Checkmate: The Baddest Chick (24 page)

Two-Face was taken to a remote location far from Harlem, where he was subdued with zip-ties around his wrists and his ankles chained to a chair, shirtless and barely conscious after the brutal beating. The sack was snatched from around his head, and Two-Face found himself in a basement.

Two-Face looked fiercely into the face of each man. “You fuckin’ wit’ the wrong
vato
, homes. You have a death wish?”

“Fuck you!” one of the thugs shouted. He struck Two-Face with the butt of his gun.

Two-Face didn’t flinch from the blow. He quickly absorbed it with a grin. His mouth began to fill up with blood. “You touch me like that again, and I’ll cut your throat, muthafucka!”

The thug scowled at Two-Face, but he didn’t attack him again.

Two-Face squirmed in the chair, trying to free himself, but he was bonded tightly. The blood trickled from his mouth, and his teeth were stained red. Two-Face wasn’t frightened. He was cursing and threatening everyone, promising them a gruesome death if they didn’t let him go, but the half-dozen men in the basement looked unmoved by his threats.

Chico entered the room, and the two giants glared at each other for a moment. There was silence.

Two-Face suddenly shouted, “You a fool, homes. My uncle is gonna fuck you up!”

“Not before I kill you,” Chico replied.

Two-Face fought to free himself from the restraints, but to no avail. His eyes burned with anger. He once again glared at the men he thought were his soldiers, including Narco. “I’ma kill you all! I swear.”

Chico pistol-whipped him and shouted, “Where is she?”

“Who, homes? That bitch that me and my
cholos
fucked in Mexico? Yeah, we had a good time wit’ that ugly bitch, homes. Wore that pussy out.”

Chico struck him again, and then again.

Two-Face’s face started to bruise and swell, but he took the beating without whining or begging for it to stop. He continued his defiant stare at Chico. “I can do this all night, homes. I’m built for this, pussy. I fuckin’ come from this. You don’t scare me.”

Chico hit him one last time and then fell back.

Two-Face smirked, his face bloody and battered, a few teeth loose. He knew his fate was inevitable. “I shoulda killed you in D.C., muthafucka!”

“Yeah, you should have. I gave you a chance, but you choose to stab me in the back and fuck my girl.”

“I ain’t know she was ya woman, homes.”

“That’s irrelevant now. But know somethin’, you little bitch—This is my town, my business. I’ve been in this game for too long to have a snake like you pull it from underneath me. You thought it would be that easy? But, hey, you proved your usefulness, and now your services are no longer required.”

Chico raised the pistol to Two-Face’s head. Two-Face didn’t recoil, as he continued to stare at death boldly. Their eyes connected, and both men knew what was to come next. Chico knew that Two-Face was too stubborn and defiant to talk about Apple’s whereabouts in Mexico. The only information he was able to get was, she was held captive in a border town.

“Fuck you, homes!” Two-Face screamed with his last breath.

Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

The force from the pistol sent Two-Face and the chair crashing to the floor with a thud.

Chico walked over and put three more rounds into the body. He then turned to one of his goons and said, “Dump that nigga’s body back in Harlem and blame it on Cross.”

****

The thugs dumped Two-Face’s body near the projects on 155th Street with a bloody note attached: Y
ou kill one of ours and we kill one of yours. For Edge.

Two-Face’s death was big news throughout Harlem. It stirred a lot of speculation. Many people in the area didn’t buy that Cross was able to get at him so easily, and they believed that it was Chico who had punished him for his betrayal.

It was midnight when Chico stood alone on the rooftop of one of the project buildings in Harlem and peered at the vibrant neighborhood. The view was phenomenal from where he stood—the flowing traffic, the illuminated buildings that stretched from block to block for miles—not to mention the late-night sounds of the city.

Even though he had gotten rid of a threat, and was making tons of money, Chico felt empty. Apple was still on his mind.

