Gangsta Bitch (22 page)

Duce tossed Frankie to the floor and drew his 9mm, alternating aim between the kitchen entrance and the couch where Cowboy had disappeared. He nodded towards the couch while he moved slowly towards the kitchen. Frankie understood what he meant and began creeping across the living room.

Duce crept along on the balls of his feet moving as silently as he could. He knew Frankie had his back, but couldn’t help but to keep looking in the direction where Cowboy had disappeared. It was during one of those nervous glances that Thor popped out of the kitchen. Duce had barely thrown himself to the floor when large chunks of the wall came away in a spray of plaster. Duce fired from a laying position, missing Thor but punching holes in the refrigerator.

Faster than was probably wise, Duce sprang to his feet. The room swam for a minute, but his grip on the gun never wavered. The abrupt fall coupled with the searing gash in his shoulder made his whole arm feel numb. He flexed his fingers around the handle of the gun and began creeping towards the kitchen.

Duce leaned against the outer wall of the kitchen and breathed deeply. He held the gun pointed at the ground in a two-handed grip and pressed his cheek against the wall. By now, someone had surely called the police at the sound of gunfire so he and Thor’s game of cat and mouse would have to end sooner than later. Tired of being on the defensive, Duce went on the offensive and stepped into the kitchen.

Sweat from Frankie’s palms made the guns feel like they would slip from her hands with the slightest of movements. She could hear movement in the kitchen but forced herself to focus on her target. Her eyes darted from the spot on the couch that Cowboy had disappeared behind to the end of it. The last thing she needed was for him to go kamikaze and get the drop on her. The sound of gunfire from the kitchen caused Frankie to whirl instinctively, which was a bad move. When she turned back around, Cowboy was popping up from behind the couch, now holding the .357 that she dumbly forgot he kept stashed there.

“You stinking bitch, I’m gonna kill you!” he shouted, firing the cannon.

Frankie hit he floor a split second before the couch exploded in a shower of cotton and springs. “Not in this life time, mutha fucka,” she rolled over on her back, firing at Cowboy with the guns. He moved with the speed of a jungle cat, but he wasn’t faster than a bullet. He howled in pain as one of the shots tore through his forearm.

“I can’t believe you fucking shot me!” he cried from behind the couch. The bullet has passed through, but the arm would be useless.

“Believe it, I told you Frankie Five Fingers don’t bluff,” she shot back, getting to her knees. She wasn’t foolish enough to stand up and make an easier target of herself.

“Frankie baby, it ain’t gotta go down like this. We a team, ma. Me and you against the rest of these suckers, right?”

“That me and you shit went out the window when your true colors came out. You should’ve kept it real with me Cowboy, because then I might’ve shown mercy, but ain’t no sunshine now, baby. This is the final curtain, so get out here and take your bow.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Cowboy asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Well fuck you then!” Cowboy started shooting blindly through the couch trying to get at Frankie. She fell on her ass, dropping one of her guns and scuttled backward across the living room. The entertainment system showered her with glass as one of the mad man’s bullets struck it. Frankie didn’t dare breathe until she had crawled safely behind the wall where Duce had disappeared.

The impact from Thor’s hammer sent shockwaves up Duce’s wrists. The gun clanged to the ground leaving Duce stunned and unarmed. Instead of shooting him, Thor slammed the handle of his hammer into Duce’s jaw. Duce staggered but didn’t fall. Thor tried to bring the hammer around for the killing blow, but Duce sidestepped it seconds before it burrowed into the kitchen tiles. In the moment that it took Thor to free the hammer, Duce was on him.

Duce hit Thor with a series of combinations and kicks, but the big man held his feet. He tried to bring his gun arm around, but Duce grabbed it and held on for dear life. Thor tried to swing the hammer, but there wasn’t enough room in the kitchen to do so. The big man roared and repeatedly slammed Duce from the oven to the refrigerator but still he held on.

Duce slammed his fist into Thor’s jaw as hard as he could, but the big man only got angrier. Dropping the hammer, he grabbed Duce in a bear hug and began to apply pressure. Duce could only yelp because Thor had squeezed too much air out of him for a scream. Seeing the look of pain on Duce’s face, the big man applied more pressure, triumphantly laughing at the sounds of Duce’s bones cracking.

Duce tried to fight the big man off but he was too strong. Spots suddenly began to flash before his eyes as he felt the first tugs of unconsciousness. If he blacked out in Thor’s grasp, it was over before he got to Cowboy. Something gleaming on the kitchen counter gave Duce hope. He leaned his body as far to the left as he could without helping Thor break his spine and wrapped his hand around the object. With all the strength he had left, he plunged the steak knife into Thor’s shoulder.

