Crave All Lose All (31 page)

They were close. I zigzagged my way into someone’s backyard and
jumped a fence. My adrenaline took over. The shots continued and I felt two more in my back.

“Aaghh!” I grunted.

My right arm became numb and my back was on fire. I collapsed to the ground. It was hard for me to move but I kept trying. My clothes were drenched with blood and I was becoming disoriented. The gunmen were near and I was helpless.

I fell against a high fence and remained there. My breathing was sparse and my hope for life dimming. They were close, nearing the kill. I didn’t know who sent them. It could’ve been the Jamaicans or Tyriq. They could be part of Law’s crew. Maybe Inf found a way to get at me early. It was fucked up not knowing.

“
Hold on, Vince,”
I said to myself, feeling my conscious slowly slipping away.

My body was leaking blood, and aching with pain that I never felt before. I heard someone in the yard creeping and then I heard police sirens blaring blocks away. I hid behind a tool shed and the tall fence I propped myself against. I heard footsteps nearing closer and knew I was a dead man. My vision was blurry. I was helpless and bloody on the grass covered yard. I asked God to forgive me, it was my end.

The footsteps came from behind the tool shed and I wished it was someone to aid me. It was my attacker, standing tall in front of me, masked up and gripping the Glock.

He was looking unfazed by the sirens. He was a hardcore criminal. I stared into his eyes and they were filled with rage and hate.

“Just do it, muthafucka!” I shouted, repeating the same words that Spoon said to me when his life was about to end—
karma’s a muthafucka
, I thought.

It felt like the gunman was toying with me.

“Why you do it, Vince?” the masked gunman asked.

“Fuck you talking about?” I asked, feeling my body ache with pain as I tried to speak.

He then pulled the mask off his head and it was S.S. Spoon’s cousin. He came home a few weeks ago. I was in Philly taking care of business. He did some time at Riker’s.

“Why you kill my cousin? Y’ all were like brothers,” S.S. asked.

We locked eyes for a very short moment and then I heard a neighbor say, “Who’s back there? The cops are coming, leave from out my backyard.”

The lights came on in the backyard and that’s when S.S fired two shots into me hurriedly and ran off. It felt like my chest exploded and was being ripped open.

 

Tyriq stayed in a Brooklyn loft near the Navy Yard. He moved around on crutches and was trying to heal from the brutal attempt on his life that killed his man, Bones. He assumed that it was Vincent who had planned the attack on him. He trusted no one and carried a loaded .9mm wherever he went.

His relationship with the Jamaicans was sinking. He didn’t know if they were the ones trying to kill him. But why save his life. The unanswered questions left Tyriq a nervous wreck. His life was in danger. He kept a low profile until everything was in order.

Tip and Omega watched his back, with the company of a beautiful female to keep him warm and satisfied at nights.

Omega was on the phone talking, when he heard Tyriq ask “What’s goin on, my nigga?”

Omega hung up from the call, walked over to Tyriq and said, “Vince just got hit up by his crib a few hours ago…shot five times.”

“Word… He dead…?” Tyriq asked.

Omega shook his head, “Nah…he still alive, but in critical condition. Nigga comatose…”

Tyriq didn’t know what to think and he didn’t know who got Vince. There was so much chaos and violence in the streets no one knew who was shooting who anymore.

“Fuck that nigga!” Tyriq uttered and rested himself against Peaches on the plush couch.

“What about the Jamaicans, you trust them?” Tip asked.

“Nah, I know we gotta move first, something ain’t right,” Tyriq said.

“For us to war with Demetrius we gonna need heavy artillery,” Omega informed.

“Ayyite, I’ll make a few calls and get things in order. We gonna get back on our feet and run this shit. These fuckin’ Jamaicans ain’t seen the end of me,” Tyriq proclaimed.

Omega and Tip nodded. They both were ready for anything. But one was more ambitious and cut throat than the next and was ready to betray Tyriq so he could be the man.

“Yo, y’all niggas bounce and give me some alone time,” Tyriq said.

“C’mere baby,” his big-titty bitch said, pulling Tyriq closer to her.

Omega and Tip left the room, leaving Tyriq in the arms of Peaches.

