he was slightly under the influence of a pint of Seagram’s and a few lines of powder, he prayed the unmarked cop car would just turn off. Because he was twisted and blew through a stop sign, he’d got caught slipping. Nolan had long warned him to get his taillights fixed before riding around dirty, especially at night. But Brezzy-Bey had failed to listen, needing every spare dollar to get high and still keep the ticket correct. This could be the reason the boys were on him, not because of the drug-infested block he’d just left.

  Everyone around the way had been made aware that some plainclothes narcotics officers had been lurking trying to find a reason to harass everyone in that general neighborhood. It didn’t matter to the overly eager cops one bit if you were young or old. Everyone African American was a suspect to the white law. After them following close behind his vehicle for almost two blocks, his luck had run out. He was being flicked. Bright blue and red flashing lights accompanied by that siren… a driver’s worst nightmare. Before pulling over to the side of the road, Brezzy-Bey’s mind raced. He was still on parole and didn’t want to risk going back behind the wall. The three years he’d just spent locked up, not being able to snort quality dope whenever he wanted, were more than enough. Just the thought of it made the once-proud Moabite sick to his stomach.

  Besides being under the influence, he had a small brown paper bag with some product in it and a portion of the ticket money due to Nolan. Whereas his first mind told him to jump out and run, he knew their dirty ass might shoot him in the back. He then thought about attempting to take them on a high-speed chase, but unfortunately, his gas tank was on E. He wouldn’t make it over two miles. Out of options, Brezzy-Bey reached over on the passenger side, grabbing the bag. Knowing he would be asked to step out of the car, he stuffed it down the front of his pants, hoping they wouldn’t dick frisk him. Then maybe he could talk his way out of the rest.

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sp; “Turn the engine off and toss the keys out the window,” a stern voice rang out over the speaker. “Then place your hands on the steering wheel. Do it now!”

  Doing as told, he nervously watched through the side mirror as three policemen approached his car, weapons drawn. Soon, he was surrounded. A gun pointed at his head from the passenger side. Another pointed at his head from the driver’s side. And the third officer posted up by the hood of the vehicle, which was a guaranteed straight-through-the-heart shot. It was evident by the expressions on their faces that this was going to be no average traffic stop. Under the influence or not, it was at that point Joe Brezzy-Bey knew he wasn’t going home anytime soon.

  Within seconds, he was snatched out of the Taurus and body slammed to the pavement. He’d not once tried to resist but was still roughed up. Back in the day, Brezzy-Bey used to be able to take a beating from the boys, but those days had long since disappeared.

  Handcuffed, sitting on the curb, the trio of narcos had already discovered the paper bag containing two bundles of raw and cash stuffed under his nut sack. That led them to believe more could be found inside the filthy interior of the vehicle. With malice, they pulled down wires from here and there, yanked the headrests away from the seats, and snatched the entire dashboard damn near off. In the midst of all of that, one officer held up one of the beige-colored extra small envelopes with a black cat stamp. He grinned as if he’d won the lottery. It was their job to find out what drug dealer was doing what and what product came out of what camp. And that black cat package had been making more noise in the streets of Detroit than the other products for months on end. Although it was two baker’s dozen bundles, the cop made it clear that they knew Brezzy-Bey’s drugged out ass wasn’t actually the man, but he could point them in the right direction.

  The risk of being violated and sent back to Jackson shook him. The fear of getting his ass handed to him day after day in the penitentiary had Joe Brezzy-Bey ready to tell on his own mother. So getting him to flip over would be effortless. They didn’t have to lay hands on him anymore. The inebriated coward was giving up Nolan White and his entire crew before even reaching the precinct. The plainclothes officers knew they’d struck hood solid gold with this random traffic stop.

  Nolan couldn’t wrap his mind around anyone being so weak that they were that scared of doing a few months to a year, maybe, for a parole violation. Especially a man who’d already done time. It made no sense. There had to be more to the reason Brezzy-Bey turned on the team. After being backhanded slapped a few good times, Brezzy-Bey switched it up some. He claimed his homeboy Trenton had convinced him to work with the cops and turn on Nolan so they could take over the entire narcotics operation. Nolan gave him the side eye about that, knowing Trenton’s shaky drug-using pedigree. And besides, it wasn’t like they had access to a solid plug.

