Chapter 17 Amethyst #2
“That doesn’t look like the first lady,” Pyrite chuckled, and I shook my head. “Oh, he’s a cheating Pastor, too?” He had the nerve to look offended. “Make sure I remember that shit too.”
“As if you’d ever be able to get his flat ass out of your mind,” I chuckled as I pushed the bedroom door open.
I tucked my gun into the back of my pants, then grabbed the leather belt that was on the floor and wrapped it around my hand, leaving enough belt out to be able to beat his ass, and swung.
The sound of the leather hitting Luther’s bareback echoed through the room as it connected.
“Ahhhh!” he yelled as he fell onto the woman he was fucking. She was barely conscious. The only sign that she was alive was the fact that she blinked.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grunted, then hit him again.
“What the fuck!” Luther yelled as I continued to beat his ass.
I wasn’t letting up. I whooped his ass until I was tired and out of breath, and he was hoarse from yelling. He’d flipped and turned so much that he’d kicked the woman off the bed and was curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the bed.
“Get the fuck up!” I yelled as I grabbed his ankle and pulled him off the bed. I stood over him, breathing hard as fuck, belt still in my hand and ready to end this nigga. “Get the fuck up!”
“I can’t!” Luther groaned. I grabbed the back of his neck and helped him to his feet.
“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me, nigga,” I grunted. Luther grilled me and tried to puff out his chest, but I didn’t give a fuck. This nigga didn’t hold an ounce of power. I flung the belt over my shoulder and nodded. “Now let’s get down to why I’m here.”
“Let that nigga put some clothes on at least,” Pyrite chuckled, and I shook my head. “Why not? That nigga old saggy balls just hanging low. Like real low.”
“I don’t give a damn,” I replied with a shrug. “This nigga has the answers that I want, so he’s going to stand there naked as the day he was born until I get them.”
“I’m not telling you shit,” Luther chuckled, then mugged my brothers and me. “You niggas just signed your fucking death certificates.”
“And he’s a cussing Pastor?” Citrine gawked. “Nigga, Pastor DeCorte would never.”
“Fuck Gabriel DeCorte,” Luther sneered, and I laughed. “That nigga-”
“Is not why we are here,” I cut him off.
We knew Luther felt a certain way about DeCortes, which is probably why Citrine mentioned him.
I pulled my gun from the back of my pants and shot Luther in the knee.
He dropped to the ground. Already over the yelling he was doing, I kicked him in the face, knocking him out, then I looked over at my brothers.
“Y’all gonna help me get him downstairs? ”
“I’m not,” Citrine said, shaking his head. “That nigga is naked and bleeding, you already know that I’m not fucking with that shit.”
“I’ll let you drive,” I offered, and he shook his head. “Punk ass nigga.”
“I’ll be that,” he laughed and shrugged. “Take that nigga to your truck by yourself.”
“Pyrite?” I turned to my brother, who mugged me and then walked out of the room.
The only thing I could do was laugh as I grabbed Luther’s injured leg and dragged him out of the room. His head hit every step as I pulled him down them and out the door. When I got to my truck, I opened the back door and grabbed the chain from the seat. Toddles lifted her head but didn’t move.
“When we leave here, we will go see your mama.” I patted her head, then closed the door and dragged Luther to the back of the truck. I hooked the chain to the trailer hitch, then used the other end to wrap it around Luther’s ankles and secured it with a lock.
“And what exactly are you about to do?” Citrine asked when I was finished.
“Drag that nigga up the highway,” I answered. “I already had loop the highway cameras, so when they work on identifying his body and run them back, they’ll never know it was me who did it.”
“You know that shit is a little off, right?” he asked, and I shrugged. “If he’s dead, how is he going to answer your questions?”
“I got that covered,” I replied as I pulled the smelling salts from my pocket.
I popped the package, set it under Luther’s nose, and waited.
A few seconds later, he was groggy but awake.
I let the tail down on the truck and sat on it.
“Alright, so let’s get to the point so I can get home. I got shit to do.”
“Fuck you,” Luther coughed. “You’re a dead man as soon as I talk to my boys.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, shaking my head. “You aren’t going to make it through the next thirty minutes.” I shrug. “How you end is up to you, though. Either you can tell me what I want to know, and I’ll put a bullet in your head, or you don’t, and I drag your ass literally up and down the highway.”
“My sons are going to kill your entire family,” he chuckled and laid back on the ground. “That bitch you claim as your best friend will die last, though.”
