The Streets Bleed Murder Box Set Read online

  Gangsta thrust in and out of her and had both his hands under the arch of her back. He felt his balls soaked from her wetness. Terry continued to roll her hips harder.

  “I’m ‘bout to cum. Oh, Gary,” she yelled.

  She bit down on his shoulder and her body shook uncontrollably. After she calmed down a bit, Gangsta pulled out of her.

  “Turn ova,” Gangsta ordered. “Lay on yo’ stomach.”

  Terry obliged him by lying face down with her ass up. He entered her and she slowly laid flat on her stomach. That allowed Gangsta to get in the push up position and beat her pussy up good. He went fast, and then slow. On those slow moments, he would kiss the top of her back and shoulder blades. He also placed kisses on her neck.

  Terry put her face in the pillow and screamed as Gangsta deep stroked her hard. Terry gripped the sheets.

  “You finna cut dat nigga off?” he asked while continuing to enter her deep.

  He felt himself in power and about to cum — two of the best feelings in the world.

  “Okay,” Terry wasted no time replying, because she cared more for Gangsta than she did for Zay. Within seconds he shot his load inside her and jerked a few times while sucking on her neck. He rolled from on top of her onto his back.

  “What time you gotta work?” he asked.

  “I have to be there at 11 a.m.”

  Terry moved closer to him, placing one of her legs over his and resting her head on his chest to listen to his rapid heartbeat.

  “Well, I’m finna dip, shawty.” He kissed the top of her head.

  Terry sat up and looked at the clock. She removed the wild hair that was in her face, and then found her t-shirt that had tangled up in the sheet and put it on. After she found her panties, she spoke while putting them on.

  “I get off at 8 o’clock, so are you coming to get me?”

  Gangsta stood his naked body up and found his boxer shorts, then got his jeans.

  “I guess I am,” Gangsta replied.

  “Zay usually picks me up, but he is history, am I correct?” Terry asked.

  She held his shirt out to him and then looked at him for some form of confirmation.

  “Don’t be flexin’, ‘cause if you fuckin’ wit’ me, then Zay is out da picture. I’m not sharing,” Gangsta replied.

  “You said what you said, and I said what I said, so fuck Zay. I’m wit’ you now.”

  That was all Terry had to say.

  Chapter 4

  Kash

  When Kash woke from his slumber, the first thing he did was look next to him to find Erica was gone. The wall clock read 11:47 a.m. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and saw Gangsta had texted him.

  What’s the haps, fool?

  Kash got up and headed toward the bathroom. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then stared at himself in the mirror to make sure he was straight. Kash took a brief shower and put on some fresh gear Erica had laid out for him.

  Kash walked into the living room and saw NeNe, his girlfriend’s sister, seated on the sofa watching a movie on their sixty-four inch TV.

  “What’s up, sis? Do you know where Erica put my sack at?” he asked about his personal stash of purple haze he smoked faithfully every morning.

  “Yeah,” NeNe replied, and then pointed to the bowl under the coffee table with almost twenty-eight grams in it.

  “Bet dat,” he said as he proceeded to get his product.

  He paid NeNe no more attention as he took the entire bowl, walked back into the bedroom, and closed the door. He got the phone and called Gangsta, who picked up on the third ring.

  “Whoa,” Gangsta answered.

  “What’s up, shawty? I been try’na link up wit’ you all night,” Kash said as he began to roll up a blunt wrap.

  “I was tired as fuck last night, boy. What da play is, though?” Gangsta shot back.

  “I got Dinky,” Kash said.

  “You did? Okay, so what you got ‘im for?”

  Gangsta was kind of surprised that Kash hit the lick alone.

  “Naw, I just kidnapped the sucka. He on Ruth Street at Pat’s crib, duct taped down,” Kash replied. Pat was one of the weed men in the hood and a known spot where people could find some of the best dogfights.

  Kash explained how he pulled the kidnapping off, then how he wanted the ransom to go down. He told Gangsta that Dank already knew and was gonna be the one who applied the pressure to Dinky for information in two more days. Kash wanted panic to set into Cris and Dinky before he approached the situation.

