Snatched (14 page)

The gang leader took a swig from his bottle, then upended the rest of its contents onto the upt
urned face of the dazed
Clare
.

"Get the fuck up. You ain't hurt."

The dictate was cruel given that
Clare
's nose was still bleeding and one of her closed eyes was already showing signs of darkening. Nailah's initial concern that the woman needed medical attention was somewhat abated as
the blond
moaned at the splash of
liquo
r
in her face
. She moved a little and then eyes opened,
the blue irises
out of focus
.

Yankin
g
her shoulders
out of Dele's grip,
Nailah knelt to reach a hand
down
to the woman. The gang members grew silent
at the gesture,
as though they weren't use to an
y
act of
spontaneous
kindness
.
She needn't have bothered though because t
he
woman slapped the hand away
. The solicitous act
seemed
to anger the
blond
more than the beer cruelly poured into her face
.
Again, Nailah w
ondered what kind of abuse she'
d endured at the hands of these animals that a kind act was more of an affront than
her
humiliation
.

Dele pulled her back forcefully this time and she didn't resist. The blond rose first to her knees, the
n
stood. With her hands she swept her thighs, all the time turning eyes of venom on Nailah. If they had been only passing enemies before, that look swore vengeance and Nailah knew from then on out she'd better watch her back with this one.
Or there would definitely be a knife or some other sharp object stuck into it.

"Seems your bitch knows how to take care of herself," the gang leader declared with half a smirk. "I never took to any nigger before but I'd be willing to give it a go."

He laughed, his hand touched his belt. Nailah drew in a ragged breath. After all the shit she'd put up with to avoid this moment, here it was at last with no where for her to run.

"No train, man," she heard Dele say. "Still honeymooning."

"Ahh, c'mon now, you know the rules about sharing." This from the
one the older gangster referred to as a roach, a bug. The one who had stormed off. She hadn't notice him re-entering the warehouse but here he was, standing just a few feet away, his look
one of pending retaliation. Against her, but especially against Dele.

"I also know the rules about stealing," Dele countered. "Seems you forgotten about that one, Roach."

Roa
ch?
T
hat was actually his name?
This was
some
fucked-up world she'd been dragged into.
Well, if he thought he was going to get at her, he'd be surprised how fast she would squash his behind. Or die trying. The same with the leader.

"If you're accusing me of somethin'…" Roach began.

"I'm straight up accusing you of taking that stash. And I'm not about to go down for your nose candy."

"You know you two muthas can argue until the sun go down. All I know
is
that
by the end of this week, I better
have that stash back. Or I'm takin
g
you both down."

The gang leader looked hard at Dele,
then
turned the venomous look on the one called Roach. The bug actually seemed to shrink under the stare. For all his
seeming
bravado,
Nailah could tell that
he had all the courage of his namesake. Fast to scurry when the lights came on.
Probably just as larcenous. She understood now why Dele was super paranoid. He was under a death threat. Which meant that she was under the same threat. Because whatever happened to Dele was going to happen to her. There was no reason to keep her alive after they killed him.

"OK, down to other business," the gang leader continued
as he took a seat on one of the leather sofas
.
The blond squeezed between him and the older gangster who had been there when Nailah and Dele first arrived.

"
I don't trust
those raga muthafuckers
to
keep their word
about the gun
s
. That's why
I had
Sid
Boy
tracking Corrall.
From what Sid could
determine
, the cartel is shipping in some major hardware.
I figure we shouldn't have
to
go through
that
double dealing
rafa
.
I say we go straight to the cartel, see if we can make our own arrangements.
"

The gang
leader
–
the one they called
Rez
or something like that
-
sat forward, his fists clenched together.
When the leader mentioned 'Sid Boy' she noticed eyes cast at a man with a blond beard
half
down
a thin chest
but with scraggly red hair
pulled back into a ponytail
. For all his lankiness
that was bare
ly hidden with threadbare jeans,
shirt
and denim jacket
, Sid Boy's hard
set
features
intimated he was no one to fool with.

"If we make this move, you know those damn monkey rafas are gonna start something.
And i
t's gonna be up to us to finish it.
Once we take the rafas
down,
we got
all of
these streets
."

Nailah's blood ran cold as someone sugges
ted they slit Corrall's throat.

Rez
smiled
as he
pulled something from his pocket. A
Bowie
knife.

