Flippin' the Hustle Page 21

  Dominique was still comatose from the exquisite lovemaking that Derrick had put on her. However, the banging on her door quickly roused her. Grabbing her government issued .40-caliber, she eased to her door in a crouched stance.

  “Come on, Dominique! Open the door! I know you’re in there! Open the fu—”

  Opening the door instantly cut his outburst short as Dominique aimed her gun directly at Gold’s head. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked, looking confused, yet unyielding her firearm.

  “Where is he?” he inquired.

  “Where is who?” she replied, faking confusion.

  “Come on! Don’t give me the innocent bullshit. I know what’s going on between you and Richards!”

  Dropping her gun to her side, she cast a sympathetic glance at her superior. “Come on in, Douglas. I think you’ve been working too hard.”

  * * * * *

  Navigating the smooth BMW X5 down the endless highway, Trina stole a quick glance at Naria’s plump belly in the passenger seat. As the peaceful look rested on her foreign features, all Trina could think of was RJ. She didn’t want to remember him bloated and battered, as they’d found him, but lively and handsome as he was. But the only vision she could conjure of him was the grotesque one that had been presented to them the night they found him dead.

  As she conquered more of the open interstate, her mind began to shift toward Derrick. It would seem that he and RJ had been friends their entire lives, due to the manner in which he had been there. In a strange way, it almost seemed as if he was over compensating in his actions.

  Trina would never want to launch such serious accusations against her man’s business partner and friend. And besides, there couldn’t have possibly been any reason for bloodshed between the two, or at least she thought.

  * * * * *

  Derrick and Tony headed straight to a storefront in Richmond, just a rock’s throw from where he was raised. After receiving the money from the Jamaican business owner, Derrick and Tony hit the streets of the city. Derrick had been pressing Tony to see the hood he grew up in, because Tony had said he spent time in Virginia also.

  It was a rarity that a bright yellow Ferrari 550 M cruised the streets of Richmond due to the absence of rappers and professional sports figures in the city. However, on every occasion, the locals of the financially impoverished city gave their attention to such spectacles.

  This was never truer as Derrick and Tony cruised down Broad Street. Kids on bikes were desperately trying to keep up with the nearly 600 horsepower automobile, and hustlers on every corner stopped what they were doing to marvel at the scene. The female genre nearly tossed themselves in front of the car in hopes of being chosen.

  Derrick eyed all of this sadly, because even though he had become a product of the very same environment, he felt that he was somehow different.

  Reaching over to turn the Caribbean music down, Tony casually said, “Me used to run all these streets, yo, when me first come to America.”

  Derrick nodded.

  “This one youth try to take me for a sucker years ago,” he stated, and then paused to maneuver the car past a group of kids. “A good youth, but ‘im let ‘im bredron boost ‘im up to take people things that no belong to ‘im.”

  “Yeah, dudes gotta know who to fuck with and who not to fuck with,” Derrick said.

  “Yes, bredron.” Tony nodded. “Yes. Ya see dat spot right dere?”

  Derrick’s heart pounded as he watched Tony point to the area where his brother Ray was murdered. The block had always been hot back in the day. That was the reason Derrick’s mother had warned him about stay being there. So it was no surprise that another person had been murdered where Derrick’s brother had been killed. It was a sad reality that made Derrick angrier about losing his brother.

  “Me have to murder dis boy in ah cold blood, right ere in the street. It make me first and last time me eva have to murder,” he said in a somber tone.

  “Oh yeah? What happened.”

  “A bwoy was right near that pole . . .”

  Derrick sat in the passenger seat stunned, thinking of the makeshift memorial that had been filled with flowers and cards the day after his brother was killed in the very spot Tony was talking about.

  “Shot em ras in the back and chest. A big tall bwoy. Dey call the mon Tree, just like you.”

  “Oh yeah?” Derrick said, becoming more eager to know about the shooting.

  “He a disgrace ya name.” Tony smiled. “Mon name Tree, but me cut his ras down.” He laughed. “Me forty-five kill ‘im ras dead in the middle of a Summer day.”

  “Summer day?” Derrick’s heart rate increased. He paused, looking at Tony. “What year was that?”

  “Early eighties.”

  “Like eighty-four?” Derrick asked.

  Tony nodded. “Yes, mon. Believe it was dat year. A very hot year. Was a heat wave that year.”

  There was a painful whistling sound in Derrick’s ears as a lone tear cascaded down his cheek. His brother had been known as Tree and he was shot in the very same part of his body Tony mentioned. And Derrick gritted his teeth because his fear had been confirmed as Tony mentioned the year of the heat wave that accompanied the murder of his brother. Derrick couldn’t believe that he was actually sitting beside the man who’d taken the one person from him that he loved more than anything from him.”

  There was a painful whistling sound in his ears as a lone tear cascaded down his cheek. His brother Ray was shot in the very same part of his body. Derrick gritted his teeth when his fear was confirmed as Tony mentioned the year the murder happened. He couldn’t believe that he was actually sitting beside the man who’d taken the one person that he loved more than anything from him.

