Baltimore Chronicles (5 page)

“No!” she screamed, holding her face. She knew she was fighting a losing battle trying to convince her husband to calm down. She balled up into a fetal position, afraid that if she moved or said anything, her husband might beat her to death.

Derek rushed toward his closet to retrieve his weapon.

“I will kill you, mu'fucka! I'm gonna kill you!!” Derek screamed out, talking to his brother and meaning every word he said.

Scar had gathered his shit and was heading down the stairs. He wasn't one to run from anyone, but he had literally been caught slipping, butt-ass naked with his gun in the car. He had been in such a rush to bang up in Derek's wife that he left his fucking gat in the car. Scar was kicking himself for being so stupid. He knew he had to get the fuck out of dodge before his brother's temper got out of control.

Derek couldn't get his weapon out of his lock box fast enough. By the time he picked up his Glock, Scar was out the door and gone.

“You fuckin' bitch! You want to fuck a criminal? My brother? Well, I hope the mu'fucka takes care of you after I'm finished destroying him!” Derek barked, standing over his wife with his gun drawn. He was so angry he knew he could shoot her right there.

Derek blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to wipe the images of killing Tiphani out of his mind. He cocked his gun and pointed it directly at her head. He wanted to shoot her; he wanted to end her life and his pain and hurt.

Finally deciding that she wasn't worth it, Derek told himself he would get them both back in a different way. He would make them suffer slowly, while he took their lives apart piece by piece. Stopping himself before he did something stupid, he moved away from Tiphani and rushed out of his home in a fury.

“Fuck being my brother's keeper. This is gonna be some Cain and Abel shit. Scar, you done fucked up now,” Derek gritted out loud, like his words would somehow telepathically reach his traitorous brother's ears.

 

Derek stormed into the station house, pushing past all of his colleagues. Everyone was still talking about the whole warrant dustup with Scar going free, but Derek didn't even care that they were whispering about him.

“Rodriguez, Bolden, Archie, Cassell, integ room now!” Derek screamed.

All of the members of his unit looked up. They were shocked at his outburst, and they looked around like they thought he was crazy. They knew he would be mad about what happened in the courtroom, but they had never seen him this worked up before.

Apprehensively, they all filed into the small interrogation room. It was soundproof, and no one else in the station house would be able to hear what Derek had to say. He looked like a man undone. His hands were shaking, and he paced up and down the small room like he was unable to sit or stand still. He was sweating from head to toe. His dress shirt was soaked under the arms.

The entire unit looked quizzically at the scratches and red welts on his face. “Fuller, you okay?” Rodriguez asked, her face crumpled with confusion.

“Yeah, but I thought shit through, and I can't just let that fuckin' Johnson get away like that.” Derek huffed out his words, barely able to catch his breath.

“I was thinking the same shit. I still don't understand how that shit went down like it did,” Bolden commented, twisting his lips to the side like he was a little suspicious. In fact, all of the members of the unit were suspicious. They had all been known to take some cash from the criminals from time to time. There were plenty of times that the unit would get together in that same room and split their profit. This wasn't the first time a criminal had gone free on their watch, but it was the first time a criminal went free and they didn't see any payoff come their way.

“I want all the stops pulled out to bring this ugly mu'fucka down!” Derek screamed, slamming his flat palms on the table until they burned. He couldn't control himself; his anger was apparent.

“But what happened all of a sudden? Why the urgency today?” Cassell asked, still confused by his leader's behavior and a little pissed that he got blamed for the mix-up on the warrant. He could have sworn he wrote the address that Fuller told him.

“Were you in court yesterday? Don't ask stupid fucking questions. Just do as I say and fucking trust me for once! I want all his files pulled. I want the cold cases of the two government officials Scar Johnson allegedly put the hit on pulled and reviewed. I want y'all to scour the streets to find informants, snitches, bitches…whatever. I want this mu'fucka down on an airtight case.

“Two of you need to go visit that fucking lawyer too. Rough his ass up and give his ass something to mull over before he thinks about representing a walking dead man again,” Derek spat. His eyes were bulged out, and the vein in his neck thumped so wildly his subordinates could see it with their naked eyes. He was talking some crazy shit to them. He wanted them to rough up a fucking defense attorney? They were all uncomfortable now. Something wasn't right and they knew it.

