Snapped (23 page)

“Yo, mind your business,” Baron hissed.

Nobles threw his ashtray at his son, sending the heavy crystal dish hurling toward Baron’s head. Baron ducked in the nick of time and jumped to his feet defensively. Frankie could tell by the look on Nobles’s face that if he were able to, he would have kicked Baron’s ass. Frankie put his hand on his mentor’s shoulder in an effort to calm him down.

“Okay, relax.”

He looked at Nobles breathing hard, his chest heaving with rage. Then Frankie looked at Baron, who was still standing. “If they would’ve got you today, it would’ve killed all of us in this room. Your father is worried about you. We all are. This dude ain’t playing with you, Baron. He tried to kill you today, and if I’m right, he’s gonna try again. I agree with Pops. You need to lay low for now. It’s as simple as that.”

Baron looked around the room. Frankie looked at him sincerely, hoping that his friend would listen to reason. Gillian looked worried, while Nobles looked just plain pissed.

“Pops . . . it’s like you’re punishing me for being shot at. I didn’t do nothing wrong today. I’m the fucking victim, and everybody’s telling me to go hide like a bitch.”

Nobles shook his head. Baron just didn’t get it. “I ain’t never tell you to hide.” He rubbed his head as if stressed
from the day’s events. “I’m only gonna say this one more time. Gillian is taking over. Frankie will help her. You’ll lay low until I tell you otherwise.”

Silence filled the room, and Frankie fidgeted slightly, feeling awkward.

Baron shook his head, shrugged his one good shoulder, and walked out of the room. Frankie didn’t know how to feel. But one feeling was unquestioned: relief. At least now he wouldn’t have to be the one to break it to Baron that his reign at the top of the Nobles family was over.

Baron sat in
his huge living room in the dark, drinking straight from a bottle of Veuve Cliquot. He was already drunk, but still he swigged the chilled contents in an effort to numb both his physical and mental pain. He couldn’t believe that his father had so easily stripped him of his position. And he was resentful that Gillian had been chosen as his successor. He genuinely loved his sister, but couldn’t help feeling passed over. Frankie, too, was being given the keys to the kingdom, and Baron was expected to stand idly by and let that happen.

As he sat there, he replayed the events that led up to the shooting. Six hours had passed since it all happened, and Trina hadn’t called him once. He concluded that Gillian was right. Obviously, Trina was involved and had set him up to be shot. He recalled that she had told him to go down an unfamiliar street, claiming that it was a shortcut. And he thought about how she’d escaped from the car, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she was exiting right where the shooters were standing. Now he felt stupid for having fallen for such a clear setup.

Baron hated being made a fool of. And the shooting had
cost him his spot in the family. He wasn’t going to take this lying down. Staggering to his feet, he grabbed his car keys off the coffee table and headed for Brooklyn once again. This time, he wasn’t going alone.

It was three
o’clock in the morning and it had been hours since Jojo’s crew had ambushed Baron. Jojo was restless because the ambush had been botched. Baron had gotten away and shaken the men pursuing him. Now Jojo had no idea whether Baron had survived the attempt on his life. He lay awake, wondering if his enemy had even been hit.

Jojo knew that Baron was behind the disappearance of his younger brother, Dusty. He had known the Nobles family for years, and had even done business with them from time to time. But Jojo’s main hustle wasn’t drugs. He ran a gambling ring that held high-stakes card games as well as a loan-sharking business that brought in the bulk of his cash. And it had been a big surprise to him when Baron had come to him months ago for a loan. Despite the fact that Baron had participated in several of Jojo’s card games and lost a great deal of money at times, Jojo never expected that things had gotten so bad for Baron that he would come to him for help. Apparently, Baron had been taking out large sums of money from the coffers of the Nobles family businesses and needed to put it back before anyone got wind of it. Jojo had looked out for him and loaned him fifty-five grand, with the promise that it would be repaid within a week or two. But that hadn’t happened.