"Yeah, I'd like to take t
hat rafa
out
personally. He's gotte
n in my way one too many fucking
times."
He made a swishing motion in the air with the knife, his smile growing bigger and uglier. All eyes followed the knife. Except the blond
Clare
. At this moment, she only had eyes for Nailah. Resentment and cold hatred
flashed
.
Instinctively Nailah knew the woman
wished she had that knife in her hand right now.

Nailah broke away from the stare, glanced around and wondered for the hundredth time how she
was
ever
going to
get away from this
murderous
gang of criminals
.
She
especially
wondered about the man whose hand
s
firmly held
either of her shoulders preventing her from making any sudden mo
veme
n
t
s
. How deep was he into all of this? Drugs? Rape? Murder? Most likely at least one if not all three. 
More importantly, w
hy was she trust
ing
him
to get her out of this mess
?

Because her instincts
told
her to.
It was as simple as that.
As many times
as
she had rashly gotten herself into trouble (like throwing a rib at a
marauding
biker), he
r instincts had served her well through most of her life. 
Had helped her come through a less than idyllic childhood with an alcoholic mother (thank God for her maternal
grandmother) and
had set her on a course to not repeat her mother's mistakes. 
Her instinct had also told her when to get out of at least one contentious relationship and had made her keep her head when one evening she'd been robbed at gunpoint. Hopefully that instinct would help her now because lord knew she needed the help.

"Dele, you can't hold on to that ball and chain much longer," she heard
the gang leader say
as she phased back into the conversation going on.
"After all we have standards. She's good for some laughs, but we need your mind fully on club business. For all we know, the cops are looking for her. We can't handle that kind of heat, not with all this shit going down."

If her blood had gone cold before at the talk of someone else's murder, it nearly froze as Dele asked, "What do you suggest I do with her?"

Rez
said the next
statement
with a
matter of fact tone as if he were
instructing someone to take out the garbage – which, in this case, he might consider a similar ch
ore. "Don't act brand new bru
h. As fine a piece of chocolate
ass
she is, you gotta get rid of her."

With this statement, the hands on her shoulder tightened even more.

And the moping
Clare
suddenly broke into a smile as she offered, "If you need any help Dele, I'll be more than happy to give it."

As Nailah fought the urge to scream and run, she finally realized that her instinct had failed her. She had been wrong to trust Dele. And she was going to pay a heavy price for doing so.

But where instinct failed her, the fight within raged. She might die
today
but she was going to make sure
at least someone else
felt some pain.

She turned and slapped
Dele
as hard as she could
. In that same second a hand
came up and
cold cocked her. As she lost consciousness, she heard the blond bitch laughing victoriously.

Dele had never hit a woman before. Well, there had been Shelly Deacon in the sixth grade but she'd landed a hard right on his left jaw.
His
response had been instinctual – as had been the hook he landed on Nailah.
This time
though
it ha
dn't been because of the pain.
When he saw her hand come up, h
e'd immediately known he had to
take control of the situation or
she might
aim
for any of the other
gang
members out of fear. If she'd even tried to go after Rez, she would have gotten a
belly full of serrated steel a
nd
w
ould
now be lying on the ground bleeding
to death
instead of just
momentarily knocked out.
Somehow
he had to get her out of here before she came to.
Or before the others decided to take matters into their own hands.

Even now,
Clare
was reaching for Rez's
Bowie
knife. He jerked it out of her reach and sheathed it back into his rear jean pocket.

"Aww, c'mon baby. Let me have some fun,"
Clare
whined as she poked out her bottom lip, a faux face mimicking a child's. Something that irritated Rez to no end as he had told her time again. For some reason, she kept doing it.

"This is Dele's deal. Get it…
Dele's deal," Rez smirke
d as he looked straight into Dele's eyes.
Deadly black
.

"After all, he hasn't taken anyone down since that old wino. We got to know
he
got the stuff to do what has to be done.
'cause he's also gonna help me get rid of that Jamaican nigger.
Tonight. Might make me forget that stolen stash.
W
ord is
might
.
"

Things had a way
of
g
oing from bad to shit
within
seconds. This thing was tumbling ou
t of control and there seemed
no way to climb out of this
hole. Not only did he have to get Nailah to safety
and
maintain
his cover at the same time
, but he had to prevent the crew from murdering some Jamaicans
tonight
.

Right now, it was all stratagem. There was simply no way he could take down everybody in this warehouse. Even with
his
gun
at the ready
, he knew several members also packed heat.
They wanted her dead. Right now.