  “Okay, well, I’m in da streets now, shawty. We’ll link up in Hollywood Courts a lil’ later,” Gangsta replied, and minutes later they hung up the phone with each other.

  Kash put fire to the blunt wrap stuffed with purp. The next phone call he made was to his mother.

  “Hello,” his mother stated in a joyful tone.

  “Ma, what’s up? What y’all doing? Where’s dad?”

  “Hey, baby,” his mother greeted him before paying attention to his questions.

  He could hear in his mother’s voice she was happy to hear from him. She thought any day Kash missed going to jail was a blessing in her eyes.

  “Where’s dad?” he asked again.

  “In the yard messing with the help. You know he can’t stand to sit back. He’s too much of a boss to not give orders,” his mother said, laughing.

  Kash sure did miss his mother and made a mental note to go see his parents soon.

  Kash talked with his mother a few more minutes, and then he ended the call with a promise to ride down with the kids and Erica. After he hung up, he checked around the house, making sure all was good, and then rolled over to Hollywood Road.

  ***

  Gangsta

  Gangsta saw Terry standing outside of her job by the pay phone. He pulled up beating Velt, a new rapper out of Atlanta who signed with P. Diddy and was hot in the game.

  Terry got in and closed the door. She rolled the window down to let most of the weed smoke out.

  “Gary, put dat shit out. You smoke too much,” Terry said with a frown.

  He pulled away from her job and tossed the small blunt out the window.

  “Where you going? Home or Jay Road?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “How was work?” he asked, punching the gas to the Ram and making it fly up the street.

  “It was okay until Zay came up there try’na start shit.”

  “What’d he do?” Gangsta asked as he laughed a bit.

  “They were ‘bout to lock his ass up. I guess he couldn’t take the truth.”

  “So, you straighten that out?”

  He looked to her, then to the streets. She had his full attention.

  “Yes, I told him it was over with and he snapped. I have never seen him that mad. I was all type of bitches and hos,” Terry said, shaking her head.

  “Dat’s what’s up.”

  Gangsta liked what he heard and turned the music back up. Within minutes he was pulling up to her apartment in Bankhead Courts.

  Gangsta still held love for her, and it was again growing inside him, but this time it was a bit faster than the first time. This time he wanted their relationship to last and make it through the hard times. He knew he was in the streets and anything could happen. He could go to jail any day, and that would leave her lost and confused. It bothered him so much that he turned the radio down and looked at her as he parked in front of her apartment building.

  “Terry,” he started to say.

  She looked over to him and answered, “Yes?”

  “What happened? What went wrong to make you not stay down when I caught that case and did those nine months?”

  Gangsta needed to know, and he had never asked her.

  Terry looked away from that question because she instantly felt bad and couldn’t look into his eyes at all. After a few seconds, she decided to still give him an answer.

  “Gary, we were kids back then. I listened to the wrong people �
�� my mom, my aunt, my friends — and I thought you would never get out.”

  “You thought I’d never get out?” Gangsta asked, confused.

  “Yes, you killed somebody, Gary. What did you expect me to think?” Terry asked with teary eyes, which made Gangsta shake his head.

  “Dat man was already dead when I broke into his house.”

  “That’s not what I heard.”

  “Okay, so what about the now, though? What if I get knocked now that we’re together again, what will you do?” Gangsta asked because he needed to know the truth.

  “We’re not kids anymore, and I promise not to ever let another person dictate my life or my relationship again,” Terry said, and then grabbed one of his hands. “I have your back, and I promise to keep you. I know I messed up, Gary, but I will not mess up again.”

  “And what’s up between you and Zay, for real for real?”

  “I promise you, Gary, it’s a wrap. Here you go. You can call him and ask him.”

  She reached in her bag, pulled out her phone, and passed it to him.

  “I believe you, shawty. I was just asking,” he said while waving his hands.

  They talked a couple more minutes before Gangsta decided to leave. They shared a quick kiss and Terry got out. At the same moment, a black dude approached the driver’s side window of the Ram truck. He tapped the window to get Gangsta’s attention while looking in Terry’s direction. Gangsta turned to find Veedo, whom he did time with in Alto. He rolled his window down.