 

 

Giant and a female companion he met that night laughed it up in a local quaint bar on State Street, in Albany New York. They downed Coronas, smoked, and mingled with each other. Giant was flirting with a friend, Jessica—touching her sexually, laying down the foundation for pussy.

“Yo, let me get another round of beers over here,” Giant instructed the bartender.

He then focused his attention on Jessica again. “So, luv, what’s good for the night, I’m trying to do some things with you.”

“Oh really,” Jessica replied teasingly.

She smiled and her soft manicured hand touched the side of Giant’s bearded face.

They had immediately locked eyes when she walked into the bar an hour ago. Clad in some tight denim jeans that hugged her curvy hips and a tight snug shirt that accentuated her tits, Jessica was eye candy. Giant wasted no time.

“So, you ready to get out of here, and go somewhere private for the night?” Giant asked, pulling out a wad of bills.

“You tell me?” she asked seductively, with her hand reaching up his thigh and touching him someplace nice.

“My car’s parked out back, and it’s nice and quiet where I’m parked…
dark too.”

“That sounds cool.”

Giant began putting on his coat and took another swig from his beer. He was ready for some pussy and wanted to fuck Jessica.

She walked ahead of him. Giant stared at her lovely round ass wearing a grin. This older man on his right watched his moves. It bothered Giant. The tall stranger was dressed in dark clothing, had a bushy goatee, and a mysterious look. Other patrons in the bar paid no mind to the stranger. Giant coolly walked up to the man, eyeing him with the ice grill. His solid stout frame towered over the seated stranger and he locked eyes with the man and asked in an unfriendly tone, “Nigga, your eyes have been on me all fucking night!”

The man was not intimidated by Giant and replied calmly, “Respect, mon…me ain’t got no problem wit’ ya. Me just here ti drink and relax mi self.”

Giant continued to ice-grill him and said in a bullying tone, “Then turn your old ass back around and mind your fucking business.”

The stranger showed a cool smile and took a sip of his beer. His eyes followed Giant out the front door.

“You manly, man, I wanna fuck you,” Jessica said pulling Giant’s coat.

“I like your style. You a true freak,” Giant said smiling and ready to handle his business in his ride.

They walked toward his car and Giant was unaware that he was being closely followed.

Giant reclined comfortably in the driver’s seat of his burgundy Cadillac Deville and allowed for Jessica to do her thang—giving him a hand-job.

Giant moaned, enjoying her warm touch and then said, “Go ahead start sucking my dick and do me right.”

He grabbed the back of her head and gently tried to force Jessica’s head down into his lap.

“You ready for me, baby?” Jessica said, having her slender fingers massaging his thickness and her precious glossy lips inches from his long shaft. Giant closed his eyes, enjoying the hand-job and was ready for bliss.

Jessica quickly glanced out the back window, and noticed a tall figure dressed in black coming their way, but she bothered not to warn Giant.

“Ummm, I wanna fuck you, luv,” Giant said with zeal.

“It’s going to happen, be patient baby….you’ll get yours,” she replied.

Jessica continued to stroke his nine inch erection and played with the tip of his dick with her coiled tongue. Giant was so pleased with her action that he didn’t notice danger ten feet away. With a six inch sharp blade clutched in his hand, the Jamaican stranger loomed closer to his victim. His eyes fixated on killing. The alleyway was covered in darkness and the night was quiet except for the soft moans from Giant.

“Hmm-m-m-m…shit, baby, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that.”

Giant felt Jessica’s thick lips wrapped around his cock. Without warning, the Jamaican stranger quickly swung open the driver side door, startling Giant and in one rapid motion, the knife was placed to Giant’s open throat and his jugular was carved open like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Giant jerked and squirmed under his attacker’s strong grip. His eyes were bulging with death as he struggled to breathe, gurgling with life viciously being snatched from him. His sight began to fade, while Jessica just stared at him. No ounce of remorse in her.

“Bumba-claat, batty-bwoy respect shotta,” the Jamaican gangster proclaimed.

He moved away from the body and watched as Giant collapsed to the cold hard ground, his hands gripping his throat. A large amount of blood coated his neck.

