Baltimore Chronicles (6 page)

“C'mon, man…” Flip began, his teeth chattering.

“I said give me your fucking gun, niggah! Fuck is going on around this bitch? Now I gotta say shit twice,” Scar boomed, rushing into Flip's personal space.

Flip leaned back to get his face away from Scar's hideous grill. Flip dug in his waistband and reluctantly handed Scar his gun. Scar cocked the 9 mm Glock and put it up to the young boy's head.

“Yo, Scar, man…I'm sorry. I will never question your authority again, man,” Flip begged, tears welling up at the base of his eyes.

“You are a real bitch. You like to complain like a fuckin' woman? I'ma treat you like a bitch, too,” Scar said, feeling more evil by the minute. This was just what Scar wanted. He had been looking for a way to release some of the pent-up stress he had been harboring over the situation with his brother.

Trail and Sticks were like statues, stiff and rigid. They were scared to even blink. Scar was unpredictable and they knew it. There was no way they were going to risk doing anything that would catch them the same wrath that was being brought down on Flip.

“Strip, mu'fucka!” Scar screamed. Flip furrowed his brows in confusion and didn't move. “You speak English, bitch? I said take off all of your clothes! Now! I fuckin' bought everything you got on! I am the one who provides for you like a mama and a daddy, and you wanna complain about a few dollars? Take off everything right fuckin' now!” Scar screamed, holding the gun on Flip menacingly.

Flip slowly obeyed Scar's wish. He removed his fitted cap, his Coogi leather jacket, his jeans, and his Timbs. When he was finished, he sheepishly stood in his wife beater and boxers.

“Nah, niggah, I bought ya drawers and all that shit! I want you naked as a newborn baby,” Scar demanded.

Flip flexed his jaw and swallowed hard. He had to make a decision. Would he test Scar? Was Scar testing him to see how much of a man Flip was? In the end, he figured he didn't want to take a chance. He did as he was told to save his own life. He got butt-ass naked.

Scar let out a shrill laugh at the sight of Flip's skinny body. “Look, everybody! This chicken-chest niggah thought he had the balls to question me—the king! But that's all he got is balls…little-ass meatballs. His dick look like a Vienna sausage!” Scar yelled out, laughing at the same time. Humiliating Flip was making Scar feel more powerful by the minute.

Sticks and Trail were so terrified they wouldn't dare turn their eyes away, since Scar had told them to look. Flip just stood there humiliated, trying to use his hands to cover himself.

“Take this niggah up outta here,” Scar said calmly, waving his hand and dismissing Flip like a discarded piece of trash. He never had any intention of killing the boy; he just wanted to show him who was boss.

Sticks and Trail walked over to Flip, but they didn't really want to touch him. Flip's eyes were popped open in confusion. He was still not sure if Scar was done with his game, or if he could relax. The only thing Flip knew was that he wasn't about to leave naked, so he bent down to pick up his boxers.

Bang!
A shot rang out and everyone jumped. Flip let out an ear-shattering scream. He fell to the floor, holding his mangled hand, while Scar started laughing again like a maniac. The young boys were shaking all over.

“I said you had to leave, but not with the shit I bought,” Scar explained.

Flip pulled himself up, holding his wound. His face was contorted with pain. Now Flip was unable to control the tears as the pain ripped through the bones in his fingers. Scar had shot him in the hand when he tried to touch the clothes. He was gritting his teeth and squeezing his hand, trying to stop the bleeding. Flip wanted to curse the shit out of Scar, but he knew that if he said one thing to Scar, it would probably be his last. His shit was aching so bad Flip was sure he'd lose all of his fingers.

Sticks and Trail, not wanting to be the next victims, hurriedly escorted a naked and injured Flip out onto the street. Flip had no way to get home, no money, no car keys. All of the cars the three of them drove were on loan from Scar. He basically owned them and controlled their every move. He gave them just enough material things to keep them dependent on him. Basically, Flip was fucked. He walked slowly out the door, the pain causing his body to go into shock.

