Authors: Amaleka McCall
Secrets Uncovered (9 page)
Junior leveled his gun at Dray's head and squeezed the trigger. He didn't stop shooting until the entire twelve-round magazine had been emptied into Dray's body.
“Get rid of him,” Junior whispered harshly as he exited the room. “One down. One to go.”
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“In breaking news today, a mysterious shooting outside of Baile Caliente, a popular Latino salsa club, left two men dead. Police officials report that the shots seemed to have come from a distance, indicative of a sniper shooting,” the newscaster said. “Police say that surveillance video in front of the club did not show any cars driving by or any shooters on foot. The two victims are rumored to work for Arellio DeSosa, the owner of the club and the son of the alleged former head of the Sindicato drug cartel. Arellio DeSosa's whereabouts at the time of the shootings were unknown. Police officials are combing the area looking for clues as to where the shots came from. We will continue to bring you live coverage as we receive updates.”
Avon's head snapped up from the file he was reading when he heard the name “DeSosa” mentioned on the hotel television. “Shit!” he gasped, turning up the volume.
The shootings had Candy's signature written all over them. That was her modus operandiâtake out her targets like falling dominoes. It was her way of building up to the big fish.
While working undercover for the past year, Avon had figured out that Candy was Easy's daughter and that she was out to avenge her family's deaths. When Candice had found out that Junior, Broady and Razor were not the ones responsible for the murders, but, in fact, it was her own brother, also named Junior, she had been devastated. Her brother had apparently been brainwashed by Rolando DeSosa to turn on his own father.
A lightbulb went off in Avon's mind. Candice was going after the most dangerous kingpin in the tristate area: Rolando DeSosa.
No wonder the fuckin' government was trying to find herâto keep her from assassinating their man.
Avon began pacing the floor. Candy was way out of her league. This was way different than fucking with a few street punks. She was playing a dangerous game now. Even more dangerous than the first time.
Avon had to contemplate his next move. He had been so immersed in the Easy Hardaway files that he'd lost sight of what he really needed to do ... find Candy before the government or DeSosa did.
His cell phone rang, almost causing him to jump out of his own skin. Avon rushed over to the small desk in the far corner of the hotel room and looked at his phone. The number came up “unknown.” It could be Elaina and the kids, he reasoned. He picked it up, with his nerves on edge.
“More people might die if you don't reconsider the deal I offered. That could've easily been Elaina or your son or your daughter... . Who knows who could go next?” Grayson Stokes threatened on the other end of the line.
Stokes's words coldly echoed in Avon's brain. He tightened his grip on the mobile device. His rushing breath was the only response Stokes received. His message had clearly hit home.
“Seems like our little friend is a trained assassin. I happen to know she's been trained by the best. I also happen to know where your family is, Agent Tucker,” he rasped into the phone.
Avon closed his eyes. Why was he being put in the middle of this shit again? All he'd ever wanted was to be like his fatherâa good law enforcement officer who dedicated his life wholeheartedly to the job of bringing criminals to justice. Avon had made some mistakes along the way, yes, but nothing to warrant this sort of harassment.
“Let me find her on my own. I will bring her in,” Avon finally spoke up. The only choice he had right now was to get down or lay down.
“Don't cross me, Agent Tucker. I don't like to be crossed. You should take example from Brad Brubaker. I hate liars and traitors,” Stokes warned before hanging up the phone.
Avon looked at the phone for a long, hard minute. It had now become a matter of saving innocent lives. He snatched up the file he had been reading. He needed to know more.
Brooklyn, New York, 1988
Easy stood over Early's casket. He wanted to cry, scream, fight, spit and jump up and downâall at the same time. Early didn't look like himself. His face was extremely swollen and his lips looked like fish lips. The undertaker had told Easy that the shots Early had taken to his head made it hard for them to work with his natural face. They added a fair amount of wax and makeup for the open-casket service. Easy had protested against the casket being open, but he'd lost to Early's old lady, Syrita.
In fact, it was Syrita's ear-shattering screams that brought Easy out of his stupor in front of the casket. Syrita was making her way to the front of the funeral parlor in the most dramatic fashion possible.
Easy moved backward and took a seat in the front pew. He watched as one person after another came up to Early's casket to pay respects. Without a doubt, many of them simply wanted to assess the damage the bullet holes had done to his body.
Easy grew angrier by the minute. He was angry with himself for not being around when Early took the shots that sealed his fate.
Easy had been on his run, picking up an important package. The story went that Early was leaving the pool hall with Bosco, his right-hand man, when someone called his name real loud.
The street reporters said Early turned around; but before he could even blink, seven shots entered his head.
The story unsettled Easy, causing him severe stomach cramps. The method by which Early was murdered was nearly identical to the one he'd used two years earlier when he'd killed a man at Early's request. Easy felt in some degree responsible for Early's premature death, like it was Karma coming back to bite him in the ass.
Easy also felt more alone than he ever had in his life. So many street dudes hated Easy because of his association with Early. Now there was no one left to shelter or protect him. He must be his own man on the street. After the years he spentfollowing Early like his shadow, he knew he could think, walk and talk like Early. And, most important, when need be, he could be as ruthless as Early as well.
Once Early was buried, Easy set out to make his mark. He had to stand on his own two feet now.
The first thing he did was move his belongings out of his makeshift room in the back of the pool hall. Easy got a room inside of an old rooming house in East New York. He had a little money saved, so he decided to take a chance and go see the big man from whom he regularly picked up packages. Easy planned on convincing the man he could take over Early's operations on the street.
