A Kingpin's Obsession: Ajoni's Story (20 page)

“She’s still getting rid of my kid, Raw.”

“You sure about that?”

His question sparks my doubts into overdrive. Suddenly, I am not so sure of anything concerning Ajoni anymore, not after she just killed a woman in cold blood, and then giggled because she scared the hell out of two grown men. If she really wanted to prevent a pregnancy, she is completely capable of not giving a damn if I was watching her do it or not.

“No, I’m not sure, Raw.”

“Good, now let’s dig. I ain’t gon’ be out here all night talking to your ass.”

I laugh out loud as one of the canyons in my chest starts to shrink. “Something will be wrong if you
didn’t
talk all night, Raw.”

“Yeah, you right,” he says casually before getting out of the car, and picking up one of the shovels.

He jabs the dirt with the tip of it, and begins talking his ass off. I grunt from time to time during the twenty minutes it takes to dig the mass grave before we can throw the first body in it. Another twenty pass before we have them covered up good enough. Georgia’s red clay is all over us, caking up in the blood spots on our clothes from Chang’s, Lea’s, and his crew bleeding bodies.

We shake most of the dirt off during our walk out of the woods with our shovels in hand, and see Ajoni moving around the warehouse through the backdoor. She has a white scarf tied around her face—probably Chang’s colors—and is using a regular broom that she must have found in this warehouse to sweep the spilled cocaine out the back door.

Raw and I walk around to the front, and find no traces of blood or evidence that a crime occurred in the tin can. The tables are upright again with the unopened dope stacked neatly on them, the busted bags and bullet casings from Chang and his men’s guns gone. The bottom drops out of my stomach—Ajoni fingerprints could be on all of it. I will burn this tin can down before I let her go to prison for murder.

“Ajoni, did you touch—”

“With my sweater, King,” she cuts me off calmly, still sweeping. “I’m not stupid. The empty dope bags and bullet casings are in my bag in the car waiting to be thrown away somewhere else. Use the dope bags to keep the dirt on the shovels from getting on the interior of Camaro. Everything seems to have its own DNA these days. Now go get the other brooms out the trunk. We’ll spread the coke across the yard until it mixes in with the dirt and contaminates the blood in it, while someone sweeps away our footprints in the yard and woods.

I hope you didn’t wipe down the truck too much. The cops need to find everyone’s prints in it that normally used it since Lea never washed the damn thing. I cleaned the warehouse, because burning it down will only make the cops look for a reason that it burned, and probably find something that we missed. A forensics team will certainly find it, and no crime is perfect. We don’t want a forensic team being called out here.”

“So we’re doing a Roanoke Island, where the first real colony that settled America just disappeared without a trace huh?” Raw asks with a smile.

Ajoni nods. “Yes, but we’re going to pray that the cops think Chang and his crew are just a bunch of gangsters that Mecca would’ve been better off without and don’t want to look for them though.”

Raw’s head swivels to me. “King, we could’ve taken over the world with this chick.”

I think he is right, and know it is my fault that we did not and won’t because I could not keep my hands off of her. I do not regret that I couldn’t though, because Anjuwan wouldn’t be here. I guess I have to accept now that the domino effect of the King’s downfall started with me making Ajoni mine. It ended when I pushed her to choose between the crew that she only knew from the streets and her blood. I would have chosen any one of the Blue Kings over some random gangsters that Mecca would have been better off without too.

Some of my resentment fades as I stare at her working to keep our asses free and clear of Larkin again and protect what is hers; Anjuwan, Seeri, me, and Raw. I know instantly she isn’t going to prevent the pregnancy. Ajoni gives life a chance when she can.

Even Lea would be alive if I hadn’t made it my business to take her out, and forced Ajoni to choose again—making sure I made it to D.C. in the morning to meet my baby girl or risk me dying in a shootout that had not gone down like I thought it would. I did not expect Lea to try and take my ass out with a AK-47, and she did not because of Ajoni.

CHAPTER Sixteen

Ajoni

I am dog-ass tired by the time we leave Chang’s warehouse, and arrive in Union City, going to Hankin’s house, whoever the hell that is. I do not even ask. I have just taken a life, covered it up, and am extremely concerned about why I do not feel bad about it. Even a little information about the next stop on this killing spree will have my mind spinning out, so I ride quietly in the backseat down Highway 41.

King looks back at me from time to time on the thirty-minute drive, but none of the usual anger towards me is showing in his face. I start to wonder where the hell it has gone and what that means for me. Is he taking me somewhere to lay my body down next since I know of his bad acts tonight and he cannot trust me to not snitch on him again?

I have given him no reason to think I will not do it again. Right now, I do not have the energy to fight or beg for my life, but I can pull the trigger if I need to and if it gets me back to my daughter—I hope he does not make me need to. I would rather take him home with me to live with his daughter, but Anjuwan comes before all others.