“Damn, I thought you had better sense than that,” I said as I got down.
I closed the trailer door, then walked over to Luther.
The fact that this nigga was just lying there with no care in the world irked my soul.
Without thinking twice, I kicked him in the balls, then walked to the truck’s driver’s door and got inside.
“You kicked that nigga in the balls?” Pyrite laughed after I closed the door.
“Yeah,” I nodded. “Nigga was pissing me off.”
“If I’m ever lying somewhere like a fucking starfish, just know I want to be there,” he laughed and shook his head.
“Nigga, what?” I started the truck and put it in drive. “The fuck you mean you want to be there?”
“That’s a vulnerable ass position,” he said, shaking his head. “The only way I’d be like that is because I want to be. I’m telling you right now, if I ever say I was laid out like that, then I’m in love.”
“Stop talking to me, Pyrite,” I laughed, then pressed on the gas.
I drove down Luther’s driveway and half a block, then decided to pull over.
I got out of the truck and went to the back.
Luther was fucked up; he had road rash, his left arm was basically exposed down to the bone, and the side of his face was cut up.
I bent down and grabbed his head to make him look at me.
“I am a decent nigga even though I enjoy shit like this. So I’m going to ask you one time, and if you give me the answers I want, then I’ll be nice and kill you. ”
“I’m not telling you shit,” Luther groaned.
“You don’t even know my fucking question,” I chuckled. “It could be something simple like your name.”
“You want to know about that bitch Yale,” Luther coughed. “You want to know why she was set up.” Luther shook his head. “I’m not telling you shit. Fuck you.”
“Fine,” I nodded and stood. I checked the chain holding Luther, then walked back to my truck. “Have fun in hell nigga.”
I closed the door, then put the truck in drive and pulled off.
The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of Luther’s screams, and to make sure I didn’t hear a fucking thing, I turned up the radio.
I looked through the rearview mirror and watched as pieces of Luther’s body littered the highway.
It was going to take a fucking forensic expert to piece him back together.
I turned down my radio and looked over at Pyrite, whose attention was on his phone. “The fuck are you so stressed about?”
“I’m not,” he chuckled. “Just trying to figure out why we are here, and you got this shit covered.”
“Because Pop said never move alone,” I answered. I pulled over on the highway, got out of the truck, and checked the hitch. The only piece of Luther that was left was his foot. I unlocked the chain from around it and left it on the side of the highway.
“Why didn’t you give whatever was left to Toddles?” Citrine asked after I got in the truck.
“My pig only gets the best,” I said as I pulled off. The highway was empty as fuck, but that didn’t stop me from checking my surroundings as I drove. “Ain’t no way I would feed her some damn Kilmore. She ain’t one of them warehouse pigs that can eat everything.”
“Right, nigga,” Pyrite said, turning around in his seat to face Citrine. “I mean, look at her, nigga, she’s in a tutu and her nails are painted! Ain’t no way he would ever feed her some damn Kilmore.”
“Right, my girl is a princess,” I said, nodding.
“Nigga, that was sarcasm,” Pyrite said, turning around. “She’s a fucking pig, feed her that nigga dick for all I care.”
“Ew,” Citrine and I said in unison.
**
“Ay, don’t start no fucking crying, let me shower, then we will go see your mama,” I said to Toddles as we walked into the house.
After I dropped my brothers off, I decided to go home and shower before picking up Yale.
I smelled like outside and hated that shit.
Toddles snorted, then went through the doggie door I had installed in the back door, giving her free access to the yard. “Spoiled ass.”
“She gets it from you,” Yale's soft voice echoed through the kitchen. I quickly turned and saw her sitting on the couch watching TV. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled before turning back to the TV.
“What are you doing here?” I set my phone, keys, and gun on the table behind the couch, then walked around it to look at her. She was wrapped up in her favorite blanket, her hair in a bonnet, looking comfortable.
“I was waiting for you to come home,” she answered with a shrug. “I texted you, but you never replied.”
“I was with my brothers.” I sat on the coffee table even though I wanted to climb onto the couch and cuddle up with her.
“I figured, which is why I waited,” she said with a nod. “Now, why were you fussing at Toddles?”
“Because she’s spoiled,” I chuckled, and Yale rolled her eyes. “You ate?”
“Not yet,” she shook her head. “I was thinking about cooking, but you don’t have anything in there.”