Filthy Rich-Part 2 (13 page)

"So, what does that have to do with me?" she asked, switching her temperament to a major attitude. She hated cops.

"Just hear them out, Trinity," Cedrick chimed in.

She sighed but listened.

"After the bust, your mother started killing off anyone who could talk," Pierce continued. "That complicated our case. Up until that point, our case against your family was based on witnesses. But with those witnesses now dead, we have no one. We can’t even get to her supplier right now. Even the fact that your brother Luke has now agreed to testify against your mother isn't quite carrying importance. Without witnesses, it's his word against hers. Also, the last thing we want to do is let Luke walk. We want him just as bad as we want Chetti."

"You still haven't told me what this has to do with me."

"We need you to testify about the abuse and molestation. We need you to testify about what was done to you at that cabin, and that Chetti ordered it."

She shook her head. "I'd rather deal with them on my own. Jail is too good for them."

"We understand but…”

"You don't understand. You'll never be able to understand. It happened to
me,
not
you!
"

"You're right, Trinity. I can't fully understand your pain. But I
can
understand your thirst for revenge. Let us get it for you. Let us take them down. Help us, Trinity."

Trinity grew silent. She didn't quite know what to do or say. She wanted revenge. She wanted Chetti and Luke to pay for her pain. But her dilemma was that she was torn between wanting their blood and wanting them to die in prison.

“We’ve even got your cousin, Brandon, committing illegal activities on camera. We’re hoping to eventually use that against him to turn on your mother.”

“He’ll never do it,” Trinity said with contempt.

“That’s what you think,” Agent Pierce said with a grin. “How about the fact that we had two agents following him, and they saw him kill a man? You think him going to jail for murder will make him give us the info we want?”

Trinity shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, he will go to jail, for life. We’re just building our investigation. We just move cautiously when it involves arresting one of our own.”   

"Got something we need you to see, also," Logan interrupted.

"What?"

He grabbed a remote and clicked a button. A nearby television came to life. Seconds later, on its screen appeared Charles Bishop, Cedrick and Trinity’s father. He was tied to a chair, his body battered and bloody. Loud cursing and yelling could be heard. Then Nessa's face appeared.

"What the..." Trinity muttered, leaning forward with her eyes glued to the screen.

The video continued to play.

No one spoke.

All eyes were on the screen.

Then, Mr. Bishop's throat was slit.

Trinity stood from her chair and turned. She began breathing hard and fast. Anger over took over her. "That lying, sneaky
bitch
!" she screamed, speaking of Nessa.

Everyone watched her carefully.

Trinity couldn't believe Nessa had the nerve to sit in her face and talk to her like the two were sisters when she knew all along she'd murdered her father. It wasn’t that Trinity was upset because she too wanted to murder her father. It was principal. She couldn't believe Nessa lied to her.

"Where'd you get that video?" she turned to them and asked, seeing absolute red.

"That's not important," Pierce told her. "What's important is we have it. We're taking her down right along with your mother, Chetti, Luke and your cousin Brandon. We're devoted to this case. But we want
everyone
, not just a few."

Trinity didn't say anything. She was so overcome with fury. This was so much to dissect right now, especially Nessa. Yes, Trinity's father had molested her. But strangely, Trinity still loved him. She had always felt that Chetti manipulated him into molesting her. She still saw herself as daddy's little girl.

The room suddenly felt small. Trinity began to feel like she couldn't breathe. Suddenly, she snatched the door open and stormed out into the hall. Moments later, she was on the elevator. Before she knew it, she was out in the parking lot underneath the sun feeling overwhelmed. Everything around her seemed to spin. She felt like she was on a carousel.

"Trinity!" Cedrick called, jogging up behind her.

Turning to him, Trinity screamed, "She killed him, Cedrick. That bitch killed him!"

“I know sis, Agent Pierce told me yesterday. I hadn’t seen the footage, but she warned me.”

“Don’t you care!” she shouted.

“I do. I do care. But I have so much running through my brain right now, I can’t get side-tracked. Cedrick tried to take his sister in his arms but she refused him. Pulling away, she said, "I can’t believe this shit!” We have to do something!”

“We will, Trinity. But for now, I have to focus on gaining control of this family and our fortune. I have no intentions on going to jail and losing it all. And I’ll never lose you again. You hear me?”

Trinity was in tears. “I have to think, Cedrick. I just need time to think," she said, backing away from her brother like he was the latest Ebola patient.

With that said, Cedrick stood in the parking lot alone watching his sister walk off.

Chapter 12

"Damn, girl, what's up wit' the work?" NaNa asked.

"I'm on it," Nessa said, speaking into her phone as she drove.

"Shit, girl, these niggas are thirsty. That shit was so fuckin' good it's got muthafuckas blowin' up my phone. We're missin' money, Nessa."

"I know. Some shit came up I didn't see coming."

"Nessa, I feel you. But not only are we missing money, the pups gotta be paid. I told 'em I would have some money for 'em soon. Niggas don't work for free, young meat. When muthafuckas ain’t paid, they start gettin' disgruntled and shit."

"I'm on it now, NaNa. By tomorrow morning I'll have some more work to you, and money."

"A'ight. And remember our conversation about my money. I need that," he added with disdain.

