Gutta Mamis
Authors: N’Tyse
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The Face of Death
Brandie Davis
Gutta Mamis
is dedicated to urban street-lit lovers nationwide.
As always, thanks to those who have supported my every endeavor; my loving and supportive family, friends, author peers, Rockstar writers in the Facebook Strebor group, and readers near and far. Much gratitude to Zane who has been more than just my publisher, but my mentor. I'm honored to be under your tutelage. Charmaine, you are absolutely the greatest! It's always a pleasure to work with you on my projects. A gazillion thanks to all of the bookclubs, bookstores, online reading groups, Black Expressions, magazines, and distributors who made this project possible by providing urban fiction authors an outlet to expose their work. Lastly, thanks to the talented contributors of this project: Kai, C.J. Hudson, and Brandie Davis. You guys rock!
It's only natural for a man to run the spot; that's the way of human nature. For years the man went out and brought home the bacon, and the woman's job was to fry it up. Well, the tables have turned and now it's time for folks to recognize who's really the boss. Women are born with a survival instinct. It's do or die, or nothing at all. And just like a pit bull, when she gets a taste for blood, she won't stop until the fight is truly over. A woman scorned is one to watch out for, and she will protect what is hers or die trying.
What happens when the code of the streets is broken? There's no room for a seven-day bleeding chick to sit on top, or is there? The game is about to change and these Gutta Mamis are making all the rules. It has been said that when a woman is in charge, everything runs smoothly, but when loyalty is tested and no one wants to answer to a woman, it's time for the guns to come out. The same person that can be as soft and sweet as a butterfly can wreak havoc on the whole crew in a blink of the eye and you'll never know what hit you. A freak in the sheets, and a bulldozer everywhere else. You ain't ready.
The crème de la crème of street lit have been called to bring you the real deal. By the time you finish “Twisted Loyalty” by Kai, “Three the Hard Way” by C.J. Hudson, “The Face of Death”
by Brandie Davis, and “Chasers” by the supreme queen herself, N'Tyse, you'll look at women in a whole new light. So if I were you, I'd find a nice comfortable seat; you'll be here for a while. Now sit back, and enjoy the ride.
Anna J
KAI
1
The taste of death always made Tandra nervous. It was an automatic reactionâwhen the scent wafted under her nose, her hands trembled and her mind scrambled. And death had a taste, just like a horrific fart in a tight, enclosed space. It burned the nose and somehow clawed at the taste buds, making Tandra's gag reflex tear at her empty stomach. She hated death, but she relied on death. She profited from death. Tandra needed death to survive.
It was the flaw of being a Cleaner; the ramification of facing life's feces on a weekly basis. It wasn't worth itâwasn't worth scrubbing herself until her skin peeled raw, trying to remove all DNA and accidental evidence. Wasn't worth the blank dreams, nights of black voids behind closed eyelids, showing her soul's destination was nothing more than a vast black hole.
Being a Cleaner had cost her everything. But the painful price was internal. Externally, Tandra was the shit. She was the best Cleaner in the cityâthe only professional Cleaner left. There were others on the come-up, but the top dogs used her. Seth, her mentor, had retired as soon as she was old enough to handle the connections. He had placed his business in her hands. Only the elite knew of her, only the top crime scenes needed her, and very, very few could afford her. When she came in, the scene was
cleaned
âno matter how contaminated it had been. Her reputation was all
she had and it was contingent on her clients walking away clean from any charges; no links to the scene. Ever.
Tandra swallowed. The scent of death had overwhelmed her when she and Lenora stepped into the small apartment. The call had come a few hours after the damage had been doneâthe time it had taken for the fools to report their own stupidity to their boss, to admit that unchecked emotions or a chemical-induced high had caused them to murder an apartment full of people and leave a homicide detective's wet dream in their wake.
