Huntsman, p.11
Huntsman, page 11
She’s already moving toward the door before I finish speaking, her head bent over her phone.
“Tera, can you contact Park and find out who else he has in mind about reaching out to? I’m not stepping on his toes or getting in the way of it. I trust him completely and am willing to let him do his thing. I’d just like to know who he’s thinking of.”
“Gotchu.”
“Kenya, Maura, I need you to return to the obodo and follow up on the list of names all of you compiled from earlier. Just feel them out, see if they’re receptive to you. Also track the temperature there. Monitor any of the chatter. Abena knows you’re mine, and her Mirror wouldn’t dare let anything slip, but those sheep she keeps around her aren’t as careful. And of all of us, people tend to like you two the most.”
“It’s the freckles and the accent.” Kenya points to Maura first and then jabs a finger toward her chest.
“And the pussy, girl. Stop playing.” Penn snorts, flicking a hand.
“Did she just call my pussy ‘friendly’?” Kenya gasps, splaying her fingers wide over her abundant chest, that Southern drawl on full display. The offense would’ve been almost believable if she didn’t ruin it by breaking out in a wide grin and giggle, kicking her feet. “Listen, I can’t help it if the mens likes them some tits and ass. At least I send them out happy.”
Her li’l psycho ass is like a fucking praying mantis, killing men after she fucks them. Hey, who am I to judge? We all have our issues.
“Penn and Doc,” I say, raising my voice before Penn can issue her comeback, “you’ll keep up appearances at Elysian. I don’t put it past Abena or any of her minions to do pop-ups outside of fight nights. At this stage, we can’t afford for anything to go wrong. And, Sienna.” I refresh my glass. “There’s a shipment arriving at the port in three nights’ time.” I grin. “Abena’s accepting guns from the Donatos, and they’ve paid her ten million to get them here safe, through customs, and delivered. For something to happen to those guns … like, say, ending up at the bottom of the river? Well, it wouldn’t be a good day for my auntie.”
“Say less.” Sienna tilts her head. “And what’re you gonna be up to while we’re carrying out our assignments?”
I grin.
“Why, hunting a huntsman, of course.”
“This bitch crazy,” Kenya mutters.
I glare at her, jabbing a finger in her direction. “Don’t think compliments are going to make me forget your earlier blasphemy. We beefing over that Panthro shit.”
About an hour later, they’ve all left, and I survey my living room. For the most part, my girls cleaned up after themselves. But the couple of napkins and empty glasses have my ass itching. If I don’t clean up now, I’ll probably dream about the shit. Sometimes being a neat freak can be a killjoy.
Sighing, I set about straightening up. A half hour later, the dishes are washed, furniture returned to their proper places, curtains draped correctly, and carpet vacuumed. I grab a damp dish towel and head to the coffee table. Sinking down on the couch, I notice Tera’s necklace. The gold and diamonds in the apple-shaped pendant wink under the recessed lights in the ceiling. Wonder if she’s realized yet that she left it behind. Her ass is going to be in a sling if Abena finds out since they were ordered to never remove them.
As if the thing will grow fangs and spit venom at me, I carefully pick it up. It’s a beautiful piece, I can’t deny that. Abena might be a soulless barracuda, but she got taste. Still, generosity isn’t one of her virtues. If anything, she’s much quicker to take from her own rather than spread the wealth. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember a time where she ever spent the kind of money these necklaces must’ve cost on anyone except herself. The shit was suspect as fuck.
I frown.
Nah, something in the milk ain’t clean. That muthafucka stank as fuck.
Studying the jewelry with newer eyes, I slowly run my fingers along the chain, searching for … I don’t know. Not finding any irregularities there, I turn my focus to the pendant. I give it the same treatment. Nothing on the front. Flipping it over, I begin my search over again. Nothing. It could be exactly what it’s supposed to be—a harmless yet expensive token of appreciation.
But the niggling sense of foreboding won’t let up. It’s an itch on the back of my neck. And I’ve never ignored my version of a Spidey sense.