For now, I will trust him, and watch the scenery turn to an isolated residential district that is not anything to brag about. Raw rides by several mailboxes that have seen better days, then slows down just a little when we see one with Hankin stenciled on it. I guess King was telling the truth when he said he was going to dead someone named Hankin tonight. Some of my worry eases up—I am not the one minutes away from taking my last breath after all.

“Raw, find a part of the street where there are no lights and no one can see me get out of the car,” King says suddenly, making me become alert.

Raw drives a little further down the street that intercepts with another and yields at a stop sign before turning right into an undeveloped and pitch black cul-de-sac.

King releases his seatbelt. “Slow down, but don’t stop. Ajoni climb over the seat when I get out and sit up straight so when y’all drive out of here, no one suspects that a rider is missing from the car.”

I sit up, preparing to dive head first over the seat when we are circling around the dead end and the passenger door is facing the wooded acres of land. King opens the door, and steps out of the car with a crowbar in his hand then vanishes into the dark. I am in the passenger’s seat and softly closing the door back before Raw has completed the turn out of the dead end and arrives back at the stop sign. I suspect King is running through the backyards of the houses, and get anxious when Raw rides out of the subdivision. I do not know what animal is waiting to take a chunk out of King’s ass, or if the owner is waiting to blow him away for trespassing.

“Raw—”

“He’s got this, Ajoni, and this is the last time he’ll have to do something like this. I promise.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

He smiles. “Hungry?”

Could I eat at a time like this? I have not eaten anything in hours and my stomach feels empty, so I guess I could.

“Yeah, I can eat.”

“That’s what’s up. If you can do normal things after putting a bullet between a bitch’s eyes, you’re good.”

I get angry.

“She ordered a fucking hit on me and was going to kill King for a few dollars without a second thought for what our deaths would’ve done to Anjuwan. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“I don’t blame you. I would’ve busted on her ass too. Well, I did, and she hadn’t did shit to me but gave me some damn good head. At least, you had a life or death reason to kill her. I was doing it for the fun of it.”

I throw up a little in my mouth.

“First off, Raw, never mention what she did to you. That is TMI; too much information… and I guess her head game is why King kept her around.” I look out the side window, not wanting to hear anything else about Lea period. The bitch is dead and gone, and never to be remembered as far as I am concerned.

“Sorry, but she served a purpose. What do you want to eat?”

“What does King like besides Chinese food?”

“That’s about it, to tell you truth. He’s a picky motherfucker.”

I scoff. “He is that, but we can’t afford to go inside anywhere looking like we just buried a bunch of bodies and cleaned up a crack house. Find an all-night drive-thru, or we starve.”

“Ajoni, King is loyal if he is nothing else. Sometimes too loyal or he would’ve left you in D.C., and fucked both Lea and Nina when he got out of The Pen. There’s a Mickey D’s up this road. If he doesn’t want that, his ass can wait until a Chinese restaurant opens up tomorrow.”

“I’m learning that King can be too loyal, Raw. He’s already planning to raise a baby that doesn’t exist yet.” And there is no way in hell that he is just going to walk away from Anjuwan.

“How many women would be lucky to have a man like that, A?” he asks nonchalantly.

“All of them,” I whisper, but I have already ruined my chances for having a relationship with him, and there is nothing I can do about it.

I just wish I could get over that, but I am stuck in my feelings just like King is.

Raw falls silent. Ten minutes pass before he finds the restaurant, the only one still open after twelve on a lonely strip of highway. We have ten minutes left before we have to pick up King at the entrance of the subdivision. Driving back through the area again will look suspicious to anyone still awake and playing neighborhood watchman, or just be plain damn nosy.

***

King

Slipping through the backyards with no pets into Hankin’s in the dark is easy as baking a pie. I glance in all the windows around the house, making sure there are no alarm decals on them before striding silently back to the bare sliding-glass doors in his kitchen. I get a bird’s eye view of a head laying to the side of an easy chair in front of an outdated thirty-two inch television in the living room. I am thoroughly shocked that a correctional officer does not protect his home better from criminals. Being confident that he can protect his home himself or sure that no one would dare enter his home uninvited just worked against him.

I lift the crowbar in my hands, intending to jimmy the lock on the doors, but something tells me to try opening them first. I grip the handle of one and push. It slides right open. I smile and walk inside the kitchen, quiet as death arriving. This will be the easiest burglary that I have ever committed before I discovered that I could sell drugs and make even faster money, if I was coming to steal material things.

I stand in the shadows by the sink next to the doors, looking for motion sensors and cameras on the wall. Hankins moves in his chair restlessly, as if he senses that he is not alone. I start to wonder if an overweight correctional officer is worth the effort it will take to kill him for a measly three grand. Ajoni wouldn’t do this, and he really is no threat to me. I sure as hell will not miss the money, and Hankin had eight years to try me for what he really wanted from me. He must have known that one of us would have died if he did, but is he raping other prisoners too afraid to kill him or that cannot protect themselves?

I cannot find it in me to believe that he is not.

