Baltimore Chronicles (6 page)

This bitch can't even look me in my eye. She is lying to my fuckin' face. I should murk her ass right here
, Sticks thought to himself as he flexed his jaw. He hated when people lied to him, but what made this worse was, he truly loved this girl. He was seriously considering marrying her. Now he had no choice but to put an end to their relationship, and her life. Their relationship was now business, and no one fucked with his business. He had to think of something real good to take care of her ass.

“Yo, we moved the operation up to the day after tomorrow. You gonna be the front person,” Sticks informed her.

“Me? I can't?I—I mean, I wouldn't be any good at that.”

Danielle had only agreed to be a lookout or a driver for their upcoming operation. She had helped with the planning and logistics but wasn't ready to go to the front line. In fact, Sticks had told her she would be behind the scenes—a driver or a lookout?that she wouldn't ever have to get her hands dirty because he wouldn't want to put her in harm's way. But now he was changing up the game plan. Something didn't feel right to her.
Maybe it's just the pregnancy
, she thought.

Danielle's immediate hesitation and ultimate refusal was enough for Sticks. He was sure she was a snitch now. She'd always been down for whatever, since he had started fucking with her. That's why he loved her so much. Aside from the tight wetness she was walking around with between her legs. Sticks thought she was the most beautiful ride-or-die chick in all of Baltimore.

Sticks had watched her rob grown-ass hustlers in broad daylight. He had witnessed her beat down two female crackheads that owed him money, and he saw her exert authority over some of the real young crew members, keeping them in line like a mother hen.
Why the sudden change of heart?
he wondered. He quickly concluded that it was because she was working with either the feds or the local police and couldn't get her hands dirty.

Sticks had plans for Danielle. Knowing she was snitching had hurt him deep down inside. He didn't take lightly to anyone hurting his feelings, especially somebody he trusted so deeply. Good pussy or not, love or no love, in his eyes, Danielle was just like any other snitch and she would be handled as such.

They were both silent as Sticks drove toward the warehouse, each of them wondering what the other was thinking.

Danielle's hands were sweaty. She contemplated just telling him about the baby right then and there, but when she noticed his mood, she decided against it. She knew firsthand how violent Sticks could get when upset, so she opted to remain silent.
Maybe he will marry me and we can be a family,
she thought to herself.

Danielle promised herself to tell Sticks about their baby when he was in a better mood. Right now she would just try and ride out his mood.

Sticks looked over at the side of Danielle's beautiful face.
A fucking waste of beauty. Too bad. Shake it off, nigga
, he thought to himself.
She is a snitch
.

 

The nervous energy inside the Dirty Money Crew's warehouse was crazy. Some of them paced the floor, others drank liquor or lit up blunts, trying to calm their nerves.

“Yo, I'm ready to make this paper, dog,” Timber said, rubbing gun oil on the outside of his favorite gun, the AK-47 Sticks had given him.

“Calm down, nigga. We need to have this shit well thought out. I didn't think we were even fuckin' finished planning anyway.” Trail didn't understand why Sticks was breaking out the gate with this shit when they were still in the planning phase.

Sticks, on edge for the past two days, barked, “Yo, you a bitch-ass nigga, and I'm sick of your fuckin' whining and complaining! Shut the fuck up and stop actin' like a straight bitch! The shit is as planned out as it's gonna get!”

“Fuck you, nigga! I'm tired of you tryin'a punk me in front of the young'uns,” Trail shot back. It was like he had drunk a glass of liquid courage. He knew how crazy Sticks could get, but he was really fed up. For months he had watched as Sticks and the new members of the crew terrorized the city, bringing heat on all of them.

“What? What you say, nigga? I will body you right here and right now, word to everything. You punk bitch, you lucky Scar likes you,” Sticks said, pointing his gun at Trail's head.

“Fuck this shit! Do this shit without me. We ain't ready yet.” Trail stormed out of the warehouse. He had finally hit his breaking point. There was no way he was going to be a part of something as big as this without a well thought out plan of action.

