A Gangster and a Gentleman Read online

  Blake wasn’t so quick to follow, but eventually she caught up.

  When they reached the top of the staircase, something shattered against the floor downstairs.

  Blake gasped, and at his stern look, she slapped a hand over her mouth. But had the damage been done?

  They remained as still as statues as they strained their ears to pick up the tiniest of sounds. Finally they hear, “Muthafucka, look where the hell you’re going,” a man’s voice reprimanded.

  “Sorry, Omar. Damn.”

  Omar? Talk about a muthafuckin’ sucker punch. Every ounce of air fled his lungs. Somehow he shook off the shock.

  Blake leaned over and whispered in his ear, “There’s a hidden staircase in the upstairs study.”

  Eli perked at the news and then allowed her to lead the way. It was perfect because if they went down the main staircase, it would be too easy to pick them off. They made it to the study without incident. Blake pulled open a bookcase that revealed an iron staircase.

  He gave her a questioning look asking why she hadn’t shown this hidden treasure before. Her answer was a shrug. After that, they rushed down the staircase as quietly as they could. At the bottom, the door slid open in the living room—right behind three men cloaked in black.

  Without hesitation, Eli aimed at the man pulling up the rear and fired. The nigga’s head exploded like a watermelon. Then all hell broke loose.

  More muthafuckas rushed in from the French doors, and suddenly bullets were being sprayed everywhere.

  Blake and Eli spilled into the room, taking cover and returning fire. Any doubts he had about baby girl holding her own went out the window. She picked off one nigga like a sharpshooter taking wings off a fly and consequently saved his ass while he concentrated on another nigga. He counted three more muthafuckas rushing into the house and wondered if a whole army had surrounded the place.

  Between the lightning and the gunfire, Eli’s heart hammered. Concentrate. He redoubled his efforts to block out the loud thunderstorm, but to his horror he noticed a tremor in his gun hand.

  Still shooting, he was ever mindful that this clip was about to run out of bullets.

  One bold nigga sprang over the couch and grabbed Blake, knocking the gun from her hand. Her scream pierced the night.

  He swung his piece around in time to see the nigga jam the barrel of his gun up against her right temple.

  Eli’s whole fuckin’ world stopped.

  “Let me go, muthafucka!” Blake yelled, kicking and screaming.

  Suddenly, he was that scared eight-year-old, afraid of what was about to come next.

  The terror in Blake’s eyes destroyed him. He leveled his gun on the nigga holding her hostage, but any thought of pulling the trigger was erased when something hard whacked him on the back of the head and pitched him into darkness.

  15

  My God, he’s not moving!

  Blake was no longer concerned about her own welfare, though she should have been since the rope was cutting into her skin. With a rag stuffed halfway down her throat, her screams were reduced to muted moans. She was only aware of the tears streaming down her face because her vision was blurred and she could hardly make out shit.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t be worried about him,” a voice said, stepping out of the darkness. In one hand, he held a machete and in the other hand a gun. “You’re the one who’s not going to see the next sunrise.”

  Hatred like she had never known raged through her veins. She tried to break free. What Blake wouldn’t give to be able to scratch this smug bastard’s eyes out. Strolling up in her house, dressed head to toe in white like his ass was headed to a P. Diddy party.

  Across from her, two goons finished tying Elijah down into a chair and then proceeded to smack him in the face until he finally awoke.

  “Wake up, muthafucka,” the man who was clearly the leader said in a thick island accent. Haitian?

  Eli groaned a couple of times, but then his eyes snapped open and immediately took in their new fucked-up situation.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  The thunder was still doing a number outside, giving this whole scene an even more ominous feel.

  Blake didn’t know what was about to happen next. Her heart refused to acknowledge what her brain screamed was to be the end.

  When Elijah’s gaze zoomed over her, she experienced a ripple of relief. Then dread coursed up her spine and rendered her numb.

  “You muthafucka!” Elijah jerked and screamed.

  “It’s no use,” another man said, moving to stand next to the brother in white.

