Sister's Revenge: Action Adventure Assassin Pulp Thriller Book #1 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Assassin) (16 page)

In twelve hours, they’d pick her up at the same dock, but the whole thing wouldn’t take more than six or eight hours. It was a simple operation: put on the disguise, stick the signs on the van, drive to the industrial park, set up on the roof, take the shot, and get back.

As far as anyone knew, Tuan, G-Baby, and Michelle had spent the day out fishing. And they had a modest catch to prove it.

T
HE DAY AFTER
an assassination, Michelle always dealt with being depressed yet full of nervous energy—happened every time—so she needed to do something physical that didn’t require thinking or decision-making.

Early enough in the morning to be back in time to open the shop, G-Baby drove Michelle down to Newport Beach where the van was parked. The van came from a rental company in Long Beach that specialized in service vehicles. Hers was one of dozens rented every day.

As an extra precaution, she wouldn’t take public transportation back up the coast to Playa Del Oro. Cops could check with bus or taxi drivers so it was best not to leave any trails for them to follow. Instead, she’d wait until G-Baby could come for her after he closed the shop, which gave her most of the day to kill. Perfect for some time in the gym.

“Hi, welcome to LA Fitness. How may I help you today?”

Michelle looked down at the pretty Mexican woman’s name tag. “Hi, Carmen. I have a prepaid day pass I’d like to use today.”

“Great, have you been to our location before?”

“No. Is there anything especially different here?”

“Well, yes and no. Like all of the LA Fitness gyms, our equipment is top notch and kept in excellent condition. We’re one of the larger gyms in the system—we have basketball courts that some of the smaller locations don’t have, and our sauna was recently upgraded. All of the ladies love it. Would you like a tour of our facilities this morning?”

What a bimbo! . . . No, she’s just being helpful. I’m the one being bitchy this morning.

Michelle paused and squelched her bad mood. Carmen probably wasn’t trying for an “A” on her customer service evaluation. Some people were just naturally helpful. Deja was like that. No, it wasn’t Carmen’s fault she was happy to be a receptionist. “Um, no thanks,” Michelle said. “Sign me in, and I’ll find my own way around.”

“Sure, sign here, and I can take your pass.”

After a couple of hours on the free weights and cross training equipment, Michelle felt much better. She stopped by the snack bar, picked up a smoothie, and watched the guys on the basketball court. A few were good.

When the game ended, one of the guys, hand towel draped around his neck, approached. “I saw you in the weight area earlier. Looked like you know your way around the gym pretty good.”

“You call that bullshit pick-up line game?” she asked.

Chuckling, his smiled widened. He wiped sweat off his face with the towel. “Yeah, guess I came off the court with my mouth running fast, like my feet have been. Can I try again?”

“Sure, but it better be more real than that lame shit you just tried.”

“My game’s obviously weak today. Clearly, I don’t have any good lines, certainly not good enough for a smart, pretty woman like you. How about I start with saying, ‘Hi, I’m Trevon. Is it okay if I sit and holla with you a minute?’”

“Shut up! An honest man! Asking permission! I can feel the world shaking. Men everywhere need to be scared. They won’t know what to say if they have to be honest,” she teased. “I like that part about me being smart and pretty. You’re okay. You can stay for a minute.”

“Why, thank you. What’s your name?”

“Michelle.”

“Well, Michelle, I hate to leave when I’m doing good, but I’m famished. Maybe you would let me buy you lunch?”

“Sounds good to me. Give me twenty minutes to get showered and changed.”

Michelle had been looking forward to a long sauna, but now things had changed, and she was sure a different kind of steam would dominate her afternoon.

The quiet money and good taste of Trevon’s pearl white Lexus matched his expensive suit. Michelle relaxed in the deep, leather seat while she clocked the route and location.

“Soul food, huh? How are the greens?” Michelle asked as they sat down for lunch. “You know, the best way to tell if a place is any good, is the greens.”

“Given regional variations and cooking traditions compounded by personal and familial tastes, that can be a difficult thing to pin down.”

“Funny. You didn’t seem like a smart-ass earlier.”