Taking another look, I trace the front and back once more. Noth—
“Hold up,” I murmur. “Hold up, hold up.”
Retracing the seam along the bottom of the piece, I smile.
Yeah, right there. I didn’t imagine it.
Lifting the gold-and-diamond apple up to the light, I see the slightly protruding bump. My smile widens into a grin. I jerk up my pant leg and remove the dagger there. Within seconds, I maneuver the tip under the bump and pry it out. As soon as the piece is free, a small blinking object falls out, tumbling to my lap.
I set the necklace down on the coffee table and carefully pick up the minuscule thing that looks like the red pill from The Matrix.
A tracker.
Abena embedded a tracker in the necklaces.
That sneaky bitch.
Do all the necklaces have them? Or just the ones given to the Seven?
I’d bet Mirror’s left nut only my crew has ’em. How long had Penn said they had them? A few days?
Shit.
I close my eyes, picturing Tera when we met the informant. Had she been wearing the pendant at the time? Squeezing my eyes tighter, I picture her. Try to remember when we returned to our bikes, and she unzipped her jacket.
No. I release a pent-up breath. She hadn’t been wearing it. But shit. None of them knew their movements were being tracked. They will soon though.
Fucking Abena. I have to give it to her; that shit was crafty. This, paired with the assassination attempt, solidifies that Abena suspects how the tide is starting to change. She’s gunning for me, and maybe she’s figured out I’ve been coming for her all along. This move though … This one I can turn around and use to my advantage.
And I plan on doing just that.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eshe
The brackish scent of Massachusetts Bay weighs heavy on the night air. The waters of the port gleam under the moonlight like onyx. The distant din of traffic can’t drown out the gentle lap of the waves.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
I’m ready to hear the whisper of my Remington M24 and the muffled thud as the bullet meets its target.
I’m ready to hear screams.
It’s been a slow few days.
I survey the area, taking note of a large shipping crate that a couple of workers moved to the end of the dock about ten minutes earlier. They’re oblivious to the danger that lies in wait above them. Since yesterday and the meeting at my house, we’ve mapped out the area and are intimately familiar with it. I let my Seven in on the truth about their necklaces, and now we’re using them to our advantage. If Abena decides to check their locations, she’ll find my girls at Elysian and riding around downtown Boston. In reality, Nef, Doc, Kenya, and Sienna and I are stretched out on top of other containers, our rifles at the ready. Tera, Penn, and Maura take point on the ground. We’re spread out, but I can still feel, fucking taste, the excitement and anticipation in the air. Not only are we snatching bitch-ass traffickers’ souls and saving women and children from certain hell, but we’re gathering proof that Abena is involved in committing one of the family’s cardinal sins.
We have a plan in place to take out Abena. But if all goes well this evening, that timeline will be pushed up.
And it’ll be the end of a nine-year sentence.
“A’ight, y’all. A black Hummer is pulling up now,” Kenya’s low voice announces through my earpiece. “Look alive, sweet peas.”
I suppress a snicker.
“We have four targets—I mean, men—heading toward the pier,” Kenya says. “Not Mwuaji. Doc, they’re headed in your direction.”
“Got ’em,” Tyeesha says, voice calm, steady.
As the men walk into view, I press my eye to the scope, getting the one on the far right in my crosshairs.
“Still no sign of Abena?” I murmur.
“No. It’s all clear over this way,” Kenya says.
“It’s five after eleven.” I frown. “Abena should’ve been here.”
I raise my head, reasons why she hasn’t arrived yet flying through my mind. This is her meet. She should’ve been here before her clients. Something—
“Abort mission,” I hiss, and start breaking down my rifle with practiced, quick motions. “Get out of here. Now.”
Radio silence meets my order. No one questions it. The fact I know where each of my Seven is situated is the only reason I catch glimpses of their hurried movements. I pack my M24 and scurry down the side of the container. As soon as my feet hit the pavement, I take off toward our meeting point, sticking to the shadows.