Anger starts to boil inside me. I never liked a motherfucker that picked on people weaker than they are for the hell of it, and I will bet my next child’s life that Hankin is especially good at doing that.

He shifts in his chair. His right hand falls over the side before his fingers lose their grip on a piece of paper in them. It flutters to the floor, landing beside the chair. I step forward, dodging the four-chair dining room table filled with beer bottles and takeout containers, while pulling my gun out of the waistband of my jeans. My fingers adjust around the frame of it, hovering over the trigger as I move into the dim lamplight illuminating half of the kitchen and coming from an end table on the right side of the small living room beside a faded floral couch.

A wall between the two rooms blocks my view of the left side of the living room, and will make me have to shoot first and ask no questions later if anyone walks around it before I do.

I step over the threshold into the room with Hankin, and look down a tiny hall that must lead to the bedrooms on my left. I hear no sounds of anyone moving around or see any lights coming from under closed doors or out of opened rooms. When I am sure it is just me and him in the house, I look down at the paper on the floor. It is not just paper though, but a black and white photo of a man in a bright yellow prisoner’s uniform bent over a table, with his pants down around his ankles and his hands cuffed to the iron loop in the middle of the table.

Even in the still frame, I can see the prisoner’s struggle to get free before his manhood is taken, and he cannot be any more than eighteen. If he wanted to do this with Hankin, it would be another matter, and none of my business. This is not the case, and Hankin raping prisoners is my business—I could have been the man in the picture very easily if all the guards are helping Hankin do this.

I take the business end of my nine, and nudge him in the back of the head with the silencer. He snorts and rolls to his side in the chair away from me—that is no easy feat when he has a lot of body to maneuver. His bare feet almost knock over the coffee table loaded down with everything from pill bottles to old newspapers. I nudge the back of his head again until he turns it to look behind him.

His eyes widen in terror, just like the prisoner’s in the photo, before he turns his body to the position that will allow him to get up. “What the fuck!” he yells out before gripping both arms of the chair, preparing to get to his feet.

I put the barrel of the gun to the side of his head. “Uh huh, Hankin, no running.” He freezes in place. “I told you that you would see me again, but this situation probably is not what you had in mind, is it?”

He shakes his head.

“How many, Hankin?”

“Wh—what?” he stutters.

“How many
men
have you raped? I can see your little trophy

on the floor, so I’m figuring there’s at least one, which is too many. I’m sure there are more. So how many? If you lie, I’ll know it, so speak the truth if you want to live.”

He swallows and licks his lips. “One hundred and one.”

My stomach flips over. “I don’t have one hundred and one bullets, but fourteen will do for every man that didn’t want you like that, don’t you think?”

It suddenly hits me that I was no better than Hankin—Ajoni did not want me like that either, until I made her want me, and I am surprised she does not hate me for it like I detest Hankin.

He raises his left hand in the air. “Just wait, Calen,” he begs.

“Did all 101 men ask you to wait?”

He nods. I grit my teeth, wanting to blow his ass away before he has learned his lesson.

“Did you wait, Hankin?”

He shakes his head.

“Then I’m not going to either.” I press the gun harder against his temple.

He grabs for his chest with one hand, and reaches for something in front of him with the other. I glance down at the pill bottles on the table. Nitroglycerin is written plainly on several empty ones lying on their sides on the grimy surface of the table.

“Having a heart attack, huh?” I ask glibly with a small smile.

He nods. I do not have to pull the trigger after all, instead letting nature take its course, like I should have done with Ajoni—I rushed things and fucked up just about everybody’s life around me, including Anjuwan’s.

I switch plans from killing him outright to waiting for Hankin to die naturally. I will leave the picture right where it is for someone to find when they find his body. Hopefully, they will inform the cops of Hankin’s tendencies with prisoners, and someone will investigate the corruption that seems to be extending even further through the right side of the law than I ever thought possible.

I wait ten minutes longer than I am supposed to and his lips start to turn blue, making sure he cannot be resuscitated and able to return to work anywhere. Only then do I start searching the room for a phone. A landline with a phone connected to the base by a long cord sits on the end table with the lamp. I knock the receiver off its base then punch in 911 with the barrel of the gun, before leaving the way I came. I slip easily through the backyards going toward the front of the neighborhood, passing a few sleeping dogs that barely whimper when I jog by. By all rights, they should have sensed me coming before I ever left Hankin’s house, and tried to chew through me, but they didn’t, probably suspected Hankin for what he was, a lowlife bastard that needed to die.

I have never felt a sense of justice since I was old enough to be aware that my mother chose the pipe over me, and forced me into learning how to take, and sometimes kill, to survive, but I feel it tonight. Finally, someone got what they deserved in the end without me having to put a bullet in them to make it happen. Maybe if I had let Ajoni come into her love for me on her own, I would not have gotten what I deserved in the end eight years ago either, but it is too late to get out of my own way with Ajoni after the way I treated her today. I wouldn’t want me either after that, and will learn to live with it somehow—I should have a whole lot of years of being alone after tonight to find a way..