Chapter 51 #2
“I know,” Psalms replied. I watched as she opened her trunk, took out a small bag, and then closed it. “I’m here for my sister.” She glanced over at Trey, then rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why he’s here. We don’t even like him.”
“Four is my brother,” Trey said, grilling her. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that!”
“Family calls him Four. You aren’t family, you are related by blood, there is a difference,” Psalms corrected him.
“You are only alive right now because he hasn’t woken up yet.
When he does, and he gives me the green light, I’m going to gut you and play in your blood.
” She tilted her head to the side and slowly blinked.
“I thought about cutting you into small pieces and using your body as fertilizer, but I decided not to. My plants deserve the best, and you, Kenbral Strong, are not and will never be the best.” They were locked in a staring contest, and all I could do was watch them.
Psalms was never one to back down, and now that I knew they had a shared history, I knew she would never come off his neck.
Her admitting that she had plans for him was the only warning she’d ever give him.
“You can hate me for the rest of your life, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m here and don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon,” he rebutted.
Psalms smiled, then turned her attention to the small bag in her hand and took out what looked like a modified butterfly knife.
My face twisted in confusion when she started flipping them open and closed because one end was round and the other was sharp as hell.
It almost reminded me of a bird beak. Psalms noticed me watching her hand as she moved the knife and smirked.
“They are Topiary shears,” she said, answering my unspoken question. Her movements were fluid, and her posture was relaxed, as if she were moving from muscle memory. “Cross said to call her when we were ready for her to open the door.” She walked away, still flipping the shears.
“You might want to stop fucking with her.” I grabbed Trey’s arm to stop him from following her. “She’s barely holding on to her sanity.”
“None of the DeCorte women have ever been sane,” Trey replied, and I hated to admit it, but he was right.
When I met Cross all those years ago, I thought she was the worst of the worst when it came to crazy women.
After meeting her family, I realized I was wrong.
Cross was the nice one. Mercy liked to catch people off guard and surprise them with her craziness.
But the sisters were different; they lived comfortably with their crazy thoughts and behaviors.
I let him go, and we walked to the porch. Psalms was leaning against the wall, her shears still moving fluidly around her fingers. She looked at us and lifted her brow. “Do you want me to call Cross?” she asked.
“No need,” Trey said, then pulled his gun from the small of his back and stepped back. He lifted his foot and kicked the door, but it didn’t budge. He looked at the door with a confused expression, then tried again. “What the fuck?”
“Weak leg ass nigga,” Psalms said, shaking her head. “How the hell are you in the FBI and can’t kick in a door?” She pushed off the wall, took her phone from her pocket, then looked over at me. “The next time we need the police, just call Gift. This nigga is useless.”
“Gift?” Trey questioned her with an attitude. “What the fuck can that nigga do that I can’t?”
“Kick in a damn door,” she answered, and I chuckled.
“You know what? The surprise factor is gone now, so fuck calling Cross.” She put her phone back in her pocket, then pushed past us and grabbed one of the chairs on the porch.
She lifted it and tossed it through the large bay window.
The glass shattered, and she stepped into the house.
The neighborhood was about to be popping now.
“We have less than ten minutes before the police show,” Trey said, following behind her. “Psalms?”
Psalms slowly turned around and grilled. “You don’t have permission to say my name,” she said, shaking her head.
“Permission?” he questioned with a chuckle. “What the fuck do you mean I don’t have permission to say your name?”
“I didn’t stutter,” she replied with a shrug. “Nor do I repeat myself. I’ll send him to handle the clarification that’s needed.” She mugged Trey, then turned around and walked away.
“What kind of shit is she on?” Trey asked me, and I smirked. “Who got her ass thinking she has superpowers or is untouchable?”
“Nigga, you have no idea how much you are fucking up,” I chuckled as I checked over my gun. I patted his shoulder. “But don’t worry, you’ll learn.”
I walked away from Trey and set out to find Tank and Lavender. There was no way they didn’t hear the window break or us talking. The kitchen and living room were empty when I came to the last room to be checked. Psalms stood in front of it with an annoyed look on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I’m just trying to figure out how much I want to hear them scream.” She shrugged, then grabbed the door handle and tried to turn it. “It’s locked.” She lifted her fist and knocked on the door. “Lavender, open the door. I know you’re in there.”
