A King is Born (2 page)
Authors: Treasure Hernandez
Jake hopped up and did as he was told. He shook his head in shock as he began to dispose of the body, but he didn't dare say a word. He wasn't trying to see Mitch, and he definitely wasn't trying to be next.
Just as quickly as Mitch's temper had flared, it settled, and he went back into the basement. He removed the coat he was wearing and covered Halleigh's body before picking her up and carrying her up the stairs.
Halleigh, her body limp in Mitch's arms, almost like a rag doll, hadn't the slightest idea where Mitch could be taking her, but she didn't even have the energy to protest anyway. Being in a damp basement, she knew whatever he had in store for her couldn't be worse than that. Besides, Mitch's arms provided her with warmth from his body heat.
The first thing Halleigh saw when she emerged from the basement in Mitch's arms was Bugz's dead body on the floor. She looked up at Mitch, who simply stepped over the body without a word then carried her up another flight of stairs. He took her to a bedroom and laid her on the queen-size bed.
“Look, Halleigh, this wasn't supposed to happen,” Mitch finally spoke. “This wasn't part of the plan.”
“Plan?” Halleigh asked, a puzzled look on her face. “What plan, Mitch? What's going on?”
Refusing to allow the tenderness in Halleigh's voice to get to him, Mitch ignored her queries. “I'ma call a friend of mine over here to check on you and make sure you and your baby are okay.” He deliberately put some sternness into his voice to let Halleigh know that, even though he was about to get her some help, he still meant business. “Don't act a fucking fool up in here either, screaming and all that. Don't give me a reason to hurt you, Halleigh. I don't want to take it there with you, so don't leave me without a choice. Just chill out for a minute, and at the end of all this, you will walk out of here unharmed.”
Halleigh shook her head in disgust. “I don't understand you, Mitch,” she replied, her voice laced with hatred. Confused, hurt, and mad, Halleigh needed to get to the bottom of this and find out what was going on. Why would Mitch be doing this to his best friend's woman? “You were Malek's friend. He trusted you. I trusted you, Mitch. Why would you do this to us? Is this about you and me? I mean, I'm not blind. I've noticed the subtle ways you are with me. And, believe me, Mitch, you are a good guy, but . . . I could never be with you.”
Mitch laughed charmingly, rubbing his neatly trimmed goatee. He shook his head in disagreement. He gently rubbed the back of his hand across Halleigh's cheek. “It was good, ma, but it wasn't that good.” He pulled his hand away. “I don't beef out over no broad, but let me put it to you like this: Maybe if you had chosen differently, you wouldn't be in this situation. This shit don't happen to niggas like me. Only niggas like Malek. He ain't a gangster ; he's a ballplayer. He should've stuck to the game he knew best. Believe it or not, he started this war. Now I'ma finish that nigga.”
Mitch walked over to the door. Before exiting the room, he turned to Halleigh and said, “Now I'ma have my niggas set up the cameras in this room. The windows are armor-guarded, and the door has a dead bolt. Don't be stupid, which means, don't try anything stupid.” Mitch turned to leave, but then he walked back over to Halleigh. “Oh, yeah, and don't even bother wasting your time thinking about Malek. That nigga is as good as dead.”
He looked down at Halleigh's stomach. “I suggest you better concentrate on keeping you and yours alive.” Mitch reached to stroke Halleigh's face, but she smacked his hand away forcefully. He smiled. He couldn't help but admire her loyalty. He had known all along that her loyalty to Malek was stopping him from pursuing her, which was why he never really stepped to her like he wanted to. He knew it would be in vain, as long as Malek was still around. Mitch knew that Halleigh would never choose him, even after Malek's death. She loved that boy way too much, and although he didn't like it, he respected it. Any nigga in the game would have loved to have a for-real ride-or-die chick like Halleigh on their team.
Unfortunately, she'd never be on his, especially not now. With that final thought, Malek turned around and walked out, leaving her alone.