Nessa hated how greedy NaNa had become.

“You’ve told me enough times,” she added just before the two ended their call.

"Shit," Nessa said as she worked the steering wheel. She hated missing out on money. "Fuck!"

The sun was dropping as Nessa made her way to Chavez's mansion. She was feeling queasy though. Sickness from her pregnancy was once again kicking in at the wrong time. She'd eaten some Chinese food earlier and now it was on the verge of coming back up. Realizing she wasn't going to be able to hold it down too much longer, she pulled into a gas station, parked and darted to the bathroom. Rushing inside, she threw up in the toilet until she was dry heaving. Breathing hard, she remained kneeling for a while until she was sure she was done. Minutes later, after cleaning herself up, she headed outside. Heading to her car, rage built up in her when she saw who was leaning against her hood...

Brandon.

"You've got a lot of fucking nerve showing your face," she spewed as she headed towards him.

"Fuck that," he spewed back. "Your ass was getting too big for your damn draws. You needed a reality check."

"Fuck you." She headed around him to the driver's door.

Grabbing her arm, he asked, "Where the fuck are you going?"

Snatching away, she yelled, "Get your hands the fuck off me!"

Grabbing both her wrists, overpowering her and forcefully shoving her back against the car, he placed his face directly in hers and said, "I asked you a Goddamn question, bitch."

"If you don't let me go, Brandon, I'll scream."

Pulling his gun from underneath his suit coat, shoving it underneath her chin, he said, "And I'll blow your muthafucking head all over this damn parking lot."

Nessa's body tensed. She began breathing heavy. She thought for sure the trigger would go off accidentally.

"Now where the fuck are you going?" he asked.

"To get some work from Chavez, Muthafucka. You got all the damn work took, remember, smart ass?"

Keeping a hold of Nessa, he glanced into the car. "Where's the money?"

"What money?"

"Bitch, the money you're buying the work with."

"Why?"

"Where is it, damn it!" he yelled, shoving the gun further into her chin.

"I didn't bring it."

"Fuck you mean?"

"Him and I are working out another arrangement."

He stared at her. A sinister smirk then appeared on his face. Realizing what the arrangement was, he said, "A fuckin' whore."

"Fuck you. Don't judge me, nigga."

"First Luke. Then me. Now Chavez." He shook his head. "Don't know why I'm surprised. I knew you wanted to fuck him the first time you met him."

She didn't say anything.

"Well, fuck it. That doesn't concern me, you bitch. What concerns me is the work you'll get. When you get it, call me. We'll meet. I want to see it and count it. Then I'm going with you to drop it off. It's time every player in this organization got an understanding, do you understand? From this point forward, none of you muthafuckas make a move without me knowing about it. If any of you so much as has to take a
shit
, I want to know."

Nessa hated him.

"You got that?" he asked.

She didn't answer him.

Grabbing a handful of hair near her scalp, he snatched her head and asked more sternly, "Do you got that?"

"Yeah."

Letting her go, he walked off. Over his shoulder as he got into his car, he shouted, "And I want to know where that other five hundred thousand is stashed too, bitch!"

Watching him pull off, Nessa was infuriated. When she finally figured out how to get his ass, she was going to make sure it was extreme and painful. She was going to make sure it was terrible enough to make him beg.

Nessa climbed into her car and headed to Chavez's. Finally reaching his mansion, she pulled into the gates, made her way up the drive way and parked beneath the portico. After quickly looking herself over in the overhead mirror, she stepped out of the car. Immediately, she was approached by gunmen. One of them searched her purse and gave it back to her. They then escorted her inside the mansion. Within minutes, she was in what appeared to be a dining room, but larger. The table was long, the length of the room, and lined on both sides with chairs. Expensive porcelain and silverware was set in front of each. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Artwork lined the walls. And among it all sitting at the end of the table was Chavez. Behind him, the drapes of the floor to ceiling window were open exposing a gorgeous view of the mansion's grounds.

"Hungry?" Chavez asked as he feasted on shrimp, rice and vegetables.

"No thank you."

"You sure? My cook can prepare for you whatever you like."

"I'm okay."

Chavez signaled for the men who'd escorted Nessa to leave. They did as they were told. Alone now, Chavez told Nessa after dabbing his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of wine, "Please have a seat and tell me of your problems."

Nessa made her way alongside the table all the way down to the nearest chair to Chavez. As she did, Chavez pushed his plate aside, pulled out a Cohiba, Cuban cigar, clipped it and lit. He then crossed his legs and focused his eyes on Nessa as she sat down. He listened intently as she told him about the robbery and Brandon's involvement. He also nodded occasionally to let her know he was following her word for word. When she was finished, he said, "Quite a betrayal and quite a problem."

"I have a business to run," she said. "Obviously, this has set me back big time."

"Of course."

"I need help."

"You said on the phone you have no money."

"Everything was tied up in those bricks."

"I see."

"I was hoping you and I could work out an arrangement."

Leaning back into his chair with his legs still crossed, he pulled on his Cohiba again and surveyed Nessa's legs from behind the veil of smoke he exhaled. "An arrangement, huh?"

"Yes."

“What sort?" he asked as his eyes arose slowly from her legs to her face making sure to take in all her curves on the way.

"Consignment."