Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 4 (4 page)

Treacherous's eyelids flickered. He tried to open them but was unsuccessful. The cold in them made it feel as if they were glued together. His mouth was dry and his throat felt like sandpaper. He felt weak and heavy as if something had him restrained or tied down. Something had him feeling sluggish and lightheaded. The smell of stale cigarettes tickled his nostrils. He knew he didn't know anybody who smoked.
Have I been caught?
he wondered. He was determined to find out where he was.
Where's Baby?
was his next thought.

He fought to pry his eyelids open from the cold that had formed around them. When he finally got them open the first thing he noticed was the familiar once white but now beige ceiling. He hoped he wasn't dead. For a split second the thought frightened him. He shook it off though. The only other explanation he could come up with was that he was dreaming. He immediately x-ed out that idea when he shifted his body weight. A sharp pain shot through his chest when he attempted to rise up. He knew there was no way he was dreaming with the kind of pain he had just felt. It felt as if someone had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer and kicked him in the lower back at the same time. He nearly lost his breath when a spasm jolted through his body. He immediately lay back. He opened and closed his eyes repeatedly until they were completely free from what held them captive. The first thing he saw was the image standing in front of his view. He couldn't make out the figure and still was no closer to finding out where he was or how he had gotten there. But a familiar voice immediately put him at ease.

“How you feelin'?” a relieved Baby asked. She had been watching over him for nearly seventy-two hours.

A smile slowly appeared on Treacherous's face.“Sore.” His voice was groggy from the dryness of his throat. A sharp pain shot through his forehead causing a throbbing headache that had Excedrin written all over it. He attempted to raise himself up for a second time. Only this time he used his arms for assistance. He balled his fists and pressed them down into the queen-sized bed. Baby pressed her hand up against his chest.

“You should be sore. You've been out of commission for a couple of days now. Save your strength. We're safe for now. We're just outside of Richmond,” Baby answered.

“Where are we?” Treacherous looked around. He scanned the room. Something caught his eye. He noticed the cockroach scurrying up the wall past a smoke detector that was missing from the space on the wall where it should have been. He watched as the cockroach disappeared into a hole in the wall that appeared more like someone's fist print than just a regular hole. Baby glanced over and saw what Treacherous had zeroed in on. She just shook her head. She had been stepping on and crushing the bugs with her shoe for the past few days since they had been holed up in the dingy room. Treacherous drew his attention back to Baby, who stood next to an old prehistoric box television and small, round table propped up next to the room's window. If nothing else, those were was a dead giveaway for Treacherous that they were in a motel.

“It was the best I could do, under the circumstances.” Baby could practically read his mind. Treacherous had no recollection as to how they had gotten to the motel or how long they had even been there. He actually couldn't remember much of anything. The next thing he noticed was the bandage on the left side of his chest and dressing wrapped around his right arm.

“What happened?”

“You were shot, remember?” Baby offered.

A flashback instantly appeared in Treacherous's head. His jaws clenched at the thought.

An image of the detective invaded his young mind. The incident and all that had taken place back at Baby's house was still a little foggy but there was no mistaking who the shooter was.

“Muthafucka, agh!” Treacherous chimed. His sudden reaction caused a sharp pain to jolt across his chest.

“I know, baby, but you gotta relax. The doctor, rather the vet, said you needed to rest and that you'd be fine. He removed the bullets and gave you something to help with the pain.” Baby let out a light chuckle as she spoke. Her words broke Treacherous's train of thought. The look on Treacherous's face was priceless. His expression went from anger to confusion. She knew he didn't understand.

“Boo, I had no choice,” she started out. “I couldn't risk taking you to a regular hospital, so I did the next best thing. It was either let the veterinarian work on you, take you to Richmond General and let them lock you up afterward, or watch you die, and that was not an option.”

Treacherous bore a blank stare. He was still processing Baby's words. “You took me to an animal doctor?” Treacherous shook his head.

“Bae—”

“It's okay,” Treacherous interjected. “I probably would have done the same thing.” A half grin appeared across Treacherous's face. He found Baby's hand and took hold of it. “I love you.” He raised Baby's hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

“I love you too.” Baby returned his words. She leaned in, planted a kiss on Treacherous's forehead, and then made her way to his lips. The kiss was quick but the energy was electrifying. A tear managed to escape from the crease of Baby's right eye. She couldn't imagine what life would have been like had she lost the one person she truly loved.

