Chapter 16
Hov
After I got dressed, I walked into the living room where my wife and Pernelle sat on the couch watching TV.
Crew was beside Pernelle, holding the baby, kissing her, and rubbing Pernelle’s thigh.
It was funny seeing him so tender, since he always swore he’d never be that way.
I used to tell him it would take one special girl, and now I can see P is the one.
“You ready, bro?”
“Yeah, been ready.”
He stood up from his seat.
“Everything good with you, mama? You need something before we go?”
“No, I’m fine. Going to finish this soup and take some down to grandma. She said she wasn’t feeling well earlier.”
“Okay, and thanks for always looking out for her.”
“You know it’s no problem. Don’t thank me for what I do for our family, Hov.”
I leaned down and kissed her on the lips. When I pulled back, she reached up and gently touched the side of my face, just like she always did.
“Love you, mama, and call me if you need me. My phone will be at my hip.”
“Okay, safety baby. I can’t wait to see you later.”
I nodded and kissed her knuckles.
“See you later, little mama.” I grabbed Amira’s tiny hand, even smaller in my fingertips. I can’t wait for the day I say goodbye to my own child. I know it will be even harder than saying goodbye to Amira.
Crew and I got in the car and headed to the spot where Amir told us to meet him.
We had cars in front and behind us in case of an ambush, but I doubted it.
Word had spread about Mecca’s son Abraham being killed in a so-called tragic robbery.
I guess they moved like us, not letting anyone know who harmed their people, so they could get revenge in peace, as we say.
When we arrived down from the location, Amir was already there. I noticed bandages peeking from the collar of his shirt, showing he was hurt.
Crew and I stepped out of the car and walked up to Amir who was leaning back against an old school Tahoe. His curly hair fell over his face, hiding his eyes until he pushed it back.
“Thank y’all for showing up.”
“You know we were coming, no doubt.” Crew replied as we shook hands with the nigga.
“Alright, so you sure you're good with this hit, right? We're not going to have to double back on you, after it's over, are we?”
“Nah. We're good, I promise you that. Just don’t hit the ladies or the kids because they're just being dragged along in this shit. But I’m straight on getting the rest of them fuck ass muthafucka’s out of the way. Better them than me.”
“Overly understood,” I replied to the nigga.
“Pop your shit. May Allah send them to hell.”
He said as we walked back to our car.
The plan was simple: Mecca was holding a graveside service for his son at a private family cemetery, on a back road an hour from Brooklyn. There was only one way in and out, and the funeral was scheduled near nightfall because Mecca was paranoid.
Amir got the details from the cameras he’d planted around the house during his time with them, which over time confirmed his suspicions of him being the black sheep.
He gave us the address, and we drove for almost an hour before stopping down the road from the cemetery and they had no idea we knew where to come.
I took out my phone and made that call to my generals, who I was sure would clear the path the right way for us.
“Yo?” Scotty answered the phone.
“Just checking to see if you niggas know what to do.”
“Yes, sir, take out the guards posted up at the front of the street that leads down to the targets.”
“Alright, y’all niggas got your silencers on, right?”
“You know it. All they are going to hear is whistling before they drop.”
Bam commented, making us laugh.
We all knew that loud guns would warn of an ambush which we didn’t want. This would only work as a sneak attack if Mecca and his family were caught off guard, unaware we were coming.
Scotty and Bam peeled off ahead of us, and we stayed up the street, holding our fuckin breaths until the call came through.
“Everything clear. We clipped all of them niggas. I got grazed in the shoulder, but I’m all good!” Scotty seemed hyped up, and he set the tone for the rest of the hit right there.
We rolled forward, passing the guards dead at the end of the road before they could warn of our approach. We saw cars lined up from the gravesite and people standing close, heads bowed by an open grave.
Crew and I looked at each other and gave a silent nod.
“Let’s go, let’s go.”
As soon as we stepped out, we started firing at every man who stood out, hitting more guards first. We ducked behind trees, headstones, or whatever cover we could find to avoid being hit.
Women screamed, ducking with kids, but we weren’t going to touch them. My eyes were on the fuck ass niggas shooting back at us, who knew it was shoot or die out here.
Crew was the angriest of us. He dropped maybe six of them by himself, sniping like he’d been waiting his whole life. When the gunfire stopped, and only gunsmoke lingered, we walked over the bodies as the women and kids retreated into the woods.
I stepped carefully over the bodies until I reached Crew, who was standing over Mecca. Mecca was lying on the ground, choking on his own blood.
Crew usually taunts before he kills, but he said nothing to Mecca. He just gave him a look of death and sent a single gunshot into his head, splattering blood over our pants.
Crew just stood there afterward, breathing heavily and staring silently at what was left of the Quatar family. For the first time in a long time, he looked vindicated and I let him have that moment, not rushing him away.
He finally avenged his daughter and his girl, and I avenged my unborn child. This was the way it always needed to be because some wounds don’t close without bloodshed first.