***
After the death of his older brother Mike, Panamanian Pete went no holds barred on Maserati Meek’s drug organization. Two of Meek’s soldiers were decapitated, their heads left on display on the street.
Then a week after that, they hunted down Nia, his main girl, and tortured her. They recorded the entire incident and sent it to Meek. She had suffered for hours. They beat her tirelessly, shot her in the head, and left her body in the city dump for Sanitation to find.
Nia’s murder hit Maserati Meek hard. Everyone close to him was being hunted down, but fortunately, his family wasn’t in the States but in Egypt.
Maserati Meek needed reinforcement, and though he hated to ask, he needed Kip’s help. He needed the extra manpower, and the man’s adept skills to hunt and kill a man.
Thirty-Three
Kip thought, the audacity of Maserati Meek, reaching out to me to help fight his war. The man had put out a hit on him, a failed hit, and now he was asking for his help. Did he think they were fools?
Kip, Papa John, and Devon were outraged, and they were ready to part ways with him for good. Devon had been itching to kill him anyway.
One of Meek’s men had reached out to Kip and gave him an address for the meeting. Meek wanted to have a direct talk with Kip, to work something out with him and his crew. Kip agreed to the meeting, but he was coming for warfare.
The following day, an hour before they were to meet with Maserati Meek, all four men, including Maniac, put on Kevlar vests then loaded bullets into several machine guns and automatic pistols. They were ready for war. This was it, feeling like the final battle.
Kip had been through hell before, but going against Meek was a troubling thing, knowing the man was going to have a wall of men protecting him.
Devon drove his Expedition, Kip rode in the front, and his other two cronies were in the back. The ride to Long Island was silent. Each man entertained their own thoughts as they cruised on the Cross Island Parkway. It was a new address, and there was no time to scout the location. Like the meeting at the abandoned factory near the Brooklyn Bridge, they had to wing it. They’d come this far and weren’t backing down.
With the sun completely set, Devon navigated his SUV toward the meeting place in Baldwin Harbor. Quiet and out the way from homes and businesses, and the freeway, he parked on a barren street near an empty park.
Maserati Meek was already present, sitting in the backseat of his SUV, waiting patiently for Kip to arrive. He came with five men, each one heavily armed with machine guns and bad attitudes. Both vehicles sat parked opposite each other, but in a straight line parallel to the park.
Devon killed the headlights. “How we gonna do this?”
Kip sighed. He was never someone to back down from a fight, even if he was outnumbered, or if the person was bigger, or maybe stronger. There had been minor moments of peace in his life, but the majority of his twenty-two years on earth had been a battle with the streets, life, and himself. He thought about his brother, Nana, and even Eshon. He would always do for those he loved, even if it meant risking his own life.
He clutched the submachine gun and stared intently at the black Escalade Maserati Meek sat in. How could they do this and not lose their lives? Kip had a plan. His cronies depended on him, so he couldn’t let them down, no matter how bleak the situation looked.
“Y’all niggas ready?” he asked them.
They all were, especially Devon, looking like a pit bull ready to be unleashed.
Kip swore he heard him snarl. “Just be cool, Devon.”
“I’m cool. I’m good,” Devon replied, his voice brimming with excitement.
“Just follow my lead, and let’s be smart wit’ this nigga,” Kip said. “He ain’t no off-brand nigga, remember that.”
The doors opened, and all four men climbed out of the SUV wearing war paint, their expressions manifesting their hate and distrust.
Maserati Meek exited the Escalade and smiled at Kip and his crew.
“My niggas, eh! Why the guns? Why the hostility toward an old friend, Kip? I come in peace.”
Kip didn’t find him funny. Gun-toting henchmen flanked Meek. Kip took one step toward Meek, and then unexpectedly, chaos happened.
Devon couldn’t control himself. The sight of Maserati Meek ignited him with rage. He raised his Heckler and let loose on his foes, and a hail of bullets went flying the enemies’ way.
Meek’s men returned gunfire, and everyone scattered, shooting at each other. Meek took safety behind the SUV, while his men went to battle with Kip and his crew.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Bratatat! Bratatat! Bratatat! Bratatat! Bratatat!