  As Tony waited for a break in traffic, he was oblivious to the ball of rage sitting beside him.

  Easing his newly acquired .40-caliber from its confines, Derrick gripped the gun with so much force, he was unable to feel his own hand. He turned the gun on an unsuspecting Tony, and screamed, “Why?”

  “What the bomba! Bredron, why you ah put that gun pun me so?” Tony shouted in a panic filled voice as he leaned away from the barrel.

  “Just fucking tell me why!” Derrick repeated indignantly.

  “Bredron, me a not know—”

  “You don’t know.” Derrick gasped. “You don’t know who the fuck that was you killed?”

  Tony shrugged his shoulders. “Me nah know.”

  “Think about it. His name was Tree. He was from my hood.”

  Tony’s eyes grew wide as the reality of who he killed had set in. “Oh shi…”

  Derrick had heard enough, pulling the trigger on the handgun, he instantly witnessed the Jamaican’s brain matter splatter against the yellow and black piped seats. Pulling the trigger again and again, Derrick watched as the short Jamaican’s body jerked as every slug entered his body.

  Unbeknownst to an enraged Derrick, the car had rolled nearly half way down the one-way block and crashed into a parked car.

  Almost instantly, people were exiting their houses to get a glimpse of the people in the wrecked sports car.

  Derrick grabbed the bag containing the money and exited the car. Ignoring the people gathering, he walked away.

  Chapter Thirty

  Derrick safely made it back to New York. The entire bus ride back, he contemplated his new course of action. There was no way he could vanish to Jamaica without news of him being tied to the well-known Jamaican’s murder. He had contemplated Cuba or the Dominican Republic, yet, he still hadn’t decided on which Caribbean retreat he was set on. After he retrieved the things that he had left at the house, he was out. Nothing could stop him now.

  The lock on Dominique’s door made her frantically fumble wit
h it. She’d just come from Derrick’s business in search of him. She desperately wanted to divulge what Gold had insinuated to her. Not only had Gold pinpointed her and Derrick’s relationship, he also had made some farfetched allegation about Derrick murdering his partner RJ.

  Although Dominique played as if she didn’t know of anything that Gold spoke of, she knew that she needed to relay the information to Derrick immediately.

  As soon as she stepped into her apartment, she began to dial Derrick’s phone again. She had called his cell phone and home phone at least fifty times each to no avail, yet she continued to try.

  “Please, Derrick. Please answer the phone,” she prayed.

  * * * * *

  Ishmah and Tareek pulled into the complex behind the silver Mercedes driven by the young, pretty woman. It was a long shot, but at that moment that’s all they had. Lil’ John’s disclosure of Tree’s car lot just before his death was all they had to go on.

  Just as Ishmah had unnoticeably parked the car they were in, an undercover police car crept through the parking lot and parked just a few cars down from theirs.

  Simultaneously, Ishmah and Tareek looked to one another, and then back in the direction of the unmarked car. Without speaking, they understood that this situation may have been a bit more than they were prepared for. Nonetheless, with the training that each of them had been afforded in the mountains of Pakistan, they were ready for anything.

  * * * * *

  Derrick pulled out of the hotel parking lot. He knew he needed to get out of New York immediately. Just as he got onto the interstate, his cell phone began to shimmy against the shiny wood grain console. He snatched the tiny device, eyeing the number and sighed. It was Dominique.

  Derrick had made the decision that his last interlude with Dominique was his final interlude.

  Once the phone ceased vibrating, he observed the small screen notifying him of numerous voicemail messages. Thinking that one of them may have belonged to Naria and Trina, he accessed the service. The first message captured his attention. “Derrick, this is Dominique! Douglas knows everything! Please call me as soon as you get this message.”

  Derrick continued to listen to message after message pertaining to the same subject. Dominique was hysterical, so he returned her call to see exactly what she was warning him of.

  Reluctantly, he dialed her number and listened as her voice came onto the line. “Derrick! I’m so glad you called me!”

  Not wanting to waste valuable time, he blurted, “Not on the phone. We have to meet.”

  “Yeah, I think we should talk in person.”

  “Come to my house.”

  Perplexed that he would invite her to his home, she asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Just hurry up, I’ve got some extremely important business to handle.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  * * * * *

  Derrick didn’t want Naria to suspect their vacation as being the permanent getaway that it was, so he intentionally left behind a few of their valuables in their home.

  Rummaging through drawers, Derrick gathered numerous pieces of expensive jewelry and tossed them into a bag. Stepping into the large walk-in closet, he quickly removed a piece of the wall, revealing a built in safe. Turning the safe’s combination with precision, he opened the door and grabbed an envelope full of US Bonds and his glitzy diamond studded chain and bracelet.

  Stuffing the jewelry and bonds into the duffle bag that already contained nearly $300,000, Derrick quickly contemplated leaving at that very moment. However, his instincts told him that he at least needed to hear what Dominique had to say before he completely disappeared.

  * * * * *

  Dominique frantically maneuvered her car through the light night traffic. The only thing she knew was that she had to save Derrick before Gold attempted to tie him to RJ’s murder. Dominique’s mind was focused on nothing but Derrick. Taking the exit recklessly, she swerved around a car sitting at the light, nearly taking the rear of the car with her.

