Chapter 2 #4
Once we made it to the main area of the small house, Stubbs, sitting on a couch covered with clothes and teddy bears, said, “Fuck you out there talking to Jehovah Witnesses for and we got shit on the flo?”
He never looked up. Not until Zeke placed the barrel of his gun against the side of his head. Panicking, he jumped up and ran off for the back of the house, jumping over mountains of trash. Before Zeke could pull the trigger, I put my hand up, stopping him.
“He’ll be back,” Kiss mumbled, looking around the house.
I put my hand up and signaled for the team to do a sweep.
“Where she at?” I asked, against British’s ear.
“In—in… the… the room,” she stuttered.
“Take me.”
“Can you take the gun from the—”
“Bitch, show us where the fuck she at before the clip get emptied in yo shit,” Zeke threatened through gritted teeth.
I looked over at him. He shrugged, turning the corners of his mouth up. Looking away, I pressed the barrel of the gun against her head, pushing her forward. I glanced down at the wet spot in the back of her blue leggings and shook my head.
She led us to the right side of the house where a couple of closed doors sat.
Stopping in front of one, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open.
When she did, a stench hit my nose, forcing me to pinch my nostrils with my freehand.
Shit was potent. So potent that my eyes watered.
The room was a complete mess. Worst off than the living room.
They’d made a spot in the middle of the room for Jada.
She was circled by mountains of trash. Food containers.
Trash bags. Bottles that looked to be filled with piss.
And the room was full of cats. Had to be at least ten, resting on top of those mountains of trash, meowing like crazy.
“Fuck they got goin’?” Zeke mumbled. “Type of shit is this?”
Jada was tied to a fold up chair. With a scowl, I lowered my gun and signaled for Kiss to take over.
He upped his, placing it against British’s head.
I stumbled over trash, making my way to the middle of the dirty room where Jada sat with her head down.
When I kneeled in front of her and tilted her head back to get a good look at her face, her eyes peeled opened and they widened with excitement.
I didn’t react. Kept my focus on her left eye.
It was black and swollen. I swallowed, looking away from her injury to the rest of her.
Hair was all over her head. When she left the crib, she had on a long ass blonde wig.
I knew because I replayed the video of her leaving a good ten, twelve times.
Today she was without it. Rocking her real hair.
Shit was of decent length, but it was clear that it’d been cut and either shaved off on one side or ripped from the scalp.
Across her face was a fresh scar. A cut that ran from the middle of her cheek to her temple. It was deliberately done. Too precise to be done in a fight or some shit. It didn’t take me long to realize that the bitch had cut her face and her hair to fuck up her appearance. Hating ass bitch.
With a squint, I stood and looked over at British. The wig Jada had on when she left the other day? Shorty was rocking it. Clenching down on my teeth, I looked away, turning my attention back to Jada.
Kneeling again, I slowly pulled the duct tape from Jada’s mouth.
She hissed and once it was off, I realized why.
Her lips were busted. Both of them. The tape was covered in blood.
With dipped brows and pain coursing through my veins, I delicately brushed my thumb over her lips before pivoting to untie her from the chair.
“Exodus,” she wept.
“Shhh. I told you I had you,” I told her as I undid the rope. My heart raced as I took in the red bruising around her wrists. I massaged them before moving down to her legs. As soon as she was untied, she jumped up to her feet, pivoted and threw her arms around my neck, crying into my chest.
I looked over towards the doorway at the sound of movement and wasn’t surprised to see Stubbs being escorted by Black who had his gun against the back of his head. He was in the back of the house, waiting for whoever, on whatever.
“This bitch empty, Big Dawg. Just the two of them,” Buck said, emerging from the hallway.
Rubbing Jada’s back, I nodded and told them it was time to move out.
About thirty minutes later, we were at the second location, in Brickhaven at ‘The Factory’.
Old meat packaging warehouse that closed down about a decade ago.
I bought the building under the church’s name a couple of years back, under the guise of repurposing it for another church.
