All Hail the Queen (28 page)

She smiled, took a step forward, and pushed the button on the stun gun.

Bzzzzz-zap.

Without hesitation she pressed it to his neck and then stepped back just enough to drop-kick his big ass square in the chest sending him flying across his living room. She rushed inside and shut the door as she pulled her gun from the holster under her shirt. She sat on his chest and pressed the gun to the small spot between his eyes with both hands.

It is what it is.

“What the fuck, Naeema?” he roared, his eyes on her.

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped, looking down into the face of a traitor.

She saw a change in the light in his eyes. She knew he was plotting how to take her down. “Don't fuck with it, Grip,” she warned him. “Or I will put four bullets in you the same way you did to Tank.”

The look in his eyes changed again. “Me?”

“You, motherfucker!” she said.

“I wasn't even in town, Naeema.”

“Yes, you were.”

His body tensed beneath her.

“Don't try me, Grip,” she threatened. “You will die sooner than later. I got zero fucks to give about your life,
bruh. You know motherfucking well that I ain't the chick to sleep on. You were there. You know better than almost anybody that Tank trained me in this shit. I. Ain't. The. Fucking. One.”

His eyes changed again and this time she saw his fear.

“Why'd you do it, Grip?” she asked, her tone softening but still menacing. Still showing that his life hung by the thinnest of threads. She pressed the gun deeper against his head.

His eyes crossed like he was trying to focus on the barrel.

“I didn't—”

“Shut up,” she snapped roughly. “You told on your damn self, fool.”

Grip's face filled with questions.

She nodded. “That's right. You did.”

He was unsure.

“You and the rest of the crew shut Yani out when I dropped the word on him bitching out at the shooting. No one spoke to him. Not even to fire him. Even he told me that. So how did you know Tank wore a shirt light enough to show his blood?” she asked, shifting her head side to side before she bit her bottom lip.

“It couldn't have been easy seeing all that blood stain his shirt,” she said, repeating his words from the day he came to the hospital.

His eyes revealed he remembered the words.

She bit her bottom lip as her eyes burned looking down at the man who betrayed a friend. “Did you enjoy seeing the blood? Huh? Is that why you pointed it out, you sick bitch?” she asked, her lip curled in anger.

“Naeema, I didn't,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “Please, you're wrong.”

She shook her head softly. “No I'm not. You want to know something, Grip? You talk too fucking much. If you weren't there at the scene how did you know I left Yani behind?”

I don't blame you for leaving his ass there.

His words were unspoken but they hung in the electric air between them.

Her finger stroked the trigger and the need to fire one off in his head was so strong she could taste it. She wanted nothing more than to send his traitorous, no-good ass on to the devil.

Calm down, Naeema. Keep it cool, bitch. Get answers first.

“Did you shoot him? Were you there? Did your hit man report back? What happened, Grip, because Tank would've taken a bullet to save you,” she said in a harsh whisper revealing the pain of his betrayal.

Another shift in his eyes. “I've been looking into the shooting myself, Naeema. I know how you do and I didn't want to reveal too much info to you. I did talk to someone on the scene and they told me. Th-th-that's all,” he stammered.

“What else you find out?” she asked.

His eyes shifted back and forth quickly. “Not much. But I'm on it,” he swore.

Naeema pretended to release tension from her body as she pulled the gun back from his head just a bit. “Why didn't you tell me that?” she asked as she rose to her feet
and stepped back from him. She purposefully lowered the gun and made a move as if to holster it.

He reached out to strike her, but Naeema was ready for his ass and ducked before she quickly moved around him to kick the back of his leg and deliver a hard knuckled-up blow to the back of his head. She followed it with several wicked kicks to his side that surely cracked his ribs. Two fists to the cheek and another square to his eye. It felt good to whip his ass.

She holstered her gun before dropping down to one knee beside him lying on his stomach. “Liar,” she whispered down to him harshly as she gripped his chin and jerked his head back. “If you're innocent then why try and attack me? Dumb fucker. You fell for it.”

Grip's jaw clenched.

“You put me on the trail behind Murk's murdering ass so keep that bullshit about not revealing too much to me. You told me that so why not tell me anything else, you lying motherfucker?” she asked.

She delivered a blow with her left fist to his already damaged ribs. He howled in pain. “Why did you want Tank dead? Why did you shoot him? Why did you try to kill him, Grip? And you better start answering questions motherfucker because it's the only thing that will save your life. Fuck
you
. I want the truth.”

He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight. “I was paid to do it,” he admitted.

She looked down at him in disbelief, her disgust for him sticking in her throat like bile. “You betrayed Tank, a man that is like your brother, for money?”
she asked.

“I was never his brother,” he said, looking up at her. “I was his employee. Don't get it twisted. Only motherfucker in this world Tank give a fuck about is you.”

“And he deserved to die for that?” she screamed.

“I needed the money.”

Naeema didn't know if she had ever hated anyone besides the killer of her son so much. She was consumed with it. But she learned her lesson. She took a breath and gave herself a long ten count. “Who hired the hit?” she asked, her voice devoid of emotion. She was numb from his betrayal.

“You gon' kill me anyway, Naeema. You think I'm stupid,” he asked.

“Yes, I am, Grip,” she admitted with a nod. “You will never live to see the sun rise and that is no one's fault but your own. Tank may not have meant shit to you but a paycheck but he gave a fuck about you. He trusted you. Loyalty over everything, motherfucker. You know that. You disrespected that. So yes I am going to take your life and unlike you I will succeed at the job because that's how
I
do.”

