Wildin On Staten Island Read online

  Slick stood there feeling helpless as fuck. Helpless and guilty too. He just couldn’t believe this shit. This shit was insane and he just couldn’t fuckin believe it! He was a veteran hitman and he had witnessed a lot of treacherous shit on his grind, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had gone down outside of his apartment door.

  Somebody had snatched Jewelz.

  Somebody got her.

  And as Slick’s hood senses screamed out to him, he knew exactly who had gripped Jewelz too.

  CHAPTER 2

  Ultimatum

  Goody gut-punched Jewelz so hard she swung backwards and collided into the frozen slab of beef that was hanging behind her in the industrial-sized freezer.

  Hanging by her wrists, Jewelz gasped at the impact of the fierce blow. Raising her head she started coughing up so much blood that it dragged her out of her dazed state of semi-consciousness.

  Handgun stood there glaring at her with madness in his eyes. They were in a meat-packing warehouse and the frigid temperature sent cloudy puffs of air exploding from both their parted lips. His brother Ice Pick had convinced him to stash Jewelz outta sight so they could use her as bait to lure Slick into a trap. Instead of outright killing her ass on the spot like he had wanted to do, they were gonna hold her hostage and make her lil fuck-boy steal that fitty-million dollar diamond Cucci had put them on to. If Slick wanted to keep this bitch breathing then he was gonna have to run down on that diamond and toss it off to the Goode Brothers Gang in order to get Jewelz back alive.

  And if he fucked around and bucked…they’d put the hammer down on this hoe right in front of his bitch ass!

  Goody had stripped Jewelz outta everything she had on, including her wig, and now she hung there naked and bald, swaying back and forth from two chains he had clamped around her wrists and then suspended from a meat hook in the ceiling.

  She shivered as she bit back moans of agony. Her slender shoulders were on fire and coming outta their sockets. Both of her lips were busted and her right eye was swollen shut. The icy air burned her throat with each breath she took, and her nose had started bleeding again. Goose-bumps covered every inch of her bruised, exposed flesh, and her feet were so cold they were numb.

  “Wake up, bitch!” Goody snarled. “You thought you was a slick lil broad, huh? You thought you was gonna lay low and take a thorough nigga like me out? I’m Handgun Goody, hoe! I’m certified in these muh’fuckin streets! You think them lil bitch-ass stick-up ants you be rolling with can fuck with me? Really?”

  Goody’s eyes dropped down to the faded scars on her stomach, evidence of his past handiwork and he smirked. “You thought you was gonna catch me sleepin and get you a little payback, huh?”

  All Jewelz could do was moan. She already knew screaming was useless because not a soul would hear her as she swung back and forth deep in the back of the industrial freezer.

  “See what I shoulda fuckin did that day is,” Goody spit, ignoring the cold as he paced back and forth and glared at the scars on her belly. “I shoulda stabbed your ass in the heart instead of the stomach, bitch!”

  Goody thought about how he had closed his eyes and thrust his knife so deeply into the little girl that the blade had passed clean through her body and hit the floor on the other side of her. He had to have torn up some guts, some kidneys, and some liver too. At the time, he had been too scared and too ashamed to look at what he was doing, but right now the evidence of his crimes was staring dead at him.

  The fact that Jewelz had survived that type of violence and brutality and walked up in his life to make him re-live it swelled Goody’s chest up with guilt and rage. He grunted furiously as he hauled off and footed her deep in her naked ass, serving her viciously with a powerful roundhouse kick.

  Jewelz grimaced at the painful impact. Swinging silently from the hook she gazed coldly at Goody outta her one good eye. He expected her to cry and beg for mercy, but to his surprise her busted and bloody lips formed a big, scornful smile.

  “Dirty Mike…is…that all you got?” Jewelz tapped into her gangsta reserves and mumbled through her pain. “Yeah, bitch-nigga…you shoulda finished the job when you had a chance…”

  She licked a drop of blood from her top lip and sneered. “It don’t matter what you do to me…” she continued boldly. “You’re still a dead man,” she promised him with all her heart. “You can kick me all you want to. You’ll be kicking up dirt in hell with that sloppy-ass Haz soon enough.”

