Gettin' Dirty (11 page)

S
omeone is pounding
on my door, I have no clue why either. It sounds like the cops doing a raid or something. I jump out of the bed where I have been lazing around so happily. Getting out of the bed and into the living, I say loudly, “I’m coming!”

I peep out through the little hole and my world is turned upside down as the door is busted in.

I am so dazed by the door hitting me in the head that I am not entirely who is screaming. Is it me?

A sobering moment though is when they lift me up and stand me in front of some guy who looks vaguely familiar. But I can’t really place where from… Of course, there being four eyes and a couple of noses on his face doesn’t help.

They hold me up by my arms, and while they aren’t exactly hurting me, the man’s face in front of me looks really, really mad at me. What in the world have I ever done to this guy?

Everything comes into sharp focus as his hand hits me across my cheek and leaves a stinging pain there.

“Where Michael at, bitch?” he yells in my face.

Oh. So that’s why I am here with a slapped face and my front door busted open. Michael’s shit has come to land squarely on me. Again.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly and receive a hard fist in my stomach.

I have never been punched in my stomach before, and it knocks the air out of my lungs so fast and hard I’m left gasping. I try to curl up in a ball but I can’t move. The guys holding my arms won’t let me. Oh, god. I try to gasp in air, but it’s like standing in a sealed room with no air. Nothing works. The guys on my arms are laughing at me, I hate all three of them.

“Let’s go. Bring this bitch with us.”

They drag me along, and as we are exiting my apartment, I see Mrs. Robin’s door open.

Coming out of the apartment, she yells loudly, “You let her go!”

The guy in front shoves her hard into her door we keep moving. Out of the corner of my eye I see her pull her cell phone from her pocket. I hope she doesn’t call the police, they won’t be able to save me.

They are pushing me towards the back of their car and I struggle with all my might. I am almost loose when I feel something hard slam up against the back of my skull.

I
t’s
dark as can be when I finally wake up again. At first I’m not sure if I even opened my eyes. Things are kinda fuzzy in my head until I feel the hard thump of a car going over a bump. Shit. There is a bright red light from my right side. Did they dump me in the trunk of the car? What the hell is going on? What in the world did Michael get me into?

The trunk is hot as heck and the damn driver doesn’t seem to know what a complete stop is.

My mind is flipping the hell out. What the hell is happening to me? Where are they going to take me? What are they going to do? Oh, god, what about Mina?

A calm comes over me then, a serene calm. Mina. Mina is with Seamus. Seamus will be told by Mrs. Robins. Seamus. Seamus will come for me.

Oh, god, these guys are in so much trouble right now.

I
t feels
like forever before they pull to a stop and shut the car engine off. I hear a couple doors open and then slam shut. Here we go.

The trunk opens and I have to put my hands in front of my eyes to block out the bright light. They don’t let me stay like that for long though. My arms are grabbed roughly, then I am dragged out of the trunk. I try to fight as hard as I can with them, I may have even managed to land a kick on one of the guys balls. Thank god for all that punishment Seamus put me through with working out. I kicked the heck out of him. That’s one down.

I can barely get my feet beneath me as they yank and drag me into some shit hole of an apartment. I grew up in a roughish part of town, but here? I can instantly feel the slums seeping into my skin. I scream out when one of them hits my back really hard but I doubt it will cause a single person to give a damn here.

We head directly into a ground-floor apartment, and from the looks of the place, I would bet all of my paychecks for the next two years this is some kind of drug flophouse. There’s a skinny girl passed out on the couch and I wonder if she is even breathing.

The lead guy grabs me by my hair and yanks me into the first bedroom. I don’t know what to say to him. I have no clue where Michael is, I couldn’t even begin to guess. I wish I had my cellphone, I would just call his ass, but I don’t dammit. Damn Michael.

I am pushed into a chair and the guys start taping my legs then arms to it. Shit. The other guys leave, and now it’s just me and the ringleader.

“Where’s ya brother at, Aaliyah?” he asks with a deep gritty voice.

“I already told you, I don’t…” his hand is faster than my eyes as he punches me this time. I’m seeing red around my vision as my jaw aches.

“Where is he!?” the man screams at me, his hand grabbing me by the hair as he shakes my head back and forth.

“I…” I can feel the blood oozing from my mouth as I mumble.

