Chapter 6 Dominic Royal
DOMINIC ROYAL
Carmen was upstairs sleep, getting some rest when I left the mansion and for the first time since that courthouse shit happened, she looked peaceful.
That was the only reason I felt comfortable enough to leave for a little while.
Before I walked out the room, I stood there for a second just looking at her.
She was curled up on her side with one hand tucked under her face and the other resting on her stomach.
The blanket was pulled up over her body, and for a minute I let myself stand there and appreciate what the fuck I almost lost.
Then I kissed her forehead, told Deekamo and two of the shadows not to move from outside that room, and left.
By the time I got to Royal Enterprises, Tone was already there waiting on me in the conference room upstairs with Dique, Rell, Marco, and Zo.
A few of the younger soldiers stood near the back wall, but they wasn’t part of this.
This wasn’t no cartel move. This wasn’t something big enough to bring the whole army down on somebody. Nah, this was personal.
Tone had pictures spread across the table, along with printouts, burner numbers, maps, and screenshots from cameras all over the city.
He had one of the laptops open in front of him and the room smelled like weed smoke, and the takeout containers Dique had been eating out of while waiting on me.
It smelled like it could’ve been some griot and black rice.
“About time,” Dique said around a mouthful of rice. “You know I had to come all the way from Keondra house for this shit?”
I looked at him while I took my jacket off. “You ain’t had to come from nowhere. You wanted to come.”
“Damn right I wanted to come,” he said, swallowing his food and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Them pussy ass niggas tried it in broad daylight. I been waitin’ all damn day.”
Tone slid the laptop around so I could see it better.
“We got him.” he said. I looked down at the screen.
The nigga name was Jermaine “Maine” Cooper.
The leader of Riverside. Nigga was in his Mid-thirties and had done time twice before on some drug charges, a few robberies, and guns…
. just some gang shit. He wasn’t the shooter; however, he was the one who put the hit together after Carmen got Kilo off.
“You sure?” I asked.
Tone nodded his head. “Yeah, the shooter dead but this the one who put the money behind it. He thought if Carmen got Kilo off, it would make them look weak in the streets. They wanted to make an example. Now we bout to show’em what one look like.
” Tone was my evil twin in this world always down for whatever needed to happen.
I stared at the picture for a little longer and he looked regular. That was the crazy part about people like him. They never looked like what they really was. He was just another hood nigga with tattoos, gold teeth, and dead eyes. Somebody mama probably still called him handsome.
“Where he at?” I asked.
Tone clicked something else and another picture came up showing the run-down little house with the boarded-up windows.
There was cars parked in the yard and dudes standing around outside.
“He over there now,” Tone said. “This one of the little trap houses off 22nd. He got maybe six or seven niggas over there with him.”
“Only six or seven?” Dique laughed. “Aw yeah, this gone be quick.”
I kept looking at the screen. “He know we know?”
“Nah,” Tone said. “Nigga still movin’ regular.”
“Good.” Because I wanted him comfortable.
I wanted him sitting around smoking and laughing and feeling safe.
I wanted him to hear my trucks before he saw them.
I wanted him to know exactly why I was there before I killed him.
“This ain’t no whole army type shit,” I said, looking around the room.
“Three trucks. Me, Tone, Dique, Marco, Zo, Rell, and four more hittas. Everybody else stay put.”
Dique smirked. “Good.”
I looked over at Tone. “You stayin’ close to me.”
“I already know.”
“Dique.”
“What?”
“Don’t start actin’ stupid when we get over there man.”
He looked offended immediately. “Me? Act stupid? Never.” He placed his hand to his chest exaggerating.
“Yeah aight.” I growled.
After that everybody grabbed their shit, checked the clips, and made sure every gun was ready.
The energy changed from talking to action real quick because that’s how it always happened with us.
We weren’t one of them crews that had to sit around making speeches and over-planning shit.
Everybody in the room already knew what time it was.