If the call hadn't come directly from Crown, Tandra wouldn't have answered it. Shit, Tandra still shouldn't have answered. She observed the mess in front of her with disgust. Crown's people were taking her services for granted, getting messier and messier with their shit by the job. She and Crown were going to have a talk; that much was fucking evident. It was a talk that she dreaded, but at the same time, it couldn't be avoided. Murder was a grueling enough business, sloppiness was an unnecessary detraction, and for the waste of her damn time to take the extra cleaning steps necessary, she was going to charge Crown much, much more.
“Watchu think?” Lenora stood next to Tandra, her little sister in spirit. “Is it worth it?”
Tandra glanced at Lenora. It was a stupid question. “What is there to think?” Tandra lowered her eyes and finally acknowledged the dead body at her toes. “We're here now. Ain't no walking away.”
“True.” Lenora shrugged.
Tandra moved her foot until the dead man's cheekbone rested at the tip of her slanted stiletto boots. The boots were a necessity on these jobs. During job entry and observation, they kept her step light and narrow. More importantly, the smooth bottom with silicone covering left no shoe imprint in the blood on the floor.
The dead man was handsome, even in the early hours of death. That was rare to observe. Tandra pushed him with her toe, pressed in his cheek with the sharp tip point of her stiletto. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place the faceânot at the moment. Too bad he was dead. Tandra imagined that he might have been worth testing out. But he had crossed Crown or tangled with Crown's people, either directly or vicariously. He should have known that death would be the price.
“Stupid bastard,” Tandra snorted as she stepped over him. Her nerves were resetting themselves like they always did within minutes of her observing a scene. She refused to let her weakness show, not even to Lenora, whom she trusted with her life. This game was just like any other, filled with people trying to gain access through illegal means. Weakness could never be exposed, not even to Lenora.
“Let's get to it, then.” Lenora turned away from her and stepped gingerly back to the front door where they had placed their supplies.
“How much time?” Tandra stepped over another body and took three more steps to the center of the room. She always counted her steps, always knew just how quickly she could enter or exit any space. It was a necessary practice in this line of work.
“Long enough.” Lenora bent over to touch her toes, stretching out her long thin body in the tight-fitting bodysuit that clung to her like a second skin. “What did Detrick say?”
“Detrick is an asshole. What would he know?” Tandra surveyed the dingy room.
Detrick was the connection to Crown whom Tandra normally went through. At first, Tandra had thought the job was a set-up. She could never be sure, never know who was next to try to replace her. Until a few hours ago, she had never heard Crown's voice. When the proper English accent filled her Bluetooth, the voice
calm, cold and exact, Tandra thought for a second that her time had finally come. She lived every day knowing that it was around the corner. When Crown had laid out the job details, Tandra knew it was for real. She had to cut him off midsentence; she didn't discuss business over the phone. While she was below the radar, Crown definitely wasn't, and Tandra wasn't going to risk taking on heat talking on a tapped line. Instead, Tandra had arranged for the details to be delivered to her by one of Crown's nobodies. Crown's guidelines were very specific, although they were rules Tandra followed, anyway: No evidence; no discussion of any kind with anyone about the job; and Tandra was to meet directly with Crown upon completion.
But Detrick should have made the call to Tandra, not Crown, and the fact that he didn't made Tandra uncomfortable. For now, she didn't trust anything related to this job.
“Why you got to call Detrick an asshole, Tandy, damn.” Lenora shrugged. “He's never been wrong before.”
Tandra didn't answer. She didn't fill her employees in on the details, whether she loved them or not.
Blood was splashed against the wallpaper and pooled next to another body that sat propped in the corner. The curtains against the picture window were torn and shabby, and also covered with blood. Food sat half-eaten on the dining room table. “It's gonna be a full job. We will need at least five hours.” Tandra glanced along the bottom of the curtain, looking for evidence of another body.
“Be safe; do it in less than three.”
“Bullshit.” Tandra took eight steps to the windowâanother body lay beneath the windowsill. “Impossible.”
Lenora shrugged. “Got to try, Tandy. It's best to be safe, anyway. We got to be out of here before sunrise.”