The Corner III (No Way Out) (13 page)

“Go ahead and stop them,” Styles commanded the detectives.

The sedan hit its siren and lights in the grill and on the dash illuminated.

Shaun looked over at Greg who smiled and said, “Pull the car over in that grocery store lot with all those law abiding citizens. Can’t have five-o trying no funny shit.”

As the sedan and mustang came to a halt, Greg pressed the speed dial as he held the phone low and out of view. Teresa answered and Greg said, “Okay, baby, we’re being stopped. Leave and wait till you hear from me. We went west, so you need to head east. That’s to your left.” He ended the call as two detectives approached their vehicle with their guns drawn.

*     *     *

Elisa had talked much shit to Rivera. She had called him everything from a wet-back, banana boat rider, bean eater to a spic. She was tough as nails and wasn’t going to tell the police shit. They had nothing on them, and it was obvious they were there to rob. Rivera and the other detectives were waiting for a call from Styles. They hoped their partners had stopped the men and got the money. The narcotic detectives were good detectives in the sense that they did good police work and made many cases and good arrests. But there also was an evil side to them—they did whatever they could to get money. And they had a tip that many kilos and money was being moved. The detective sat on the houses two weeks ago and everything went as the young man said, so when he called and said that the same move was being made, the detectives jumped at the chance to get the money because they all needed it. Spivey and Smith were gamblers who stayed in debt from the casino riverboats. Barnes, an avid fisherman who was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, was saving all his dirty money to buy a house on the Gulf and to open a bait shop. Rivera and Bates had a penchant for partying, gambling and women. Detectives Styles, well, he was simply greedy and loved power.

Rivera’s cell rang, and he immediately answered. “What’s up, boss?”

Styles, who was pulling in at the scene where Bates and Smith had the Maxima pulled over in a Jewel grocery store lot, said, “Clear out, and make sure they know this shit never happened.”

Rivera slid the cell in the front pocket of his jeans then said, “Y’all free to go.” He looked at Elisa saying, “This shit never happened or some for real shit
will
happen. Feel me?”

Elisa, whose face was swollen from the beating Rivera gave her, didn’t say anything; she simply glared at the detective, etching his face into her long term memory, she had made up her mind after the first punch, she was going the get the detective back no matter what it took.

*     *     *

Barnes and Smith had Shaun and Greg handcuffed and sitting in front of the sedan. Styles had his badge hanging from his neck chain resting on a black T. “What you got?” Styles asked as he walked up to Barnes who was pretending to run the young men’s information for show since there were a few spectators.

“Stopped them for speeding and running a light,” Barnes lied. “We smelled marijuana on them, and to my surprise, the pretty boy right there consented to a search,” he said as he pointed to Shaun.

Styles was pissed, but with the bystanders he didn’t show it. With Shaun agreeing to the search without hesitation that most likely meant the men weren’t carrying.

After the search of the vehicle failed to produce anything, Styles had the men uncuffed and told them they were free to go. It burned him inside to have spent all the time trying to come up on the lick. In a low voice, he told Barnes he’d call him that he had to call the informant to see what had happened.

*     *     *

Feet walked into the basement to tell his soldiers that it was time to shake the spot, that there was nothing happening. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Parker’s phone rang. He glanced at the phone saw the number and didn’t answer.

“Damn, nigga, that’s why shit always fucked up. You niggas always got bitches calling when you supposed to be getting money,” Feet spat. “Let’s break camp, shit’s fucked up right now.”

“Damn, they ain’t bringing the shit? That mean we ain’t gonna get paid,” Red hissed as he headed for the stairs.

“I got you, shorty. I take care of my people. I’ma break you off with something,” Feet told him just as Parker’s phone rang with the same ring tone.

Parker didn’t bother to answer, and his demeanor had changed. Feet took notice.

“Answer the phone, nigga!” Feet said.

“Mothafucka, you said let’s roll so let’s roll. Besides, don’t be telling me what the fuck to do,” Parker said as he brushed past Feet.

It took all Feet had not to take his pistol out of his waistband and whip Parker. He quickly thought up a better plan.

When they reached the living room and began exiting the house, Feet quietly pulled Red to the side and told him to follow Parker and let him know if he saw anything funny. That there was a thousand in it for him. Red was young, but knew what Feet was thinking—that Parker had something to do with the funny shit that was happening.

*     *     *

Feet was sitting in the car with Greg and Shaun. He was in the back seat explaining what he and Dave saw—the Black Charger with Detective Styles in it. Greg knew what time it was, Elisa had described the detectives to him and what had transpired at her spot. She was pissed and vowed to get their money back for the large amount of cocaine she had to flush. Greg wasn’t worried about it, but hated that he had to explain what happened on his watch.