“You what?”

“I would… tell you if… I knew…” I sputter. My jaw hurts so bad I can feel myself drooling down my chin.

“That fucking sucks, Lee. He gonna get ya dead, and ya don’t even know where he at.”

I stare up into the face of the man who is hitting me—past all the scars and the low-set baseball cap—I see deep brown eyes. The faint recognition I had of the guy in my apartment comes into sharp focus as I really look at the guy. It’s Jermaine from our old high school. He was a skinny pip-squeak jerk back then. Skinny asshole who always tried to be the big man on campus. He was such an ass. It’s absurd! He tried to act like a thug back then but was such a joke. Jermaine… It would be funny if he hadn’t been hurting me so badly

“Jer… Jermaine?” I ask around a swollen cheek.

“Yeah, bitch.” he confirms, laughing in my face. “But I ain’t been Jermaine in years. They call me Tin-Tin now.”

Tin-Tin? What the fuck is a Tin-Tin? “You mean like Rin Tin Tin? Like the dog? Serious…” he slams a fist into the side of my head as I start to giggle. I can’t help it. That name is funny as shit.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” he yells and pushes hard against my chair. I tip to the side and land hard. It hurts so bad but I laugh. Tin-Tin.

I must be punch-drunk or something.

Jermaine kicks me hard in my stomach, so hard my giggling stops completely as I gasp from the pain. Again my air is knocked from my lungs.

He leaves me there for a long time on my side, so long that I am feeling sleepy from the pain and the whole ordeal.

What seems like an eternity later he comes back into the room and lifts the chair back up. I don’t feel so good now, kinda queasy and throbbing sore all over.

“You ready to shut your mouth like a good bitch and answer my questions?” he asks.

I would nod my head but it hurts too much. “I don’t know… I have no clue where he’s at.”

“When ya talk to him last?”

“Yesterday… he wanted some money,” I say and I bet this has to be a part of it.

“Yeah, he owes me a lot of money, Lee.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Jermaine, I don’t have any.”

“He don’t pay me soon, Lee, I am going to take it out on you. Make you my slave bitch and kill you when I am done with ya.”

I look down at my lap. I don’t want him to see me smiling. Me, his slave bitch? I jerk a little as I try to hold in the laughter. Seamus is going to hurt him so bad.

I guess he thinks I am crying as he comes forward and lifts my chin. “It won’t be so…”

My smile stops him dead cold in his words. He stares at me like I am crazy. “You going to like that, bitch? Being my whore slave?”

I shake my head as I can’t hold it in. I giggle at him. I’m so angry they did this to me. So fucking angry. But just knowing Seamus is going to come for me and make them pay gives me relief. Gives me something to make me happy in this shitty situation. “I belong to Seamus.”

Shaking his head, he asks, “Who the fuck that?”

I laugh and stare at him. “Seamus! The man who is going to kill every single one of you fuckers! He’s a bad…”

Another punch to my face stops me from talking. He hit my eye and it hurts so damn bad I can feel tears welling up. “Bitch, shut the fuck up!”

“Seamus is going to come get me, he will be here soon! You better run Rin-Rin-Tinny, you stupid fucking dog!”

I
come
to some time later. I don’t know how much time has passed us as I sit here. I can barely hold my head up as I slump in my chair. The windows are covered by a disgustingly dirty curtain, but I can see what looks like evening light coming through them.

My mouth is so dry right now and hurts so bad. Even as I try to lick my split lips, I can barely stand the pain. I am hurting bad. Damn.

Each of my breaths takes a lot of effort to make it through them, the pain lances all over the sides of my chest.

I remember back to being knocked out though, and my last thought being Seamus. He should be here soon. I know him. He’s the scary man I knew he would be. He doesn’t know I found his guns in his apartment, or maybe he does, but I have. And I’ve heard the stories of what he did with the guys who tried to break into his apartment.

He promised to always protect me so I have absolutely no doubt at all he will be here soon. He will hurt these little boys playing at being tough. They have hurt me. Me. Me, his personal possession. He owns me, mind, body and soul. That they dared touch me… Oh god, I actually feel sort of sorry for them. How fucked up is that?

Sitting here, I try to focus on the light around me. I want to stay awake now. I need to. Seamus will be here soon and I want to be awake for my hero to save me.