  “What’s up, Vee?” he asked.

  “Man, I’m cool, bruh. What’s good wit’ you, though?”

  He leaned in so he could feel the air conditioner blowing.

  “Ain’t too much going on. I’m just glad to be home.”

  “Hell, yeah, I’m so fucked up out here though, bruh. It’s been super ugly,” Veedo stressed, and Gangsta could see it in his eyes.

  “You workin’ or you slangin’? What you got goin’ on?”

  “Shit, bruh, but you know I’m a go-getter,” Veedo boasted, because when the both of them were in Alto, Veedo was the weed and cocaine man.

  Gangsta wrote his number down and told Veedo to call him later. He said he had something for him. They gave each other dap and Gangsta pulled off.

  ***

  Dank

  Two Days Later

  It was a gray, cool, and misty morning with no clue of sunshine, just a rush of humble winds here and there. The clock read 8:15 a.m., and Dank was awake and had money on his mind.

  He cranked his trunk up from the living room window with his remote and smiled to himself at the new toy. It was something he’d never had, but always wanted, and now he’d gotten it. He couldn’t be happier.

  Dank took a seat on the sofa and picked up his phone. Kash had just texted him an address. He then proceeded to roll up something to smoke and decided to give Gangsta a call to make sure he was en route to the spot on Ruth Street.

  “Whoa,” Gangsta answered.

  “Shawty, what’s up?” Dank said.

  “Shit, bruh, finna get dressed. Just got done eating,” Gangsta replied.

  “Okay, well, I’m on da way to meet Kash.”

  “Bet dat. I’ma see ya there in a few.”

  Dank sat his phone down and found his lighter on the table. He lit the blunt and hit it twice. He inhaled a cloud of smoke, but couldn’t hold it in, so he choked.

  Donte Colman was twenty-two years of age and vicious. In the streets he was a natural-born killer with not an ounce of heart or pity. He was born and raised in Perry Homes, but moved to Simpson when the apartments were torn down, and that’s where he developed his status in the streets. That’s when he killed his first person and made his first buck.

  He was good with applying pressure to niggas in the streets. It was said that he should’ve stayed in school and played ball because of his size. Dank had always been the biggest kid around. At the tender age of thirteen, he was 6’0” and weighed almost two hundred pounds. Now he stood 6’3” and was solid muscle. He was a beast with what he did.

  Dank was well respected on the west side, east side, and south side. He was feared the most in the areas he posted up in, and with every chance he got he took advantage of that fear he bestowed upon those around him. The only time the streets rested was when he went to jail or prison, because then the inmates had to deal with him and his ways.

  Dank finished his blunt, grabbed his 9mm from beside him on the sofa, and walked into Tiffany’s room. His girl was weighing up ounces of mid-grade weed. He kissed her.

  “Love ya,” he said.

  “I love you, too,” she replied, and then watched him leave.

  Dank walked out to the gloomy morning and felt the misty rain attack his face. There was hardly anybody outside. As he jumped in his truck, his ears were filled with music from T.I.

  When he pulled out of Hollywood Court Apartments, he made a right turn and rode down Hollywood Road and passed Do Drop In. He went around a sharp curve where there were graveyards on both sides of the street. A white hooker was out and about trying to find her a trick. Dank rode past her without a second thought.

  Dank pulled up to the fence and was let in by two of Pat’s workers. The yard looked to be a mechanic’s shop with the many cars scattered about with hoods up and wheels off. Pat’s yard was also filled with pitbulls on no chain. He parked the truck and got out to be met by Kash.

  “Let’s go inside,” Kash suggested.

  Dank followed his partna into Pat’s basement, where he found Dinky tied up and duct taped to a chair. Dank walked straight over and snatched the tape off Dinky’s mouth. He took a deep breath of air into his lungs and exhaled harshly.

  “Man—” Dinky started to say before he was cut off.

  “Shut da fuck up,” Dank yelled, cutting him off. “Listen up, nigga. What’s Cris’ number, fool? Dis a robbery.”