“We have twenty-four hours, and I want that bastard behind bars on a charge that will take care of him for life. Either that or he needs to die,” Derek said with conviction before turning around and storming out of the room.

The rest of his unit looked at each other, still taken aback.

They began filing out of the room, afraid to say anything. Apparently the unit was to set out on a new mission to bring down Scar Johnson…like it or not.

Scar paced back and forth in his office. He couldn't think straight. The scenario with Derek had his mind going a mile a minute. Scar's conscience was weighing heavily on him. How could he be so foul, so fucked up toward his own flesh and blood over a bitch? Scar wished he could take it back. He was immediately sorry when his brother rushed in on him and Tiphani, but it was too late then. He knew no apology could erase the image of him screwing Tiphani from his brother's mind.

Scar had never even experienced remorse in his life. He had murdered people, assaulted women, had niggahs tortured, and never lost a wink of sleep. But he actually, for the first time, felt real fucked up inside about how he had hurt his brother. Not only was Derek his brother, but Derek had come back for him, had searched for him for all those years, something that Scar couldn't say he had done. Derek also kept the law off of him for all these years. Now he wasn't so sure his brother was going to play that game. Scar needed to fix this situation fast. If not, he wouldn't just lose a brother, he could lose his whole empire.

The first time he had slept with Tiphani, it was supposed to be a one-time thing. Derek had been so excited to introduce them; his baby brother and the love of his life is how Derek had characterized them. Scar had told Derek he didn't want to meet his wife because he knew she was a prosecutor and he didn't want any parts of her. Derek convinced Scar that she would be cool, and insisted they meet. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Derek wanted his baby brother to know the love of his life, especially since they had been reunited and promised never to be separated again. That promise was all a memory now. A woman had shattered the brothers' vow.

As Scar thought back, he decided it was all Tiphani's fault. That bitch! She had come on to him after only meeting him twice. She had cried to him about Derek's sexual problems. At first, Scar thought it was amusing, his big brother not being able to hold it down in the bedroom; but then he realized Tiphani wanted him to take care of her in a way Derek couldn't. She was like a fiend…some kind of nympho. Scar fell into her trap, and he had to admit that her beautiful face and body had not been easy to turn away. On top of that, her pussy shot was intoxicating. The best he'd ever had.

“Everybody get the fuck outta my office!” Scar barked, sending his little flunkies scrambling to get out of his way. They all fled his office in a hurry without looking back. They had noticed that his mood had been very dark for the past two days, and usually that meant somebody's head would roll.

Scar didn't really want to be alone, but he couldn't risk his workers catching on to his pity party. He also didn't want them to hear him leave yet another message on Derek's voice mail, begging for a call back. His mind was swarming with thoughts, especially thoughts of how he was going to fix shit between him and his brother before shit got out of hand.

Scar picked up his cell and dialed his brother's number again. “Yo, D, man, I'm fuckin' sick over this shit, man. I was dead-ass wrong, man. Blood is thicker than water, man. You can't pick her over me. We need to talk. There is too much shit at stake…for both of us. Call me, man,” Scar said in a gruff voice, trying not to sound too much like he was begging, but also letting his brother know he was sorry for what he'd done.

Scar disconnected the call and continued pacing the floor. Finally his phone rang. His heart jumped. He looked at the screen and slouched his shoulders in disappointment—it wasn't his brother. Scar didn't recognize the number.

“Yo,” he said into the receiver, trying to mask his disappointment.

“Watch ya back, niggah. There's a bounty on ya ugly-ass head,” a deep voice said into the receiver.

He didn't recognize the voice. “Fuck you, pussy! Bring it!” Scar barked in response. It was his first instinct to lash out and show he wasn't scared. He knew it had to be Derek or someone connected to him. Scar figured no other niggah in the Baltimore area would have the fucking balls to call his phone and threaten him.

Although he didn't want to, Scar had already begun to mentally prepare himself for his brother's wrath. Now he knew he would physically have to prepare as well. Scar didn't want it to come down to war with his own blood, but he had also learned from years of hustling that there were three things in the street that niggahs spilled blood over: money, bitches, and reputations.