Sometime later, Jermain comes back into the room. His hands are bruised from hurting me.

“You ready…” he starts before a tremendous boom comes from the living room. The whole place shakes as if we have been hit by a quake.

My voice screams out one word, the only one that matters to me right now. “Seamus!”

Jermaine trips into me as the building feels like it was just rocked on its foundation. I can’t fathom what the heck just happened, but I hear a lot of gun shots really close by.

Jermain isn’t stupid though, he quickly rips the tape off of me as he yanks me up in front of him as a type of shield.

I cry his name out again, but it is cut off by Jermaine hitting me roughly on the back of the head.

A
s soon as
Mrs. Robins called I was moving through the streets as fast and as safely as I legally could. Mina was none the wiser of the rage that has filled my body like an explosive. I dropped her off at a shaken Mrs. Robins apartment. She told me all she could before I went into Aaliyah’s apartment. I grabbed her phone, and as soon as Mrs. Robins mentioned she heard someone asking about Michael, I went stalking for the fucker.

It was probably mean of me to kick in the apartment door I had the twins from Paris trace him at. It wasn’t that hard to track the little bitch.

M
ichael’s eyes
are wide as fuck when I stomp into the living room of some girl he has been staying with. A couple of the guys from yesterday are here as well. Stupid fucks that they are tried to scatter and bolt from the apartment. Two rounds from my gun into the floor put a stop to that.

Like fucking cockroaches they all stop immediately.

“What the.. what th…” Michael stutters out.

I don’t even bother with raising my voice. My rage is far too consuming for that.

“Who the fuck took my girl, Michael? Where will they hide Aaliyah while they look for your corpse?”

His eyes go wider than I have even seen a man’s go as he processes what I have said. I look to the other guys around the room. “Sit down, all of you,
now
.”

Like kindergarten children they drop to the floor. Fucking pussies.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo…”

I pull the nine millimeter from the hip holster under my shirt and cock back the lever. One of the guys on the floor moans quietly, a wet spot on his pants forming.

Aiming the gun at Michael, I warn, “Do not lie to me again. Who are the guys you are dealing with and how do I find them? They have taken Aaliyah. Who are they?”

Michael gulps loudly then says, “Seventy-sixth Cutters. They the local H dealers.”

“Why did they come after you Michael?”

“Be…Because…” he looks around himself, at the guys on the floor, and his mouth shuts.

I walk over to Michael and put a bullet into the couch cushion beside him. “Did I say you could stop talking Michael? All of it, right now. The truth. You stop talking again and I put a bullet in your stomach. That’s a long, painful death.
Choose
.”

“I owe them ‘bout fifty-thousand dollars. I was supposed to sell a bunch of heroin for ‘em, but the cops caught me and I snitched. Police want me to be a mole or some shit for ‘em.” He’s looking around the room. The guys sitting on the floor are all staring at him with jaws dropped and mouths open.

“What’s this have to do with Aaliyah?” I ask. “Why come for her?”

“Because I been hidin’ out, didn’t want to go near them. One of the big guys with them know me and know Aaliyah from school… So I bet he went for her to get me.”

“And since you’re a snitching little bitch he has to get to you through your family. But doesn’t know you have been written off by Aaliyah, so now she is in danger or worse. Mina could have been hurt or worse. The only two people in my world I care for, I would do anything for…”

He just stares at me, and I stare at him for a long moment. I look at the guys sitting on the floor and say, “Ya’ll welcome to help me rescue my girl. If not, get the fuck out.”

Not a single one of them stays. Like I said, fucking pussies.

I watch the guys leave and look back to Michael. “Your boys don’t look too loyal to you, or happy either.”

He mutters something but I let it go. He’s the same as them, a little pussy bitch.

“Okay, I need to get ahold of the Seventy-what-the-fuck-evers... How would I go about that?”

“You gotta call Tin-Tin. He the guy we know.”

“Number?”

He pulls up his phone from his pocket but I snatch it out of his hands as soon as he locates the number.

Turning my back to him, I start out of the apartment. I ask him as I get to the door, “You coming?”

He looks down to his lap and doesn’t say a fucking word.