Jessica stepped out of the car and stood over Giant, sneering watching Giant in the throes of death. When twitching ceased, the tall Jamaican crouched down near his victim and wiped the blood that stained the knife on Giant’s clothing. He removed the latex gloves and disposed of them in a dumpster.

Giant’s gruesome murder was only the first of many. Contracts of death were going to be carried out. The Jamaican mafia planned on cleaning house. The feds made their moves against Tyriq and his crew. No one would be left to connect the dots.

Two men exit the white Yukon parked on Farmers blvd. They walked into a two-story apartment complex, carrying Mac-10’s with the silencers at the tip under heavy winter coats. On reaching the second floor, they skillfully picked open the lock.

Inside the place, the Mac-10’s were out. They searched the apartment. Both quietly moved toward the bedroom.

Malik was lying under green silk sheets with a butt-naked bitch in his arms next to him. He was sound asleep not knowing that he had unwanted company.

The gunmen moved in closer to the bed, gazing at their victims with their weapons trained. One of the gunmen let off a loud whistle that slightly awakened Malik. He turned in bed and opened his eyes, only to see two Mac-10’s pointed directly at him. His eyes widened, and he uttered, “Yo…what the fuck!”

Without hesitating, the men open fire on Malik and his sleeping beauty, shredding them.

Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat—the gunfire was quiet but deadly as rounds pierced into both victims, ripping up sheets and flesh, causing them to jerk, slumping over each other.

The scene was chaotic and messy; blood drenching the carpeted floor underneath the bed and stillness filled the bedroom. Both men left out as quickly and quietly as they came, leaving behind a gruesome crime scene.

 

 

Loc was pressed up on some young bitch in a Brooklyn night club. He didn’t notice the eyes focused on him the entire time. The club was packed, hot mixes from the deejay kept the party hyped.

Loc was wearing an expensive silk shirt, a pair of black slacks, polished wingtip shoes, and his hair styled into two thick braids. He had been doing his thang all night, feeling up shorties.

“What’s your name?” Loc asked.

“Danielle,” she screamed over the blaring music.

“You’re cute,” he complimented.

“Thank you.”

“Who you here with…?”

“My girlfriends…”

“Leaving with them tonight?”

“You wanna take me home?”

“Yeah, I wanna fuck.”

“Let’s roll,” the young chicken-head with an affable smile replied. “Can I get a drink first?”

“What you drinking?”

“Alize...”

“I got you.”

Loc began moving through the dense crowd of sweaty club goers, bumping into a few. At the bar, he ordered Danielle’s Alize and Rum and Coke for himself. He gave the bartender a twenty and moved on.

With his young gullible jump-off in his sight, he moved back through the crowd carefully carrying both drinks. Loc worked his way through the crowd again, cradling the drinks tightly in his hands, making sure they didn’t spill. Suddenly he was bumped hard from an approaching stranger and the drinks spilled onto his silk shirt.

“What da fuck, yo!” Loc shouted.

He looked around to beef, but the culprit quickly disappeared into the large crowd.

“Muthafucka!” Loc cursed, knowing liquor and silk didn’t mix. He was ready to fight, but instead retreated to the nearest bathroom.

Loc stood by the sink with the water running. He cursed and was ready to fuck somebody up. The bathroom was empty, with music blaring outside. Loc tried to clean his shirt, when a man walked in and went straight for the urinals. What Loc didn’t know was that his partner was watching the bathroom entrance.

“Why niggas gotta be so fucking clumsy,” Loc was heard cursing. He stared at himself in the mirror and then went over to the urinals to take a piss.

Two urinals down, the troubling stranger subtly removed a .9mm and the silencer. He quickly put the weapon together and flushed.

Loc was peeing, wanting to hurry back to Danielle. He peeped the
stranger making his way to the exit. The gun was discreetly down at his side. Loc was about to flush and the man quickly moved forward pointing at the back of Loc’s head and squeezed off—Poot-Poot!

Loc dropped dead at the stranger’s feet and the man fired three more shots into him. The kill was quick and quiet, and didn’t catch the attention of revelers in the jammed club.