People on the street stared at a bleeding and naked Flip. In his mind, Flip vowed revenge. “This mu'fucka thinks he's God…you fuckin' wait,” he cried and mumbled as he walked along, naked as a jaybird, trying to figure out how the fuck he would get home.

 

Derek had made his third appearance in family court against his wife. The first two times were just to establish what they would be fighting each other for, and for each of them to hire the highest profile lawyers they could find. Today was different. Derek definitely had a strategy.

This time, the gloves had definitely come off in family court in front of the presiding judge and both of their lawyers. Derek had spilled his wife's business about her affair and her constant need for sex to the judge and any other people who had decided to come to their custody hearing. This was definitely making Tiphani livid, since a lot of people in the courtroom were her colleagues. She tried hard to hold onto her composure and some sliver of her dignity while her husband aired her dirty laundry.

Derek had described her constant need for sex, and how he had walked in on her having sex right in their own home where they were raising their children. Tiphani had kept her head held high while her husband degraded her in public, but it wasn't easy. She wanted to run away and bury her head in the sand.

The only detail Derek left out was that the person Tiphani was caught with was Scar Johnson. He knew that it wouldn't be good for either of them to be associated with the most notorious gangster in Maryland. But if he could have somehow mentioned it without getting himself connected, you know damn well Derek would have sold that bitch out in a heartbeat.

At the end of the hearing, the judge entered a temporary order giving Derek and Tiphani shared custody until a home study could be done. This meant that a child welfare investigator would be coming to dig through Tiphani's life, asking her all types of personal questions and questioning whether she was a fit parent.

Derek had definitely not heard the last from her. She was now hell bent on getting her husband back for this. There wasn't much she could say in the courtroom. If she brought up any of the dirt she knew about Derek, she would easily have been implicated in all of his dirty-ass dealings as well. The one thing she could not afford was to be associated with Scar Johnson in any way.

She stormed from the courtroom and immediately dialed Scar's phone number. Normally, she would have been more cautious when contacting Scar, for fear that his phone was being traced, but at that moment, Tiphani was so angry she wasn't thinking straight.

When he picked up, she couldn't hold back her anger. “I need to see you right away. This bastard needs to be stopped,” Tiphani gritted out.

“Meet me at our usual spot tomorrow,” Scar said and hung up immediately. He, too, was paranoid about his conversations being taped.

 

Derek left court feeling vindicated. He was going to pull out all of the stops to make Tiphani and Scar suffer. Derek called his team and asked if everything was in place for later. Derek got the answer he was looking for and smiled.

 

Later that night, Scar sat in his office feeding money stacks into his money machine. It was the only thing that made him feel better lately. Suddenly, he heard someone running outside the door to his office. Scar pulled his gun out and got ready.

“Yo, boss! We gotta get the fuck outta here! I just got word that all the spots in the east are getting hit right now! My phone is blowing up. All ten spots. Niggahs said it's the DES, DEA, FBI, ICE—all those fuckin' pigs!” Scar's lieutenant reported, so out of breath he could barely get the words out.

Scar jumped up from his seat. He had to get the fuck out of his spot because he could not be sure if this was a coincidence or if Derek would be sending the feds to get his ass at his secret spot. Derek knew about Scar's secret spot, so it seemed logical that they would be coming.

Scar started stuffing his stacks of money into bags. He grabbed his weapon and raced out through the secret tunnel underneath Katrina's. As soon as he made it into his truck, he heard. “Police! Freeze! Police!”

The police had busted into his spot from every direction. Scar's other workers were being taken down. There was no time to think about them now. Scar and his right hand man pulled out through the back road. They had just missed the raid by the skin of their asses.