It was over for these niggas. They were fish trying to play with sharks.
I grabbed my Glock and tucked it into the back of my jeans, then grabbed the bigger piece.
Tone passed me another extended clip, and I slid it into my pocket while Dique loaded his gun beside me.
“You think Carmen gone be mad?” Dique asked casually. I looked at him without replying.
He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’ nigga. She be actin’ all lawyer-ish and shit.”
“Carmen don’t give a fuck about me doing me. She gives a fuck about me being safe. She’s pregnant, not delusional, she still know who she married.”
“Aw, she gon’ know,” he laughed. “Her ass know when you lying before you even finish the sentence.”
He wasn’t wrong, “Yeah well thank God I ain’t never have to be no lying ass nigga.” I checked the clip one more time. “Let’s go.”
By the time we came downstairs, the trucks were already outside waiting.
I climbed into the backseat of the first truck with Tone beside me and Dique in front.
Marco and Zo were in the second truck and Rell was in the third.
The whole ride over there, nobody said much.
I sat back in the seat looking out the window while the city moved past me.
By the time we turned on the block, the streets looked exactly how they always did in any other hood…
. just run down since the city never wanted to put no money back in the hood.
It was a bunch of loud ass kids running around too damn late and niggas standing on corners watching everything.
The trap house was halfway down the block, and you could hear the music blasting with cars parked crooked on the curb with people outside. I counted at least four little kids playing in the street with a football before we even got close enough to stop.
“Damn,” Dique muttered. “They got all these badass kids out here.”
I looked out the window and saw one little boy dribbling a basketball with no shirt on and one Jordan untied, he couldn’t have been older than eight. “Nah,” I said. “Get the kids out first.”
The trucks pulled up slow down the block before stopping a little farther away. Tone and Dique got out first while the rest of us waited. I watched through the windshield while Dique walked over to the kids like he knew them.
“Aye,” he called out. “Y’all little bad asses wanna make some money?”
That got they attention immediately. One of the little girls looked up at him suspicious. “For what?” she frowned wearing her colorful shirt and jean shorts with a pair of Old Navy slides.
Dique reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of cash. “Go to the store, buy whatever y’all want. Candy, chips, juice, all that shit, but don’t come back for like thirty minutes.”
The little boy with the basketball looked at the money with wide eyes. “All of us?”
“All of y’all,” Dique said. “Now move around. Get the fuck on, scat.”
That was all it took and them kids took off down the block fast as hell, laughing and yelling like they had just hit the biggest lick of their lives. They probably did, because that was probably the most money their young hands had ever touched.
Tone came back toward the truck and looked at me through the open door. “We good.”
I stepped out as the night air immediately hit me.
One of the niggas outside the trap finally noticed us and straightened up off the porch railing.
He looked down the block at the trucks, then at us, and I watched the exact second he realized something was wrong.
He reached for his waistband, but he was too slow and Zo shot him first. The sound rang through the block, and everything exploded after that with gunshots and people screaming.
A lot of niggas was running taking cover as glass shattered.
One of the dudes near the side of the house fired back, but Marco hit him before he could get off more than two shots.
Dique was already moving toward the porch while shooting.
Tone stayed close beside me and Rell covered the side yard while the younger soldiers lit up anything that moved wrong on any part of the block, trained to be our third eyes.
The whole front of the house looked like chaos in a matter of seconds, and I walked straight through the smoke, the screaming, and the broken glass and shell casings hitting the ground because I wasn’t there for them…
I was there for Maine. I kicked the front door open so hard it slammed against the wall and cracked the frame.
The inside smelled like weed, pussy, sweat, and I don’t know what else, but it just didn’t smell right.
One nigga came out the hallway with a nine in his hand and I shot him before he could even raise it. Another one tried to run toward the kitchen, but Tone dropped him with one shot to the back of the head. Then I heard movement upstairs that sounded real fast like somebody was panicking.
I looked at Tone and pointed. “Upstairs,” I said.