I
used
to spend my days fucking around when I was between jobs—women, booze and late nights were my specialty. Shit, even during jobs I would fuck around if I could get away with it. There isn’t one person from my past, except for my best friend Lucky, who would believe that I have settled down to be family with Aaliyah and Mina. Shit, when I told her I think of Mina as mine I was absolutely honest with her. We’ve been together a couple of weeks and I think of her as my own. Color don’t mean shit to me, never has and never will. Neither does blood. Didn’t matter with Lucky either. We may have been raised by different parents but he was still my brother.

I have been catting around since I could sneak out of my house. I mean it too; I was chasing after girls from puberty onwards. Drinking isn’t foreign to me either, been doing that off and on since I could sneak a can from the fridge. Never did drugs, that shit’s for the fucking birds. I don’t think Aaliyah really notices I quit smoking because I didn’t do it around her. But those past vices have gone somewhere ever since I got to Cincinnati. I haven’t even thought about them since I met Aaliyah and Mina. For my girls I have stopped those things without even thinking about it.

Only reason I have even thought about needing a smoke is because I am trying to work a miracle. I’m sitting in a blacked out BMW, about ten miles from where Aaliyah is being held.

“Frank, I don’t give a fuck where the fucking armored car is. I want it right fucking now.”

“Seamus, I can’t get one just that quickly,” he says to me in an earnest voice.

“Frank, I don’t give a shit if you have to go on a fucking heist for one. I want it now.”

“Seamus, four hours is the…” he says back.

“Cancel the favor, plus all the money you gave me.”

There is absolute silence on the phone. “Christ, Seamus, what the hell are you getting yourself into?”

“Someone took my girl,” I say, my voice faintly cracking. Right now I have no clue what they are doing, but I know it isn’t good. I don’t care if I die saving her, but right now I don’t see us getting out easily. Not without her getting hurt. I don’t want to die, but for her and Mina, my life is useless without them.

“I’ll call you back,” he says and disconnects.

“Motherfucker!” I yell as I forcefully restrain myself from braking the phone up.

It’s been three hours since Aaliyah was taken and I’ve barely been able to control the rage in my body. I am not a calm man when it comes to these kinds of emotions. But right now I know that going berserk will only get Aaliyah hurt or worse.

Fucking god damn!

My phone vibrates in my lap about an hour later. Picking it up and swiping it open I say, “Frank.”

“What is your current location?” he asks.

Telling him the cross-street I am at, I ask, “How soon?”

“One hour, full tactical load out. Do you need soldiers?” he asks, and it’s like fucking sweet music to my ears.

“No, on the soldiers. I need all the gear. Vest for me and another. I’m going to possibly need a doctor at the end of this too.”

“Got it, I’ll get one moving for you. Total cost is a million point five.”

“Fuck me… Who’s soul did you sell to get this done?” I ask wondering but truthfully it could be mine for all I care. Aaliyah is what matters now.

“Seamus, my boy, if you only knew,” he laughs out loud and I get a weird feeling about it.

“Shit,” I say.

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah, about that…” I say and give him a shopping list of shit I will be needing as soon as I am done with getting my girl back.

A
dull black
colored armored vehicle pulls up behind me. The driver is an old friend. She hops down, out of the truck.

I climb out of the BMW quickly and say, “Doc! Good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Rose says as she motions me to the truck. It’s the middle of day but since time is of the essence I don’t really care about the whole being sneaky shit.

“Hop in,” she says.

Climbing up into the truck, she holds her hands out. “Give me the keys to the car. How hot is it?”

She’s asking how recently have I stolen it.

“Pretty hot,” I say.

“Got it.” She starts walking to the car. Over her shoulder she tells me, “Call Frank soon as you’re done. I will come get you in a safe car.”

Nodding my head, “Tell Frank I need a safe house too.”

She nods and gets into the vehicle. Pulling away quickly, she is gone before I really notice.

I peek into the back of the vehicle and smile. Yeah, Frank knows my full tactical setup for something like this. I climb into the back and strap myself into a bulletproof vest before loading out the ammo clips into the AR-15 fully automatic rifles.

I hop into the front seat and shift it into drive. This fucking thing is heavy and sluggish but is built like a fucking vault on wheels.

I
don’t even get
looks from those I drive by or any of the cop cars I pass. I mean from the outside this thing looks like any other armored car except it doesn’t have a single emblem on it.