Scar's chest heaved in and out. He wanted to fuck something up. He started banging on the dashboard. He banged until his hands hurt. “I'm gonna murder his whole fuckin' department! They wanna fuck with Scar Johnson? This fuckin' government is responsible for all the foul shit that ever happened to me in my life! I am the fuckin' King of Baltimore! Those mu'fuckin' boys in blue about to be singing the Maryland blues!” Scar screamed at the top of his lungs, his ugly scarred face twisted into a hideous mug.

 

Back at the station house, Derek smiled and did a little dance as he got word that all of the raids on Scar's spots were successful. His unit had reported back to him that they were almost positive that out of the sixty corner boys and trap house bodies they had arrested, somebody would be willing to roll on Scar in a court of law for their own freedom.

Derek was overjoyed. This time there would be no mishap with the warrant. He couldn't contain his joy as he slapped five with his unit and excitedly asked for details. Derek could just picture how crazy Scar must have been going right then.

When his unit turned into the station house, Derek held a final out-brief with them and got all of the information he needed.

“That was a good fucking job today. I appreciate all of your hard work,” Derek commended them.

“I'm going the hell home. This has been two weeks of long-ass days and nights and fuckin' crazy hours. I'll be back in the morning,” Cassell announced, stretching his arms for emphasis.

“Yeah, me too,” Bolden said, agreeing, standing up to follow Cassell out the door.

“Okay. Go home, recharge, and I will see you guys back here tomorrow,” Derek said.

Derek, Archie, and Rodriquez were staying a bit longer to firm up some paperwork. They all watched the two officers leave the station house, happy to be going home to their families.

“What are you two going to do?” Derek asked Rodriguez and Archie. He wanted to go get drunk as hell—his new way to ease his pain.

“I'm about to get in my ride,” Rodriguez started, but before the rest of her words could leave her mouth,
Boom!

Derek and Archie jumped and ducked their heads down. The officers all looked at each other, puzzled. Rodriguez almost choked on her words. The noise, which sounded like an explosion, was coming from outside.

All three officers rushed to the station house doors. They first noticed Bolden's car on fire. “Oh, shit!” Rodriguez screamed. Just as they began scrambling outside to try to get Bolden out of the burning car—
Boom! Boom!
—two more explosions sounded, stopping them in their tracks.

“It's Chief Scott's and Cassell's!” Archie screamed, shielding his eyes from the bright light of the massive fires as he stumbled backward away from the danger.

“Oh shit!” Rodriguez screamed again, falling to her knees.

Derek stood rooted to the ground with his mouth hanging open in shock.

“Go get the extinguishers!” Derek screamed, finally snapping into action. Derek didn't know what to do. He soon realized that a fire extinguisher wouldn't do anything for those firebombs.

“Get some fucking help! Call the bomb squad!” he screamed again, his voice as high-pitched as a woman's. Everyone inside the station house began scrambling. The cars had been rigged to blow up. Derek knew damn sure that he, Rodriguez, and Archie couldn't get into their rides, or no one else inside the station house, for that matter.

Derek stood frozen, staring at the flames. He knew right away why this was happening. While everything around him seemed to move in slow motion, he realized that if his brother could retaliate this fast and right under the nose of a whole police station, he was in a war with his brother that would only end with one of them dead.

“He's trying to take my kids away from me and destroy my career,” Tiphani cried, her tears falling on Scar's thick, muscular shoulders. “I'll do anything to keep my kids. I can't let him do this to me. He has to be stopped,” she cried even harder.

“I'm not gonna let him ruin you. I'll ruin him first. Matter of fact, we can ruin his ass together,” Scar said, stroking her long hair.

Scar was playing his part. He figured enlisting Derek's wife onto his team to help get revenge was a good strategy. Scar knew that after Derek's last hit on him and his return hit, shit was going to get even more dangerous if he didn't come up with a plan. Tiphani played right into his hand. Scar knew she was the type of bitch that worried about what people thought of her. She had come from nothing, and being a lawyer made her feel like someone, so having her husband threaten her career and everything she worked hard for would cause her to do anything.