  Gold desperately tried to keep up with Dominique. Had he known Derrick’s whereabouts, he wouldn’t have been speeding down the interstate like a maniac. He would’ve just went there and waited.

  He knew that once he divulged his accusations to her, she’d immediately relay them to Derrick. This is what he counted on happening. What neither Dominique nor Derrick knew was that once they united, any and everything they said could and would be used against them.

  Smiling sinisterly, Gold bore down on the gas pedal and watched Dominique’s tail lights disappear into a long driveway.

  * * * * *

  Ishmah carefully tailed the two-car locomotive, speeding through Staten Island’s back roads. He was careful not to arouse any suspicions on either of the cars they were trailing. Neither of the men knew who they were following, or where they were going, yet they felt that all roads would lead to the man they only knew as Tree.

  Observing the car driven by the unidentified female take a left turn about a quarter of a mile ahead of them, Ishmah slowed almost to a crawl. He watched the man behind the wheel of the unmarked car do the same. Confident that neither of the drivers were aware of their pursuit, Ishmah turned the lights off on their car and cautiously followed in total darkness.

  * * * * *

  Derrick paced the corridor of his house impatiently, eyeing the road leading to his home. It wasn’t until he noticed a set of headlights appear that he calmed his pace. As Dominique’s Mercedes pull into his driveway, he unlocked the door and stepped out onto the porch. He had already tossed his duffle bag into his truck in preparation of his smooth getaway.

  Dominique quickly exited her car and trotted onto the porch where Derrick stood. “Oh my God, Derrick! I’m so glad to see you!” She hugged him around his waist.

  With an expressionless glare, Derrick dryly responded, “What did you have to tell me, Dominique?”

  “Can we at least go inside?”

  Derrick gripped her hand and led the way into the luxurious home.

  Ogling the elaborate interior, Dominique spun around taking in the entire view.

  Derrick took a seat on the couch and looked up at a visibly impressed Dominique. “Dominique! I told you I had some very important business to take care of! Now what is going on?”

  Taking a deep breath, she said. “Tonight, Gold came to my house and . . .”

  * * * * *

  Deputy Director Douglas Gold sat behind the wheel of his car listening intently to every word of Dominique and Derrick captured by the tiny recording apparatus.

  “So if he knows so much about us, why aren’t you under some sort of investigation or in jail?”

  “I don’t know, Derrick, but he seems to think he has you pinned on the Jordan murder.”

  “Psst! Shit, I was with you when RJ was murdered.”

  “I know, but I couldn’t tell him that. I simply denied everything.”

  Frustrated at the direction their conversation was taking, Gold banged his fist against the steering wheel.

  “Do you still have the tape of you and him?” Derrick’s voice asked, instantly recapturing Gold’s attention.

  “Yes, I’ve got it. Why?”

  “That’s going to be your counter attack against any charges he may attempt to bring against you.”

  “But what about you, Derrick?”

  Gold sat there racking his brain for what tape the pair could have been speaking of.

  Suddenly, there was a light tap on the car’s window, nearly scaring Gold out of his skin. Abruptly turning his head, he noticed a light complexioned man standing with a smile.

  Rolling the window down, Gold asked, “Yeah, can I do something for you?”

  In an accent almost unrec
ognizable to Gold, the man replied, “Yes, sir. I ave a question fah you.”

  * * * * *

  After discreetly parking their car, Ishmah and Tareek checked and rechecked their weaponry, and then watched as the woman pulled into a driveway lined with luxury cars. There was one vehicle parked in the driveway that captured both men’s attention, more than any of the others.

  The silver Cadillac STSV that their informers had told them the man they knew as Tree drove, sat in the driveway of the extravagant home.

  Both men went from investigators to huntsmen. Pointing toward the car that the unidentified man drove, Ishmah whispered, “Ak, go and take care of him, while I pay our friend Tree a visit.”

  Tareek nodded and started off in the direction of the unmarked car parked a hundred feet from their own.

  Once he got near the car, he slid his Taurus closer to his hip, and then casually walked up to the car and tapped on the window.

  Noticing the shock register on the man’s face, Tareek smiled.

  Rolling the window down, the older white man asked, “Yeah, can I do something for you?”

  In the deepest Middle Eastern accent attainable, Tareek replied, “Yeah, sure. I have a question fah you.” Pausing, Tareek focused his attention on the tiny device resting on the passenger seat, emitting crackling voices.

  Tareek’s hesitancy caused the older man to ask, “What is it you want to ask me?”

  Smoothly, moving centimeters closer to the car’s door, Tareek asked, “Ah you fah-mil-liar with Allah?”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  Moving just a few inches closer, Tareek flashed his smile once again. With cat-like speed he placed both his palms on either side of the man’s head and quickly twisted. A feeble snap could be heard over the voices coming from the small electronic transmitter resting on the seat. Laying the dead man’s head against the seat in an ordinary fashion, Tareek made the trek toward the residence of their unsuspecting victim.