He glanced up at her.

Their eyes met.

“Who?” she asked again.

He pressed his lips and eyes closed.

“And since you dropped Murk's name then I'm figuring it's not him because you wouldn't chance me finding out you were involved. So
who
?” she asked, her voice low, hard, and deadly.

He remained quiet.

She pulled out her key ring and released the sharp
switchblade. “So you're more loyal to
that
motherfucker than you are to Tank. You willing to let him live while you die? What sense that make?” she asked softly.

He looked up at her.

“None at all,” she whispered down to him. “You might as well serve up the one-way ticket to hell for him too.”

“Don't do this, Naeema. Please,” he said.

“You ain't got much choice in the matter, Grip. The queen always protects her king. Always,” she spat just before she roughly rolled him over onto his back and plunged the knife into his heart with a grunt.

She stood up and walked away from him, careful not to touch anything as she calmly took a seat on his leather couch and crossed her legs. She watched his body cycle through its steps toward death. A tear raced down her cheek.

She derived no fetish-like pleasure from killing. That man convulsing on the floor as his blood stained the carpet was someone she considered a friend. His betrayal was painful but she knew she couldn't keep it from Tank. She had to let him know so that he'd never sleep on another motherfucker again.

She wiped the tears from her eyes as she rose to her feet and moved over to stand beside his body as it began to go still. A tear fell from her face and landed in the blood pooling from his mouth. “It wasn't worth it,” she whispered down to him in regret. “May God forgive us both.”

He opened his mouth and whispered a name in the seconds just before he took his last blood-filled gasp. She paused for just a moment before she bent to remove the knife from his dead body. She fought the urge to close his lids over his eyes but didn't want to chance leaving prints. She closed the
knife still warm and sticky with his blood and patted her holster to ensure she had her gun as she looked around the living room. With one last look down at his body, Naeema used the end of her shirt to open the door and leave.

One down and one to motherfucking go.

16

N
aeema put on a fake smile as the passenger door to the Sprinter opened. “Thanks for meeting me,” she said, sounding all pleasant and shit even as her hatred burnt her gut like bottom-shelf liquor.

Diego closed the door and smiled, looking around at the interior of the luxury van. “Tell your boy to get his shit customized,” he said, his voice slightly mocking. “I got mine to the shop now getting pimped the fuck out, you know?”

She nodded. “How do you know this my husband's shit?” she asked, the bleach she used to wash the blood from her hands causing them to itch as the scent of chlorine filled the air. “You know him?”

Diego turned sideways in his chair and eyed her. “Nah, I don't know that dude,” he said with a cocky shrug of one shoulder.

Liar.

“Let's go to a diner. I'm hungry,” she said, driving the Sprinter out of the parking lot where she asked him to meet her and leaving behind his Benz.

“Cool,” he said, slumping down into the seat. “Your man ain't gone like you having other dudes riding in his shit.”

“I wanted to get your package back to you as soon as possible,” she said as she turned a corner.
“Not trying to stop your hustle but I ain't getting involved with that shit, Diego.”

She motioned with her thumb over her shoulder and he turned in his seat to spy the large Louis Vuitton box sitting on the seat behind her. He looked back at her. “What up with that, yo?” he asked, licking his lips and clasping his hands.

Naeema pulled to a stop at a red light. She turned her head to look at him. “I rather fuck you,” she lied simply with a shrug. “I don't hustle or help hustle dope.”

His eyes dipped down to the sweet spot between her thighs in the black leggings she wore. “Who says a fuck is enough to keep me quiet?”

“A fuck from some random chick probably ain't. But with
me
,” she said cockily as she pressed her hand against her chest and tapped it several times. “Trust and believe you'll owe me after
a fuck
with me.”

He looked out the windshield as she drove forward. “Shee-it, well pay your motherfucking debts then. Right now. Pull over there.”

That'll work.

She slowed the Sprinter down and turned into one of the openings for Weequahic Park. She parked by the basketball court and shut off the vehicle. “Let's go,” she said, rising to move to the rear. She pulled the tank top she wore up over her head and patted the seat by the blacked-out window.

He rose from his seat as well and was already unzipping his pants as he did. “Trust me, you ain't the only sex star up in this motherfucka,” he said, freeing his dick.

Naeema was phony as shit as she smiled and licked her
lips at the sight of it. He was straight. No doubt about it that his dick—which was plenty of shades darker than his Latino complexion—was thick and heavy. Still, any small chance he had of getting her pussy wet faded forever when Grip whispered his name to her before he died.

Diego paid to have Tank killed and she wanted to know why.

He stood before her and gripped the back of her head to guide the tip of his dick into her mouth. She fought the urge to bite as she closed her eyes and let him thrust his hips forward sending his dick back and forth along her tongue.

Revulsion for his ass made her stomach turn.

She pressed her head back against the strength of his hand on her neck to free her mouth. “I like sucking dick on my knees,
papi
,” she said softly, hoping her hatred for him didn't show in her eyes. She stood up and held his shoulder to turn him and then pushed against his chest until he dropped down into the seat. His dick stood at attention.

Naeema went into Queen mode. Although he knew who she was, she needed to pretend to be someone other than Tank's wife. She had to fake herself the fuck out.
The ends justified the means
.

She grasped his dick in her hand and took it into her mouth as he gripped the back of her head and thrust his hips forward off the seat as she sucked him. She faked it well with moans and slurps and deep sucks but it might as well have been a dildo as far as she was concerned.