She curled up under Treacherous and rested her head on his chest.

“So how bad was it?” Treacherous asked.

“The bullet was close to your heart.” She told Treacherous what was told to her by the vet. “Between how long it took me to find a secure place and the vet going in to get the bullet, you lost a lot of blood. I thought I was going to lose you,” she admitted through sniffles.

“I'm not going anywhere anytime soon,” Treacherous replied. He caressed her hair and kissed her on top of her head.

Baby smiled.

“At least, not until we finish what we started!” Treacherous recanted.

Baby peered up at him. “I'm with you!” She stared into Treacherous's eyes. At that moment, there were no words that needed to be spoken. Ride or die were their only options. The look in their eyes and the dead silence in the room spoke volumes.

“I'm starving,” Treacherous chimed out of nowhere.

“Yeah, you need to eat,” Baby agreed. “I have some lunch meat and stuff in an ice bucket. You want me to make you a sandwich?”

“Anything, I don't care.” Treacherous attempted to rise up for a second time.

Baby could hear his stomach growling through the motel blanket. She climbed off the bed and made her way over to the sink area where the ice bucket was located.

Treacherous watched as she sashayed over to the area. Something on the table caught his eye. It was one thing to see it bundled up in the bags, but to see the stack of bills piled up was a very different ball game. Treacherous knew they had scored a nice amount of money back at the pawnshop that they had robbed. But at the time, it hadn't appeared to be as much as it did now that he saw it like this. Just then, Treacherous noticed that the larger of the two bags they had taken had not been opened.

“Did you count it?” he asked.

Baby turned around, nodded, and smiled. “Yes, I did.” She beamed. Her reaction told Treacherous she was pleased with the amount.

“How much?” he wanted to know.

“$258,000. Well . . .” She paused. “Fifty-four, because I took out some and bought us a car from a private owner, a little ol' black lady who lives on a farm way out in the sticks, for $2,500 no questions asked. She told me that her husband died a few years back and the car had been sitting. She said it brought back too many memories and she just wanted to get rid of it. She even trusted me to turn in the plates on the car once I got it transferred over. So, that should buy us some time. She was a very nice lady,” Baby accounted. “And, I got us some clothes, food, and other miscellaneous things we needed, but the last time I counted it, that was the count,” she said. “I've been counting it for the past three days.” She paused. “Both bags,” she added.

You could see the excitement in Treacherous's eyes. This reminded him of a scene he had read in his mother's journals about her and his father. That was more than enough to put some distance between them and Virginia, he thought.

“What's in the other bag?” Treacherous asked.

“That's what I've been waiting to show you.” Baby came walking over with two turkey and cheese sandwiches wrapped in a napkin along with a room-temperature bottled water. She handed Treacherous the food and drink then scurried over to retrieve the bag.

She plopped herself and the bag onto the bed as Treacherous smacked away. He devoured the first sandwich and bottled water in less than a minute. He had just bitten into the second sandwich when Baby unzipped the bag.

“What's that?” he asked, peering into the bag.

“Chips,” Baby enlightened him.

“Chips?” Treacherous was not following.

“Casino chips,” Baby continued.

“What do you mean?” Treacherous was still clueless.

“What I mean is that the rumors about that pawnshop were true,” Baby retorted. “These casino chips are worth a lot of money.” She pulled out a handful as she spoke. “I mean a lot of money!” she repeated.

Treacherous could see the number amounts on the few chips in Baby's hand. $100 and $500 was mostly what he saw. He believed there was one that had $1,000 on it.

“How much? Treacherous wanted to know.

“Casino value, I counted $2.5 million.”

He nearly spit the chewed-up sandwich out of his mouth. “Two point—”

“Yes.” Baby smiled and nodded. She cut him off before he could repeat what she had told him. “And in the streets they're probably worth half, if we knew somebody who knew anything about these.”

“That's a lot of money,” Treacherous announced.

“I was thinking the same thing.” Baby joined him. “Which means we really have another problem on our hands,” Baby pointed out.

“I didn't think it could get any worse than it already is.” Treacherous grimaced.