 

The anonymous caller hung up the phone, pleased with the outcome. Scar acted exactly as expected, trying to act tough, but the caller could hear a little worry and confusion in Scar's voice.

The events the caller had witnessed in the few days of trailing Scar were quite interesting. First there were all of the people going in to Scar's mansion and coming out with duffel bags, and then the scene at Detective Fuller's house. The caller didn't know whose house Scar was entering that day, but it all became clear when he saw Detective Fuller enter the house and then, a few minutes later, Scar come running out in his underwear.
Holy shit!
The observer had thought.
Scar is fucking Detective Fuller's wife!

Continuing to shadow Scar, the caller came up with the plan. After seeing the scandal at the courthouse and Fuller coming out of Scar's place with the duffel bag, it was obvious that Scar and Fuller were somehow connected. It was just a matter of finding out how. After witnessing their fight at Fuller's house, it was obvious both were vulnerable and probably not on the best of terms. It was the perfect time to stir up some shit. Somehow, the caller needed to get this war started sooner rather than later. There couldn't be a better and easier way to turn these two against each other than to have one fucking the other's wife.

I couldn't have scripted this shit any better,
the caller thought just before implementing phase one of the plan.

 

“Pa-lease, Derek, think about this,” Tiphani begged through a face full of tears. Her face was still bruised and swollen from the backhand she took from Derek. She was grabbing Derek's arms, trying in vain to block his exit from their walk-in closet. “I will get help. I promise. I'm sorry,” she pleaded.

“Tiphani, move the fuck out of my way before shit gets ugly. I feel like breaking your fucking jaw right now. I'm getting my shit and I'm out of here,” Derek said, yanking his arm from her grasp. “Expect to hear from my lawyer about divorce and custody, you fuckin' whore,” Derek spat evilly, his words hitting her like a whip.

She doubled over with sobs wracking her body. Tiphani felt like the rug had been pulled out from under her perfect little life. She had a handsome husband, two beautiful kids, and a little something on the side to keep her satisfied. She had her cake and was eating it too. To Tiphani, it couldn't have been any more perfect.

Derek looked down at her in disgust as he stormed out of the closet and out of their bedroom. He had vowed never to return. This shit was killing him inside. Tiphani was the first woman he had ever allowed himself to really love and trust. Yes, he could admit that he had his problems sexually, but they had taken vows for better or for worse. For her to fuck his brother was the equivalent of stabbing him in the heart and twisting the knife. In Derek's eyes, there was nothing worse she could have done.

Derek dragged his bags and stopped at his kids' rooms. He kissed his sleeping children. He would let the judge set visitation for them. Derek fought back tears and exited his home for the last time.

The pain and humiliation were so great that Derek was planning to transfer to another division after he brought Scar to his knees. He needed to get as far away as possible from the mess that his life was turning into.

Throwing his stuff into the backseat, he climbed into his car. Once inside, he slammed his fist on the steering wheel repeatedly. “Scar, you are as good as fuckin' done. I will destroy you just like you have destroyed me,” Derek said through clenched teeth.

Finally, the tears dropped. Realizing he had broken down, Derek wiped his face roughly, clearing the tears before anyone could see him crying like a bitch.

He picked up his phone and called Rodriguez. He and Rodriguez had the closest relationship out of any of the members of Derek's unit. Derek figured he'd lay low with Rodriguez until he was done reigning terror on Scar.

With a new fervor for revenge, Derek screeched away from the curb outside of his former home.

That night, Derek sat at a local watering hole with his unit. He downed at least seven tumblers of Hennessy and a bunch of shots of Patrón—so many that they'd all stopped counting. Derek had intended to drink his hurt away, but as always, the alcohol seemed to make shit worse. Derek was blitzed, and he started shouting out all of his business to anyone who would listen.

“I gave that bitch my life. She fucked around on me,” he slurred. “Do you know she wanted me to fuck her six times a day? She was probably fuckin' one of you guys. I wouldn't put it past her,” he continued, sounding like a drunken sailor. “Who was it? You, Cassell? Huh? Did you fuck my wife? Or…or maybe it was Archie! Yeah, fuckin' pretty Puerto Rican bastard, it was you!” Derek stammered, pointing a wavering finger at his subordinates.