Greg took a hit of the Courvoisier he had in a flask and passed the cognac to the backseat. Feet grabbed it, took a hit then passed it back. Greg held the flask toward Shaun who turned, declining a taste.

Greg took another hit then said, “Good looking on the call, my nigga. That’s that grimy ass Styles and his boys. They were looking for a payday.”

“They didn’t get shit?” Feet asked sounding surprised.

“Nah, nigga. You called just in time. We lost what we dropped off to Elisa’s dyke ass, but got the other dope and money. But we got a bigger problem.” He took a hefty swig. “The way I see it, there’s a snitch in the camp.”

Shaun’s cell rang. “What’s up, baby?”

“When you gonna come get some of this good stuff? I miss you, baby,” Teresa said speaking in codes letting her man know she’d made it to the safe house with the drugs and money.

“I’ll be there later, just keep it tight for me, holla,” he replied. “My girl made it with the money and the shit,” he told Greg.

Feet’s cell rang, and he saw that it was Red. He answered, and Red told him what he suspected—that Parker was a rat. After Parker dropped Red off at his girl’s house, Red didn’t go inside the apartment, but got in his car and followed Parker, who had met someone in a black Dodge Charger. They talked for a moment, then Parker got out of the car and back into his, then they both drove off.

Feet slid his cell back in his pocket. He was fuming as he turned and looked out the window into the darkness. “Mothafucka!” he spat.

Greg turned and glared into the backseat. “Problem?” he asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I told you I didn’t like your man.”

“Who?” Greg asked.

“Parker. I put someone on his ass ’cause he was acting funny in the spot when shit went down. Not answering his cell in front of me and shit like that.”

“Get to it. Tell me something that gonna explain losing ten kilos!” Greg said irritated knowing that if Parker had something to do with the jack move, he would have to explain to Reese and Noonie since he’s the one who put Parker on.

“My man followed him when they left the house, and that was him who called. He watched Parker meet that Detective Styles. Sat right in his Charger and got out carrying what looked to be an envelope,” Feet said adding a little extra sauce on the story.

Shaun glanced at Greg who turned and stared out the windshield as drops of rain began to fall. Shaun clicked on the wipers as the rain began to pelt the car with heavy drops.

Shaun had a serious look on his face. “You know what you gotta do,” he said to Greg.

Greg blew a hard breath knowing that he didn’t want to kill Parker because he’d known him for many years. But if Parker was snitching, it meant that he didn’t give a fuck about Greg.

Shaun saw the worry lines on Greg’s face, and unlike Feet, he knew Greg’s dilemma. But if there was one thing Shaun didn’t agree with, it was prison, so he knew Parker had to go.

Shaun’s look was serious. “My nigga, I know what you thinking. But homey gots to go.”

Feet noticing Greg’s hesitation so he said, “I’ll do it.”

“What?” Greg said.

“I’ll slump the nigga. I know that’s your boy, but I told you, I ain’t neva liked his punk ass. Always tryna flex on me and shit ’cause you and him was close.”

“We weren’t close like that,” Greg replied.

Feet continued, “I mean, you know. You put him on, but that nigga didn’t like the fact that I’m younger, and he’s been in the game longer so he never gave me the respect I deserved, so he was always buckin’ a little bit. Besides, my little homey saw that nigga with the police and know he set us all up. So Parker worked for me, and I work for you. It’s my problem, just gimmie a couple days to handle it,” he said as he raised his shirt exposing the Glock that was tucked comfortably in his waistband.

Greg said, “Handle that. Now let us get the fuck out of here so we can get the shit from Teresa.”

Feet opened the door and sprinted back inside his house. A smile was on his face as the rain fell on it. He was going to enjoy killing Parker.

5

“Girl, I ain’t about to fuck up this money. Call me as soon as I can get those other ones.”—COOKIE

Shaun stirred, then awoke. He stretched, then threw the covers off his body. He was butt-naked, the way he liked to sleep. He walked to the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He turned on the shower, stepped in, and as he showered he thought of last night’s events. He placed his hands on the tile and let the hot, steamy water do its best to relax him as it pelted and flowed down his body. Shaun was a hustler, and after saving Tesha and Chantel, Slim’s crew invited him in with open arms, and they were glad they did because he proved to be honest and loyal over the past couple of years. But after last night, he questioned the game of hustling. Anytime someone in your crew decided to cooperate with the law, shit could, and always did get funky, and when the detectives had him and Greg cuffed and on the ground as they searched their vehicle, he knew if they hadn’t been alerted by Feet, he would’ve been waking up in a holding cell in a prison full of men instead of a house with a fine woman.

“The game is getting fucked up,” he muttered.

“You okay, what’s fucked up?” Teresa asked as she entered the bathroom.

“Nothing, I’m cool,” Shaun said.

“Don’t sound like it,” Teresa said as she pulled the curtain back, slid off her robe and stepped into the shower.