Hood Misfits 3 Read online

  “We got ten minutes to wait on the south line to the MARTA Airport Station and we’re home free,” Enzo told me.

  He pulled me to sit down next to him on an empty bench. My heart was still racing, palms sweaty and feet hurting as we sat in silence. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help back there,” I said to him after a while.

  He quickly glanced at me. “You did enough. You ain’t a fighter or a killer so I don’t expect you to be. You did enough.” He said that then looked back down at his hands as he flexed them. The muscles and veins in his arms were thick and reminded me of steel cables as his skin rolled over them.

  “I . . . I don’t have anywhere to stay. I can’t go back to the hotel,” I said. I was scared that he would just dump me on the side of the road somewhere when we got back to our side of town. There would be no way I could go back to that hotel. Before taking Drew back home, I’d asked for a refund and they gave me a partial one because of some bullshit policy. All the money I had stashed and saved Micah or his goons had stolen it when they left the room. I had nothing.

  Enzo looked over at me and I could tell he wasn’t all there. Ever since I had asked him about his first kill, he’d had that look in his eyes. “You’re lucky my tía told me to look out for you. Otherwise I wouldn’t give a fuck where you laid your head. I know you were drugged, but you helped violate my brother nonetheless,” he spat out.

  I folded my arms a little upset that he wasn’t going to cut me any slack. “You ain’t ever done some shit you were forced to do, but regretted it? You ain’t ever wish you can take some shit back? You ain’t ever hated yourself when you looked in the mirror because even though your hands were forced you still did some shit you ain’t proud of?”

  His upper lip twitched as he glared at me. I could see the muscles in his square jaw line flinch in annoyance. But he didn’t answer me.

  All he said was, “Come on, train’s here. We gotta go.”

  Chapter 8

  Enzo

  Angel’s words played on repeat in my mind. Ma was right in what she had hit me with; I had done something that to this day ate at me. I had done all in the name of a nigga who made his life goal to terrorize Atlanta. I glanced at my hands as I sat in thought. Sometimes I dreamed in blood. I saw the streets covered in it, with that nigga’s face staring back at me. He put me in hell, so when he died, my life was officially good. Now with Micah acting on bullshit from my past, orders by a nigga whose voice was speaking beyond the grave bothered me deeply.

  A soft cough had me glancing at Angel as she sat beside me. We were the children forced into a world we really didn’t want to be in. Our environment was still shaping us and that shit was bloody. The sound of Pac and vibration in my pocket alerted me that a text had come through on my cell. Snatching it out of my pocket, I glanced down and saw it was a message from my aunt telling me that she had left the condo with Drew. Nervousness quickly etched its way up my spine and made me scratch the back of my neck. During the time back at the house, after she had cleaned up Angel and after I’d helped her back into her room, she had sat me down and handed me a bag that had more money than I originally had when squatting in Dame’s condo.

  Also in it was a letter written by a dude I had always admired. One who was not only my buddy on the football field but also one who had helped train me in the streets as I was initiated into Dame’s world. My hands shook as I read Jake’s words realizing he wasn’t as dead as I had thought he was. The fact that he and the crew had made it out gave me pride. I read his words while my tía explained to me that he and the other misfits were watching out for us, that they had our back if we ever needed it.

  Now, I was looking down at her text as the acronym E.N.G.A. stared back at me. My aunt was using the cell given to her and I knew their safety wasn’t something I had to worry about. In that moment, I had to watch out for a chick I used to be hired to protect, one I had to respect was pushed into a situation against her will. Did I like it? No, but I had to respect it because one day, my time would be coming when I had to trust in someone too.

  Running a hand down my face, I glanced up to see our stop. “This is us, come on.”

  I held my hand out for her to grab. When she didn’t take it, my head swiftly turned, giving her a curt glare. Angel sat in shock staring at her hand as if it held the answers to all the madness we had going on. I may have cared some but we had other shit to deal with, so I scooped her up and threw her over my shoulder, walking out of the train and finding my way to my ride. My grip held her tight as she bounced on my shoulder. I could hear her finally coming back to reality as she squirmed.

