The young man’s scowl faded and he was once again the little boy his mother would kiss on the forehead before school every morning. “Lime Street,” he mumbled.
“What, nigga? Tell me again?” Mad Man pressed the barrel against his forehead.
The young man who had been sipping the forty looked like he was having a moment, but Blue Bird pushed the notion from his mind by pressing the barrel of the Beretta in his back. “Don’t do it to yourself, homey,” he warned.
“Now,” Mad Man continued, “tell me where we at?”
The kid looked like he would fall out if he didn’t think a sudden movement would’ve gotten him shot. “Lime… Street,” he forced out. “East Lime Street.”
Mad Man grinned at him before slamming the butt of the gun into his head. The kid collapsed into a heap, trying to stop the gush of blood that was spewing from his head. “Fuck you hood, nigga!” Mad Man spat. He hadn’t had to be so brutal, but he wanted to make sure that he left the young man with a clear picture of what he had signed on for choosing a side. One thing Mad Man hated more than an enemy was some that represented the life without fully understanding it.
“I done told you fool about set tripping in here, I’m ’bout to call the police!” the cashier threatened.
Lil Blue Bird spun and let off a shot. The barrier webbed, but didn’t shatter, which was enough to get the cashier to jump beneath the counter. “Bitch, weren’t you told to shut up? Now”-he turned to the young men-“you muthafuckas turn you pockets out,” he said, waving the gun. “The big homey Gunn has passed on and he demands tribute.”
Ten minutes later Mad Man and Lil Blue Bird were hopping back to the Pontiac, laughing like two schoolkids. They had robbed all the young men and the cashier before snatching an armful of cigarettes and fleeing. The police were surely on their way to the crime scene, which was expected. But when they got to the gas station and demanded to see the tape they’d only find out what Mad Man and Lil Blue already knew. The camera hadn’t worked in three months. When they got back to the hood they would break Tia off for her stellar performance, but right then they had more mischief to cause. The chase was on.
THE MOTEL room at the Holland Motor Inn was several steps down from the room at the W Hotel in Manhattan, but it would have to do. Being anywhere within the five boroughs was too risky. Not only did he have to worry about the Crips, but the police were riding on every gang in an attempt to restore order and the Bloods wanted answers as to what had happened to Hawk. New York was on fire and Major Blood had struck the match.
“That shit is all over the news,” Tito said proudly as he watched an Asian woman on the screen recount the shooting that evening in Harlem.
“Anybody reach out about Hawk yet?” Eddie asked.
Tito looked at his cell phone. “Yeah, niggaz been blowing my jack up all night, but I’m looping the calls.”
“Man, they gonna know we was behind that shit,” Eddie told him.
“So?” Major Blood spoke up. “Blood, Hawk was connected, but he ain’t have no real street power in years. Niggaz is gonna be tight for a while, but when we bring down Harlem and start the new unification they’ll get over it. Hell, we’ll be heroes!”
“Or dead men,” Eddie mumbled.
“I’m getting tired of your negative attitude, Eduardo.” Major pointed a finger at him. He was about to start ranking on Eddie again, but his cell phone made him hold the thought. He listened for a while, trying to decipher the caller’s slurred speech, then asked, “Lexi?”
chapter 37
SOUTH LIME AND EAST SAN LUIS
JUST BEING so deep in enemy territory, armed and out for blood, made Gutter think of Lou-Loc. There had been times when he and Lou-Loc would arm up to ride, looking to gain stripes or push a dangerous enemy off the planet. Although the enemies they sought that night were dangerous, it wasn’t stripes that fueled him, it was revenge.
“You good, nephew?” Rahkim asked from the backseat.
“Yeah, man, I’m cool,” Gutter replied, continuing to stare out the window.
“Damn, it’s a bunch of niggaz out here,” Danny said, watching the homeys on the block watch him. The residents of South Lime eyed the strangers suspiciously.
“Shit, all that means is that it’ll be a higher body count,” Jynx told him. “These Lime Street niggaz ain’t ’bout shit, but the boy Reckless is as dangerous as a rattlesnake. If you see him, smoke his ass because he’s damn sure gonna try and smoke you.”
“I can dig it. Let’s just do this and get up out. I ain’t never been to the can in New York and I sure as hell don’t wanna go while I’m out here.”
“Don’t trip, lil cuz. Mad Man and them are gonna have the police tied up for a while so we got a window of time,” Rahkim informed him.
“Ain’t that the house right there?” Jynx pointed at a two-story stucco number. There were two young men standing in front, one of which they recognized as Major Blood’s nephew, Reckless.
“Yeah, there it go. And peep ya boy slipping,” Rahkim said excitedly. “We got the drop on ’em, nephew; all we gotta do is lay ’em down.” No sooner than Rahkim had made the statement there were gunshots in the distance. The element of surprise was gone and Reckless and his partner were now armed and alert to danger.
“Sounds like Tears and them done kicked it off already,” Jynx said.
“Then we might as well claim our fifteen minutes of fame,” Rahkim said, leaning out the window and leveling his gun. “What’s up now, niggaz!”
SONIC’S HAT took one high in the chest, spinning him. Criminal popped him once more in the back of his head, tipping him forward and through the store window. Bay bolted for the street only to have Tears clip him with the car. He was hobbled but still found the strength to keep moving. This is when Blue Bird stepped from the vehicle.
“Come here, muthafucka.” Blue Bird grabbed Bay by the front of his shirt. “Where the fuck you going, huh?” He slapped Bay twice in the face with his gun. When Bay crumpled to the ground Blue Bird shot him twice in the chest and looked around for his next victim.
Sports Band tried to run, but the PCP-charged Criminal was on him. Sweeping Sports Band’s legs, Criminal sent him crashing down on his face. Before Sports Band could fully roll over and plead for his life, Criminal aired him out.
The man in the Raider cap tried to run in the store, but the Korean owner had locked the door at the first signs of trouble. He turned around and found himself face-to-face with a grinning Blue Bird.
“Yeah, what that Hoover like?” Blue Bird demanded, pressing the hot barrel into Supersonics cap’s cheek. His eyes were wild and his movements jerky from the PCP.
“Man, we ain’t got no beef with Hoover.” Raider cap winced against the burning.
“Tough shit, dick head. Next time be more careful of the muthafuckas you let lay in yo hood.” Blue Bird shoved Raider’s cap against the storefront and pulled the trigger. Raider cap’s chest exploded in a nasty spray. Even after he was down, Blue Bird gave him two more for good measure.
Bo tried to use the element of surprise and draw his gun, but Tears was on him. He kicked the wheelchair over viciously, spilling Bo to the ground. “Hold that down, baby. The party is just about to get crunk.”
“Well, well, what do we have here?” Blue Bird walked up. He grabbed Bo by the collar and hoisted him back into the chair. “What up, cuz?”
“Man, you niggaz is tripping, you know who you fucking wit?” Bo jerked away from Blue Bird. He tried to sound tough, but couldn’t keep his voice steady. This wasn’t the first time he’d looked into Blue Bird’s eyes, but he feared it’d be the last.
