Trust No Bitch 3: Deadly Alliance (13 page)

“You hear this muthafucka?” Bayonna looked over at Lissha.

“Yeah, I think this nigga’s memory needs to be jogged.” Lissha smirked, knowing that all niggas talked once that steel touched that dome.

Bayonna moved past Kiam and smacked the shit outta Sonny with her gun, busting his mouth and loosening two of his front teeth. “Muthafucka, lie again.” She grabbed him by the throat and pressed the gun against his nose.

“What the fuck is wrong with you,” he spat, looking up into Bayonna’s eyes.

“Where the fuck is Chino?” Lissha yelled out then fired a shot an inch above his head.

Sonny jumped high enough to dunk a basketball. When his ass touched back down on the cushion he had lost some of his bravado. “Hold up. Please. I ain’t got nothing to do with this shit.” Amazingly, he looked from the girls to Kiam for mercy. “Bleed, you know I do my
own shit. What's going on between you and Wolfman ain't my business.”

“Nigga, you made it your business when you let him duck off at your crib for a few days. Now where is he?” Lissha turned up the heat.

“You right. You right. I saw him. But I swear to God I don’t know where that nigga at.”

Lissha’s blood started boiling, she stared him in the eyes hard then slapped him with her steel. “You think we playin’ nigga?” she growled then gave Bayonna the nod.

Bayonna pulled a knife out of her pocket, knelt before him as she drew her arm back and drove the rigid blade into the plate of his kneecap.

Sonny’s body jolted mid-way from his seated position but the jammed blade enabled him from standing at full range. His arms flailed as he jerked backwards and forward from the intense suffering. He balled his hands into fists and bit down on his knuckles breaking his own skin. “Fuck.” Sonny cried out.

“Talk nigga,” Bayonna barked back as she pulled the blade out of his knee and pressed it against his throat.

Sonny kept still despite the urge to punch one of them in the fuckin' mouth. The sharp razor reminded him not to move though. His lips were tightly repressing his reply of any kind and silence wasn't the right recourse. Lissha double slapped him. “Bitch nigga, start yapping,” she demanded.

“What the fuck is wrong with you bitches.” He blurted in distress.

“Oh, I’ma bitch?” Lissha asked then shot him in his dick. “Well, now you’re one too,” she mocked.

Sonny fell to the side grabbing the crotch of his pants as blood poured between his fingers. An animalistic sound escaped his lips and his body began to shake uncontrollably.

“Do this muthafucka dirty,” Lissha ordered Bayonna.

An evil smile formed on Bayonna's lips as she raised the knife over her head. “Where. Is. Chino?”

Blood poured from Sonny's wounds and his eyes rolled up in his head as he tried to form a lucid thought. The vicious bitches standing over him had turned him softer than tissue.

“He’s staying on East 114th and Kinsman.” Sonny mumbled out defeatedly.

“Who helped him snatch up my mans?” Kiam asked.

Sonny's answer came out on low breath strained by the excruciating throb in his groin. He whimpered and groaned with each word. “Two brothers,” he panted, “Doral and Hawk from The Valley.”

The names didn't register with Kiam but he stored them in his memory.

“That’s all you had to say in the first fucking place. Bitch ass nigga,” Lissha spat as she aimed the gun at Sonny's head.

“
I gave y'all Chino. Why I gotta die?” he squeaked. Blood gushed freely through his hands as he tried to staunch its flow from between his legs.

Bayonna stepped back breathing heavily. She looked down at the blood dripping from her blade and her coochie got wet. To her the kill was better than a full blown orgasm. “Let me finish him LiLi,” she said as her chest heaved up and down.

“Make this nigga respect you, Bay,” Lissha stepped back.

Bayonna moved to where his head lay in blood, sweat and tears. She grabbed him by his short 'fro and stuck the knife into his throat, dragging it from one side to the other. Blood gushed out onto the carpet as he gurgled and gasped for his final breath. She dropped his head back to the sofa and looked on with low eyes and flared nostrils.