  “You finally with the living mama?”

  “Stop being an asshole and put me down,” she squealed.

  My face contorted in a frown and I snapped open my door, threw her in the passenger seat, and caged her in while stooping down to look at her. “Stop drawing attention first off. You already got me looking crazy with carrying you, so relax. We’ll be at my spot and you can lay your head down, relax, do whatever, since you staying with me now, a’ight?”

  I could see relief in her eyes in that moment, a flicker of thanks. I gave a grunt closing the door and walking to my side of the car. Chicks.

  We made it to my crib, tired and hungry. I locked down my door and peeled off my cap, tossing it on the couch while snatching up the television remote. “I want to check to see we weren’t spotted on some cameras or some shit, looking shifty. Every time they see a dude in a baseball cap, they know to go after them,” I explained as I stood wide-legged with my arms crossed, watching the massive flat screen before me.

  Angel stood watching me, not moving from where she waited near the door with her arms crossed around her. My bag of items I had was at her feet. I moved to grab it while being relieved that we weren’t caught on camera or considered suspects in the shooting at Micah’s.

  Pointing, I wrapped my hand around my mouth as I dictated to Angel what to do with herself all while watching the TV. “Your bag is behind the couch. You can sleep and make my aunt’s room yours. All her stuff is cleared out and she has her own bathroom, too. We got some food in the fridge if you’re hungry. Towels and whatever are in the wall closet behind the huge Basquiat painting; just push the frame to the side and it’s there.”

  I listened to her move around me and I quietly turned off the TV after looking through all the news broadcasts. Heading into the kitchen, I made a couple of sandwiches, set her out one, and then walked into my room closing the door. My mind was still processing everything that happened by the time I got into the shower. Scalding hot water, just how I enjoyed it, ran down my back as I pressed my hand against the Italian marble wall of my shower.

  My eyes closed for a second before I turned and pulled out a gun that had been resting in a compartment in the shower. I aimed it at the person before me. “What?”

  Angel stood gaping, and wide-eyed. Her usual soft brown eyes were now a hazel brown I had never noticed before. The steam of my shower made the oversized simple T-shirt she had on lightly cling to the curves of her body. I could see she was wearing what appeared to be lilac bikini underwear.

  I glared hard at her as she gawked. She probably did that shit on purpose, just to see me for whatever reason. My hand reached out to turn the shower off and I snatched a towel to wrap it around me. It was then that I saw her hands fly up to her mouth and she stumbled back to the door.

  “I didn’t mean . . . was knocking to tell you there is someone at the door . . . didn’t realize until . . . Yeah, my bad,” she stammered while turning around and rushing out of the bathroom.

  A sigh escaped my lips. I stepped out of the huge steam shower, grabbed another towel to dry my wet hair, and I tucked my Glock near the small of my back causing my towel to hang low. Brushing past Angel, I moved to my walk-in closet, changed into my Nightwings sweatpants, and a white beater. I headed to the front room, clutching my Glock behind my back.

  Pointing toward the table, I glanced a
t Angel who was still gawking at me with something akin to curiosity in her eyes. Her eyes trailed up and down my body, then stopped at my dick. Normally I would have found that shit amusing, but considering everything that had gone down, I wasn’t sure what feeling I had. I figured she was tripping off the fact that I had a piercing on my dick and on the lines on my pelvis. I didn’t really care what she thought about it. For me, I was into what little pain I could give myself without literally harming myself. The little bit of ink I had and the piercings I sported was enough for me right now. Each piercing and ink I had represented the shit I went through in my life that I almost didn’t make it out of, so I was cool with what I had for now. If that scared Angel, then it wasn’t my problem.

  “Hey, hit the camera button on the remote and point it at the TV, ma,” I snapped.

  Angel was still in a daze before she jumped and did what I said. She paid little attention to the TV as her eyes were still scaling my body. I turned and saw it was a group of people who were thought to be ghosts. I quickly opened the door and stepped back in awe, watching my old crew walk in as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

  The loud thud of the remote hitting the floor made me turn to look at Angel. She stood flabbergasted. Tears rimmed her eyes as she opened and closed her mouth trying to talk. “You . . . Trigga . . . Jake . . . Gina!”

