Dirty Work, Part 2 Read online

  DIRTY WORK

  Part TWO

  by Erica Hilton

  Melodrama Publishing

  www.MelodramaPublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dirty Work - Part Two. Copyright © 2017 by Melodrama Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Melodrama Publishing, [email protected].

  www.melodramapublishing.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017909509

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-1620780954

  Books By ERICA HILTON

  10 Crack Commandments

  Bad Girl Blvd

  Bad Girl Blvd 2

  Bad Girl Blvd 3

  The Diamond Syndicate

  Dirty Little Angel

  Dirty Money Honey

  Wifey: From Mistress to Wifey (Part 1)

  Wifey: I Am Wifey (Part 2)

  Dirty Work (Part 1)

  Dirty Work (Part 2)

  1

  Kid Kane—AKA The Kid—sat in his wheelchair in silence and looked at himself in the long mirror. He had a lot on his mind. He missed his brother, their conversations, and the bond they had shared. He missed the way things used to be—he missed playing chess in St. Nicholas Park. Kid couldn’t help but to feel he had failed his brother. He had the cover of anonymity; he should have squeezed off a couple bullets into Meek’s cranium. If only he could go back in time and make things right. But he couldn’t. Now he had to deal with living without his brother for the rest of his life.

  The Kid was angry and bitter. He thirsted for revenge. All he could think about was killing Maserati Meek and continuing to use Jessica for two betrayals: breaking his heart and sleeping with the enemy. Now, he was the main pieces on the chessboard—the king and queen. Every move mattered. He had to look five moves ahead of his foes. He had to be careful. He had to remain calm and keep up his deception. To everyone besides Papa John, Devon, and Jessica, he was harmless—a smart, lanky nerd in a wheelchair.

  Devon was the decoy, looking like he was now in charge of Kip’s operation, but The Kid was the brains. If an order needed to be implemented, he would relay it to Devon, who would then transmit it to the crew. Their crew was building in numbers now that they were moving kilos of cocaine and heroin. They were making a serious name for themselves in the streets—leveling up from their stickup-kid reputations. Their crew had taken on Maserati Meek, and it garnered a lot of respect through Harlem for Papa John and Devon.

  Kid Kane had a vision, one that his brother had not seen. The Kid wanted to build something massive. He wanted to honor his brother’s death with success in everything from drugs and gambling to legit businesses. But first he wanted to kill Maserati Meek and avenge Kip’s murder. Once Meek was dead, then Kid could focus on building an empire.

  The Kid sat there alone, still thinking. Alone was how he could fully see things clearly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the reunion Jessica was planning was a setup. The thought ate away at him. Why would she go through the trouble of bringing everyone together after all that had happened? Jessica wasn’t that kind of person—forgiving or nice. She was selfish and greedy. She was superficial, and from his own eyes, The Kid saw that she was in love with Maserati Meek—or in love with his money and power, anyway.

  Had Eshon not been so devastated by Kip’s murder and yearning to have a memorial for him, then she never would have allowed Jessica back into the fold after the way Jessica had violated her and Brandy for some foreign nigga. Jessica was a sneaky and heartless bitch. She learned from the best—Kip. She knew how to trap niggas and outsmart women.

  Kid called Jessica.

  “Yo, I ain’t gonna be able to make the memorial.”

  “What?” she asked, her voice elevated. “You have to come.”

  “All I gotta do is survive on these streets. All else are nonfactors.”

  “Homes, what that shit got to do with what I’m puttin’ together? You sound crazy right now.”

  “I am a lot of things, but crazy will never be one. Disrespect me like that again, and I will put you in a deep sleep.”

  Jessica could hear the seriousness in his already deep voice, which had dropped a few octaves. She felt Kid was a couple grams short of an ounce. There was something loco about a grown man who pretended to be crippled to murder muthafuckas. She thought about all the times they pushed his big ass around, all the times he pulled his seemingly dead legs in and out of that wheelchair, and all the times he appeared to be innocent when he, too, was in fact a killer. She didn’t want to aggravate him.

  “My bad . . . listen, poppi, I really want you to be there. And to keep it one hundred, I am doing this as much for you as Eshon and Kip. I know how much you loved your brother, and I just want to celebrate that. You know how vain your brother was—shit, he’s expecting this,” she said and chuckled.

  “I’m focused on Meek right now, Jessica. I don’t want to be sidetracked.”

  “And you won’t, baby. I give you my word. This memorial is what we all need and I’ll be right there by your side. Besides, you ain’t got to worry about Meek. Us together will beat him. You’re smarter than that puta.”

  Kid thought, Did she just call me baby? Jessica was going hard. And he knew it.

  The Kid let her squirm for a moment and then he conceded. “A’ight, I’ll be there. But only because you asked me to. When you’re throwing your arms around that sand nigga just remember this. Remember that you had and will always have my heart. I’m doing this for you, and for my brother.”

  “If you show up then maybe we’ll slide off together.”

  “You and me?” Kid sounded as if his interest was piqued. “Stop playing.”

  Jessica gave a flirty laugh and said in a sultry voice, “I’m dead serious.”