  Lastly, in desperation to get Nolan to ease up on the physical assault he was enduring, Brezzy-Bey mumbled something about Fiona just wanted him to get Kapri locked up so she could finally be with Nolan and be his girl.

  This was becoming too much to take. Nolan didn’t want to hear any of it if he wasn’t telling him what he’d actually told the police. Especially the part about Fiona’s off-the-wall, stalker-inspired motives. Nolan could only shake his head. If Kapri heard that bullshit, she’d fly off the deep end and kill Fiona with her bare hands. She was already sensitive when it came to even hear that trick’s name mentioned in passing. If that statement Joe Brezzy-Bey claimed ever proved to be indeed factual, Nolan would deal with Fiona later in his own way. But no matter what, in his opinion, there was no good reason for a guy that ran the streets or who even dabbled in the game to tell on the next man. Even if Nolan wanted to give the slimeball a chance to make things right, he couldn’t turn back the hands of time. The ride-or-die couple knew they couldn’t erase what was presently known by the cops, but at least, maybe, they could do some sort of damage control.

  * * *

  Kapri returned with the black noisemaker and set it under the window closest to where their victim lay. She explained they would plug the small boom box in to drown out any sounds Joe Brezzy-Bey might make. After plugging it in, she pushed the button to a station known for playing back-to-back, nonstop music. She made sure it was loud enough so that even when the commercials did play, they too would be a distraction for any cry for help.

  “Okay, bae, this should be good. That way, if his dumb ass tries to scream for help, nobody will hear him. And even if they do hear something walking by, they gonna just think it’s the music playing loud the way black people like it.” Kapri grinned somewhat now, believing there was a way outta what Brezzy-Bey had done. Deep down inside, she knew there wasn’t, but for the time being, she outwardly kept the faith. Her energy level for cutting up was low.

  “You right, ’cause you already know his punk ass would yell all night long if he could. This nigga straight pussy.” Nolan watched his wife reach for her purse along with her stained blazer. “Boo, where you about to go? You good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. I just had some things to take care of before Attorney Mims called to meet up with me and fuck my day up.”

  “Who you telling, wifey? This shit was supposed to be a regular beat down for fucking up the money. Now, it’s about to be murder.”

  “As well as it should be, all things considered. So, yeah, handle ya business,” Kapri nonchalantly advised. “Then, when I get back, you can tell me the game plan.” She kissed her warrior on the cheek before making her exit. Having previous important matters to attend to, Kapri left her man to deal with the exposed hood whistle-blower. She trusted and knew that Nolan could and would do what he had to do to ensure both of their lives remained Gucci.

  The next move where Nolan was concerned was plain and simple. From what little information he had read in the official paperwork, Joe Brezzy-Bey had to die—and soon. The part to figure out now was when. Nolan was anxious to pull the trigger and had no problem whatsoever doing so. But he had to ensure that Kapri was out of danger of getting knocked with him if he got caught. And also that all the drugs and firearms they had stashed inside the house were relocated. Money wasn’t an issue since Kapri had long since had them putting that up in a different location.

  The telephone cord would not be enough. Using a few rolls of duct tape, Nolan took his time ensuring that his ex-worker-turned-informant was totally securely out of play. Now, Joe Brezzy-Bey could not move, see, or speak. The only thing he could do was breathe out of his nose.

  Taking the rubber hose off the rear of the washing machine, Nolan used it to smack Joe Brezzy-Bey in the mouth as hard as he could, certainly breaking his teeth, until his cell rang, interrupting the beating. If the now swollen, loose-lipped snake ended up dying before he returned, then all the better! It would save Nolan a bullet later on down the line when the time came. Any way it went, the lesson learned would be that working with the police was bad for a guy’s health. But for now, like his wife, it was time Nolan bent a few corners. He had to go check up on some traps he’d set deep east and hope there were no more plots of deception brewing amongst the ranks.

  Chapter Five

  Kapri

  Things moved quickly. We had no choice. Most times, my husband thought I moved too fast without thinking out things. But I always got the job done. He could count on me like I could count on him. People from around the way often agreed with him, claiming I had a firecracker, short-fused temper and would pop off at a moment’s notice. Maybe I was nuts like my father and needed to be locked up to calm me down. I don’t know and damn sure didn’t want to find out. But I did know what my family seemed to hate about me the most, they loved about me even more. I was loyal without a fault and always down to clown. Far from ordinary, I was a sure bet when it came to pulling up.