  Quickly closing the door, every cloaked person around us dropped his or her hoods. I saw Angel rush forward to wrap her arms around Kelly Rowland’s twin, Baby G. A smile spread across my face when I saw the back of a nigga whose name had become synonymous with legend in the street, Trigga. He stood checking the crib as if looking for something. When he didn’t see it, he turned his braided, loc’d head and tilted his head up in greeting. I returned the nod, and then locked eyes on that nigga who trained me, Big Jake. He stood intently watching me. The pit of my stomach quickly knotted as I studied his posture.

  Licking my lips, I looked around at everyone who was here.

  I almost jumped when Angel squealed, “Ray-Ray!”

  Shit had become a huge yack fest as the females started talking it up. I noticed two new faces, a young girl who kind of had some of Trigga’s aspects in her, and a light, bright, kinda biracial-looking cat, with tats that covered his neck and a set of interweaved braids that fell into long braids over his shoulder. Curiosity had me wondering what was going on when another knock sounded at the door.

  “You’re gonna want to let them in, homie,” Jake suggested.

  I quirked an eyebrow, reached out, and opened the door. Two hooded people walked in. It wasn’t until I looked down by happenstance that I saw it was actually three, the little hoodie person was sporting a pink and purple backpack with matching shoes. I watched the shorty make a beeline toward Trigga. The little kid looked up to say something in code to him, code I learned from the both of them. Trigga muttered low then tilted his head back behind him. It was then that the kid slipped behind him and moved to plop down on my couch.

  I stepped back to lock the door, glancing around at the group before shaking my head. “What up, strangers?”

  Low laughter from the fellas made my shoulders relax the tension within. My eyes darted back and forth before stopping on the face of a beauty I had only been privy to seeing a couple of times since working with Dame. Before me was the African Queen. Her head was a crown of twisted braids. Her lips covered in purple gloss and her charcoal-lined almond-shaped eyes kept my attention before I realized I was staring too hard.

  Reaching to rub the back of my neck, my head shook again in confusion. “The African Queen? The Misfits? Damn, to what do I owe the occasion?”

  The African Queen stepped forward, her arms stretched out in welcome. Out of respect, I went to her and hugged a woman I knew could kill me without blinking. She leaned back some assessing me, as if memorizing my features, before she gave a slight nod and a disappearing, knowing smile.

  “Your aunt is resting well with your brother. She’s starting a new regime of medicines that I know will get her cleansed out so she can truly heal and not be poisoned by these Western medicines.”

  I honestly did not know what else to say other than, “Thank you.”

  My eyes traveled over her head toward everyone that watched me. Dumbstruck was an understatement through it all. Anika had been one of the only females in the game to run with the big dogs when Dame had been alive. She was also the only person alive who could check Dame and make him back down. To see her with the Misfits made me question all I thought I knew.

  A soft brush on my cheek had my attention focusing back on the African Queen as she cupped my jaw then stepped back.

  That was when Trigga crossed his arms, watching me as if he knew some secret too, and nodded. “Jake, man, it’s all you.”

  My eyebrow quirked and I stepped forward to talk. “Jake, man, thank—”

  Before I could finish the front of his fist made contact with my face. I stumbled backward, almost slipping because I was barefoot. Instinct quickly had me squaring off. No motherfucker was about to come at me without letting me know what the play was. Not even one I had the utmost respect for.

  I inhaled deeply, curved my back, and sent my fist bowing upward to connect to the underside of Jake’s bearded chin. His loud grunt sounded the air.

  I heard Angel yell, “What the fuck is going on?”

