She didn't know which part of the bombs she'd just dropped on his ass was the cause for it, but it was clear his mind was fucked.

"And then you got the nerve to wear his chain?" Naeema spat as she boxed him in the face. She snatched the chain from his neck and then swung it at him, landing the lion medallion across his forehead, where it broke the skin. Worse was coming for his ass anyway so oh the fuck well. "That's how I know you did it, dumb ass."

"Me and Brandon both got that chain," he stuttered. "We bought them at the same time."

"Liar," she said.

She'd checked the date on Brandon's Facebook and he owned that chain months before, when Bas told her they first met.

She popped his bottom lip so hard that it bounced up and down. Nelson yelped like a hit dog.

"He was like a little brother, huh?" she said bitterly, tossing back the lies he gave to her the night before.

She boxed him in his gut. "No, he was fourteen years old, you stupid motherfucker, and there wasn't shit in this world he could've done to you to deserve you running him over and then cutting his throat and leaving him in that street to die."

She took a deep audible breath as tears welled up. "I'm going to kill you," she promised him in a whisper that seemed to echo around them.

Fear filled his eyes even as his lips stayed pressed in a straight angry line.

"I am going to leave your dead body here for the rats and the dogs to eat on until you rot and burst from the maggots eating your dead ass from the inside out," she said, stroking his fat bottom lip with the barrel of the gun. A tear raced down her cheek and landed on his chin. "And then I will pray every day that your worthless-ass soul rots in hell."

The smell of his pee filled the air.

"And that's still more than your motherfucking ass deserves."

She stood up and shoved the necklace and medallion in her back pocket with his knife as she backed away from him. "Why'd you kill him?" she asked, struggling between her heart breaking with sadness and her soul blazing with rage. "Why?"

Nelson said nothing, just closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the charred wood floor.

She looked up as car lights came on and the parking lot got a little bit brighter.

"Help me!" Nelson cried out.

Naeema jumped on top of him and pressed the barrel of the gun between his plump, ashy, quivering lips. "Go ahead, open your mouth. Scream for help like a bitch so I can slide this pistol dick farther down your throat just before I blow the back of your head out." She pushed the gun until it tapped against his teeth.

The lights from the car disappeared and the room darkened just a little bit again.

Naeema climbed off him and backed up with her gun still locked and loaded on him as she looked through the missing rear wall. "They're all gone. Not that they woulda helped you anyway. This jam you in, you dumb fuck, is a rock and a hard place," she said.

She tilted her head to the side as she stepped up and looked down at him.

Trust me I know he'd kill me for Brandon. Trust me.

Naeema shook her head and released a heavy breath as she tried to pull forward a memory. Something else he said. Something that seemed so innocent . . . then.

Bas took him under his wing and shit. Just like he did me.

She stood above him and straddled his thick form. "You killed my boy because you were jealous of him and Bas being close?" she asked, her voice rising with each word to a roar.

Bas took him under his wing and shit. Just like he did me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Naeema grunted as she kicked him square in the nuts and then jumped out of the way when his body made like a cheese curl and he hollered out in pain.

Naeema dropped to her knee and pressed the ring she wore on top of the glove against his mouth. "Kiss the ring," she said. "Kiss it and beg me not to kill you."

Nelson's face was still twisted with pain as his eyes shifted down to her hand. "Please . . . please don't kill me," he said before he puckered his lips against the gold metal.

She frowned in disgust at the feel of his wet lips and wiped her hands against her jeans. "Did Brandon beg you for his life?" she asked him.

Nelson lay flat on his back. "Nothing I say is gonna keep you from killing me," he said, his voice cold and flat.

"Nothing," she agreed with a sad shake of her head.

She sat back from him. "You recognize the ring, don't you? He was wearing it and the chain the night you killed him," she said. "I guess you ain't had time to snatch his ring too."

"The chain was in the way when I cut his throat."

Naeema took a step back. "Well, ain't shit in the way of this motherfucker."

She fired her gun.

POW!.

The kickback knocked her shoulder back a little but she watched the bullet go straight between his eyes. Moments later, thick crimson blood pooled from the back of his head. His body convulsed twice before the look in his eyes was filled with death.

Her hand dropped down to her side, smoke filtering up from the hot tip of the gun she still held.

She stood there, shaken by it all; she tilted her head back and her chest rose and fell deeply with her heavy breaths.

It was all finally over.

She felt weak and spent and just wanted to crawl into her bed, cover her head with pillows, and sleep. Yes, she had taken a life before but never like this. She was shaken and maybe not as hardcore as she thought. Her anger at his words had fired that gun even more than her will to kill him out of revenge for Brandon.

With one last look back at Nelson's dead body, she left the abandoned house and walked back to her bike, dropping the gun and his knife in one of the saddlebags as she fought not to give in to her tears and the steady trembling of her hands. She climbed onto her motorcycle and was happy to speed away from the scene of her crime.

16.

Naeema sped through the streets of Newark, easily zooming in and out of traffic and taking turns to avoid red lights. She was more running toward home than running away from the murder she'd just committed. Time had settled her nerves because she did what she had to do. Nelson killed Brandon-a fourteen-year-old man-child-over a jealous rage like a man-bitch.

An eye for an eye.

She turned down Eastern Parkway and made the right onto her street. She was just slowing down as she neared her house when she spotted a tall and broad figure with a bald head walking up her driveway. The darkness soon covered his figure but Naeema would recognize Red's crazy ass anywhere.