“C'mon, Fuller. I know you're hurt, but don't tell your business in here,” Rodriguez told him, realizing her boss was fucked up and talking out his ass.

Derek became incensed and continued shouting. “Don't tell me what to do! You mu'fuckas need to get to work! I want that fucking Scar Johnson killed! Fuck him! Fuck sending him to jail; I got a bullet with his fucking name on it!” Derek belted out, slurring all of his words.

“Shhhh. Fuller, are you fuckin' crazy? You don't know who's in here that got connections to that dude,” Cassell said, looking at his other unit members for an explanation. “This fucking dude is out of control. We better get him out of here before he gets us all killed,” Cassell commented, sliding off of his barstool and pulling out his phone to make a call.

They couldn't figure out what the hell Derek's wife fucking around on him had to do with his case against Scar Johnson. They were already working hard to put shit into place to try once again to bring Scar down, but Derek's outburst just seemed random and sudden. They all exchanged confused and telling glances, finally deciding that their leader was just distraught over his wife's infidelity and that work was getting to him. They figured once he slept off his drinks he would be fine.

“C'mon, Derek. You've had enough for one night,” Rodriguez said. She threw Derek's arm around her shoulder as Cassell, Archie, and Bolden helped Rodriguez steady Derek and get him into her car.

“I want immediate reports on the Johnson case tomorrow.” Derek garbled his words and hiccupped at the same time.

“Yeah, Fuller. We'll brief you when you can understand English,” Cassell joked.

“That's good. That's good,” Derek said, his words even more garbled and jumbled than before. Derek stretched out in the back of Rodriguez's car and slept all the way to her house.

His outburst in the bar had definitely been overheard and immediately relayed back to the interested parties. The streets were always talking, and this incident was no different. Derek was oblivious that his battle cries had definitely been heard.

 

Scar flexed his jaw when he received more than one hood news report that a cop had been in a public bar screaming out instructions to destroy and even kill him. The one report that pissed him off the most was the phone call from the same niggah that called anonymously to warn him to watch his back. This mu'fucka was starting to get on Scar's nerves. That was the first report he received, and it seemed to Scar like it was given to him right after the cop had said it. Scar immediately knew the cop was Derek. Scar was tired of trying to cop a plea to his brother and play nice. There were but so many white flags Scar was willing to raise. A truce was obviously not what his brother was looking for.

“If this mu'fucka was fuckin' his own wife right, I wouldn't have to. I bet he don't know his bitch is begging me to come over to the house he pays mortgage for and fuck her right now. At first I felt bad, but you know what? The pussy ain't half bad. I'm taking the gloves off on his ass,” Scar announced to his little trio of killers—Trail, Flip, and Sticks—the Dirty Money Crew.

They all snickered, thinking about Scar fucking his own brother's wife. They knew he was a foul, ruthless-ass niggah, but damn.

“I still don't know why you gave that lame all that money that time,” Flip said, trying to act like he was joking, but finally letting his real feelings come to the surface about Scar giving Derek their entire cocaine flip.

Scar turned on Flip like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. “What the fuck did you say?” Scar asked, his eyes going low and filling with malice.

“I'm just saying…it was…it was our dough,” Flip stuttered, realizing he had gotten too loose with his lips. The look on Scar's face made Flip's heart speed up like galloping horses at the Kentucky Derby. He knew he had fucked up.

“Is this niggah questioning my authority?” Scar asked the rest of the crew rhetorically. Scar had a crazy look in his eyes. He had been looking that way for days now.

Sticks and Trail both shook their heads, not saying a word. They didn't want any part of what was to come.

“Yo, Scar, man…I was just commenting about that lame,” Flip said, pleading with his eyes and trying to clean up the shit he had obviously stepped knee deep into. He tried to make light of the situation by putting a half smile on his face. That just made Scar even angrier.

“Fuck you smiling about, niggah? You think this shit here a joke?” Scar asked, moving in on the boy like an eagle getting ready to pick up a mouse.

“Give me your pistol, li'l niggah,” Scar instructed calmly.