Dirty Little Angel

The young girl gyrated her thick hips into Rufus’s lap, her back arched as she sat perched on the dick. She moaned and bit down on her bottom lip as Rufus fucked her like the thug he was. Her pussy almost had Rufus speaking in tongues.

“Fuck me!” she panted, her naked tits pressed against his chest.

Rufus felt himself about to cum and fucked her harder. He sucked on her nipples as if he were breastfeeding.

The truck wobbled from the intense sex inside. The guards laughed.

“Damn, Rufus is workin’ that ass,” one of them said.

“Lucky muthafucka right now,” the other replied.

The street was quiet and it seemed like everything was cool—so it seemed.

42

Harlem drove the Benz up 32nd street, which was one-way. He had the headlights off and the gun ready. Since the truck was parked on the corner, near the intersection of Mantua Avenue and Wallace Street, the vehicle was wide open for the kind of attack Harlem had planned. He had measured the distance and thought about the amount of time it would take the two guards to react when they saw him coming. He had to be quick and precise. It was a one-shot thing with no second chances.

He slowed the car near the corner of Wallace Street until the truck was in his peripheral vision. The street was dark and kept him from being spotted. He turned the corner, took a deep breath, and revved the engine. With the Escalade in his sights, he peeled off, doing fifty miles per hour. The Benz sped down Wallace Street and charged the truck, which was directly in his path since 32nd Street was perpendicular to Wallace Street.

Rufus’s men heard the car racing toward them and reached for their guns. By the time they had their weapons ready to aim and shoot, the Benz barreled down on them, crashing into the Escalade and crushing one of Rufus’s men between both vehicles. His legs were broken and he was fatally wounded.

The crash hurled Rufus and his girl into the back passenger door. The girl shattered the glass with her head. Rufus landed on top of her in a bloody human pile of cracked bones and lacerations to the face.

Harlem kept the element of surprise and rushed from the Benz with the MAC-10 in his hand. He aimed it at the one man still alive and gunned the soldier down in a hail of bullets, ripping him to shreds.

With both of Rufus’s soldiers dead, Harlem ran toward the truck and opened the back door. Rufus was paralyzed by his injuries and his lady friend was bloody and unconscious. Rufus seemed to be disoriented, his face was covered in blood and his legs twisted under the wrecked seats.

“What the . . . fuck,” Rufus stammered, looking down the barrel of the MAC-10 pointed in his face.

“Payback, muthafucka!” Harlem opened fire on Rufus.

The machine gun fire tore Rufus’s face to pieces, spilling blood and brain matter all over the backseats, leaving his face looking inhuman. The ho caught it too, receiving multiple gunshot wounds to her face, chest, and neck. Her thick figure was twisted up into a human pretzel.

With his job done, Harlem went back to his car, took what he needed, and left no evidence behind. He tossed everything into a duffel bag and fled down the block toward Fairmount Avenue.

He quickly stole a car and drove off, hearing sirens approaching in the distance. As he drove down 34th Street, he saw three police cars race down Spring Garden Street, heading toward the vicious crime scene he just created. He chuckled as he left them a real mess to clean up.

When the last cop car went by, he drove in the opposite direction. When he was a few blocks away, he got on his cell phone and called Crown.

When Crown answered, Harlem said, “Shit is done.”

“Good. Now we go for the main prize,” Crown said.

Harlem hung up and was ready to take a trip up to New York. Besides, he needed a break from Philly. The crime rate was too high.

43

When YB and Shelly arrived on Brown Street, he knew something was wrong. Cops flooded the area and a helicopter hovered over the neighborhood to film everything from a bird’s eye view. It was like a scene from a movie.

YB rushed out the car and went the house on Brown Street, where everyone had already heard the news about Rufus. When Rufus’s crew saw YB approaching them, they were all taken aback.

“Oh shit, nigga! You back?” Ray-Lo asked.

Ignoring the question and having one of his own, YB asked Ray-Lo, “Yo, what the fuck happened?”

Ray-Lo’s face became curled with anger. He looked away from YB for a quick moment, hating to break the bad news about his cousin.

“Muthafucka, answer me! Where’s Rufus?” YB glared at Ray-Lo.