Just then his phone rang. When he saw Dario’s number on his caller ID, he thought it might be good news. “Speak to me.”

“We had a problem.”

“What the fuck you mean there was a problem?”

“We found her, but then lost her.”

Chico barked, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“She was in a small town call Los Mochis, Mexico, about three hundred miles from the border on the west side. I had my peoples track her. It was perfect. But we arrived too late. The place was shot to shit, and the girls said she was already taken.”

Chico was fuming. “By who?” he shouted.

“We don’t know. They went in fast, killed a few men, and took Apple with them. But the place was run by a guy named Shaun. He’s from your part of town. You familiar with that name?”

Chico thought long and hard about it. He vaguely remembered a Shaun. “I’m not too familiar wit’ that name.”

“Well, word is, she was abducted from up there and brought down here to become a sex slave. This Shaun, they say, had some kind of vendetta against her. He wasn’t one of the men found dead, so that means he’s still out there.”

Chico was still upset that they hadn’t found Apple, but the information was valuable to him.

“What you want me to do, Chico?”

“You keep looking, but I’m coming down there.”

He was determined to find Apple and bring her home. He needed her in his life again. Just knowing that she didn’t leave on her own free will had reignited his true feelings for her. The thought that some nigga named Shaun had abducted her on some vendetta type shit had him questioning his own manhood. How could he have left her vulnerable? That wasn’t what real niggas did. He vowed that when he got her back he’d do everything in his power to make it up to her.

“You sure?” Dario asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

CHAPTER 21

D
ue to heavy traffic, it took Kola a day and a half to arrive in Miami, her longest drive ever. New York was so far behind her; she felt secure once she crossed into the city limits of Miami.

The hot, humid city, the sun flaring above, lit up Kola’s eyes. It was like a mini New York for her, but it was so much warmer and exotic. The traffic on the Dolphin Expressway reminded her of the FDR. She couldn’t wait to explore every part of Miami.

Kola knew she had to get situated with her cousin and her peoples fast. With a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in the car trunk, cruising in a stylish black Audi with New York plates, she knew she was a magnet for attention. She felt fortunate to not get pulled over during the trip down.

Kola cruised through the city, peering from a distance at the towering skyline. The sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, with the night consuming the day, and it was almost time for everyone to come out and play. Kola knew that Miami was famous for its beaches, clubs, nightlife, and glamour.

She got on her phone and dialed Nikki, her cousin, who she hadn’t seen in five years. She had forewarned her cousin of her arrival, so Nikki was anticipating her arrival.

****

Nikki and Kola were like two peas in a pod. They loved the same things— making money, niggas, and being the flyest bitches wherever they went.

Nikki was three years older than Kola. She had made Miami her home after the trouble she’d caused in Harlem. She’d caught a drug charge and did two years in federal prison. When she got out, Harlem became a bore to her. She felt it was time for a change in scenery and business. Since her departure, she’d never bothered to return north.

Nikki was Kola’s mentor while growing up. She’d introduced Kola to the street life when she was fourteen, linking her up with Mike-Mike and Cross’ crew. Whatever Nikki did, Kola loved to follow. When Nikki left New York in search of bigger and better things, Kola followed in her cousin’s footsteps and became that bitch not to fuck with in Harlem. The two rarely kept in contact, but Kola had made it her priority to locate her favorite cousin and put her on to what had been happening in Harlem.

****

Kola drove west on the Dolphin Expressway and exited into a neighborhood called West Little Havana. The sun had finally set, and the sky was littered with stars. She moved through the Cuban neighborhood searching for the address her cousin had texted her. Kola took in the one-story homes with stucco rooftops and the palm trees that lined the streets. It was a total contrast from the streets of Harlem. She knew she stood out among the many Cuban people that flooded the area, but they only glanced at her when she drove by them.

