“I see you got Bump,” Baby Chris said.
“Yeah, I got his ass. But Barnes was here,” Rain said.
“He was?” Jackie said.
“Yeah, that nigga was here, but he got away.”
“We’ll get him,” Carter said.
“This our new program,” Rain said as the four walked out of the house. “We hit their spots, kill every fuckin’ body and burn the bitch to the ground.”
Once they made it back to the car, Rain pressed the detonator and blew up the house.
Chapter Seventeen
Da-Juan and Shandrel sat in the car outside a restaurant called Inkosi waiting for their boss, Derick Mobley to come out of a meeting with his advisor. When he found out that his brother, Frank had been assassinated, he had to bust back and called for the drive-by on Marvin at The Late Night’s grand reopening.
When the Kings struck back, Mobley began going hard at The Four Kings. It took a while for him to calm down and a little longer for him to be shown a bigger picture, but in a rare moment of calm and clarity he now understood that it wasn’t about revenge, it was all about the chance to have it all that drove him.
Mobley had always been driven by power; it was his need to be on top and in control that made him ruthless, cruel and brutal. If he did have a weakness, it was that quest for power made him easily led. When Mobley came out of Inkosi and got in the car with Da-Juan and Shandrel, he told them that the next target was Shooters.
“Shooters?” Da-Juan questioned. “The tittie bar? What is we hitting a tittie bar for?”
“You ask too many fuckin’ questions,” Mobley said as Shandrel drove. But he had asked the same question and was told that they were going after Carter Garrison’s crew the same way they had taken apart Jackie Washington’s crew piece by piece. “You need to do what the fuck I tell you. There’s a plan goin’ on way above your level.”
“You right,” Da-Juan said.
“What I need you to do is to get a couple of niggas and go do this tonight.”
“How you want it done?” Shandrel asked as he drove across the George Washington Bridge to drop Mobley off at the house he had been staying at in New Jersey. When the shooting got thick and Mobley felt the heat of The Family hunting him, he rented a house in Linwood.
“Four-man team. You go in quick, two of you get the money while the other two go kill Treach and as many of his men as you can and get out of there. Whole operation shouldn’t take more than three … five minutes tops,” Mobley may have said, but he knew better.
“You got it,” Da-Juan said, but as soon as they drove off, the story was different. “That nigga crazy if he think I’m rollin’ up in someplace shootin’.”
“You fuckin’ right. Everybody he sent to hit Cuisine ended up dead. Not me,” Shandrel said.
On the way back to the city, Da-Juan and Shandrel came up with a plan of their own. A plan that hopefully wouldn’t end with them being dead. Their first instinct was to just send somebody else. But that was out because Mobley would find out. So, they had to go.
“Ain’t nobody said we got to go in first,” Da-Juan said.
“What you talkin’ ’bout, nigga?” Shandrel asked.
“I’m sayin’ we follow orders. We put together a four-man team and the six of us roll over there.”
“I get it.”
“We send them in, and we go in and clean up after, or we be the ones that got away if the shit goes bad on them. Either way, you and me is alive and talkin’ ’bout it at the end of the day.”
“I like that,” Shandrel said.
Da-Juan and Shandrel went to their spot and recruited Dazz, Moe Z, Bullet and Romy by convincing them that it was an honor and a privilege to be selected. It had been the standard line Mobley told his Lieutenant’s to use to recruit these kids to go die at his order. But this time, it would take a little more than just the promise of street fame and glory.
“That don’t mean shit if I’m dead,” Bullet said.
“What is you talkin’ ’bout?” Sh
andrel asked.