“Go then, you scared-ass pussy!”

Sticks started having a bad gut feeling about going through with their plans too, but he couldn't let the young'uns see him sweat or think he was scared. Deep down he knew Trail was right. There needed to be more planning, but with the thought of a snitch in his crew, and his hunger for power, he couldn't call it off. He mentally shook off his doubts and made his weapons ready for war.

“Fuck anybody who ain't down!” Sticks growled as he looked around into the faces of the young crew of gunners. All too afraid to reject his ideas, none of them dared to speak or express even a little bit of doubt. “A'ight then. Let's roll out,” he yelled.

 

Danielle's heels clicked against the shiny marble floor of the bank. Dark shades covered her eyes as she stood behind a small counter and acted as if she was filling out a deposit or withdrawal slip. She carefully transcribed the note Sticks had provided to her word for word onto the bank's withdrawal slip. She looked around, trying not to show her nerves. She had a precise time to act. If she made one false move, everyone would be thrown off their role. She was the point person and everything going as planned depended on her.

She swallowed hard as Timber walked in, then Sticks, then two more of the crew. They fanned out and got into their rehearsed positions. Now all four corners of the bank were covered and being watched.

Danielle looked at her watch and exhaled.
Ten seconds left
.
Slide the paper under the glass. Tell the teller, “No funny business,” and show her the gun. Slide the paper under the glass. Tell the teller, “No funny…”
She rehearsed her role over and over again in her head. She also thought about the alternate plan, just in case.

Danielle had been charged with shooting the little old security guard that stood by the customer service tables running his mouth, if something jumped off and he tried to break bad. Timber and the others would then take the counters and snatch as much money as they could get.

Sticks was there just to ensure everything went according to the time frame. He usually had these things mapped out. Eight minutes was all they had from the time they walked in until the time they reached their getaway car.

Danielle swallowed hard. She felt sweat dripping down the sides of her face as her stomach did somersaults. The time had finally arrived. She walked slowly to the middle teller, as she was instructed. See, Sticks had found out from an insider at the bank that the middle teller didn't have the panic button in front of her station. She would either have to lean left or right, which would tell them if she was trying to push it.

“Good morning, ma'am. How can I help you today?” the teller asked, not really paying too much attention to the customer standing in front of her.

Danielle silently pushed the slip of paper under the small opening in the glass. The teller's eyes popped open and she looked around nervously as soon as she read the words. Now she was paying attention to the customer standing in front of her.

The teller immediately looked left and locked eyes with Timber, who smiled at her and patted his waistband to let her know not to try anything funny. Then the teller started to notice the other members of the crew sprinkled around, sticking out like sore thumbs amongst the regular bank customers.

“Ma'am, how would you like your bills counted out?” she asked, trying to remain calm.

“I don't have a preference,” Danielle coolly replied.

“I have to get some more tens,” the teller said. “I will be right back.”

Danielle figured the teller was probably getting a bag to put the stacks of money in because she had been warned in the note about panic buttons, dye packs, and calling the cops.

Sticks watched the teller from a distance. He noticed her give the teller to her right a little side glance. Then the other teller looked down and reached for something. Sticks tapped his foot impatiently. He figured whatever the middle teller had said to Danielle was a code for the other teller to push her panic button.

That was enough for Sticks. He walked over to Danielle, who looked up at him as if to say,
What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?

“Honey, we gotta go. We can stop at another bank on the way out of town,” he said, grabbing onto Danielle's arm.

“On the way out of town” was the signal to abort the robbery. Danielle quickly followed Sticks' lead and split.

When Timber noticed them rushing to try to get out of the bank, he lost it. “What the fuck is you doin', nigga?! I ain't leavin' outta here without some paper!” he screamed loudly, pulling his gun from his pants.

Screams erupted all over the bank. People began running for the doors, and some got down on the floor.