I had zero intentions on making it the Lord’s house.
It was a place for me to live freely. A place where I could exercise my freewill.
When Big G got quiet, The Factory was where I usually went.
God didn’t exist here.
Peeling my shirt off, I folded it and sat it on top of the black joggers I had on a minute ago, inside of a locker I stood at.
In a room that had to be used once as an employee locker room, I undressed, changing into something more fitting for the occasion.
Bending down, I picked my shoes up, sitting them at the bottom of the locker.
Standing, I turned facing the wardrobe stand behind me and pulled a white coverall from one of the hangers.
Stepping into it, I slid it up over my arms and zipped the zipper up to my neck.
Reaching over to the top of the locker, I grabbed a pair of protective goggles, putting them on too.
On the other side of the closed door, I could hear muffled talking.
Zeke and Kiss. Couldn't really make out what they were saying but because I knew how they got when we took a trip down to The Factory, I was sure they were talking about how uncomfortable the next couple of minutes were going to be.
Closing the locker once I was done, I stood there a minute, closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.
I clenched and unclenched my fists, cracking my knuckles.
Moving my head from side-to-side, I did the same with my neck.
Jada was on my mind heavy. All I could see was her.
The way she was tied up to that chair. Mouth bloodied.
Haircut. Damaged. It ate at me. Fueled me the same.
Hungered me. My mouth literally salivated at the thought of what came next.
Body tingled, dick hardening with excitement.
It’d been a nice ass minute since I was behind The Factory’s walls. Got damn it felt good to be back.
I pulled the door open and was greeted by Zeke and Kiss who stopped mid-conversation.
They looked me up and down before stepping aside so I could walk out.
We didn’t exchange words. Didn’t need to.
I could’ve asked them if British and Stubbs were ready, but I didn’t have to.
If they were stationed outside of the room, then they had done what they were supposed to do.
Making a right, I continued down the long, cold dark hallway.
The place was silent with the exception of pipes and the HVAC system humming.
The walk down the hallway was a long one.
The locker room was a good three-minute walk to the butchering area of The Factory where they were.
The further I got down the hallway, the more the place came alive and I began to hear just a little more.
Muffled moans and groans that came from none other than Stubbs and British.
Behind me, I could hear the subtle rattling of a phone vibrating.
I glanced over my shoulder at Zeke and Kiss.
Kiss dug into his pocket, grabbed his phone and silenced it.
Because I knew him and he knew me, he shut the phone off completely.
Rookie mistake from a nigga who was the furthest thing from a fucking rookie. We’d talk about it later.
Turning down another hallway, I continued my trek, clenching and unclenching my fist. I glanced over my shoulder again at Zeke.
Locked eyes with him for a second. He nodded.
I nodded, turned and continued down the hall.
I needed to know if it was set up. Needed to know if everything I needed was at arm’s length and he gave me reassurance without words spoken between us.
He knew me just as much as I knew him, knowing what I wanted without having to utter a single word.
A couple of seconds later, I stepped into the cold room.
It was coldest here, a couple of feet away from the freezer.
Although the factory was out of business, everything was just as functional as it was when it was in business.
Kept it that way for personal use. Building would be worthless without it.
When I walked into the room, Jada looked over her shoulder at me.
She was here. Had to be here. It was only right.
They had not only wronged me—they wronged her too.
This was just as much her blood as it was mine.
She wasn’t happy to be here though. Terror drenched her face.
Brows were furrowed. Bottom lip trembled.
Hands shook. She wanted to go home. Wanted to sit up and wait for me to come home.
Nah, that wasn’t flying. Shorty was getting her hands dirty today.
Not because I felt like she needed to but because she had to.
This was her mess. I was tired of picking up for everybody.
Especially her ass. This was more punishment than it was about business.
She wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t give a fuck. I was forcing her in position.
Yes, I had a soft spot in my heart for what they did to her in the same place sat disappointment. Had she listened, none of what happened. But because she hadn’t, she had consequences to deal with as well.