I run flat out for half a mile, and only when the black Ranger comes into view do I slow down. Grabbing the driver’s door, I fling it open and throw myself behind the wheel. After reaching under the seat, I snatch the keys and jam them in the ignition. Only seconds pass before the passenger and rear doors are jerked open, and Nef, Sienna, and Maura jump inside. I don’t even wait until their doors close before I slam on the gas and haul ass out of there, trusting the rest of my Seven have made it to their ride and aren’t far behind me.
“The fuck happened back there?” Nef asks as I turn onto Drydock Ave.
“Call Tera,” I rasp out. “Make sure they got out of there safe and then put her on speaker.”
Moments later, Tera’s voice echoes in the Rover’s interior.
“Yeah,” she says. “We’re good here. Not far behind you. What happened? Why did you call it?”
“We weren’t alone out there,” I let them all know. Falling quiet, I clench my teeth, jaw throbbing. “I saw movement right under where Doc was posted up. Whoever it was hadn’t been facing the water where the meet was supposed to go down. That tells me they weren’t there for that. Everything in me is saying they were there for us. They knew we would be there and were waiting for us to make a move so they could take us out.”
“How many?” Nef asks, voice flat. Deadly.
“I only saw the one, but that just means the rest of that team was well hidden. And there had to be a team. One person couldn’t eliminate all of us.”
Silence permeates the inside of the Rover, and not a peep comes from over the phone. Someone had to betray us. Not one of my Seven. I trust them with my life, and their loyalty to me is unquestionable and unwavering. So who?
The other person in this equation is Laura, but hell, she’s the one who put us on. Still … Something about her hadn’t stopped gnawing at me. A familiarity. A sense of … unease about the whole situation. But damn, she had the recording. And her story was credible. About her niece, her family …
Family.
“Holy shit,” I snap.
“What?” Nef and Tera demand at the same time.
“That Laura chick. She was wearing a wedding band and ring.”
“Yeah. And?” Penn presses.
“Abena was wearing the same ring yesterday. Minus the band.” I chuckle but ain’t shit funny. “She played us. She fucking played us.” I slap my hand against the steering wheel, ignoring the sting in my palm. Laughing again, I shake my head, instantly realizing why “Laura” struck me as familiar. I was related to her. “I gotta give it to the bitch. She’s good. The getup, the story. She deserves an Academy fucking Award.”
“Are you sure?” Tera asks.
“Yeah, one hundred percent sure.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Sienna asks. “Abena got to Dakari. He helped her set us up. Fuck!” I glance in the rearview mirror in time to see her pound the side of her fist against the window. “How long? How long has he been in her pocket and potentially feeding her information about us?”
Quiet once again descends between us.
“I don’t know.” I tighten my grip on the steering wheel until my fingers start to tingle. “But I’ma find out.”
* * *
I approach Elysian, the warehouse where we host the underground fights. At least that’s what we use it for on those particular nights. Right now, at one o’clock in the afternoon, we got different business to be about.
The steel door slams shut behind me, the sound echoing in the vast space. In just a few hours, this place will be filled with people screaming and shouting, eager to be entertained by blood, gore, and death. I mean, who am I kidding? It is a good time. But at this moment, the ring is empty, the concrete floors are bare of chairs.
Well …
There’s one chair.
And Dakari is tied to it.
Like a bloody, fucked-up Christmas gift.
And I loooves me some Christmas.
“Hey, Dakari.” I clasp my hands behind my back and smile at him. “So glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, he was a little hesitant at first. But after I convinced him that we really, really needed to see him, he came along.” Penn claps a hand on Dakari’s shoulder. “Ain’t that right, Dakari?”
He doesn’t answer, but I don’t miss the small, muted whimper.
“Aw.” I poke out my bottom lip. “Penn, I think our boy here is a little uncomfortable. Are you, D?” He remains quiet, but his hazel eyes swim with horror. Mmm. I could orgasm off all that delicious fear. “I’d hate for you to be experiencing any kind of discomfort. Ooh.” I wince. “You got a little blood”—I circle my finger in front of his battered, bruised face—“well, everywhere.”