Instead, Baron had avoided him and continued to spend money around town as if he wasn’t indebted at all to Jojo. It was blatantly disrespectful, and both Jojo and Dusty were
furious. When Baron and Dusty ran into each other in a club a few weeks ago, Dusty had approached Baron and confronted him about the money that he owed. Rather than being apologetic or even humble, Baron had cracked a bottle over Dusty’s head, and then a fight had broken out between Baron’s crew and Dusty’s. When Dusty disappeared days later, there was not a doubt in Jojo’s mind that Baron was behind it.

Jojo lay there, wide awake, with a million thoughts running through his head. No matter how frustrating it was, Jojo wouldn’t rest until Baron came up missing as well.

“911, what is
your emergency?”

“I think that someone is trying to break into my apartment,” Trina whispered into her telephone. It was the middle of the night and she had just recently drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by the sound of movement outside her front door.

“Ma’am, what is your address?”

Trina kept her eye on her front door as she recited her address to the 911 operator. “I can hear them outside,” she said. “Please hurry up!”

“Okay, keep the door locked and stay on the phone with me. We’re sending a unit over to—”

The operator was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass as the intruder shattered the glass panel on the front door. Trina’s screams drowned out the operator’s words as she called out, “Ma’am . . . ma’am!”

“
Help me!
” Trina screamed as the camouflage-clad intruders pounced on her, slapping and punching her in her lovely face. One of the goons gun-butted her in the head
and knocked her unconscious. They dragged her limp body out to a waiting stolen car and drove off into the night with her bound in the backseat.

Hours passed before she came to. She awoke to find herself seated in an uncomfortable chair, her hands bound behind her naked body and her feet tied to the chair with heavy ropes. Her whole body ached, and she knew immediately that these bastards had raped her. Her vagina and ass were painfully sore, and she could feel the wetness between her legs and smell the musky scent of the unfamiliar men all over her. Trina began to cry, realizing that this was no fucking game. She foggily recalled them taking turns with her as she faded in and out of consciousness, and she momentarily squeezed her eyes shut to block out the memory and the pain she was feeling in her pounding head. She could see her captors leering at her from behind ski masks. She was still in a fog, and her head was throbbing from being knocked senseless. But she was able to make out the fact that she was in what seemed to be a cheap and seedy motel room, though she had no idea if she was still in Brooklyn, or even in New York at all, for that matter. Sunlight peeked through the musty old curtains hanging over the windows, and she knew that she had been unconscious for some time. Trina counted five men in the room, four dressed in camouflage gear and ski masks and one dressed in black with his arm in a sling. When the odd one out turned around to face her, she moaned in horror. It was Baron.

He smiled at her and moved toward her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he teased. “Trina, baby. What happened? I thought you were on my side.”

She screamed at the top of her lungs, hoping that someone in a neighboring room would hear her and rescue her
from what she now believed was a sure death. She had set Baron up and now the tables were turned. The goon closest to her slapped her so hard that her teeth clicked and she bit her tongue, wincing in pain. She stopped screaming, but it didn’t matter. Another of the mysterious goons taped her mouth shut with duct tape and then pulled her head back by her hair so that she was peering into Baron’s menacing face. Baron stood before her, wearing a sinister sneer.

“So,” Baron said, looming over her. “You set me up, huh?”

She shook her head vehemently and tried to wriggle free of the ropes that tied her hands and feet. She had to figure a way out or she was certain she would be killed. She kept shaking her head no, pleading with her eyes for mercy. She tried to say something, but the tape prevented her from making any sense.

Baron stepped back slightly and looked at her. Her toes were freshly polished. Her smooth yellow skin was silky and supple, and his gaze traveled upward to her perfectly groomed bush. She was a lovely girl with some good pussy. It was a shame that she had to be dealt with so harshly. He shook his head slowly and then reached forward and squeezed one of her nipples, lightly at first and then with increasing pressure until she was whimpering in pain.

“Aww,” he said, releasing his grip at last. “I thought you liked it rough.” His goons laughed and gawked at the sight of Baron’s naked jump-off. Trina was a sexy woman, and they had all taken turns using her voluptuous body.

Baron pulled a chair up and sat close to her. He pulled out his Glock and looked at her seriously. “I’m going to take the tape off and I don’t want you to scream. Okay?”