  Goody was infuriated by the conviction in her words, but he kept himself in check as he stared at her hanging there by her wrists, naked and unafraid. This bitch was beautiful and fearless. Even beaten down and facing certain death she was still defiant and spitting fire from her soul.

  Deep down inside Goody admired the shit outta Jewelz. He probably shoulda accepted her request to be the first Goode Sister because she had the heart of a hunter. He couldn’t help thinking that with a woman like her by his side the two of them together coulda turned New York City—nah, the whole damn Empire State, upside fuckin down.

  But then he checked himself. All that bullshit Bonnie and Clyde shit mighta worked in a young boy’s fantasy, but in reality Goody knew he was looking into the eyes of a woman that he had attempted to murder. He had played a major role in destroying her whole fuckin life, and judging by the way she had sniffed him out and infiltrated his inner click, she had never forgotten it. Or forgiven it either.

  And why the fuck would she? The scars that he had left on her both physically and mentally were enough to make them bitter enemies all the way to the grave. No matter how much he was feeling her pain, or how deeply he had grown to love her, Goody knew they could never be together.

  “Yo, I did what I had to do, Jewelz,” he said grimly. Something in his voice made it sound like he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her. With his breath coming out in little clouds of smoke, Goody posted up to her face-to-face and tried to keep his tone even.

  “None a’ that shit that happened back then was personal for me, ma. You was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, darling. And so was I. Not for nothing, I didn’t have no other choice. One of us had to go and it sure as fuck wasn’t gonna be me.”

  Through frozen and shivering lips, Jewelz opened her mouth and spit a big glob of bloody phlegm down in Handgun Goody’s face.

  “Pussy!” she snarled as a tear of rage slid out of her swollen right eye. “Fuck the choices your bitch-ass didn’t have! You stabbed up little kids, nigga! Innocent fuckin kids, you fuckin coward!”

  “Bitch!” Goody shrieked. “And you got my brothers bodied! They all dead because of YOU!”

  Goody wiped her bloody spit off his face with his sleeve and then he started throwing crazy wild punches at her. He pounded Jewelz’s half-frozen flesh like he was a boxer training on a heavy bag. His clenched fists made hollow smacking noises in the sound-proof freezer as he cursed and spit in rage.

  Chainsaw, Hammerhead, Razorblade…he grunted and groaned as he thought about his dead fam and lowered his head and pounded her over and over again.

  Goody was boxing Jewelz hard enough to break her ribs and knock her fragile ass out when Ice Pick rushed in the door and hollered, “Yo! Yo! Yo, muthafucka! What the fuck is you doin!”

  He hurried over to his brother and clenched Goody around the waist and slung him hard against the wall.

  “Nigga hold the fuck up!” Ice Pick barked as he peeped Jewelz’s slumped head and her limp, swinging body.

  “Fuck is you tryna do, big bruh? Nigga keep ya paws to ya’self for a minute! We snatched this skin-headed bitch for a reason, ’member? Fuck all that personal shit y’all got going on. We tryna get that icy rock outta this deal! This bitch is already half-dead and we gotta make sure she keeps breathing until we get that hit in our pockets.”

  “True dat, bruh. True dat,” Goody muttered, trying to pull his shit together as he wiped a stream of sweat from his face. He was even more pissed off w
ith himself now for letting this bitch get him all emotional. For making him lose his fuckin head like that. But that’s the crazy effect Jewelz had on him. She had been making him sweat since the moment she walked her fine self into his club.

  Goody swallowed hard and nodded at his brother, letting him know his shit was straight. He wanted that nigga Slick bodied and he wanted that fifty million dollar diamond too. Jewelz was the ticket to him getting both. Yeah, he was still gonna kill the bitch for chumping him in the heart, but she would have to die another day. Not today.

  “A’ight,” he told Ice Pick as he walked calmly toward the freezer’s door. “Cut that bitch down and get her outta here. Throw some clothes on her ass, patch her up, and give her something hot to drink.”