“Punk muthafucka,” she spat then wiped the blade on his shirt.

“He should have spoken up sooner,” Lissha said, looking at Bayonna with a proud gleam in her eye.

They both watched his body twitch one last time and their hearts jumped widely in their chests. The smell emanating from Sonny's pants filled their nostrils with a scent that was satisfying due to what it confirmed. His bowels had released and the sorry muthafucka was on his way to hell with a one-way ticket.

Kiam looked on as the murderous glint in Lissha's and Bayonna's eyes defied their femininity and beauty. He was elated that he had real riders on his team but he sensed that what he had just witnessed wasn't new to them. They had to have killed like this before and obviously their specialty was torture.

As they rode across town to follow up on Sonny's lead, Kiam’s thoughts were fully on his adversaries. If they found Chino tonight, he was going to cut off that nigga's head and hang it from a light pole by that prissy ass ponytail. As for Chino's boss, Kiam was going to make him and his family's next generation feel his wrath.

Chapter 16

Losing It

K
iam didn't find Chino where Sonny said he would be. Wolfman's ponytailed assassin was as smooth as butter and he never remained in one spot too long. Being a certified body snatcher himself, he knew how important it was to change your habits when trying to stay a step ahead of the enemy's guns. By the time Kiam kicked in the front door of Chino's last known whereabouts that night, he had seemingly vanished into thin air.

Weeks went by with no word on Isaac's whereabouts. His body hadn't turned up anywhere frozen and Wolfman hadn't called demanding any type of ransom for his return. But Kiam wasn't under the false illusion that Isaac would suddenly appear unharmed. He knew that the other side was just as ruthless as his team and that they would never snatch a nigga up just to set him free later. He figured that Isaac's body wouldn't turn up until the snow melted and the ice thawed. All he could do was hope that his souljah hadn't suffered much before he died.

Isaiah and JuJu had accepted the bitter truth too. But Isaiah wasn't the same since losing his other half; his hustle had slacked tremendously and every night he tried to wash away his pain with liquor and cocaine. And his hate of women became damn near misogynistic overnight. He had murdered a girl that he'd been seeing for the small transgression of not being able to account for an hour of her time.

“For all I know she could've been somewhere planning to set me up,” he had reasoned.

Kiam and JuJu tried to understand, though neither of them knew about his recent indulgence with cocaine. What caused discord was that now Isaiah was suspicious of Lissha and Treebie too. And for some reason that he couldn't explain, other than a hunch, he absolutely didn't trust Bayonna as far as he could throw her bony ass.

“Cuz, let's take that bitch off somewhere and split her muthafuckin’ wig before she ends up crossing you,” he'd urged JuJu.

“Bleed, is you crazy, nigga?” JuJu snapped.

“Nah,
you
are if you trust that ho.”

“Hold the fuck up, fam!” said JuJu. “My bitch is official. If you can prove otherwise I'll be the first to send her ass up out of here with slow music playing. But if you're just talking out the side of your neck, you can kill that noise.”

Sitting at his kitchen table Isaiah recalled that conversation as he shoveled more coke up his nose. He had been snorting all day and a half empty bottle of Jack sat at his elbow next to his fo-fo. Plies
One Day
played on repeat on his cell phone.

God give me my nigga for twenty-four hours

So we can ride and laugh at these pussy ass cowards

Hit the liquor store, park, and just talk for hours

Show him half the niggas die when they lose they power

Nigga forget about
you dog after they give
you them flowers

After another toot Isaiah pinched his nostrils together and leaned his head back. The coke rushed to his head at the same time that he felt a drain from his nose trickle down his throat.

I'm sittin’ right here homie, eyes full of tears

Never thought that pain last these many years

One thing I learned from all this shit, life real

Rep yo name ‘til I die homie dats how I feel

Watched how everything changed since u got killed

Isaiah closed his eyes and thought about his brother, they had been together since the womb and now he was
disoriented without him. What hurt him most was that he had introduced Isaac to the bitch that ended up crossing him out.