  I didn’t get to focus on that because I was quickly being charged by a wooly mammoth motherfucker who sent me backward yet again, but this time crashing into the glass table that once was Dame’s. My teeth ground and I started fighting back, punching each fist into his ribcages and anger that had been put on check from earlier that day suddenly cracked up like Pandora’s box and I saw nothing but red. My hits landed harder, and I moved to push that dude off me as he sent beefy pounds into my face. Playing dirty was suddenly my thing when I pressed into his old gunshot wound. I knew if I pushed hard enough I could send a spasm of pain in him that would have him pushing off me, which it did.

  He barked out a yell. “So it’s like that, nigga? Don’t fucking act like you don’t know what this shit is about. Ain’t take long at all for me to learn truths after killing those niggas. Dame was a talker too, motherfucka!”

  It was then that I realized what he was talking about. I held a piece of broken glass in my hand. Cuts lined up my back, chest, arms, and sides due to not having a shirt on. His words hit me on rewind and the red I saw disappeared quickly as I came through.

  Dropping on my knees, I bowed my head and laid the piece of glass I had down before me, pushing it his way. “I ain’t have a choice in it. Take your bounty, homie. Just know I ain’t have a choice and I’m sorry, brah.”

  Silence hit me. The cold press of steel instead of glass was my reply and I sat and waited until the slam of a fist, then a kick in my side hit me back in reality.

  “Nigga, your bounty is mine and vice versa, ya heard me? That shit was done to make us kill each other in the end. You know that nigga had a bullet out for you anyway for being good in the game. Ain’t no way I’ll take you out like that; you my fam and no matter how bad I want to defend my gram . . .” Jake’s voice broke off.

  I glanced up through the blood that ran in my eyes to see him looking over at Trigga for a moment before kneeling down to offer his hand.

  “She was your gram too, and I learned awhile ago that I can’t kill a nigga who was my own brother, who was thrown in the same pit of lions as I was. After everything I went through with Cain and Abel, me and you are even on this. Just tell me, did you give her respect with it?”

  I knew the Cain and Abel reference meant he was talking about Dame and his demented twin, Dante. Thinking back on that day was something I had dreams of since it going down. Willingly thinking on it though was something I never wanted to do, but for Jake I had to. I slowly stood up and squeezed the hand that was locked on to me. “Yeah, man. I told Dame one thing, but yeah. I placed a pillow over her head and let her go out. Then I shot her, jus
t to give Dame something to drool on. I’m sorry, man.”

  My hands began to tremble as I thought back on it. Dame knew I could get into Jake’s house with ease. I broke in the back way using a key I had, and quietly walked into her room where she slept. It took me hours to work up the nerve to take her out. I sat watching her, remembering the church songs she’d sing to us on Sunday mornings when she’d fix us grits, scrambled eggs, salmon patties, and pancakes. Tía always called her a guardian angel and that was what she was for me too. I laid the pillow over her head, and then held her hand as she struggled. I could tell how she held me that she knew it was me. She simply patted my hand then went off into the light. I later told Dame that I sliced her throat then shot her in the head.

  Jake’s voice pulled me back into reality. His hand reached out and pulled me into a brotherly hug before letting me go. “We all got our demons. Me and you are good.”

  Glass crunching under a pair of boots made me look to see the African Queen standing between us and pointing for us to go sit. Something about her ways reminded me of my tía, especially with how she was looking up at me with a look of authority in her eyes. I didn’t hesitate to move. I walked through the crowd of people sitting down next to the kid who had earlier been speaking to Trigga.

  A kooky laugh that sounded like the Joker had me ready to grab my Glock.

  There was a sinister yet playful quality to it. “Ah ha! Ya wanksta trashed that dope table, bruv, and still ya both fucked each other up! It’s a draw all ya ducats are mine, pay up.”

  Grumbles sounded all around us as everyone dug into their pockets. The kid next to me gave a huff and bounced up unzipping his or her book bag. “You cheated and that shit ain’t cool, Speedy!”

  That laughter sounded and the one with the two ponytails bent down and gave a smirk. His voice was thick with a British accent. “No, doll face, the dealer always bets on both sides, especially when you dealing with dudes like those two. Don’t hate me, love me. Here, keep a dolla ’cause I hate to see ya salty. Ha!”