“That was my way of weaseling out of what might happen if you don’t like the greens. I guess I could’ve said I like them and left it at that.”

“With all those fancy words, you must be a college boy. So, College Boy, how are the greens?”

“They’re great. You’d have to be crazy not to love them.”

“Now that’s a recommendation I can understand.”

The food, especially the greens, was as good as Trevon promised.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“The food was bang on, though I’m still not too sure about all those fancy words. What’s the name of this place?”

“Kenneth’s Soul Food.”

“Yeah, Kenneth’s. Come to Kenneth’s often?”

“Not as much as I’d like. I enjoy their greens.” He winked. “Normally, it’s out of the way; I came here because I wanted to impress you. I’m hoping it worked. I’d like to see you again sometime.”

“It worked. About seeing me again sometime, though, I have a better idea. Do you live around here?”

“In Bixby Knolls up the way, not too far.”

“Good. How about we go to your place and you can show me you’re as good as you think you are.”

Trevon locked eyes with Michelle, who smiled and nodded in confirmation that he’d heard her correctly.

He raised his hand to signal the waitress. “Check, please.”

W
HOOF . . . TWACK
!

Take that, you ninja bitch.
Michelle danced back after successfully landing a tough combination: a knee to the stomach, followed by a right hook to the side of her opponent’s head. Their Muay Thai sparring session was drawing to an end, with Michelle clearly ahead.

Today, Deja and Nikky joined Michelle to watch her work out. Other than the pungent tang of sweat, the gym itself wasn’t the typical Southern California type; with the Muay Thai ring the center of attention, it looked more like a boxing gym. It definitely wasn’t for losing a few pounds or for socializing while building better, doctor-ordered cardiovascular health. People who came here were serious about combative sports, or they quickly left.

Deja helped Michelle take off her lightweight gloves. “Oh, girl, your kicking that bitch’s ass was exactly what I needed to see today.”

Deja looked like shit. Above the big, white tape bandage across the bridge of her nose sat two seriously black eyes. This was her first time out since the fight at the club.

“I’m glad to oblige,” Michelle said. “It’s a good thing you saw me doing Muay Thai. I’m better at it than she is.”

“Muay what?” Deja asked.

“Muay Thai. That the name for kickboxing in Thailand. It’s real big over there, like boxing is here. It’s what I first started training in when I went overseas.”

“Yeah, well, whatever you call it,” Nikky said, “you kicked her ass!”

“It felt good, too. Especially since she almost always beats the shit outta me in jujitsu and Hapkido. I’m getting better, but she’s been doing them a lot longer than me. And she trains real hard, so maybe she’ll always kick my butt in them.”

“I don’t know about any of that stuff,” Deja said. “I can’t tell a Jew from an Arab, much less a Jew Jap Sue. I can tell you what I do know. I saw you kick her butt today, and it felt real good to see. That’s what I know.”

“Give me a few minutes to grab a shower, then we can go get some lunch.”

Nikky and Deja rode in Nikky’s car, following Michelle for the short drive to the mall, where Michelle took them to a small, tucked-away café.

They strode through the door, and Nikky slowly peered around. “What’s safe to eat in this place? And why’d you bring us here anyway?”

Located next to Bloomingdale’s, the café was pleasantly decorated like a rich European’s kitchen. On top of several counters sat baskets of big bread loaves beside bottles of wine standing on little squares of cloth that matched the half-curtains at the windows. The curtains were cute but didn’t cover anything, and were low enough for people to look out over the top. The place seemed friendly, yet not as comfortable as the restaurants in the hood. Michelle wondered if that might be because she couldn’t smell the food coming from the kitchen. Everything just smelled . . . bland.

“The food here’s okay except maybe some of the salads,” Michelle said to Nikky. “They can be a little strange. Get one of the regular lunches with food you recognize; it’ll be good. I brought us here because I’m hungry and I wanted to be away from the hood. I need to discuss some shit that’s about to go down and I don’t need a bunch of folks listening to what we’re talking about.”