“Fuck!” He slammed his fist down on the table sending the coke and the small silver spoon that he used to shovel it up his nose flying in different directions. “Why the fuck did I hook him up with that ho?” he lamented.

He covered his face with both hands and felt the tears wet his palms.

After a minute or two Isaiah put both palms on the table and pushed himself up, toppling over the chair in the process. He stepped over it and went and opened the refrigerator door. Peering inside, he found what he was looking for on the top shelf. He carefully picked it up, carried it back over to the table and sat it down.

Blood trickled from Isaiah's nose from the damage that the raw cocaine had done and fresh tears poured from his eyes. He grabbed his gun and stared at the human head that he had placed on the center of the glass table. The eyes were gauged out and with the passage of weeks, the features barely resembled the dirty bitch that had crossed out his brother but the head was definitely hers.

“You lowdown trifling ho,” Isaiah spat as he raised his gun and fired two shots into the severed head. It flew off of the table and rolled around on the floor. He went and retrieved it and hurled it against the wall as memories of him and Isaac as far back as the cradle came rushing back in amazing clarity.

The head hit the wall, fell to the floor, and bounced around before settling up against the bottom of the stove.

Isaiah aimed his gun down at it and was about to squeeze off more shots until he felt someone grab his arm.

“Yo, what the fuck are you doing?” JuJu asked, looking at him like he had lost his mind.

Isaiah snatched away from him and walked over to where the head laid. “Fuck that shit, cuz. I hate this bitch.” He drew his foot back and kicked the head, sending it flying across the kitchen floor into the pantry. Boc! Boc! He fired two shots in that direction. “Punk ass bitch,” he cried out from the depths of his soul.

“Cuz, you gotta pull yourself together,” JuJu said from the doorway where he watched on, feeling a pain in his chest.

“Man, she didn't have to do my brother like that. He was a good nigga, he would've gave her sheisty ass anything she asked for,” Isaiah spewed.

He walked over to the table, looked down at the evidence of what his brother's disappearance had done to his psyche and he let out a pained cry that sounded like a wounded animal. “Argh.”

The sound rattled the dishes on the counter. Isaiah bent down and flipped the table over with one hand. It crashed down on the floor with a bang and the bottle of Jack landed next to it and wasted on the tile. Isaiah looked down at the mess at his feet, amongst it laid his cell phone. The music coming from it wrung his heart and sunk him to his knees in a flood of tears and deep sobs.

Wish I could bring my nigga back for one day

Take him by the daycare to see his son play

And go to show him how his baby mama done went astray

And how the fuck niggas claimed they loved him walked away

As JuJu stood in the doorway painfully looking on, he didn't take the lyrics to heart because he knew that there was no way Isaiah believed that he or anyone else in the crew had forgotten about Isaac. Bodies were being left around the city in record numbers as they avenged what they all knew had happened but no one wanted to come out and say.

He understood Isaiah's pain for what it was. It was grief like none he had ever felt in his lifetime. There was no words that could ease his hurting, only time could do that. And perhaps if they could find Isaac's body and send him away properly.

Isaiah's sobs rung in JuJu's ears and squeezed his heart like a pair of vise grips, but JuJu could not break down. This was street war at its unforgiving cruelest and the only way to avenge him was to remain strong in the face of all casualties.

JuJu was powerless to erase Isaiah's pain or to give him his unbreakable strength, but he did what family does for one another in times of sorrow. He went and sat down beside Isaiah and held him until his cries subsided.

Chapter 17

A Touch Of Comfort

J
uJu's head was fucked up after seeing Isaiah like that. He had begged him to come home with him but Isaiah wouldn't bulge. All he wanted was to be left alone with his liquor, cocaine, and that bitch's head.