She nodded quickly.

“If you do, I’m gonna shoot you in that pretty face of yours. Understand?”

Again she nodded.

“Good girl,” he said. He peeled the tape off slowly and kept the gun trained on her the whole time. “Now,” he said, sitting back in his chair and resting the gun on his thigh. “Who put you up to it?”

Trina looked at Baron, then at the four other men in the room. All eyes were on her. She shook her head, deciding to try to convince Baron that she had been a victim just like him. “I didn’t set you up, Baron.”

He cocked his gun and stood up as if that was not the answer he was looking for. Trina panicked and began to cry. “Okay, okay!” She was hysterical, and Baron sat back down and looked at her.

“Who set me up?”

She knew that it didn’t matter at this point. If she lied, he was going to kill her. If she told the truth, he might still do that. But she figured the smartest move would be to take her chances that he might have mercy on her if she leveled with him. In a voice barely above a whisper, she answered, “Jojo.”

Baron nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He sat back and looked at her again. “You been fucking him, too?”

“No!” She knew that he didn’t want to know the answer to that question. If she admitted that she had been sleeping with Jojo for as long as she’d been involved with Baron, he would definitely flip out. Trina was money hungry. And while Baron was generous, Jojo was a lot more forthcoming with both money and time. He paid more attention to Trina than Baron ever had, so she had begun to fall for Jojo. When he confided in her about the disappearance of his brother,
she had lost a lot of respect for Baron. Dusty was like family to her, since she’d gone to school with him and had practically grown up side by side with him. Hearing that Baron was behind his disappearance was enough for her to offer to help Jojo set him up—for a small fee, of course. But things hadn’t gone as planned. She hadn’t gotten paid, Baron hadn’t gotten killed, and now she was bound to a chair, naked before a room full of masked men like a sheep among wolves.

Baron looked like he didn’t believe her. He shrugged his shoulders and sat forward in his seat. Then he reached in his pocket, and when he pulled his hand out, Trina flinched, expecting the worst. Instead, he handed her her own cell phone, which they had taken from her house. “Call him,” he demanded.

“I don’t know his num—”

Baron punched her in the mouth, and she tasted blood immediately. She could tell that he had knocked her tooth loose, and she cried out in pain.

“Shut the fuck up!” one of the goons roared. “Call that muthafucka.”

Trina felt like pointing out to these idiots that her hands were tied and she couldn’t dial Jojo’s number if she wanted to. As if reading her mind, Baron smirked. “What’s the number?”

Reluctantly, Trina recited it. Baron dialed it and activated the speaker phone.

Jojo answered on the third ring. “Wassup, Trina?”

“Jojo!” she cried out.

Before he could answer her, Baron let off a shot and the bullet whizzed past her head. Trina was crying hard now, begging for her life, and Jojo was listening to it all unfolding.

“Trina!” he yelled into the phone. “What the fuck?”

Baron laughed. “Okay, nigga, I got this bitch and she told me that you set me up. So now, how should I handle this?”

Jojo frowned, realizing that it was Baron on the phone and that he had Trina. “Fuck you,” he said.

“Fuck me, huh?” Baron laughed, as did his boys in the room. “Nah, son. Fuck you. Next time, send some real killers after me. That shit yesterday was sloppy. Now I gotta bury this bitch next to your bitch-ass brother.” Baron pointed his gun at Trina’s head and looked into her eyes.

“No, Baron!
Pleeeease!!
No!” she cried. “I’m sorry!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The line went dead and Jojo tossed his phone across the room in a fury. He was upset about Trina. But what shook him to his core was the fact that Baron had admitted killing Dusty. Suspicions were one thing. But as far as Jojo was concerned, Baron’s admission that he had killed his brother would be his death sentence. Baron was a dead man.

November 15, 2007

Baron stepped out of his house and looked around cautiously. He unlocked his Range Rover and got inside, careful to check his backseat for enemies creeping. Once he was certain that the coast was clear, he got behind the wheel and started it up. As he backed out of his driveway, he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. Once he pulled out onto the main highway, he glanced at his phone and saw a missed call from his sister.