“I still care about him. I mean, he is my husband, but I needed sex. I can't live without it, and he…he just couldn't do for me what you could do for me,” she continued, more tears flowing.

She was also using a strategy. Tiphani couldn't risk Derek revealing the name of the person she'd had an affair with. If anyone knew she slept with Scar, she would most definitely lose her law license, and her face would be plastered on every newspaper. She could see the headlines now:
PROSECUTOR SLEEPS WITH NOTORIOUS DRUG DEALER—SHE WAS ON THE CASE
.

“Look, I think I'm in love with you, baby. All we gotta do is stick together. This niggah is as good as done,” Scar said, putting on his Academy Award–worthy sad face.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks. He knew just how to seal their deal. “Let me find out you a little nymphomaniac and you need a piece of the Scar,” he whispered. Scar rolled over and thrust his tongue into her mouth deeply.

Tiphani opened her lips and welcomed his tongue into her mouth. She immediately felt herself heating up down below, and thoughts of her husband destroying her started to fade.

Scar wedged his way between her legs as he continued to kiss her. He could feel a slick sheen of her body's natural moisture on the inside of her thighs. Scar grabbed his coveted manhood and drove it roughly into her slippery hole.

Tiphani almost choked, it felt so good. A gasp got caught in her throat. “Oh, Scar,” she was finally able to manage.

“Do…you…believe…in…me?” Scar grunted out as he banged into her flesh with no mercy.

Tiphani's eyes popped open. Scar had never been this rough with her.

“Yes!” she screamed, grabbing onto the bed sheets in an effort to keep him from banging her through the wall.

All of a sudden Scar stopped, grabbed her roughly and flipping her over onto her stomach. “I control everything and everybody,” Scar growled, grabbing a handful of her hair.

Tiphani tried to scramble away, but Scar's grip was too powerful. He snatched her back under him, parted her ass cheeks, let a glob of spit fall from his mouth onto her ass, and mounted her roughly from behind.

“Agggghh!” Tiphani screamed out in a soprano that was a mixture of pleasure and pain.

Scar loved to hear her scream as he drove all ten inches of himself into her asshole. That had sealed their agreement to work together to get Derek out of their way.

 

Derek attended Chief Scott's memorial service first, then Cassell's. He looked around at both services and saw some of Scar's henchmen peppered throughout the crowd of mourners. He exchanged menacing glares with them to let them know he knew they were there, and that he wasn't scared of their punk asses. Derek knew shit was real in the field, though.

He was thinking night and day about his next strategy. He wanted to hit Scar where it hurt, but he knew that would take some time to put together. His unit had been put on modified duties because of the mental anguish they'd suffered from Cassell's death, and from just knowing that someone was trying to blow all of them up. Derek knew he couldn't take too long to hit Scar back or else he'd strike first.

“Detective Fuller, I'm Chief Hill. Newly assigned to Division One,” a tall black man with salt-and-pepper hair said, extending his hand to Derek.

Derek lifted his head and furrowed his eyebrows. He was a little taken aback. There wasn't any talk about a newly appointed chief, and he definitely never expected a black man. Derek silently extended his hand.

“I hear that this hit on Scott and your officer might have something to do with some dealings you've had with Scar Johnson,” the chief said suspiciously, wasting no time letting Derek know he was being watched.

“I don't have any dealing with Scar Johnson. I have spent my entire time in narcotics trying to bring Scar Johnson down,” Derek said indignantly. The lie slipped from his mouth so fast and with so much ease he almost believed it himself.

Derek acted offended by the chief's accusatory tone, but all the while his heart was thundering in his chest. He didn't know how much this new chief knew, and that bugged Derek.

“Well, all I'm going to say is tread lightly and get your shit together. There will be no more officers killed on my watch because of what you either did or didn't do,” Chief Hill gritted out, giving Derek an icy look that spoke volumes.