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Easy stood in his spot on the corner, his hands shoved down into his pockets. It had been a year since he'd earned enough trust to get his own package. Though he was surrounded by loudmouthed wannabe gangsters, he never fed into their ways. He was always quiet and unassuming while conducting his hand-to-hand sales.
Easy had been out hustling all day and had almost finished his bundle when he was approached by a basehead named Charlotte.
“Easy, lemme get something on credit,” Charlotte begged.
“Nah,”Easy said in a low tone.
“C'mon ... don't be like that. You usually hook a sista up,” she pleaded.
“I said nah,” Easy said firmly.
“You muthafucka! I'm one of your best customers and you just gon' put me off like that? You can't hook me up 'til check day?” Charlotte spat out, getting too close and too loud for Easy's comfort.
“Why don't you go ask one of them dudes,” Easy said calmly, nodding toward his noisy counterparts. They were making fun of an older dude whom Easy had seen going into the store.
“You know your shit is the best out here. Stop playing!” Charlotte screeched. She nervously scratched against her arms.
“Yo, go 'head, man. I'm not giving you anything on credit.” Easy dismissed her with a look of utter disgust.
Charlotte's skinny, poorly dressed frame made her look like she had one foot in the grave already. Her clothes hung off her bony body and she had visible dirt on her pants and the front of her shirt. Her hair was a wild bird's nest atop her head.
“Fuck you! You ain't shit, anyway. I know a couple of niggas who will beat ya ass and take all ya shit.” Charlotte wagged a skeletal finger close to Easy's face. She hawked up a mucus filled wad of spit and spewed it into Easy's face. Loud roars erupted from the rowdy corner boys. Easy had been played.
Easy quickly grabbed the bag-of-bones girl around her neck, lifting her off her feet. She dangled like a choked chicken. He scowled as he squeezed her neck without the least bit of conscience.
“Yo, kill that bitch!” one of the boys screamed out.
Easy was in a blind rage. He was about to catch a case.
“Yo, nigga, she about dead. That bitch turning purple!” someone yelled out.
It was the only thing that snapped Easy out of his rage; he couldn't commit murder in plain sight like this. He quickly came to his senses and dropped Charlotte back to her feet. She was coughing and rolling around wildly trying to catch her breath.
Easy lifted his foot and gave her a swift kick in the ass. “Don't let me see your fuckin' ass around here ever again!” Easy spat out.
Charlotte scrambled up off the ground, finally able to catch her breath enough to argue back.
“You gon' get yours, you bastard!” she rasped, still holding her bruised neck.
“Get the fuck outta here, you dirty bitch!” Easy called after her.
A man exited the bodega behind him, and the next thing Easy knew he felt a rush of wind and a pair of hands pushing him out of the way. The old black dude from the bodega was taking down a man in a black leather trench coat who held a gun in his hand. Easy's heart began to pound as he watched the older gentleman clamp down on the gunman's wrist. The gunman cried out in pain and the gun skittered to the ground.
When the guys on the corner noticed the commotion, they all began to scatter. “Oh shit, a gun!” they yelled. The last thing they needed was for the cops to come around.
Easy couldn't move; he was in shock.
The stranger calmly picked up the gun, dropped the magazine out of it, dismantled the slide and threw the bottom half of it at the guy on the ground.
“Oh shit! That bitch tried to set me up!” Easy finally found his voice, his heart racing as he realized what had just happened.
The old dude nodded in agreement.
“Fuck! Thank God you were here. That nigga woulda shot me right in the back of my fuckin' head,” Easy concluded.
The old dude nodded again, but still did not speak a word.
“Iâma fuckin' kill him!” Easy screamed, his blood boiling.
The old dude put his hand up to Easy's chest to stop him.
“Not here. Not now.” The old dude finally spoke.
Easy backed down. Something about the stranger's calm, fatherly words struck him as soothing. In some ways the man reminded him a lot of Early.
“I'm Eric. But everybody calls me Easy,” he said, introducing himself.
“Rock,” the old dude said, taking Easy's extended hand and shaking it firmly.
“Yo, man, how can I repay you for that shit?” Easy asked earnestly.
“No need,” Rock said, handing Easy the magazine full of .40-caliber rounds and the slide of his would-be assassin's gun.
“Nah, there has got to be something. Some money, some food, clothes, something,” Easy offered. He didn't like feeling indebted to any man.
“Just go inside and get my BC Powder. I have the worst headache,” Rock said calmly.
Easy scrambled to do as Rock had asked.
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What had started out as a chance encounter quickly blossomed into a friendship.
Easy and Rock had only been friends for four months when Easy went to Rock for advice about an offer he thought he couldn't refuse.
“This dude Rolando DeSosa is the man up in Spanish Harlem. He came looking for me the other day,” Easy told Rock.
Rock rubbed his chin, digesting the information. “If he is âthe man,' like you say, why would he come looking for a corner boy like you?” Rock asked logically.
“Because he heard I was âthe man' out here in Brooklyn. I guess Chulo, the dude I was getting my package from, told him about me. How I'm moving my shit like no other cat out here,” Easy boasted with excitement.
“It just doesn't sound right. Be careful,” Rock said ominously.
“Nah, man, this is my come up. Besides, I got you to protect me, right?” Easy laughed.
Rock nodded in all seriousness. He had heard the name DeSosa before, but he couldn't for the life of him remember in what context. He'd definitely be keeping a close eye on young Easy in the meantime.
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