Meanwhile, the little old security guard tried to draw his weapon, but before he could even hoist it up, one of the younger crew members shot him dead.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Yo! Let's go, nigga!!” Sticks screamed to Timber.

Danielle began running for the door, but the other security guard tried to grab her. Timber lit him up with his semi-automatic, and the guard's blood sprayed on her face and clothes, making her sick and weak. The adrenaline pumping through her body and the baby in her belly was a bad combination. Danielle felt like she would faint at any minute.

Timber continued to spray at random. The inside of the bank was pure pandemonium now, with bodies dropping from his reckless bullets. He jumped up on the counter, but the bulletproof glass was too high for him to climb over it. When the tellers had all fled to the bank's emergency robbery shelter, Timber got so angry, he started shooting more of the bank's patrons at random.

Sticks heard the distant wail of sirens. He was finally out the door. Whoever wasn't with him would just be left behind.

Danielle was right behind him but starting to fall farther behind. Trying to keep up with him, she kicked off her heels and tried running barefoot, but she was too weak to pick up speed.

Sticks knew they had a car waiting for them one block up, but they hadn't given the driver the signal to come get them from the front of the bank. He took off down the street, but the block was beginning to fill up with cops.

Timber was now hot on Sticks' heels, but Danielle had fallen farther back, her chest burning with each step.

“Police! Drop your weapons!” a cop screamed at them.

Timber turned and opened fire, hitting the officer right in the head.

“Get the fuck in, nigga!” Sticks screamed to Timber as he and Timber got to the getaway car.

Danielle was still coming toward them, trying hard to make it. Winded, she continued struggling, running for her life. She heard loud pops as the cops opened fire on them, and bullets whizzed by her head.

Sticks jumped into the truck, and so did Timber.

“Wait!” Danielle screamed, tears and makeup streaking her face. It looked like they were leaving her.

“Put it in reverse! Reverse out the block!” Sticks screamed.

The driver did as he was told.

Danielle was almost there, but then they started moving away from her. “What are y'all doin'?” she screamed. “Sticks!” The faster she ran, the farther away the getaway truck went.

“Do it now, nigga!” Sticks yelled.

Timber extended his arm out of the window and opened fire on Danielle. The police were also shooting at her.

Danielle felt hot metal searing through her skin. Her eyes bulged in shock and pain. She was in disbelief that her own crew had set her up. As her legs stopped moving, she thought about the baby she was carrying and the great betrayal she had just suffered. Then she gave up. Her bullet-ridden body lurched forward and hit the ground with a splat. She felt the life leaving her. “Why, Sticks, why?” She gurgled as blood spilled from her mouth.

Within no time her limp, lifeless body was surrounded by the police.

 

Sticks, Timber, and the driver jumped out of the truck they were in and changed to a smaller car they had stashed a few miles away, just in case something like this had jumped off. Sticks knew at least three members of their crew were dead and the rest of the young'uns were going to be hemmed up by the cops. He couldn't look back now. He knew he wouldn't have trouble recruiting replacements into the Dirty Money Crew. But the thought of replacing Danielle gave him instant heartburn.

“Damn, man, I thought Dani was your main bitch,” the driver said.

“That bitch was a snitch,” Timber replied before Sticks could say anything. “We was gonna kill her ass after this anyway. We just wanted her to help us get this last big lick before we murked her informant ass.”

Sticks didn't really have the heart to stand in front of her and just kill her, so he had instructed Timber to make sure her death looked like it was a result of the bank robbery. He still had too much love for her. In his own world, thinking about Danielle, Sticks remained silent as they rode in the opposite direction of the racing police cars. He was hurting inside.

 

“Who the fuck is banging on my door this time of night?” Dana grumbled as she rushed to her front door. “Better not be this Danielle talking about she forgot her damn keys. Who is it?” Dana called out.

“Baltimore County Police!” a booming baritone on the other side of the door replied.