Dominic Royal #2
El Blanca jumped into the Tahoe and the tires screeched off, with smoke filling the street.
I ran straight toward a motorcycle laid out on its side beside the curb.
It was one of ours from the procession, a matte black Ducati that one of the soldiers had brought.
I grabbed it, yanked it upright, and twisted the throttle to start the engine.
“Boss, what you doin’?!” Tone shouted over the mic.
“Ending this shit!” I growled and shot off down the street.
The wind smacked my face hard putting my cheeks on fire as my suit jacket flapped behind me.
The Ducati roared and weaved between the cars as I chased the Tahoe weaving through traffic.
Civilians screamed and ducked as bullets flew past them.
I had purposely paid extra to any police agency on our payroll to delay and stay away, at least stall us out for a few had it come to this.
El Blanca leaned out the back window with his gun blazing.
One of his shots grazed my sleeve, burning through the fabric.
I leaned real hard left, letting another bullet miss my head by inches.
“Shit!” I spat. My heart was pounding, and not from fear, but from focus.
Death was on my front porch right now, and this shit could go either way.
The Tahoe tried to swerve onto a back street, but I was too close.
I reached into my jacket, pulled the Glock, and aimed with one hand while still riding.
The first shot blew out his rear windshield, and the second shot hit the driver.
The Tahoe spun out of control with the tires screeching in donuts right before it slammed into a row of parked cars.
I didn’t slow down either. I jumped the curb and hit the brake sliding the bike sideways until it stopped just a few feet from the wreck.
The smell of gas instantly hit my nose from a gas leak.
El Blanca stumbled out of the passenger side, coughing up blood with blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. His white shirt was soaked crimson red, but that arrogance was still there. He raised his gun, and smirked.
“You always did think you could play God, Royal,” he said, voice steady even with the smoke rising around us.
“I ain’t God,” I told him. “But I send people to meet him bitch.”
He fired first the first shot, and I allowed it because he was weak, and his aim was off.
The bullet missed me by a few inches but mine didn’t.
It hit him dead in the chest, pushing him back against the hood.
He gasped, as his eyes widened. It was almost as if he didn’t believe the person who used to have much respect for him, was stronger than him.
I slowly walked toward him with my nostrils flared and my Glock still raised.
He tried to lift his, but his hands were shaking now, and his hands were to slippery from blood.
“You should’ve stayed gone El Blanca,” I said. “It was enough room for us all to eat.”
He laughed, a weak laugh gurgling on his own blood. “You kill me… and another takes my place.”
I stepped closer, pressing the barrel to his forehead. “Then I’ll kill him too.”
He smiled again, but it was that sick kind of smile that only a man who was prepared to die would have like death was a joke.
I pulled the fucking trigger and the sound echoed through the street.
This one shot was louder than all of them I’d heard today.
His body dropped to the pavement, with his gold cross clinking when it hit the ground.
I stood there for a second, breathing heavy, taking it in.
El Blanca took me under his wing; he named me The Miami King.
Everything that he loved about me, was everything he hated about me and spited as well.
He was the cause of his own demise. The Ducati engine was still running, as the mic buzzed in my ear. I could hear the sirens now.
“King, talk to me,” Tone said.
“It’s done,” I answered in a calm voice.
“Blanca?” He asked
“Gone.” I replied with one single word.
“You good? You need me to come to you?”
“I’m straight, secure the street and make sure Carmen, O’Shynn, and Miss Twyla safe.”
“Got you.”
I looked down at El Blanca’s body one last time, then at the burning Tahoe behind him.
The Miami King had just reclaimed his city.
I climbed back on the bike, turned it toward the church, and hit the throttle until the engine was warm.
The back tire kicked up all the smoke as I disappeared down the street as quickly as I’d come riding straight into the chaos I’d left behind.
By the time I made it back to the church, the street looked exactly like what it had been through.
Black smoke was everywhere surrounding the flipped cars, and the sound of those sirens were creeping closer but not close enough to matter yet.
I killed the engine on the motorcycle and kicked the stand down and got off slow. My suit was torn down one sleeve, with blood on my cuff and along my jawline. I could feel the warmth of it every time I moved. The only thing still clean were my eyes, and they were colder than ice right now.
The Royals had locked the block down. Two of our trucks were angled to block both ends of the street, with their lights flashing, and guns still out.
Bodies lay scattered near the sidewalk, and some were ours, but most were theirs.
Dique was standing near one of the cars with his shirt half untucked, still holding his Glock.
Tone was checking a body while talking low into his mic of his earpiece.