  “We’ll see.” He hung up.

  Her kindness toward Kid and the others was suspect in his eyes. And something else worried The Kid. Up until now, he had felt that he had the upper hand on Maserati Meek because Meek didn’t know about him. What if Jessica had given him up? It was a strong possibility. Jessica was a duplicitous bitch, and Kid would see her dead soon.

  He had a plan. He wheeled himself away from the mirror and dialed Devon and Papa John and told them he needed to meet with them. He and his peoples were still going to the mattresses—going to war with their rivals and living in isolation and security.

  It was a beautiful summer day with clear skies and warm weather. A much-needed cool breeze came blowing in through the open window. The Kid sighed. Though he was alone, he continued to remain in his chair. He found some comfort in it. It was an attachment to him, and it was the memory he had of Kip before his murder. If only Kip knew he could walk again. What would have been his older brother’s reaction? Would it be shock, anger—bewilderment? It was a question had that always plagued Kid’s mind. Now he would never know. Kip had always felt responsible for the accident that had crippled Kid, and he had done everything in his power to help get Kid’s life back to normal.

  An hour later, Devon and Papa John arrived. The men sat and waited to hear what The Kid had to tell them.

  “What’s good? Why we here?” Devon asked.

  The Kid looked at them and said, “This thing with Jessica, this event, I strongly feel that it’s a setup.”

  Devon frowned. Then he barked, “I don�
��t see why we ain’t kill that bitch in the first place. Why is she living, nigga? After everything this bitch did, she should be dead. I’m ready to put a bullet in that bitch’s head right now.”

  Papa John agreed.

  The Kid looked at the two men coolly. “I still need her alive, Devon,” he explained. “She’s more useful to us alive than dead at the moment. Meek is a formidable foe, and the more intel we have on him, the better. She is needed.”

  Devon still griped, but he halfheartedly understood.

  “A’ight, we wait.”

  Kid wasn’t completely honest with them. He was leaving out the fact that he was still obsessed with her and he couldn’t end her life at the time. Maybe she was still on their team. Keeping her alive was a huge risk, but he needed to know for certain. How would he know if she had been compromised? Jessica wasn’t always easy to read.

  Devon and Papa John were furious with Jessica. They had treated her like a sister, and she had violated them. If Kid’s suspicions of her were true, then Devon had a special way he wanted to kill her. He would do it slowly and cruelly. She would feel his wrath for hours until she was begging to die.

  “Patience, Devon, patience, and we shall have our way,” The Kid proclaimed like he was some fifth-century prophet.

  The Kid was smart, and so far he had brought them ahead of the game and kept them alive with wits. Devon and Papa John had to respect him. He had many tricks up his sleeve, and they could see in his eyes that he was a lot more dangerous and deadly than his brother.

  The two men were dismissed. They left the room. The Kid sat there for a moment, consumed in silence and stillness. It was going to be a long road ahead for them. He was willing to travel it for his brother—for his revenge. He wheeled himself toward the window and looked outside. A deep breath came to him, and he balled his hands into fists. Though departed from his brother physically, The Kid still felt Kip’s presence inside of him. He would see Kip in his dreams, and most nights, he could hear his brother’s voice, talking to him and guiding him. Some would say it was madness or that he couldn’t let go, but The Kid saw it as a sign that they would always be together, as one—even in death.

  2

  Two black Escalades came to a stop on Surf Avenue, and the engines were left idling in front of the iconic Coney Island amusement park in Brooklyn, New York. The first SUV carried armed Egyptian killers, and the second carried a crime boss with his beautiful lady, an armed Egyptian driver, and one bodyguard riding shotgun. The back door to one of the Escalades opened up, and Maserati Meek exited the vehicle first, followed by Jessica. Dressed in white shorts and a white button-up with his long, black hair in a bun, Meek stood elated on the sidewalk packed with people. The sun’s rays made his gold and diamond Rolex glimmer. He wanted to enjoy the beautiful day and have some fun racing karts.

  Jessica flanked her man wearing a pair of floral skinny jeans, a tank top, and a pair of heels. She was Maserati Meek’s eye candy. She was in his ear about the upcoming event, the one where Kid and everyone else would be killed. Her mouth was salivating with the thought of Eshon, Brandy, Kid, and everyone else meeting their demise at the same time. She carried no forgiveness for anyone. They had all wronged her and embarrassed her, and now she wanted to have the last laugh.

  Maserati Meek didn’t want to discuss business today. He told her that everything was taken care of, and that she should relax. Today was a fun day, a day to chill and enjoy the speed of a racing kart.

  “We’re in Coney Island, eh. Look around, Jessica. Nothing but sun and fun,” he said.

  She looked around, and it was the last place she wanted to be. She wanted to leave right away. She wanted to ride off into the sunset with him, but Meek had other plans. He acted like they weren’t at war with rival crews—like he wasn’t a marked man.

  Maserati Meek walked toward the racing karts. His goons flanked him, and it drew some attention. Jessica noticed hungry looks from several women aimed at her man. Meek was handsome and rich, and they wanted to sink their claws into his soft, brown flesh and latch on. But Meek was hers, and she wouldn’t hesitate to beat a bitch down if they had the audacity to step. She rolled her eyes at the thirsty bitches and walked hand in hand with Meek toward the karts.