Kola turned onto her cousin’s quiet, no-traffic street, close to a park. She pulled up in front of a bright orange, one-level home with shrubbery fencing, tall palm trees in the front yard, and a silver BMW parked in the driveway. Kola parked and stepped out onto the street, her Jimmy Choo’s hitting the rocky pavement. She was tired and hungry, but excited to see Nikki after so many years.

She strutted toward the front entrance, walked onto the small porch, and knocked loudly. The house looked quiet and empty. Kola didn’t see any lights or hear anything, but she assumed her cousin was home because of the flashy car parked in the driveway. She waited for a moment, but there was no answer.

She knocked again and waited. When no one answered, Kola sighed with frustration. “Where is this bitch?” she uttered to herself. She stepped off the porch and peered around the house. Everything looked empty and calm.

Kola began to wonder if she was at the right address. She exited the yard and looked around. The block was quiet like a cemetery. She reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of Newports. She lit up a cigarette, took a deep drag, and then exhaled.

Kola pulled out her cell phone and dialed Nikki’s number. It rang a few times before she picked up.

“Hello?”

“Bitch, where you at?” Kola said lightheartedly. “I think I’m at the right address.”

“Oh shit! Hey, Kola. You’re early. I had to bounce for a minute, handle some business. I’ll be there in like ten minutes.”

“OK. I’m here.”

Kola hung up and decided to sit in her car to wait. She took a few more pulls from the cigarette and flung it out the window.

As she sat back, she thought about everything that had transpired over the past week. Her mistakes and unawareness had forced her to leave Harlem in a hurry. Eduardo had constantly been on her mind, but she tried to push the worry to the back of her mind.

No one knew she was in Miami. It was her secret. No one but Apple and her mother even knew about their cousin being in Miami. She felt somewhat safe in South Florida. She wanted to recoup her sanity and business, and come up someplace different. Harlem was still her heart—her home, and she would always have love for it, but with Chico, Cross, Eduardo, Two-Face, and so many others betraying and hunting her, she would be a fool to stay. Sometimes it was better to run and live to fight another day.

Kola waited for her cousin for fifteen minutes. She had a lot of time on her hands and did a lot of thinking. Love had fucked her, so while in Miami, she decided she had no time for love. It would only be about business and her come-up.

Kola heard Rick Ross’ “Hustlin’” blaring from up the block. She turned to see a truck coming her way; a luxurious black Escalade EXT with dark tints and sitting on 22-inch chrome rims. It stopped right next to her Audi.

The young, thuggish driver peered at Kola then turned to the passenger and asked, “That’s your cousin?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn! She’s fuckin’ cute!”

“Stop drooling, Rash.”

Nikki stepped out of the truck and strutted around it to greet Kola. She was curvy and beautiful, and looked stunning in a yellow, ruffled-hem mini dress with a low-cut front, open back, and circle-ring detail. She had a long, black weave with blonde streaks and hypnotic dark eyes.

Kola quickly stepped out of her car and ran over to greet her cousin. “Nikki!” she screamed.

“Kola!” Nikki screamed back.

The cousins embraced each other lovingly. It had been a long time.

“Damn! That’s sweet. Can I get in between that?”

Nikki turned to Rash. “Rash, get the fuck outta here, wit’ your perverted self!”

Rash smiled. “I’ll catch you around, Nikki, and you too, cousin.” He then drove slowly away.

Kola and Nikki continued on with their moment, both excited to see each other.

“Damn, bitch! You lookin’ good,” Nikki said.

“You should talk, workin’ them hips like you dancing on the pole.”

“Shit, this is Miami. We do everything down here to get money. Come inside. See how a bitch lives.”

Kola followed behind Nikki and entered the one-level home. When Kola stepped inside, she was taken aback by the décor. The home boasted high, textured stucco walls with terrazzo flooring and high ceilings—large bedrooms, and two bathrooms. The living room was decorated with top grain leather furniture, an elaborate aquarium, and a few framed pictures of Nikki scattered throughout. There was also a 60-inch LED TV with a surround sound stereo system.