Derek wiped sweat from his head and stormed away.
Who the fuck is he coming up in here, trying to tell me what I did and didn't do? Fuck him too,
Derek thought, his hands shaking so badly he had to put them into his pockets.

Even though he might not have wanted to admit it, Derek was shaken from the conversation. The pressure was mounting. He had to take Scar down before anyone found out about the shit his narcotics unit was into. His uneasy feeling from before was starting to creep back into his thoughts.

Rodriguez walked over to Derek. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing. New chief introducing himself. Wants me to turn the heat up on the Scar Johnson case,” Derek lied, pulling himself together.

“Really? He wanted to fuckin' talk about work at a time like this? Fucking asshole,” Rodriguez said, looking over at the new chief and shaking her head.

“Yeah. Seems like an asshole already,” Derek said in a low voice, hoping he had convinced Rodriguez to stay on his side and help him get back to work against Scar.

 

After the service and burial, Derek left the cemetery alone—or so he thought. Derek was so caught up with everything going on and trying to figure out what the new chief was talking about that he didn't notice the person trailing him throughout the service and then to the bar after the burial.

Seeing the old dude with salt-and-pepper hair talking to Derek was a surprise to the observer. It was the same old guy that had been in front of Scar's mansion.
That old dude is the chief. I knew I recognized his ass from somewhere. Niggah be a cop! This is going to play out nicely. Scar, the chief, and Detective Fuller are all in it together. Time to play these fools like marionettes.
The shadow couldn't have been any happier.

 

It had been an emotional and fucked up couple of days, and returning to Rodriguez's house, all Derek wanted to do was get some much needed rest. When he walked in, Rodriguez was waiting for him.

“This was left here for you,” Rodriguez said, tossing a manila envelope to Derek.

“What's this?” Derek asked angrily.

“I don't know. Someone rang my doorbell and left it.”

“Who was it?

“Don't know. They were walking away by the time I got to the door. I only saw the back of her. I'm assuming it was your wife.”

Rodriguez was happy to let Fuller stay at her house, but she wasn't happy that his crazy wife was leaving envelopes on her doorstep, or, for that matter, that she knew Derek was staying there. If Fuller wasn't still married to the tramp, Rodriguez would have run after her and beat that bitch to a pulp.

“Fuck that bitch!” Derek spat, grabbing the envelope and tearing it open.

Rodriguez looked on curiously, wanting to see what was in the envelope. While she waited for Derek to arrive, she had started to open it, but although the curiosity was killing her, she decided against it.

Derek almost fainted when he pulled out the contents of the envelope. He looked up at Rodriguez with wide eyes.

“What is it, Derek?” Rodriguez asked, walking toward him.

Trembling all over, Derek placed the contents up against his chest to hide it. “It's nothing. This bitch thought sending me naked pictures of herself was going to get me back,” Derek fabricated on the spot, thinking quick on his feet. His heart was beating like crazy. His stomach muscles were tightend, and he felt like he'd shit on himself.

Speechless, Rodriguez looked at Derek curiously to gauge his reaction. To her, his wife had been a fool to cheat on him. Rodriguez had always been attracted to Fuller, ever since she had first met him, but knowing that he was married stopped her from expressing her interest.

“But doesn't she think that it's too little too late for all of that?” Rodriguez commented. She walked up behind him and put her hands on his tense shoulders as she began to rub them softly.

At first Derek was taken by surprise, but then he began to relax. Her hands felt good. A woman's touch felt good. He felt wanted.

“I mean, she didn't appreciate you when she had you,” Rodriguez flirted. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, and she reached up and rubbed his head. Rodriguez's heart raced as her pussy grew moist. She could feel her clit begging to be touched, and she felt the rise and fall of Derek's labored breathing.

“I'd appreciate you, Fuller,” she whispered. She turned him around and looked up at him while her hands roamed his chest, now underneath his shirt.