Michelle looked around. Not a single Black face. “That, and I know this place gets real empty after regular lunchtime,” she added, “like it is right now.”

“Um, I see . . .” Deja, too, looked around. “There sure aren’t any sisters in here to be all up in our business.”

“If they do come in this place,” Nikky said, “then they’re not a real sister. Probably got a stick up their butts so deep they can’t recognize they’re Black anymore.”

Michelle shrugged. “There’s good and bad in everything. The service here is always very good. Speaking of which, here she comes.”

“Hi, my name’s Julie. I’ll be your server today. May I get you something to drink while you decide on your lunch selection? Have you had the—”

“Hi, Julie, I think we’re ready to order now,” Michelle cut in before Julie could launch into her “specials of the day” spiel. “I’ll have the Cobb salad with an A&W Root Beer.” She nodded toward Deja. “She’ll have the special deluxe cheeseburger plate with both curly fries and coleslaw. Give her a chocolate shake and a piece of your apple pie, too, and warm up the pie.” Last, she nodded toward Nikky. “And she’d like the pork chop lunch plate with fries and the house salad. Give her a Pepsi with it.”

Julie left with a promise to bring their orders right away.

“Hey, Michelle, it’s sure good you’re paying, because I can’t believe they charge twelve dollars for a hamburger and six dollars for a shake!” Deja said. “I don’t care if they know the cow by name and who its momma was, it’s still only a hamburger. And Cobb salad? What the hell is a Cobb salad, anyway?”

“It’s a big salad with lots of things in it. Sounds fancy, but it’s not.” Michelle raised an eyebrow. “You know, you might think about some salad sometime. You keep eating those burgers and shakes, they’ll sneak up on you. People who eat that food every day go from being built like a brick house to being built like a warehouse.”

“You got that right,” Nikky said. “Remember Tanya, one year ahead of us in school? Back then she was fine and had a figure every girl wanted. I saw her last night at the 7-Eleven. That girl had blown up! Her brick house figure is
gone
. She’s as big as all get out.” She looked pointedly at Deja. “Michelle’s right. We can’t look like that—ever!”

“But with you being hurt and all, you can eat whatever you want and tell us to go screw ourselves,” Michelle said. Poor Deja. With her black eyes and bandaged nose, Deja looked like a scraggly raccoon. “You get to feeling better first, then you can worry about eating some salad later. You enjoy that hamburger, because, girl, you’ve got it coming.”

“I hear that,” Deja said. “I have this and more coming. If I’m stuck looking this bad for taking a punch for you two, I can at least enjoy something good to eat. That and”—Deja leaned over and looked Michelle up and down—“you got that lean athlete body. That’s all good, but it’s not for me. No disrespect, but in my book, I gotta have some meat on my bones to feel like I’m a real woman.”

“Damn skippy!” Nikky said.

They all laughed.

Soon, Julie brought their food and drinks and everyone dove into their lunches.

“Well, girl, you’ve got us here eating who knows what kind of stuff, and we’re sitting around talking real quiet like we’re some snotty bitches.” Nikky raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “What’s up? What do you want to say that you can’t say at Roscoe’s or T-Bones?”

“Deja, I know you’ve been holed up at your place, but did you hear about Quincy? He and Lewis both?” Michelle asked.

Nikky kept quiet, showing she hadn’t told Deja about Michelle slipping out of the hospital.

“I heard they got killed over on the 405. The police came to my room at the hospital. They asked me about the fight and getting my nose broke by Quincy, but they didn’t seem real interested. They were more interested about you guys. Of course I told them you were with me all night. I said they could check with the nurses if they didn’t believe me.”

“Good, that’s the story we have to stick to. Also, we need to stick to the story that somebody did us a big favor by killing their sorry asses.” Michelle took Deja’s hand and slowly winked.

Deja’s eyes went wide. “Oh?”

Michelle put her finger to her lips. “At the party, Nikky found out who’d done what back at my house with Michael. Both Lewis and Quincy were there. Lewis did the shooting, Quincy did the driving. I’m real grateful to whoever killed them while we were watching you
all night
.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m real grateful someone
did us that favor.” Deja started to wink but stopped halfway. “Damn, even winking hurts.”