  “Man, what the fuck? I don’t go—”

  “Pussy, stop playin’ before I leave yo’ ass down here for two more days,” Dank said, because he knew that type of pressure would break Dinky.

  It had already been two and a half days since he’d been kidnapped, and this was the first time anybody had said something to him. Dank knew his body had to be sore and he must be starving. From the harsh smell, Dank could tell Dinky had already used the bathroom on himself.

  “What you want, man?” Dinky’s weak voice cracked.

  “All the money you worth, nigga,” Dank said, and then smacked him upside the head with his Glock .40. “What’s yo’ boy’s number?”

  Dinky winced in pain as the side of his face opened up and started to bleed.

  “What’s up, bruh? I ain’t got shit, man,” Dinky pleaded, but his voice fell on deaf ears.

  Kash texted the number Dinky gave him from a prepaid phone.

  This Dinky, so call me back.

  “I know you and Cris run Bowen Homes with loud and pills, and I want in, nigga. I want my cut,” Dank said. “I want every penny in yo’ safe.”

  The prepaid phone started to ring in Kash’s hand, and it showed Cris was the person calling. Kash passed the phone to Dank, who quickly flipped it open.

  “Pussy-ass nigga, you next,” Dank said when he answered the phone.

  “Hello?” Cris said, confused.

  “I got Dinky, nigga, and you next.” Dank hung up the phone and walked back over to Dinky. “I want a million for yo’ life.”

  “Man, I don’t have that type of cheddar.”

  “Man, stop,” Dank said, and then kind of laughed as he heard the phone ring again. “What’s up?”

  He pointed the gun at Dinky’s face and pretended to shoot him.

  “Who dis is?” Cris asked, still confused.

  “Where’s Cris at?” Dank asked, ignoring his question.

  “Dis Cris, so what’s up? Where is Dinky?” Cris asked, nearly panicking.

  “How many pounds of loud y’all niggas worth?”

  “Huh?” The quest
ion confused Cris, and that’s when Dank hung up the phone again.

  “Okay, so I’ma ask you da same question, and I’m gonna see who lying,” Dank said.

  “Please, man, I swear—” Dinky again started to speak, but again was cutoff.

  “Shut da fuck up,” Dank yelled in Dinky’s ear and almost burst his eardrum. He pushed his head before he finished his statement. “As I was saying, my nigga, if you lie, then you die. So, how many pounds is y’all worth?”

  Dank smiled over at Kash, who was silently laughing at the performance his partna was putting on. It took Dinky almost two minutes to answer, even though Dank knew ninety percent of the time the truth would come out at this point.

  “We just got a fifty pound bail,” Dinky said humbly, feeling broken down.

  The phone started to ring again, but he ignored it and continued questioning Dinky.

  “How much paper y’all make a week?” he asked him.

  “I don’t really know, bruh. Somethin’ like five racks.”

  “Bitch, stop lyin’,” Dank shouted and picked up the ringing phone. “Hello.”

  “Who dis?” Cris asked again.

  “Where’s Cris?” Dank asked back, again ignoring his question.

  “Dis Cris, who you?”

  “So, y’all niggas worth fifty pounds?”

  “Huh?”

  “Pussy-ass nigga, don’t huh me. It’s a ransom, nigga.”

  “A who?” Cris had anger in his voice, but Dank could also hear panic.

  “Listen, fuck-nigga. Only one option, homeboy, and dat’s to comply. If not, the bitch-ass Dinky die,” Dank forcefully stated.

  “Every real nigga in the city is looking for shawty. Do you know what the fuck you getting into before you go too far?” Cris replied through clenched teeth

  “Fuck you and every nigga wit’ y’all. I want one hundred grand and 50 pounds of that loud y’all got at the stash. You got one hour, and if you do not comply, if you alert the cops or run to get every fuck-nigga in Atlanta, then Dinky die and I will personally pick you off later in life. I will text yo’ bitch-ass the address to bring the product and money. Oh, and come alone, fuck-nigga,” Dank spoke, then hung up on Cris.