He looked at her lustfully. Her Hispanic roots gave her a goddess-type body, and her long hair was down around her face. She only wore it that way in the comfort of her home, but it was a welcomed change from her usual sleek ponytail. She looked sexy, and for the first time, he remembered that Rodriguez was more than a cop. She was a woman.

“I've wanted you for a long time, Derek,” she admitted, lust lacing her words. She reached up and pulled his face toward hers and put her tongue in his mouth.

He sucked it hungrily, kissing her deeply as he palmed her luscious ass and hips. His dick instantly rocked, and Rodriguez could feel it pressing against her flat stomach.

“I love you, Derek. I've watched and loved you for a while now,” she admitted. “My pussy is so wet right now,” she moaned as he ripped her blouse open, revealing beautiful D-cup breasts in a purple satin bra.

“Damn,” he admired as he licked each mound, releasing her nipple and teasing it with his tongue. He was horny as fuck. He felt a fire in his loins like no other, and he mentally began to prepare himself for the sex to come. He had never seen Rodriguez with a man, or even heard her mention a boyfriend, so he knew her pussy was tight and ready. Sexing her would be a welcomed distraction. She made him feel wanted, and right now that was what Derek needed.

He stripped her, and she removed his clothes; then he picked up her petite frame and placed her directly on his dick, no rubber and no second thought.

She felt like heaven, and his dick filled her up nicely as she began to speak in Spanish while she bounced on his dick.

“Oh shit, Derek. Yes…fuck me! Fuck this pussy, papi!” she screamed.

His mojo was on point, until he began to think about what he was doing.

“Fuck me!” she moaned, but instead of hearing Rodriguez's voice, he heard his adoptive mother's, and just like all the times before, he nutted too quickly. Cumming after only five minutes of stroking, he pulled out of her and shot his fluid on her stomach.

Embarrassed, he stood quickly. “I'm sorry, Rodriguez.”

“Derek, it's okay,” she said sincerely as she stood up and reached for him. She didn't care that he had only lasted a short while. She didn't know it was a recurring problem; she just thought that his nerves had taken over from the fact that he was fucking a long time friend.

“I'm sorry. I just need to get my head together,” he mumbled as he picked up his clothes and the envelope full of pictures, then rushed up the stairs to the bedroom Rodriguez had let him crash in.

Rodriguez ran her hands through her hair, unsure of what had just happened. She knew that she could not change it now, however, and hoped that she wouldn't come to regret showing her true feelings.

 

Derek scattered the pictures out on the bed. He bit into his bottom lip until he drew blood. There were pictures of Derek hanging with Scar and his crew, and pictures of Derek leaving Scar's club and house with duffel bags. There were also pictures of Derek with stacks of money in his hands as Scar handed them to him.

The most damaging picture was one Derek knew had known he would regret taking—him sitting behind Scar's desk, surrounded by stacks of money and bricks of cocaine. Scar had urged him to see how it felt to be a powerful drug kingpin for a minute. After a little coaxing and teasing from Scar, Derek reluctantly sat behind the desk. Scar's crew was so hyped that there was a detective sitting behind the desk they all pulled out their cell phones and started taking pictures and video. Derek had barked at the little flunkies to stop snapping pictures with their cell phones, but obviously it had been too late. In return, Scar asked Derek for his badge so Scar could see how it felt to be a cop for a minute. Again Derek was reluctant, but finally gave in. He let Scar take pictures with his gun and shield.

Now Derek could only blame himself for being so stupid and not trusting his instincts. He knew playing around with gangsters and taking pictures would come back to haunt him, but he didn't listen to his own conscience.

Derek grabbed up the pictures in a fury and began ripping them up. He took his gun out of his holster and put it in his mouth several times. He was seriously considering killing himself. There was no way he could risk the pictures coming out in the media. He would be fucked! Jail was not a place Derek was willing to go, especially over some shit like this.