"Sarge," she whispered behind the visor of her helmet, alarmed that her actions would bring harm to him.

Naeema didn't have time to think of just where she had shown her true hand to them, as she continued up the street and paused at the end of the drive to lay on her horn. Red stepped out of the darkness and came running down the driveway at full speed.

Damn that big bitch is fast, she thought, revving the bike to speed away.

A car's passenger door opened just as she reached it and Naeema screamed out as she tried to brake in time not to collide into it. She felt like her heart leapt out of her chest, while her body was propelled forward over the handlebars of the bike and the open car door until she landed against the asphalt of the street. Her head slammed against the inside of the helmet and her body ached as she rolled to a stop on her stomach.

A pair of deck shoes came to a stop right next to her and Naeema kept blinking to regain clarity.

"Just who the fuck are you . . . Queen?"

Bas.

He tapped his toe against her helmet just before she felt someone lift her up and carry her, then roughly drop her on the rear seat of a vehicle. She winced and lay on her side. She heard the two front car doors close.

"I told you that bitch was foul," Red said. The car lurched forward and he drove away.

She felt a little relief that they were leaving the house and Sarge behind. And the gun. It's in the saddlebag. Shit.

"Her mail says her name is Naeema Cole," Bas said, tossing the stack of envelopes over his shoulder onto her like she and it were trash. Obviously he'd swiped it at the house.

Naeema looked through her visor at Red behind the wheel and Bas on the passenger seat.

"You think she's undercover?" Bas asked, glancing back at her, his jaw squared up with anger.

"She's not wired," Red assured him.

Bas tapped cocaine out onto the back of his hand and sniffed it. "Regardless, she know too much."

"True," Red agreed.

What the fuck am I going to do? No weapon. Body bruised and aching. Head pounding. Two men against me. Think, Naeema, think.

"Who else knows?" Bas asked.

"Just you and me."

"Good."

They rode in silence. Naeema didn't know how far they traveled away from her house. The car slid to a stop and Bas climbed out.

The passenger door opened. She looked up as Bas took her helmet off and dropped it in the street. Just behind his shoulder she could make out the garage door leading into the church. His eyes were glassy and there was powder still clinging to the edge of one of his nostrils. He wiped his hands over the top of his head as he looked down at her.

"Nelson killed my son, Brandon. I wasn't coming for you. I don't give a fuck about whatever y'all got going on. I'm not a fucking cop. I just wanted to know who killed my son," she said in a rush, knowing her only chance to stay alive was the truth. She held up her hand and showed them Brandon's ring on her finger.

"Nelson?" she heard Red say in disbelief.

"What sucking my dick gotta do with any of that?" Bas asked with a laid-back shrug.

"Word?" Red asked before he chuckled.

This is the most I ever heard that motherfucker talk. Damn.

"Kill the lying bitch," Bas said cold as fuck.

A chill raced over her body. "Bas," she said, pleading with her eyes as she held her pounding head up from the seat.

He reached in to massage her ass and thighs. "Damn shame. You got some bomb-ass pussy too," he said, before he stepped back and slammed the door closed.

Naeema dropped her head down onto the seat and closed her eyes.

An eye for an eye.

"Oh well," Red said, all motherfucking blase, before he pulled off and turned up the radio.

She knew things were finally over when she put one in Nelson's dome, but she didn't know this would be her last night alive too. Fuuuuck.

Every pothole he hit caused her body to rise a bit and fall back down on the seat, aggravating the injuries she already had from the motorcycle crash.

"Don't do this, Red," she called from the back of the SUV. "It's not worth it."

"I got the last song just for you, Queen," he said, as he pushed buttons on the touch screen.

The opening notes of Biggie's "Ready to Die" played and Naeema couldn't front that she was about a second away from shitting herself.

"As I grab the Glock, put it to your headpiece . . ."

Naeema pushed her hands against the seat of the vehicle and tried to sit up. Red looked over his shoulder and then turned back to face the road but reached back to box her with his fist as he rapped along with Biggie: "The Q-45, Glocks and tecs are expected, when I wreck shit . . ."

Naeema cried out from the sharp pain that radiated across her jawline. She cut her eyes up to glare at the back of his head. Killing Nelson had shaken her a little bit and that had been all about revenge. But Red gloating about killing her made her want to put a Glock to his dome and fire off all the rounds until everything in the vehicle-including her-was covered in his blood and brain matter. Ugly motherfucker.

He turned the music down. "What the fuck?" he snapped as he slammed on the brakes.

Naeema's body rolled forward off the seat and slammed against the back of the front seats just before she heard Red jump out of the SUV. At the sound of raised voices she sat up and looked out the windshield. Her mouth fell open at the sight of one of Tank's SUVs blocking the street.

Red posted up and raised his gun to fire at the vehicle.

POW. POW. POW.

"Shit," Naeema swore, her eyes big as shit as she ducked down, trying to avoid the bullets she thought would bounce off Tank's bulletproof SUV back toward her.

When that didn't happen, she peeked her closely shaven head up just in time to see Red turn to stride back toward his own SUV. Naeema eyed the door that was still sitting open. "Oh, no, motherfucker," she said, quickly climbing over the armrest to slide down into the driver's seat and lock the doors.

Red's face twisted with rage as he raised the gun.

Naeema's eyes shifted to watch Tank race from his SUV and come running full speed at Red, tackling him to the ground just as the shot fired.