When Tone looked up and saw me walking down the street, his facial expression changed. He nodded one time with no words.
“Where he at?” Dique called out, brushing glass off his shoulder.
“Gone,” I said. “Ain’t comin’ back.”
Dique smirked a little, shook his head. “I told them not to play with the king. I tried to tell those fuckin’ Cubans they’d do better playin’ on their own turf but don’t come to Miami with that shit and now look.”
Tone laughed under his breath, but his eyes stayed scanning the rooftops. “We gotta move before the police flood this block,” he said. “They five minutes out now and this whole place gon’ light up once they pull up. Ramon’s body is secured and headed to the cemetery.”
“Handle it,” I said, still walking. “Get our people clear. Nobody talks to nobody. If the police, Feds, whoever ask questions, they don’t get no fuckin’ answers. This shit will be all over the news going down in history, but nobody talks.”
Tone nodded and started yelling out orders with a deep, sharp voice that cut through the chaos.
They began loading up the wounded soldiers and dragging the ones who didn’t make it into the trucks.
However, my focus was the church. The front doors were closed tight and guarded by two of our hittas.
I pushed past them, hand still gripping my gun.
The smell of lilies and candle wax filled the air but not enough to cover that strong gunpowder smell and smoke.
Carmen was near the altar with one hand rested on Miss Twyla’s back while O’Shynn tried to calm a few people down in the pews.
A few churchgoers were still crying, clutching each other, with their eyes wide like they couldn’t believe what just happened.
When Carmen looked up and saw me standing there, she froze, and I could tell it was about the blood.
I walked down the center aisle slow with my mind still in kill mode, but something in me eased when I saw her face. “You still alive, I’m satisfied now.” I said in a low tone.
She nodded and swallowed hard. “Yeah, we’re safe. You?”
“I’m straight.”
She stepped forward, close enough to touch me but she didn’t. “Is it over?” She raised a brow.
I nodded my head. “It’s over,” I simply replied. “For now.”
Her eyes softened for a second, then shifted to the blood on my cuff. “You’re bleeding.”
“I know but it’s not mine.” I assured her. She exhaled like she was relived. She looked like she wanted to hug me, but she knew the room wasn’t for that. It wasn’t the time.
Miss Twyla eyes were still swollen and wet. “That’s it, baby?” she quietly asked. “That man who did all this… he gone?”
I nodded. “Yes ma’am. Ain’t nobody gon’ ever hurt your son’s name again.”
She covered her mouth with her hand, with more tears filling her eyes, whispering something that sounded like a prayer. Carmen wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to sit down.
Tone stepped inside just then with his dark eyes scanning across the room. “We got the family trucks lined up,” he said. “We movin’ them to the safe lot till we can clean up here. Dique and the others runnin’ back streets to clear out.”
“Good,” I said.
The pastor stood near the pulpit, looking at me like he was still trying to figure out what kind of man walks into God’s house covered in another man’s blood. He didn’t say a word though. He just nodded his head a few times turned back to the altar, probably thanking God we were leaving.
I looked at Carmen again and she finally came to me, stopping close enough that I could smell her perfume. Her hand brushed across my chest. “Dom…you scared me.”
“You think I’m easy to take out?”
She pursed her lips together, almost smiling. “No. I think you don’t value your life enough sometimes.”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice so only she could hear. “That’s cause my life belongs to this. You knew that when you said yes to me wifey.”
Her eyes didn’t shy away. “Then I guess my life belongs to it too huh.” For a second, we just stared at each other like the whole world was quiet again and it was just us. However, we had to go.
Tone came back up beside me, breaking the moment. “We gotta roll, boss. City block is shut down. I’ll send a team to sweep the area after we move the family.”
I nodded. “Take them out the back. Carmen rides with Miss Twyla and I’ll meet up with you after.”
“Bet.” He replied.
Carmen opened her mouth to say something, but the look I gave her stopped her. “Please,” I said softly this time. “Just do that for me.”
She looked at me and finally agreed. “Alright.”
“We gotta go, now!” O’Shynn hissed. “And Dom you owe me big time! BIG! I count the books NOT bullets big brother!” She said full of sarcasm. I watched Carmen walk Miss Twyla out the back doors, with O’Shynn trailing them, and security surrounding them like shadows.
When the doors closed behind them, I tucked my gun, wiped the blood from my hand with a church napkin, and looked up at the cross over the pulpit.
The candles flickered with the wax running slow down their sides.
El Blanca was gone, but I knew it wasn’t peace that was coming next.
It was about to be the silence that always showed up right before the next storm and I’d be ready for that too.