  “That’s what’s up then,” Ice Pick nodded in approval. “We gotta stay using our heads on this one, bruh. Why don’t you go get you some pussy or hit the gym and get you a lil workout in. Do something to put ya mind in chill-mode while all this shit plays out. And don’t worry about tryna catch that nigga Slick out there neither. We ain’t gotta take the battle to that coward. Once that clown realizes we got our feet on this bitch’s neck he’ll come gunning for us.”

  Goody was almost at the door when he turned back around and addressed Jewelz coldly.

  “You lucky this shit is business,” he spit quietly, hardening his heart against the pure emotion that swelled there. “I’ma get that diamond and then I’ma pop Slick right in ya face. I’ma make that nigga beg for his life, and then after you watch me peel the skin off the back of his neck I’ma finish what I started with you years ago, baby girl. If you thought Crazy Haz was a muthafuckin animal, just wait till I get my hands on that fuckin diamond. That’s when I’ma show you how I really get down.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Reality Bites

  Honore stood watching from the doorway as Slick busted outta his crib gripping his hammer, then jetted down the hall and disappeared into the stairwell. When she was sure he was gone she slammed the door closed and then stormed into his living room.

  “Oh, so you wanna run off behind that ugly bitch?” she muttered as she ripped an expensive African portrait off the wall and flung it across the room.

  The frame struck a ceramic vase and it shattered all over the place but Honore had no fucks to give. She wasn’t used to getting played out and disrespected by no man. Or no bitch neither for that matter!

  Seeing that orange heat burst outta the muzzle of Jewelz’s gun had been a real close call and Honore’s hands were still shaking. Jewelz had straight came up in Slick’s crib and tried to bang on her, but on top of that she had almost exposed her!

  “That heffa was looking for my bullet wound!” Honore said out loud. She reached back and patted her soft ass right on the tender spot. It was a good thing she had worn some regular panties instead of a thong. She woulda been busted! “Yeah, that bitch knew I got shot. She fuckin knew!”

  Honore picked up her purse and got ready to head out of Slick’s crib, but she stopped when she got to the door. Her whole reason for fucking with Slick in the first place was to get her hands on that diamond he’d stolen from her. Yeah, she had gotten in her feelings a lil bit and she’d fallen for his ass, but all that wasted time she had spent smiling in his face, all the lies she’d had to tell him and the pussy she had to give up…it looked like it was all gonna be for nothing. And that didn’t sit well with the Queen of Diamonds at all.

  Honore turned back around and dropped her purse on the couch. Without hesitation she strutted down the hall and straight into Slick’s bedroom. She took a look around the large, stylishly furnished man-cave and decided to put in some work.

  Somebody shoulda been paying her by the hour because Honore was a pro at this shit. She combed through every drawer at a feverish pace without even bothering to cover her tracks. Fuck Slick! That smoove chocolate dick-swinger could kiss her ass!

  Honore was throwing wife-beaters, silk drawers, and designer socks everywhere as she searched for anything that could be valuable.

  In one of the bottom drawers she found a chrome .38 pistol with the serial number scratched off. She left it in its place and kept her fingers roaming.

  After searching three more drawers and still coming up empty, Honore bit her bottom lip and paused for a second.

  Her gaze traveled over to the other side of the room.

  She jetted over to the huge walk-in closet and opened it up wide. She was seriously impressed. It was filled with top-of-the line name brand threads that all the street niggas loved. Polo, Gucci, Versace, and Zegna were draped out lavishly. Slick had two rows of designer leather shoes and four rows of multi-colored sneakers ranging from Jordans and Lebrons, to Ferragamos and Balenciagas and Bruno Maglis.

  Yeah, Honore nodded in appreciation. Slick’s wardrobe game was super-strong but she wasn’t there to boost none of his gear. She started tossing sneakers and shirts on the floor looking for anything unusual and out of the ordinary.

  I know this nigga got something stashed in here and I hope like hell it’s that sweet money and the red briefcase!