The sharp pain made the bigger man drop his prey. Duce lay on the ground gasping. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. Through a haze, he saw the rage in Thor’s eyes and knew that it was just about over for him. Thor’s huge hands grabbed for the knife protruding from his shoulder blade, but the constant flow of blood made it hard to grab. Eventually getting a grip on it, he yanked the knife free with a roar, sending blood spattering all over the wall. Thor looked at the knife as if it had been an irritating splinter then turned the same glare to Duce.

“I was just gonna shoot you and make it quick, now I’m gonna break as many bones as I can before I finish you off.” Thor had taken two steps in Duce’s direction when his chest exploded in a spray of blood. He temporarily forgot about Duce and began to grasp at the wound in his chest. He took one more step towards Duce when his head exploded like a rotten melon. The big man’s body crashed to the ground rattling the dishes.

Frankie stood in the mouth of the kitchen looking from Duce to Thor. Blood ran from what used to be the man’s head onto the kitchen floor and tickled the edges of the carpet. Most women would’ve probably thrown up at the sight of so much blood and brain matter, but not Frankie. She just stared at the body with her gun still trained on his back.

“You good?” she asked, extending her hand to Duce.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he allowed her to help him up. “Thank you, baby,” he hugged her. Duce inhaled Frankie’s scent and let it take him to that special place that only they occupied. He nestled his nose in her hair and for a moment forgot where they were and why they came, until the pain hit. Duce never heard the shot, but he felt it…Lord did he feel it. A white hot fire shot up through his back and spread throughout his limbs. He slumped to his knees leaving a trail of blood on Frankie’s chest. Frankie knelt beside Duce, who was breathing heavily.

“Baby, talk to me,” she patted his face.

“I knew I should’ve made you stay home,” he tried to tease, but only ended up coughing blood in her face. “My bad,” he tried to raise his arm to his mouth to wipe the blood off but couldn’t quite manage.

“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” Frankie pulled her cell out, but Duce grabbed her by the wrists.

“And tell them what? I got shot trying to kill your boyfriend over a five-year-old murder?”

“What should I do?” she asked frantically.

“Just hold my hand, baby. Sit by me for a minute and let me think about how it used to be.”

Frankie looked down at him, dropping tears on his face. She couldn’t believe after all this time she was going to lose him again. “Duce…”

“Don’t talk baby, just be with me for a minute,” he pleaded. Duce’s body stiffened as a shock ran through him and then he was still. Frankie placed her ear to his chest but there was only silence.

“Duce, talk to me,” she shook him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was blood. “Don’t die on me, baby. Don’t you dare leave me again after so long!” Frankie pleaded but, as the light faded in his eyes, she knew it was a wrap. Still clutching her lover in her arms, she turned her murderous glare on Cowboy, who was aiming his smoking pistol at her.

Cowboy recognized the look in her eyes and got a firmer grip on his pistol. “By the time you get the notion to do it, I’ll been done rocked your pretty ass to sleep. That was some dirty shit, Frankie,” he continued, “and even though you tried to put my lights out over this nigga, the sucker in me wants to forgive you. The things I’ve done and will do in life are fucked up, but that’s the G-code, ma. Kill or be killed, you know how it is.”

“I hate you, Cowboy. You’re a fucking monster,” Frankie sobbed.

“You don’t mean that,” he said emotionally. “I put you in pocket…gave you a purpose, and this is how you carry it?” he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “Why Frankie, why do this to the man who you’re supposed to love?”

Frankie looked from Duce to Cowboy with tear-filled eyes. “As I sit here watching my heart bleed out on to your kitchen floor, I’m asking myself the same question,” Frankie stroked Duce’s bloody face.

“Come with me, Frankie,” Cowboy extended his hand. “We can work this shit out, ma.”

For the first time, Frankie looked directly at Cowboy and he could see the pure hatred in her eyes when she spoke. “Cowboy, if you’re gonna kill me, you better get on with it, because as God as my witness as soon as I can get the strength in these limbs, I’m gonna snatch that piece up and kill you,” she nodded at her abandoned gun, laying on the floor less than three feet away.

Cowboy looked from the body of his dead enemy to the woman he’d been sharing his bed with all this time. A part of him hoped that he would see those loving and obedient eyes staring back at him, but there was only hate. “Even in death, this faggot still got your heart? So be it, Frankie Five Fingers.” Cowboy’s finger touched the trigger, but several red dots appearing on his chest gave him pause. He looked up and when his brain registered what was going on, all the blood rushed to his face.

“You were a fool to steal from me, bandito,” El Pogo said from the doorway. Several hard-faced and armed men trained their weapons on Cowboy. “Adios,” El saluted him.