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Omar, I can’t believe that you jumped ship. Where the fuck is your loyalty?”

  Omar’s thick rubber-band lips widened until they reached each ear. “Don’t start with that bullshit. I’m about my muthafuckin’ paper. I’m backin’ the strongest gorilla in the jungle. Mafia Don’s reign is a wrap. I know it. He knows it. And every nigga on the street knows it. Besides, the muthafucka is a snitch. His ass cut a deal with the feds and gave up Whitlock, Bell, and Graham. It was the only way his ass walked on those charges. If you weren’t so blinded by his bullshit, you’d see the truth too.”

  Eli bucked against his ropes. He’d love nothing more than to get Omar’s oily neck between his fingers.

  “It’s time for new management. Time to jump on the train or get run the fuck over. You should listen to my man Midnight here.”

  Your man? Elijah’s gut twisted.

  As if stepping out of his nightmare, Midnight, dressed head to toe in white, stepped forward just as another clap of thunder boomed and the house lit up.

  Elijah tensed as his past and present collided in the Twilight Zone.

  “So . . . we meet again, Elijah.”

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Midnight’s sinister face had gotten uglier over time. “I have to admit that I kept my eyes on you throughout the years. Impressive. Mafia Don has turned you into quite the soldier. Although a misguided one.”

  Eli’s gaze narrowed. “You killed my family.”

  Blake watched the whole scene with bulging eyes.

  Smiling, Midnight didn’t even flinch at the charge. “I’ve killed a lot of people. It’s all in a day’s work. You know a little something about that, don’t you?”

  Elijah rocketed to his feet at a right angle and charged. However, he didn’t get more than a couple of feet before Midnight’s goons tackled him back and delivered a few hard blows across his chiseled jaw for his effort.

  With each right and left hook, Blake jumped in her chair and screamed for them to stop. It was useless.

  When the men stepped back, Elijah’s expression was as hard and mean as ever. Twin streams of blood flowed from the corners of his mouth.

  Midnight continued. “I’m here to offer you not only the chance to join my team, but also give you the gift of clarity.”

  “Keep your damn gifts,” Eli barked. “Just let her go.”

  Omar shook his head while his new boss tsked under his breath. “Now, you know that I can’t do that. She’s the don’s daughter,” Midnight said.

  “She doesn’t have anything to do with this street war. You know that, Midnight.”

  Blake swallowed. Her gaze raked her future murderer. Besides being ugly as fuck, he didn’t look half as intimidating as her man. Her man? When in the hell did she start thinking of Elijah as her man?

  “Rules are rules,” Midnight said nonchalantly.

  “I thought you made your own rules,” Eli challenged.

  Midnight cocked his head and then glanced back at Blake.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  The quick flash of light gave Blake a better view of Midnight’s sinister face. The man wasn’t just ugly—he was pure evil.

  “Let me guess,” Midnight said. “The don’s old faithful soldier here is fucking his daughter.” Midnight laughed. “Classic.”

  Omar joined in. “Looks like you’re in no position to preach t
o nobody about loyalty.”

  Midnight studied Eli. “Well, I can’t say that I blame you. Mafia Don and his old hooker girlfriend made quite a little princess here.” He strolled over to Blake and ran his fingers down the side of her face. “Hell, I wouldn’t mind having a go with her before putting a bullet in the center of her pretty head.”

  Blake jumped and twisted away, but the evil muthafucka laugh.

  “Yeah. I bet she’s a fuckin’ pistol on her back.”

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “Leave her alone,” Elijah warned.

  Midnight turned and faced him. “Or what?”

  “Or I’ll kill you,” Elijah said evenly.

  If he hadn’t been tied down to that chair at the moment, then maybe everyone would’ve believed him. As it was, Midnight threw his head back yet again and laughed. “Now that’s a magic trick I wouldn’t mind seeing.” Still, he lowered his hand from Blake’s face and moved back over to Eli. “Back to my offer. I’m sorry that you have only a couple of minutes to think this over. Situation couldn’t have been helped, you understand?”