“Eshe, please. I—” he croaks.
But I place my finger flat against his busted and swollen lips.
“Shhh. Don’t spoil the moment.” I reach behind me and grab my gun, then tap it against my thigh.
“Eshe, I swear—”
I swing, smashing my Glock into his mouth. The chair—and Dakari—fly backward. His head bounces off the concrete, and I wince. That’s going to be one helluva headache.
Well, y’know, if he would be alive in the next five minutes.
Which, spoiler alert, he will not.
“I said shut the fuck up. Damn!” I glare at him. “Why muthafuckas gotta be so hardheaded?”
Spreading my arms wide, I glance around and am met with a chorus of “I don’t know,” and “muthafuckas just don’t learn,” and “just no home training.” Shaking my head, I wait for Nef to pick Dakari up. Blood oozes from his already-fucked-up mouth and drips onto his chin and ripped, dirty T-shirt.
“Now, before I was interrupted…” I crouch in front of him and, tipping my head back, meet his eyes. Correction, eye. One of ’em is swollen shut. “It hurts me to see you here like this, D. Not more than it hurts you, but gotta say, the betrayal cuts deep.” I splay my fingers wide over my chest. His busted lips part, and I narrow my eyes on him. “If you open your bitch-ass mouth to lie to me, I’m going to hit you in it again. But this time with a bullet.”
He wisely decides to not speak. A shame.
“Good choice.” I praise him, patting his knee. “Now, what information did you pass on to Abena? How much does she know about us?” When he doesn’t immediately start talking, I chuckle and pat him again. “My bad, bruh. You can speak.”
“I—I didn’t tell her anything,” he says, garbled voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t know that much to tell her other than you recruiting me to be a pair of eyes and ears in the obodo. And I didn’t say anything about that. I swear, I didn’t betray you.”
“Mmm, that’s debatable.” I seesaw my hand back and forth. “Then why you? How did you end up arranging the meeting for Abena? Did she just pick you out all eenie-meenie-miney-moe and shit?”
He starts to shake his head, but his face spasms in pain, stopping the motion. “No. Abena didn’t explain why she approached me other than to say I’m not as careful as I thought.” He coughs, and more blood stains his mouth and chin.
Probably some internal damage there.
“So what did she promise you?” Tera asks, coming closer until the tips of her boots nudge the chair leg.
“Good question,” I cosign. “What did Abena promise that was so good, you sold us out?”
“I didn—”
I raise my gun and point it at his chest. “Lie again with your Benedict Arnold ass. You didn’t know if I was walking into an ambush or would walk out of there alive. So miss me with that ‘I didn’t, blah, blah, blah’ bullshit. Just answer the question.”
He bows his head, and his chest heaves as if he’s choking back a sob. He better hold that shit in. There’s no crying in torture.
“Abena threatened to have my mom and li’l sister killed.” He lifts his head, and his hazel eyes glisten with unshed tears. “They’re all I got, man. I’m responsible for them. I couldn’t let her…” He chokes up again and sucks in a shuddering breath. “You gotta understand that.”
I slowly rise to my feet, staring down at him. Anger kindles in my chest, and it’s a spark away from flashing into a full-on forest fire.
“I don’t have to understand shit, D. Only a bitch-made muthafucka would betray those he’s supposed to be loyal to. All you had to do was come to me, to one of us, and tell us what Abena was holding over your head. You’re family. Your mom and sister—they’re family. Do you really think I would’ve let you or them suffer? Why would you want me for your oba if that’s what you believed of me? Nah. I don’t understand shit.” I take a step back from him. “See you in the upper room, ho.”
Before he can blink, I lift my arm again and fire a bullet between his eyes. The smell of smoke, sulfur, blood, and shit saturate the air.
“Gotdamn, I hate that part.” Sienna wrinkles her nose. “Death ain’t dignified, sis.”
“Whose turn is it to clean up?” Kenya asks, propping her fists on her rounded hips. “Not mine.”