“Well, it can,” Baby corrected him. “These casino chips prove the stories about the store being a front. But I never told you who I heard it was a front for.” Baby frowned. Her facial expression concerned Treacherous. She took a deep breath. “The Irish mob.” She stared Treacherous in the eyes. She waited for his reaction. He had none. He was still processing what Baby had said.

“We need to get out of this motel and find a better place to lay our heads,” Treacherous stated.

Baby nodded in agreement. “I've already been checking out some places on the outskirts.”

“That's cool, but eventually we need to get the hell out of VA,” Treacherous chimed. “If what you're saying is true, then somebody's gonna come looking for this money and these chips,” Treacherous made Baby aware. By the grace of God, they had escaped some serious gun battles and managed to evade the law by the skin of their teeth, but Treacherous didn't think he and Baby were built for or equipped to go up against the mob.

Baby let Treacherous's words marinate. She hadn't really given the thought any mind. Now that he had made her aware, the reality of what they had in their possession dawned on her.

“I agree,” Baby concurred. “We have to get out of Virginia until we can figure out our next move,” she added.

“Yeah, but where?” Treacherous shot back.

“Don't worry, I got us,” Baby assured him. In her mind, she was already thinking of possible places to consider laying low. Once she secured that she intended to make a to-do list while Treacherous was recuperating.

“Yeah, I got us,” Baby repeated with a smile…

Detective Love and Randle pulled into the minimart and parked. “So, this is how Richmond's finest does it, huh?” Randle joked. The area in which the taxi was discovered was blocked off with crime scene tape. Uniformed and plainclothes officers flooded the area. One would have thought it was the scene of a homicide.

Arthur Love chuckled. “Just doing their job, Chief,” Love retorted. “We know we don't got nothing on you big city folk,” he shot back.

“Touché.” Randle chuckled at Love's snappy comeback. The two men exited the vehicle.

“What's up, Mike?” Detective Love greeted his colleague, who was standing by an unmarked car.

“Hey, Art.” Senior Detective Mike Johnson turned around. The two men shook hands. They had known each other for over ten years. Mike Johnson had graduated the academy two classes ahead of Arthur Love and outranked him.

“This is Chief Andre Randle from the Norfolk PD,” Love introduced. Whenever he gave Randle's title, he felt awkward saying it to his peers, knowing that he was not on active duty anymore, but was actually retired. Love shook the feeling off. There were more important things to be concerned about, he concluded. He watched as both men nodded and shook hands.

“You in charge?”

“Yup,” Detective Mike Johnson confirmed.

“What you got?” Detective Love wanted to know.

There was a dead silence for a moment. “Art, I can get my ass chewed for this.” Detective Johnson paused. “You know, with it being a personal matter for you and all.”

“Listen, Mike. I'm shield first, above all,” Detective Love announced boldly. “I'm not asking you to hand the case over to me,” he added.

Detective Johnson scratched the top of his head. “Hasn't been confirmed yet, but if I had to say, it was definitely them,” he offered.

“Appreciate that,” Detective Love retorted. “But, why do you think it's them?”

“We found traces of blood in the back seat. Could be one of theirs. It says one if not both of them may be wounded in the case file. Just waiting on ballistics.”

“Good job, Mike, and thanks ag—” Before he could finish his sentence another officer joined them.

“Hello, sir.” He directed his words to Love. Detective Love nodded.

“What is it?” Detective Johnson asked.

“We just got word from the station that a call came in from a veterinarian.”

Puzzled looks appeared on the faces of the three men as the officer spoke. “He reported that he removed a bullet from a man's chest a few days ago. Just now deciding to call in about it, said he was afraid for his life.”

Both Love and Randle looked at each other.

“So, he has a dead man in his office now?” Detective Johnson asked in an irritated tone.

Both Arthur Love and Randle knew Senior Detective Johnson didn't make the connection they had.

“No, the man lived, sir. A woman took him out of there after he finished operating on the man. He said the woman held him at gunpoint.”

It wasn't until the officer ended that Mike Johnson put the pieces of the puzzle together. “Got you.”

“They wanted you to send someone over to investigate it.” The officer handed Detective Mike Johnson a piece of paper. “That's the address,” the officer announced.

Detective Arthur Love moved in closer. He didn't utter a word. Instead he just stood there and stared at Mike Johnson. Senior Detective Mike Johnson shook his head in defeat. “Here, take it!”

“I owe you one.” Love beamed. “No, I owe you two,” he corrected himself.