“That’s not all we need to talk about, though,” Michelle continued. “Jerome getting shot is another.”

Deja shrugged. “Yeah, we know it was you. But we can’t see how, because you were gone on that trip back East. Anyway, I’m finished with his sorry ass. He’s been a complete dick, picking on shit for no reason. And he’s been saying it’s all my fault he got jacked. Prick acts like he’s forgetting he kicked the shit outta Nikky. Plus, that chickenshit didn’t even come see me in the hospital or come to my place. Fuck him!”

“I’m glad to hear you’re done with him,” Michelle said, “because he stepped way over the line. Now he has some payback coming.”

“Why are you pissed at him this time?” Deja asked.

“He snitched on me for shooting his sorry ass. The police arrested me at the hospital. Good thing I was in New York and have a good alibi. Having a good lawyer helped, too. Add being a rooty-poot punk snitch to being a coward going around hitting women and it equals some serious payback.” Before she went further, Michelle needed to hear the words from her friend’s mouth. “Are you sure you’re finished with his ass?”

“That muthafucka,” Deja said. “Always saying how a snitch doesn’t deserve to live, bragging about how he has too much heart to be a snitch. He’s a hook-ass weak spineless pissant punk, that’s what he is.”

Michelle checked behind her to make sure no one had sat down close. “You guys didn’t know, and still don’t know for sure, about what happened to Jerome. Like you said, I was in New York. If we keep talking, we cross a legal line.”

“What are you saying?” Deja asked. “We already told you, we were in.”

“That was about what happened to Michael. This is new and has a stronger chance of bouncing back on you guys.”

Nikky shifted in her seat, made eye contact with Deja, then nodded. “It’s like this, Michelle. We’re dogs, always have been. We didn’t grow up in places like this”—she waved around the room—“so we know the score and what comes with it. Yeah, we’re in. We have your back, and we expect you to have ours. The police can go fuck themselves. If the shit comes down, we’ll just have to deal with it. That’s how we roll. Always have, always will.”

“Ride or die,” Michelle said.

“Ride or die,” Nikky echoed.

“Okay then, back to that rat bastard Jerome. Deja, this is the big question: Are you okay with me putting his ass down? With the police already suspicious of me for the last time I shot him, I need to be real careful. Before I go there, I need to know: How do you feel about it?”

“I’m finished with his sorry ass,” Deja said. “I don’t want anything else to do with him. That’s for real. Thing is, I don’t know why, but I still do care about him. So I’m asking you, please, don’t kill him. Lord knows he’s probably got it coming. Sure as shit he’ll do something stupid later to get his fool self killed anyway. I just don’t want you to be the one to do it. Can you understand that?”

“Of course I can,” Michelle said. “No problem, I won’t go down that street.”

Nikky had been quiet, watching her friends discuss Jerome. “You know,” she said. “I have something to say on this whole thing. My ribs are real sore from where he kicked me. I’ve got a score to settle with him, too. When it’s time to jack his ass, I want in.”

“Do the police know he’s the one who busted you up?” Michelle asked.

“No. I told the people at the clinic I got drunk and fell off my high heels on the front steps. One more reason to jack him. He snitched on you when he earned what he got, and I kept my mouth shut when he was a chickenshit punk to come at me for no reason.”

“Deja, you can’t be involved with this,” Michelle said. “Everybody knows you’ve been with him and he’s slapped you around. You have to be completely outta the Kool-Aid on this one. You feel me?”

“Yeah, I’m feeling you. Thanks, I really don’t want to be in it anyway. Plus, it’s better if I’m not with you. If he sees me in the mix, he might do something even more stupid.”

“Good. I don’t know when or what I’m going to do with his sorry ass just yet, but I had to check with my girls before making a move on him.”

Deja smiled. “Thanks.”

“You let me know; I’ll be ready,” Nikky said.

“Now I have one more real important thing to ask,” Michelle said, looking at Deja.

“What’s that?”

“How did you like that twelve-dollar burger?”