  Honore ransacked through a couple of Fendi Zuccha suitcases and she tossed endless racks full of tailored three-piece suits around only to come up with nothing. When she stood back and looked at her handiwork the closet was a fucking mess. It looked like a tornado had came through and blew Slick’s shit every which way but loose.

  Standing in the aftermath of the retail storm that she had caused, Honore was about to give up and be out. She knew she didn’t have a lot of time to linger because if Slick came back and caught her going through his shit they would probably have a shoot-out.

  Sweaty and frustrated, Honore was about get herself together and dip on out until something funny caught her eye. In between the only two suits that were still left hanging up Honore saw a small black button protruding from a seam in the wall. It was barely noticeable, and if the clothes had still been on the hangers she would’ve never even seen it.

  She reached out to push the button but then jerked her hand back real quick.

  What the hell is this? I hope it ain’t some type of dooms-day self-destruct thingy that’s gonna blow the whole damn building up if I push it.

  Honore’s nature wouldn’t let her just leave it alone though. She pushed the button and all of a sudden the whole damn wall lifted up and she stumbled backwards with her eyes bucked wide.

  She had come up around street legends like Sly McFly and she’d seen plenty of elaborate stash spots, but nothing quite like this one.

  She stared into the tucky room that was about twice the size as the walk-in closet. It held a desk that had two iMac computers on it, and their screens were showing different areas of the apartment, obviously streaming from hidden cameras.

  There was also a wall that was lined with all types of battle gear ranging from machine guns, knives, binoculars, grenades, swords, ski masks, high-tech electronic equipment, and the type of mass-casualty weaponry and shit you only saw in the movies.

  Honore’s eyes got wide as fuck.

  What the hell? Slick can’t be no regular goddamn stick up kid! This nigga gotta be some type of war-weirdo or the chief of a fuckin S.W.A.T. team or something!

  Honore stepped inside the secret room to take a closer look. She trailed her fingers across the desk and sifted through a few papers and books that Slick had laying around. Her greedy eyes were everywhere. She took it all in and the only article of clothing she saw was a Dickie’s jumpsuit that was balled up in the corner with a bunch of splotchy stains on it that looked like dried up pigeon shit.

  Honore sat down behind the desk and picked up a nicely framed photo of two smiling adults surrounded by a bunch of cute kids. The big guy in the photo had a handsome chocolate face and looked just like Slick. Honore figured that it had to be his father. She sat the picture down and continued to look all through Slick’s business. She opened a drawer and found a stuffed manila envelope that had duct tape over the seal. Sh
e ripped the bottom open and dug out the contents, and when she saw what it was she wanted to throw the whole shit across the room.

  What in the almighty fuck? Slick! You lying-ass bastard!

  The envelope was filled with old pictures that must have been of Slick and his cousins or sisters and brothers when they were little. As Honore looked closer she recognized that bitch Jewelz as a child in some of the pictures as well.

  She smirked.

  Slick was a real sneaky and secretive-type nigga. Him and that trick went way back. No wonder she had a key to his crib. They had known each other since forever. Jewelz was obviously on his dick, but what type of freaky fuck-shit did them two have going on?

  Honore shook her head. Niggas these days just couldn’t be trusted. She stuffed the pictures back in the envelope and then opened up another drawer. This time she found a huge photo album. She flipped it open and saw a bunch of random people of all races. The only thing that linked them was the big red X that had been drawn over their faces.

  Who are these people, Slick? And how are they connected to you?

  Her mind flashed back to the Fulton Street jewelry store on the night the red briefcase was jacked. Slick and his crew had run up in the joint dressed in black and brandishing big guns, but they damn sure wasn’t there to rob no daggone jewelry store!

  Honore’s mind replayed some of the deep pillow-talk conversations that her and Slick used to have. Slick had always played his game close and sounded so guarded and introspective. She racked her brain hard and forced herself to remember all the strange little details and characteristics that stood out about his convo.

  She looked around the room one more time, her eyes fixated on all the guns, silencers, masks, and the fancy electronic equipment. She glanced back down at the X’d out faces in the photo album and suddenly the reality of the situation dropped on her head and hit her like a ton of bricks.