Although she'd managed to maintain her composure while Mitch spat all that venom about Malek her way, now that he was out of sight, she began to cry her eyes out. Although he had basically promised her she would be okay, he had also assured her that Malek was going to die. If that was the case, she didn't even care anymore whether she lived. She couldn't see herself living without Malek.
What am I going to do ?
What am I going to do ?
She could feel herself hyper ventilating. With each forced breath, her heart hurt tremendously. She could feel the pit of emptiness expanding in her stomach. She wanted to scream for help, but knew better than to test Mitch. Still, she couldn't just sit there, knowing that her baby's father was about to be introduced to death. She had to do something. She had to make a move. Everyone else seemed to have a plan; now it was time for her to come up with one of her own.
Chapter Two
M
alek breathed heavily, and his palms began to sweat profusely. He watched closely as the other people in the bank casually tended to their business unaware of what was in store for them. He tried to look composed as he began to fill out a deposit slip under a fake name. He took a deep breath and thought,
It's all or nothing.
alek breathed heavily, and his palms began to sweat profusely. He watched closely as the other people in the bank casually tended to their business unaware of what was in store for them. He tried to look composed as he began to fill out a deposit slip under a fake name. He took a deep breath and thought,
It's all or nothing.
With that simple thought, he erased any hesitation that dwelled in his heart. He couldn't turn back. Halleigh's survival and that of the child she was carrying in her womb depended on it.
Malek looked around, inconspicuously casing the place. The bank was small, but under heavy surveillance. Malek had scoped out the cameras in each corner of the lobby and also those pointed directly at the tellers' drawers.
Malek glanced at the middle-aged white security guard who stood in the corner. He noted the overzealous look in the security guard's eyes, as if he'd been on the job for so many years just waiting for something to jump off. He wasn't just a flashlight security guard either. Medium-built, and most likely a police officer moonlighting, this guy had a black .45 on his hip and patted it every so often, to make sure it was there.
Malek knew the security guard wanted to be a hero, and was just waiting for the opportunity to pull that gun from the holster and shoot it. If anything went wrong with his plan, the guard would be a problem.
Malek knew he was taking penitentiary chances by sticking up a bank, but the only thing on his mind was getting Halleigh's ransom. He clenched his jaws and gripped the pen tightly as he thought about Halleigh probably being tied up somewhere, hoping he would come for her, or even worse, giving up on him completely for not being there to prevent it all from happening in the first place.
Malek's eyes began to water. He had failed in his responsibility to protect Halleigh and his unborn child. And this wasn't even the first time he'd failed her. The guilt felt like a ton of bricks on his shoulders. What type of husband and father would he make if he couldn't keep his family safe?
The fact that Mitch had taken his most prized possession had Malek questioning his manhood.
How could I have let this happen ?
How could I have let this happen ?
He glanced at the door as Scratch, acting drunk off his ass, stumbled into the bank. In actuality, Scratch was as sober as a preacher on Easter, so his demeanor was all a part of their plan. Scratch was to cause a distraction and draw the attention of the security guard, while Malek robbed the place. As long as Scratch stayed in character, Malek felt like it was all a sure thing.
Scratch was staggering and talking loud, a brown paper bag in his hand. At first sight, you'd think it was a forty-ounce beer bottle in the bag, but Scratch, prepared to shoot, just in case he needed to clear a way for them to exit, already had his finger wrapped around the trigger of the pistol inside.
The guard, patting that damn gun as if it were a magnet and his hand was metal, kept a watchful eye on the bank's patrons. Just as planned, he immediately motioned toward Scratch.
That's when Malek, his fitted cap pulled low over his eyes and exposing only the bottom portion of his face, headed to the first open teller in sight. He took a deep breath and walked to the teller, whose eyes were focused on the ruckus by the bank's entrance.
“Where in the hell is the manager?” Scratch yelled.
By now everyone in the bank was looking at Scratch, standing in the middle of the lobby, swaying back and forth as if he couldn't keep his balance.