  The line was short, the skies clear, and the people around were having a good time. Meek joined the line for the ride. He was all smiles. Soon, it was time to ride the go-karts. He climbed into a black one. He reached out for Jessica and uttered, “Come eh . . . enjoy this with me.”

  She managed to smile. She climbed into a blue go-kart behind his, and two of his men climbed into similar go-karts. Three strangers climbed into the last three, and the race was soon to be started. Maserati Meek was in front, ready to take off. Like his life, he was in charge, the leader up front.

  The attendant made sure everyone’s seatbelt was secured, and then he released the gateway. Meek took off down the track, hitting the first curve with his feet completely pushed against the accelerator. Jessica was right behind him, catching up fast. He slammed against the barrier and Jessica hurried by him. Meek soon got back right and slammed on the accelerator and took off; he was now in third place, but he didn’t plan on being third for long. He zoomed around the curve at top speed and came barreling behind Jessica. He was determined to win. The two went neck and neck around the track. Surprisingly, Jessica was good at this. Maserati Meek was impressed. Now they both were having some fun.

  It was the last time to circle the track, and Jessica was in the lead by a hair. Meek was close—too close. He was gaining speed, and when they were parallel just seconds before crossing the finish line, Maserati Meek sideswiped her. Jessica went crashing into the barrier, and Meek crossed the finish line, coming in first place. She came in third.

  Maserati Meek sprung from the kart looking victorious. His huge grin was splattered across his smug face. Jessica was upset.

  “You cheated, homes!” she griped.

  “You win by any means necessary, eh . . .”

  She pouted.

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

  “You better.”

  It was a different side of him, one that was almost confusing to her. How were men like him able to laugh and have a good time when they were crime bosses and cold-hearted killers? Maserati Meek seemed so cool and pleasant today. There was no concern about rival drug organizations or fearing retribution from Kip’s crew. How could he put it aside so easily?

  “Let’s go for a walk near the beach, eh,” he suggested.

  He took Jessica by her hand, and the two of them walked toward the boardwalk that stretched parallel against the crowded beach with his men close behind him. They moved coolly but with watchfulness. This world was far different from their home across the Atlantic. Their country was in turmoil, torn apart by political strife and civil unrest. A day at the beach and theme park rides were far and few between in their country.

  “I love here,” Maserati Meek proclaimed. He gazed at the beach flooded with people and the calm, blue ocean.

  Jessica remained silent. She couldn’t relax like him. She couldn’t escape from everything that had been happening. Her mind was forever bothered by what if’s—what if Kid and his crew were there, or Panamanian Pete and his killers, the feds? So many enemies. What did Maserati Meek have inside of him that allowed him to come off so cool and collected? The new faces surrounding them—their vibes were disturbing, but Jessica knew they were men from Meek’s country there to protect them and were proficient and efficient at getting any job done.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

  They traveled farther down the boardwalk, mixing in with the regular civilians as best they could, but there were fleeting and lingering looks thrown their way. No matter how much Meek tried to fit in, he stood out. His man bun, wooly beard, urban attitude, and
his jewelry made it nearly impossible for him to blend in. The men with him wearing turbans in the summer heat were the epitome of being racially profiled—terrorists was their first thought.

  Some fool even shouted out while in passing, “Remember 9/11!”

  The comment didn’t bother Maserati Meek; he kept his cool and a smile. It was just a fool with his opinion, and even so, he could be a dead fool with one snap of Meek’s fingers. Besides, no Egyptians were involved in the 9/11 attacks. Today was a day of peace and enjoyment, no violence—not yet anyway.

  After a half-hour on the boardwalk, the couple headed back to the vehicles parked on the avenue. The rear door to the Escalade was opened by one of his men and Jessica slid inside first, then Meek. The door closed. Both SUVs drove off. Jessica was nestled against Meek, and the smell of his cologne was enticing and his touch was stimulating.

  “I want you. I want to eat your pussy right now.” Meek was spontaneous, and he wasn’t shy about expressing his sexual needs and his feelings. He touched her even with the driver and bodyguard in the front seat.

  At first, Jessica felt apprehensive with the extra company around, but Maserati Meek was quite aggressive. He undid her jeans and pulled up her shirt.

  “Forget that they are even here,” he said about the driver and the bodyguard.

  It was hard, but she knew she couldn’t refuse him. He was in charge. She closed her eyes and positioned herself on her back against the backseat, allowing Meek to remove her jeans and panties, and then spreading her legs. It was electrifying. As the SUV merged onto the Belt Parkway, Meek went down on Jessica and ate her pussy with the vehicle doing sixty miles per hour. She squirmed and moaned. Life was good. She didn’t want to give it up for anyone or anything.

  Fifteen miles later, she came in his mouth. Her body felt spent. Maserati Meek lifted himself back into the seated position, wiped his mouth, and smiled. It was fun for him. It was mind-blowing for her. The two men seated in the front seat didn’t turn around once. Maserati Meek had them trained well.