The first time any eyes are raised a bit is when I start driving it into the slums. Shit like what I am driving doesn’t come through here. The closer I get towards the apartment where Aaliyah is, people are no longer merely curious, they’re moving quickly away from the roads. They probably figure I am SWAT. That’s good because I want people avoiding the place I am at.

Idling the car across the way from the apartment building, I watch the guys up on the second floor balcony, and two men on the roof, take notice of me. I give ‘em a little wave as I shift the car into first gear. I know it’s going to play hell on the engine but I need it to get to speed nice and fast.

Holding down the gas pedal, I don’t bother using the break as I jump the vehicle over the curb and then through the more dirt than grass front lawn of the building. Good thing I put on my seat belt. I get slammed forward as I fly right through the front left apartment porch window and frame.

I will say this about the old brick building I drive into; it’s made of some sturdy shit. Not sturdy enough to stop me from making it about four feet into the living room. But pretty good stoppage, none the less.

I see four guys sprawled out around the vehicle as I push the door open and hop out. Immediately, I hear two rounds hitting the back of the armored car. Guess they aren’t surprised anymore. Each guy in the living room earns two taps to the chest and one to the head from the rifle. Dead and dead is good for me.

I hear Aaliyah’s garbled cry out, “Seamus…” from the rooms beyond the living room. I want to go there but I feel more than hear a bullet whiz by my ear.

Dropping and spinning around, I put two bullets into the stomach of a guy whose pants are way below his hips. He drops to the ground and as soon as I see his face I put another bullet right through his eye.

More bullets hit the back of the vehicle on the other side, and as I check under I see a couple of legs standing about fifty feet from it. Shooting at their calves and ankles, two drop, and another one takes flight away from the bullets and death. I put a few bullets into the fallen torsos of the guys and then turn back for Aaliyah.

I am death right now, fuck any who get in my way of Aaliyah.

Moving slowly towards the bedroom, a male voice yells out, “Who the fuck out there?”

Not answering, I grab a baseball cap from a dead body and toss it into the room at about head height. Five wild shots ring out form the room and as soon as they finish I yell, “Aaliyah, be right there baby.”

“I’m going to kill this bitch, man! You come in here and drop your piece!”

Fuck that. I come to the edge of the room and walk right in. I lift my AR-15 to my shoulder. Aaliyah is looking bad. Blood is all over her face and I swear most of it is so swollen I can barely see my baby. I look into her eyes instead of his and say quietly, “Stay still, baby.”

He shifts his hand on the gun as he starts to talk, “Who the…”

Don’t know who he is, and I don’t care. I pull the trigger of the rifle and it puts a near perfect through the hand holding his gun. I watch as the gun drops out of his hand and falls to the floor. Fucker would have been smarter to have held his finger on the trigger. He lets go of Aaliyah as the pain races through his body. He is feeling all those painful little nerves light up in misery.

Quickly moving to her side, I sit her back down into what must have been her torture chair.
The fucker tortured her.

Movement outside the room draws my attention as a guy tries to get a view of what is happening in the room. I shoot him through the throat.

I look back to the guy sitting on the bed, howling in pain. He ain’t dead yet. That’s not good for him.

Walking over, I put a bullet straight through his foot. I don’t think he registers what happened for a few seconds, then the screaming intensifies. A bullet through the elbow of the arm that’s holding down onto his foot stops him cold. I think he passes out but I don’t give a fuck. This piece of shit hurt my girl, my woman. I don’t give a fuck about Michael or his deals or being a piece of shit, cunt ass pussy motherfucker.

Walking over to him, I place the extremely hot barrel of the rifle against his cheek and watch as it sizzles. He wakes, quickly screaming, his bad hand slapping up to touch his cheek. It’s funny to see his reaction when that causes even more pain.

A bullet through his balls comes next, his eyes rolling back in his head follows that. I debate leaving him there like that. He will be the nutless gang boy. No, this piece of shit hurt my woman. Mine, no one else’s. His string to Aaliyah needs to be cut. I don’t give a fuck if they hunt Michael down and kill him, he is a lost cause. He will never be able to give them any information to where we are going to be.

I place the barrel against Tin-Tin’s forehead. His eyes are slowly opening as I smile at him and pull the trigger. Turning from him, I lift Aaliyah up in my arms and make sure I can still shoot my rifle that is under her legs.