“My damn ATM card just got stuck, and I want my damn money!” he yelled. “I'm almost out of my drinky-drinky, and I needs my money to get some more.”
While Scratch played his part to the nines, Malek approached the female bank teller. He was so high on his own adrenaline, he felt as if he would throw up, but he still pushed forward. Malek reached into his hoodie pocket and slowly placed the chrome .45 on the counter, his finger on the trigger.
Finally pulling her attention away from Scratch, the teller attempted to greet Malek. “How are you toâ” She stopped mid-sentence after she glanced down and noticed the pistol pointed directly at her midsection. She flinched and put her hand on her chest. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her breathing becoming shallow.
“Just relax and keep your cool,” Malek instructed in a low tone. “You know what time it is.” Then he added in the most subtle voice he could muster, “And if you tr y anything funny, I'ma have to push yo' shit back. Okay?”
The teller simply nodded her head in fear. Too afraid to do anything other than that, she stared down at the gun, praying and hoping it stayed right there in its place.
“Now, I want you to give me the unmarked bills in your drawer. Put them in that big envelope right there.” Malek pointed to a money deposit envelope among the many stored behind the teller, the type of leather pouch businesses use to make deposits. “Give me all hundreds and fifties, ma.” He cocked the gun. “And if you even think about triggering the silent alarm, I'm going to make sure you're the first person I kill before the police get here.”
Once again, all the teary-eyed teller could do was nod, her chest rising up and down. Malek could clearly hear her inhaling and exhaling.
Malek noticed the pictures of the teller and her children placed inside her space. “Give me the money, so you can go home to your kids. Now, just calm down and be smart,” Malek said, trying to coach her through the robbery.
She fought back her tears, doing just as Malek had instructed.
“You're doing good.” Malek briefly looked over his shoulder to make sure Scratch still had the guard's full attention.
Scratch almost came to blows with the security guard and was being pushed out of the bank.
“Get yo' mu'fuckin' hands off me, man!”
Scratch tried to get back into the bank, but the burly guard wasn't having it. Scratch was putting up a hell of a fight and causing a scene, but the security guard was too big for him to muscle through. Even the bank manager had approached them.
With all of this going on, not one person was paying attention to Malek and the teller.
After tangling with Scratch for another minute or so, the guard finally decided to just pick Scratch up and toss him out of the building like Mr. Banks used to do to Jazzy Jeff on
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
.
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
.
Just as Scratch was hitting the ground, Malek was coming out of the building, the bank deposit pouch stuffed with money under his armpit, inside his coat. He even smiled at the guard on his way out.
Scratch got up from the ground, fussing and cussing all the way around the corner. He was sure enough putting on a scene, until he rounded the corner, flipping the security guard the bird as he walked out of sight, to where Malek was waiting on him in the parked car.
“Let's go, Scratch!” Malek yelled out of the window as he started up the car.
Scratch hurried into the waiting vehicle, and they sped off without looking back.
Before the guard even noticed that the bank had just been robbed, Malek and Scratch were gone. Malek thanked God that he had gotten out of the bank without falter. Locked up, he would be no good to anyone. He had just taken a major risk.
Even so, he knew that the bank envelope didn't hold all the ransom money he needed to get Halleigh back. So, as he drove, he tried to get his mental together, preparing for bank job number two.
Just minutes later, Malek and Scratch were at another bank not too far from the one they'd just robbed. Working with very little time, they couldn't afford to take a break. They had to do this thing guerilla-style. He had to go all out to get the half-million.
Malek and Scratch tried to run the same game that had worked so well at the first bank, but this time they ran into a problem: a cop came in during the middle of their caper.
When he'd arrived at the bank, Malek had filled out a deposit slip, the same as before. He scoped the place out and noticed the security guard to be less alert than the one at the bank he'd just robbed. He was too busy checking out the females' asses to pay attention to Malek. The more Malek thought about it, he probably really didn't even need Scratch to perform his Oscar-winning role. The big-booty women were distraction enough. Still, if it wasn't broke, there was no need to fix it, so things went on as planned.