  Elijah glared.

  “Join me,” Midnight said flatly. “I can use a man like you in my organization. Smart, resourceful, and, most of all, powerful. A lot of niggas on Mafia Don’s crew would come over if they knew that you switched teams.”

  “You must be snorting your own product if you think that I would ever work for you.”

  “Now, now. Wait a second. You might want to think this shit over a little bit. I mean, after all, I don’t see the difference between you working for the man who carried out an order versus the man who made the order in the first place.”

  That statement confused Elijah and Blake.

  “Awww.” Midnight waved a finger. “The truth will set you free. Besides,” Midnight shrugged, “I’m better than your current alternative.”

  “And what’s that?” Eli asked.

  “You die.” Midnight shrugged. “Wouldn’t you rather be in the game instead of buried six feet beneath it?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “You’re hurt.” Midnight nodded. “I can understand that. Truly. But if you think about it, I’m offering a great opportunity here.”

  The men stared each other down.

  “Not convinced. All right. I have to admit, I would’ve been disappointed if you switched sides that easily.” He walked up behind Omar. “You’re not like your friend here—he just follows the money. You got to wonder if a nigga like that could ever truly have your back.”

  Omar frowned.

  “I mean, who’s to say that the second another nigga offered his ass fifty cents more than you’re paying him that he won’t look for a soft spot to plunge his knife into your back.”

  “Heeeey!”

  Before Omar could turn around, Midnight swung the machete and with one fell swoop lopped Omar’s head clean off.

  Blake screamed with everything she had as blood shot everywhere.

  Midnight and his one lone goon stood over Omar’s headless body. “Silly rabbit. Tricks are for kids.”

  Elijah forced himself not to react.

  Midnight smiled as he returned his attention to Eli. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Hardwick, your loyalties lie in the fact that you think Mafia Don saved your life.”

  “He did save me,” Eli said evenly.

  Midnight’s laughter deepened. “You know, I didn’t start off in this business a self-made man. Like you, I had someone who taught me the ropes. I went from a lookout boy to locking down corners to becoming a true soldier—just like you.”

  “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Oh, we’re more alike than you’ll ever know. My teacher was a man named Killa E—a strong militant muthafucka who became a threat to the very man he pledged his life to serve.”

  Elijah’s face changed up.

  “Then one day, Killa E’s boss realized that his men were more loyal to his second in command than to him. Some real Caesar and Brutus shit. You get where I’m going with this?”

  Elijah shook his head. “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” Midnight cocked his head. “Why would I do that?”

  At the next flash of lightning, Blake swore she saw tears glistening in Elijah’s eyes.

  “Now where was I? Oh yeah. What was the big boss supposed to do? If he killed his beloved right-hand man, he risked a mutiny among his street soldiers. But”—Midnight waved a finger in front of Elijah’s face—“if the don set it up to look like a rival crew ordered the blackout, he could throw off suspicion. And who better to use than someone Killa E trained personally?”

  Midnight pressed a hand against his chest. “Now, I’ll admit that I’ve always been an ambitious muthafucka, so when the opportunity to leapfrog over the number-two man presented itself, I jumped at the chance. Only that wormy muthafucka double-crossed my ass, too, and put it in the streets that I acted alone. Niggas chased me out of my own hometown. Headed back to my mother’s native home for a while until I was able to get back into the game on my own terms. You feel me? I made my own connections, raised my own army, and now I won’t rest until Mafia Don is dethroned. As far as Mafia Don saving your scrawny ass, all I can think is that the muthafucka has a sick sense of humor.”

  Blake couldn’t tell whether Elijah was buying the man’s story, but the shit sounded exactly like the kind of games her mother warned her that her father loved to play.

  After a long silence, Elijah shook his head again. “You’re lying.”

  “Deep down, you know I’m telling you the truth.”

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “He wouldn’t. He couldn’t . . .”

