Chapter 11 Tariq “Reek” Horton #2
“You so fucking stupid,” she seethed as she slid down off the hood. She fixed her clothes while snarling at me. She laughed, mockingly. "It ain’t like you can get me pregnant again right now, dummy. You should have pulled out five months ago, then we wouldn’t be in this shit."
I stood there, dick still out, softening in the cool air, chest heaving as the anger returned.
She glared at me as she walked towards the driver’s side door. “I’m so stupid. Leave me alone, Reek!”
Then she tore the door open and hopped in. She started the engine, glaring at me, and for a second, I thought she was going to floor the gas forward, pinning me between the wall and car, but I was too in my head, thinking about how good that pussy just felt to make sudden movements.
But, instead, she backed out of the spot and sped off.
After that, I headed straight to the laundromat.
Rome might’ve been dead, but the accomplices he was going to hit the trap with were still a problem.
They knew too much, particularly the value of what we had inside that trap house.
Going through his phone gave us those accomplices’ phone numbers.
These niggas weren’t even smart enough to use burners.
Jamir pulled the numbers and tracked their movements until some of our soldiers were able to pull them off the street.
I parked out front and sat there for half a second with the engine running.
Part of me was glad to have something to take my anger out on.
Ava had me feeling too many different things at once.
I knew what to do when I felt anger and lust, but all the wanting, fear, possessiveness, and regret, I didn’t know what to do with.
So, yeah, I was ready to put my hands on somebody.
Finally, I killed the engine and went inside. Dryers hummed up front. Machines clanked. Customers folded clothes and minded their own business, having no idea what was beneath their feet.
I moved past the machines and through the back, then took the stairs down to the basement.
Saint and Big A were already there waiting on me, and so were the three accomplices.
None of them looked older than thirty. All three were tied up by the wrists and ankles.
Their mouths were taped shut, and their backs were against the brick wall.
Their fearful stares snapped toward me the second I came in.
Saint scoffed as I walked in. “Finally, damn. I been waiting to put in work.”
I shut the door behind me. “Let me get my rocks off first. I need to get some anger out. After that, you can do whatever you want.”
Saint grinned. “That’s cool with me.”
I looked at him. “Go get the table saw.”
He and Big A both looked at me with inquiring, curled brows. But Saint didn’t question it. He turned and headed out.
The second he left, the three men looked at each other, then back at me, breathing hard through their noses, eyes wide as hell. One of them started shaking his head like maybe if he did it enough, he’d wake up somewhere else.
“You ready to make that move to New York?”
One of our buyers in New York was receiving a large shipment through one of the trucking companies the cartel used for transport. I was appointed to go to New York to make sure everything went smoothly.
“Yea,” I grumbled. “I’m ready to roll. I need to get out of this city for a few days anyway.”
Big A watched at my frustrated scowl. “You good?”
I scoffed. “Hell nah, I ain’t good.”
He leaned against the wall with his arms folded. “Ava?”
I laughed dryly. “What the fuck else?”
He waited, letting me talk if I was going to. At the same time, I could hear the sound of Saint dragging the table saw down the hallway.
“Out of respect for the family, I’m always going to be there for me and Ava’s child.
That was never really the question. I know I told her I didn’t want no parts of the kid, but I could never do that to the family.
The problem is I never wanted this. I never wanted to be a some-timey dad.
But since I don’t want a family, that’s my only option in this situation. ”
“You don’t have to be with your child’s mother to be a great father,” Big A told me. “And you don’t have to have had a great father figure to learn how to be one.”
The saw scraped louder against the floor, getting closer.
“I know that,” I replied. “But I didn’t want any of this.”
Saint came back in, dragging the saw behind him and, clearly, had caught some of the conversation.
“That’s your problem,” he said, setting the table saw in the middle of the room next to a folding chair one of them must have been sitting in.
“It doesn’t matter that you didn’t want to be in this situation.
You in it now. I get why you don’t want this shit.
But you should’ve worn a condom. Now, there is no use in being angry like you can change the situation.
The baby isn’t going to evaporate because you’re mad. ”
I cut my eyes at him. “That ain’t what we here to discuss.” Then I nodded toward one of the men. “Grab one of them and untie his wrists.”
All three of them started breathing hard, trying to talk through the tape, twisting against the ropes, feet scraping the floor. Saint walked over to the one in the middle and yanked him up.
“Don’t try nothing stupid,” Saint threatened as he dragged him across the room.
The other two watched in full panic while Saint sat him down in a chair next to the table saw. He untied his wrists, then tied one wrist down to the arm of the chair, then grabbed the other arm, forced it flat against the table, and held it there.
The man started bucking immediately. His eyes kept darting from me to the table saw.
I stepped up to the table, saying, “You had to know that nothing good would come from you trying to take from us.”
Had these dudes been some young niggas, I probably would have had some sympathy for them. But they were old enough to have gotten a job or a hustle, not steal from those that took the time to build their wealth.
I cut off his muffled pleas by firing the saw up.
The sound alone made all three of them lose their minds.
The two still against the wall started trying to break free with such force that the ropes pulled tighter around their arms and ankles.
Saint, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early.
His eyes stayed locked on the man’s arm while he held it down with both hands.
The man at the table was screaming through the tape.
“How dare you try to steal from us,” I barked over the noise. “Who the fuck raised you to think you could play with what’s ours?” Then I grabbed the man's arm.
His eyes went wide, pleading, but I didn't give a fuck. I pushed his elbow right into the path. The teeth of the saw bit into the skin first, tearing through with a wet, grinding rip that sprayed blood in a hot arc across my shirt and the concrete floor.
Big A frowned with disgust and looked away for a second.
Flesh parted like wet paper. Muscles snapped against the blade that chewed deeper, hitting bone with a high-pitched whine.
The bone cracked and splintered. Shards flew out in a bloody mist. The saw vibrated hard under my grip as I forced it through, severing the arm clean at the joint.
The stump gushed and arterial spray pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Dark blood spooled around the severed limb that flopped off the table with a meaty thud.
His muffled scream ripped through the basement and bounced off the brick so loud it damn near sounded like there were five of him in the room instead of one. Saint held him steady while he thrashed and convulsed.
Big A cursed under his breath and stepped farther off with disgust all over his face. The other two men were damn near hyperventilating, eyes bugged out, bodies jerking against the wall.