Ironically, though, a cop came to the bank on his lunch break to cash his Friday paycheck. Just as he pulled up in front of the bank and was about to get out of his car, he heard on his police scanner about the bank robbery that had just taken place. He listened as the voice on the radio explained the manner of the robbery, one man causing a distraction while another man stuck up a teller.
At first he was going to drive over to the other bank location to see if they needed any assistance, but confident that his fellow officers had everything under control, he decided that since he was already at the bank, he'd go ahead and cash his check and stop by the other bank afterward.
When the police officer got out of his car and entered the bank, he walked in and saw Scratch acting a fool. The security guard on duty was almost unable to contain the man. The officer shook his head, realizing that this security guard probably needed his help more than the officers down at the other bank.
“Where the damn manager?” Scratch yelled. “My fuckin' money didn't come out that raggedy-ass ATM machine.” He walked over to the banker's desk in the middle of the medium-sized bank.
Malek was taking the money from the teller, while the security guard was trying to calm Scratch. Just like before, all eyes were on Scratch.
Except the police officer who'd just entered the bank.
At first, it was the officer's instincts to go over and try to help get the situation under control, but then he remembered the call that came over the radio describing the technique used to rob the bank earlier.
He looked around, wondering what the chances were of the same exact thing taking place just a few blocks away a few moments later. When he saw Malek and the tellerâthe only two people in the bank not distracted by the commotion going on between Scratch and the security guardâhe knew the chances were greater than he'd initially assumed.
The police officer slipped his hand down to his gun and walked up behind Malek.
“Remember, just stay calm and everything will be okay,” Malek reminded the nervous teller. He tried to keep his head low, his fitted cap yet again covering most of his eyes. He could see the teller slipping one hand under the counter as she gave him the money with her other hand. “What the fuck you think you doing?” Malek said in a harsh whisper. He pulled back the hammer on his gun, which lay on the counter pointed toward her.
She quickly put her hands where Malek could see them.
Before he could do anything else, he heard the voice of the police officer behind him.
“Put your hands in the air where I can see them, son,” the officer ordered, his gun aimed at Malek. “It's over. You're not getting out of here with this money today,” the officer said sternly, but without raising his voice.
The cop deliberately used a calm tone because he didn't know Malek's state of mind and didn't want his suspect to harm the innocent teller, who was already visibly frightened.
“Fuck!” Malek cursed to himself under his breath as he thought quickly about what to do. But what could he do with a gun pointed to his head? Still, that didn't keep his mind from racing for a way outâhopefully, with the money.
Within five seconds, Malek had weighed his options and decided to do what he had to do. “I'm not going to jail today,” he whispered. He swung around, catching the unsuspecting cop off guard with his bold actions, and immediately began firing his gun, hitting the cop in the midsection.
The cop managed to let off a couple of rounds, but none of them hit Malek, who ducked, dipped, and dodged toward the exit, using people as live body shields to deter the cop from firing at him for fear of shooting an innocent bystander.
Immediately, the patrons in the bank went into a frenzy at the sound of the gunfire, and the eerie screams of a stampede caused by the panic echoed throughout the building.
Before the security guard could react, Scratch had grabbed the guard's gun from his waist and pointed it at him.
Malek saw the officer he'd shot gasping for air as he dropped his gun and held his midsection. “Damn, damn, damn!” Malek repeated, as it registered in his brain that he'd just shot a cop.
Malek quickly exited the bank, and Scratch followed close behind, almost out of breath.
“What the fuck happened, youngblood?” Scratch's eyes were bigger than golf balls. He couldn't believe what had just gone down. It was a horrible misstep that was sure to make them wanted men, especially if the cop died.
The Flint Police Department was like a gang in its own right. When one of their own went down, they showed no mercy on the transgressor. Malek and Scratch would be hunted to no end, and when, or if, they were caught, they might not ever make it to the jailhouse. The Flint police might just deliver them to their graves.
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