“I’m sorry!” Lavender cried, and Psalms shook her head. “I’m so sorry!”
“Sorry doesn’t excuse what you did,” Psalms replied. “You can either come out, or I’ll come in, and sweetie, you don’t want me to come in there.”
“Please!” Lavender begged. “Please just leave.”
“Oh, baby, we can’t do that,” Psalms sighed. “Not until after you give me some answers and you’re dead.” She looked over her shoulder at Trey, then stepped back. “I’m pretty sure this door isn’t as strong as the front door. Try and kick it open, Princess.”
I chuckled and shook my head. She was never going to let him live that shit down, and I knew that when she told her family about his failed attempt, they were going to clown Trey, too. Trey grilled her, then stepped up to the door and kicked it open.
“There you go,” he gloated. He stepped aside and opened his arms to motion for her to walk into the room.
Psalms walked into the room and shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask where Tank is because I know he dipped on your ass,” she said, walking around the room. Lavender stood in the corner, scared as hell. “By the looks of those bruises, he’s been gone a few days, huh?”
My eyes went to Lavender’s face and I tsked. She had a black eye, a busted lip, and the side of her face that didn’t have the black eye was bruised up.
“Damn,” I grunted and shook my head. “That nigga beating your ass like that?”
“Has been the entire time, more than likely,” Psalms said as she walked around the room, looking around.
“Was the dick that damn good?” She picked up a picture from the dresser, and her face twisted before she set it down again.
“Or was it his head game because yes, Tank is fine, but there is nothing about him that makes me want to cross people who did nothing but love you from the moment you were brought around.”
“I’m sorry,” Lavender cried.
“I heard you the first time you said it,” Psalm replied with a shrug.
“I didn’t believe you then, just like I don’t believe you now.
” She moved from the dresser and went to the closet.
“I think you’re sorry you got caught.” She looked over her shoulder at Lavender and grilled her.
“You’re probably sorry because he left you here to get caught.
Which tells me you don’t know shit about what they are up to.
You were a pawn in the game. You could and would be sacrificed. ”
“He told me he loved me,” Lavender said, and Psalms kissed her teeth. “We were supposed to get married. He said all I had to do was this last thing and we’d be together.”
“You were played, baby girl.” Psalms looked through her closet and laughed.
“That nigga played you big time.” She closed the closet door and leaned against it.
Her shears shone off the light as they moved.
“Now, before I kill you, I have a few questions. If you’re smart, you’ll tell me what I want to know, and we can move on, but if you aren’t and want to play dumb, I’ll make this as painful as I possibly can, and trust me when I say this, Lavender, I will make it hurt. ”
“We need to snatch her and leave,” Trey said. “The police will be here soon. You made a lot of noise smashing that front window in.”
Psalms sighed, rolled her eyes, then turned to Lavender and pointed to the phone on the bed. “You called the police?”
“Yes,” Lavender cried.
“Do it again,” Psalm said. Lavender didn’t move, so she pushed off the door and picked up the phone from the bed, then dialed 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“Help!” Psalms yelled as she grilled Trey. “Someone broke into my house! I’m scared! Please send someone!” She started to fake sob. “Please, I’m so scared!”
A laugh echoed through the phone’s speaker. “Oh, that sounded so good,” Xoey laughed. She was laughing so hard that she snorted.
“It sounded believable?” Psalms asked her.
“It did,” Xoey answered. “I’ll have to send you the file so you can hear it later.”
“I would appreciate that,” Psalms laughed. “But look, I gotta go. I’ll see you later?”
“Yep,” Xoey answered.
Psalms hung up the phone and tossed it back on the bed.
“Understand you aren’t dealing with a rookie when it comes to this shit,” she said, grilling Trey.
“The small details are taken care of. Now don’t question me again.
” She turned to Lavender. “I’m annoyed now, so let’s wrap this shit up.
” She approached Lavender, grabbed her by the back of her head, dragged her out of the corner, and threw her to the ground.
“I don’t even need to know the why at this point because bitch you crossed the wrong fucking family. ”
“I said I’m sorry!” Lavender screamed. “I didn’t know!”