  Midnight glanced at his watch as if Eli’s struggle bored him. “So what do you say? You want to help me knock that conniving muthafucka off his throne?”

  The truth had finally come home to roost.

  “Even if I believed you,” Eli said, shaking his head, “there’s still no way I could work for you. Ever.”

  BOOM! BOOM!

  “Too bad.” Midnight swung his gun toward Blake and fired.

  16

  “No!”

  “Blake and the chair she was sitting on flew backward.

  With Hulk-like strength, Elijah tore out of his ropes and charged Midnight like a Mack truck. He was so fast that Midnight didn’t have the chance to turn back around and fire. His side nigga squeezed off a couple of rounds. One missed. The other one nailed his shoulder.

  It was no more than a bee sting.

  He jabbed an elbow into Midnight’s fat lips and snatched his gat. He took another bee sting a couple inches beneath the other one. Eli returned fire and a hole opened up between the nigga’s eyes before he dropped like a stone on top of the headless Omar.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Eli turned his wrath on Midnight and met the man’s sinister glare with one of his own. Instead of shoving the nigga’s gat down his throat, he tossed it aside but reached for the dropped machete inches to his right.

  Midnight attempted to scramble up, but given Elijah’s mountainous size, it was a futile effort.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  The flashing lights illuminated the twenty-five-inch blade.

  Fear registered in the Haitian’s black eyes, but he thrust up his chin to meet his fate with defiance. “Do it,” he ordered as if it was a dare.

  “With pleasure,” Eli growled, and then relieved the gangster of his head. But once he started swinging, he couldn’t stop. Like an enraged butcher, he hacked off every body part he could until he was covered in the man’s warm blood.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  More lightning flashed, allowing him to see the entire carnage in the house. Across the room, he saw eight-year-old Easy, smiling. Slowly, the image faded and the house fell silent. Elijah knew from that moment on that he would never fear another storm.

  Rising to his feet, he turned toward Blake. Not sure whether he was walking or floating, Eli snatched the ropes from around her and pulled her limp body into his arms. She
looked like a broken mannequin that he didn’t know how to put back together again. How was it that he could always take out the meanest gangsta patrolling the street but fail to protect the ones he loved?

  “Blake, baby. I’m so sorry.” He brushed her bloody hair back and stared down at her angelic face. Before Eli knew it, he was crying and praying for her green eyes to open. But he doubted that God even knew who he was.

  Two weeks later, Elijah returned to the hard streets of Baltimore a different man. The cleanup he had to do in California wasn’t the easiest shit he had ever done, but it was necessary.

  There were going to be a lot of questions, especially since he’d refused to return any of Mafia Don’s calls or text messages since that stormy night. What he had to say needed to be said in person.

  “Mafia Don will see you now,” Teardrop said, strolling out of the boss’s office and eyeing Eli wearily.

  Elijah understood. The don had suffered a lot of defectors while Eli was playing bodyguard to his daughter. However, he was careful to keep his face blank as he stood, adjusted his brand-new Armani suit, and headed into the office.

  The moment he walked in, Mafia Don looked up from his polished mahogany desk with a smile that was too wide for his face. “Eli! Long time no see.” He stood and looked him over. “Look at you. California agrees with you. You clean up well.”

  Eli smiled, knowing that the shit wasn’t reaching his eyes.

  Mafia Don glanced to Teardrop behind Eli. He sensed the older gangsta was shaking his head. “You didn’t bring Blake with you?”

  “I’m afraid she was unable to make it.”

  “So you left her in California? Alone? What about . . . ?” Fear seized the don’s face. “She’s not . . .” The don drew in a shaky breath. “Please don’t tell me that Midnight . . . ?”

  Elijah didn’t respond.

  Mafia Don dropped back down into his chair like a stone. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

  Eli met his gaze head-on. “I failed you.”

  Mafia Don’s hardened features cracked. “She’s gone.” He let the full force of that hit him. After a minute, he added, “I thought that we would eventually . . .” He glanced back up. “Teardrop, give us a few.”