Face Off--The Baddest Chick 4 Read online

  Face Off

  The Baddest Chick

  Nisa Santiago

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Face Off. Copyright © 2013 by Melodrama Publishing. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address Melodrama Publishing, P.O. Box 522, Bellport, NY 11713.

  www.melodramapublishing.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012949763

  E-ISBN: 978-1-934157-87-9

  E-Book Edition: April 2013

  Interior Design: Candace K. Cottrell

  Cover Design: Marion Designs

  Model: Vanessa

  Also By Nisa Santiago

  Cartier Cartel (Part 1)

  Return of the Cartier Cartel (Part 2)

  Bad Apple: The Baddest Chick (Part 1)

  Coca Kola: The Baddest Chick (Part 2)

  Checkmate: The Baddest Chick (Part 3)

  Dirty Money Honey

  Guard the Throne

  Prologue

  The sweltering Houston heat made Apple wish for a New York winter. The humidity was irritating, as the sun hovered over the Southern city with vengeance. The city was so far removed from her world, she didn’t know how she stayed or survived away from New York for so long. Houston, the fourth largest city in the country, seemed so small in her eyes. Where she came from, Harlem, New York, far and wide every day was a hustle and bustle. The people in Houston were so outdated, so green. The men weren’t ready for her hustling ways.

  Apple’s plan was to take over Houston—make her money and make a powerhouse move. She needed to lay low for a long while from Harlem, and Houston was just the place. It was far away from home, so she wasn’t known in the area. But with Guy Tony by her side, the two dominated the city’s underworld with violence, heart, and wit.

  Her unexpected relationship with Guy Tony was touchy. It wasn’t too long ago that she’d tried to have him killed. She couldn’t understand why he rescued her from her harsh captivity.

  She was ready to die in Mexico. Shaun had fucked her head up really bad. The rape, the abuse, and the cruel treatment in that sleazy Mexican brothel did something to her that she couldn’t comprehend. It changed her. Changed her into something dark and malicious. She felt abandoned and dirty. She felt lost at one point, and she knew there was no turning back for her.

  The numerous plastic surgeries on her face took away a few of the scars and gave her back her beauty, to an extent, but the scars she carried inside of her, as well as the hatred, anger, and bitterness—well, it was going to take more than plastic surgery to heal her. Apple felt that the world owed her something, and she was dead set on snatching it with violent force.

  Apple still couldn’t read Guy Tony. What was his motive? Was he planning on serving revenge on a cold dish? She was grateful that he had come to her rescue when he had, but she couldn’t understand why he’d done it after all she’d done to him. It boggled her mind.

  Guy Tony treated her like everything was cool between them, and he was willing to continue the friendship/relationship they’d had in Harlem. Was he that naïve, submissive, truly forgiving, or what?

  But Apple couldn’t dwell on it. She was free from the torture and captivity that Shaun had her under, and now she was back in business through none other than Guy Tony, who had become a major force in Houston. He was the man, a force not to fuck with. How he did it confused Apple, because in Harlem he was only a sidekick and a yes-nigga, taking orders—always the Robin, never the Batman. But now he was running things in Houston like a thorough don. He had a crew of thugs and killers and a reliable drug connect. Apple didn’t think Guy Tony had it in him, but he’d proven everyone wrong. It was hard to believe.

  Her first few nights in Houston with Guy Tony were awkward and unsettling. She was still a mess from the horrendous experiences in Mexico. Every night there were recurring nightmares, and she would wake up screaming in a cold sweat, feeling like she couldn’t breathe. She was sinking in pain and sorrow and paranoid of everything and everyone. But, somehow, Guy Tony coached her through the challenging incident. He was there for her, helping her to heal.

  It took her a month to gradually come into her old self again. She was away from the nightmare, but the nightmare was still embedded into her mind, taking over her soul and eating her up from the inside. She hated Shaun with such a strong passion. She knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until he was dead. She wanted to see him suffer the way she’d suffered. She wanted him torn apart and his body parts scattered across the country. What he did to her was unforgivable, and he would pay for his sins.

  Apple created a list of those who needed to die, and surprisingly, Guy Tony was still on that list. Even though they were together, she still felt seething disgust for him, because she didn’t understand him. If the situation were reversed, she wouldn’t have helped him. She would have left him there to rot. His kindness had her feeling twisted.

  In Houston, he was a murderous, kingpin thug, but with Apple, he was still that love-stricken sweetheart from Harlem.

  What the fuck? Apple thought to herself. “Why are you helping me like this?” she had asked him.

  “’Cuz you need it,” he replied.

  She didn’t thank him, couldn’t thank him, but she could fuck him to show her love and appreciation. Her body was his, and the two had a heated sexual interaction that was so strong, it rocked their souls to the core.

  Guy Tony showed his love greatly. What was his in Houston was also hers. At first Apple walked around him on eggshells. He was in control, but in time, she became more comfortable with him again, and it seemed liked he had forgotten that she’d once tried to have him killed. Worried that Guy Tony was waiting to catch her off guard to commit some malicious act against her, that wicked thought would always creep into the back of her mind. But at the moment, she had bigger fish to fry—more enemies to crush in her fist and stomp underneath the heels of her shoes, like the bugs they were.

  Houston also became her city, her domain, with her helping to control the drugs, guns, prostitution, and the money. She was living like a queen, and Guy Tony was the king by her side, and together they ruled Houston like Bonnie and Clyde. But when the day came when he decided to show his true colors, she was going to be ready for him.

  In her mind, his mistake would be letting her bounce back from her downfall and sharing his world with her. She’d established some dangerous, high-end connections down in Houston and was becoming well-liked and feared at the same time, just like her counterpart.

  ***

  Apple stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around her wet video vixen body. Her face was ninety percent healed, and she no longer stared at the grotesque scars that made her close her eyes, shed tears, and shake her head in shame. She was coming back into her beauty, with the help of money and the best doctors across the globe. Of course, her surgeries were expensive, but well worth the money spent. It was great to see beauty again—to almost feel whole again.

  Apple readied herself in the large bathroom, lotioning her skin, fixing her hair, and checking her nails. Her customized 7,500-square-foot ranch-style home on the outskirts of Houston epitomized grandeur, coming with a spectacular free-form indoor pool, and a dramatic vaulted entry foyer with a suspended stairway and polished, pillowed French limestone flooring that complemented the elegance of an exceptional great room with a stone fireplace. There was a high-end en
tertainment center, floor-to-ceiling windows, and formal dining room. This home was a huge step up from the Harlem projects she grew up in, and she only wished that her twin sister Kola and those other haters could see her now.

  She exited the bathroom and heard Guy Tony shouting from the other room tucked away in the corner of the house, where he did business with his men, and where sometimes things could get really ugly. It was nicknamed “the dungeon.” This evening, things were no different. Guy’s voice boomed out like thunder.

  As she walked toward the room, her cell phone rang in her hand. She halted her steps and answered the call from an unknown number. “Who’s calling?” she answered dryly.

  “Apple, we need to talk,” the voice said to her.

  Apple knew the voice immediately. She felt flushed for a moment; her heart beating like it was a cannon going off in her chest. There was no mistaking it. It was Chico.

  “How the fuck did you get my number?” she barked.

  “You think I ain’t got my ways of finding you?” Chico said coolly.

  Apple was dumbfounded for a moment. Ever since that brief meeting with him in the Hamptons, Long Island at Blythe’s extravagant birthday party, she’d made it clear to Chico that they were now enemies. He’d tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t hearing it, feeling forgotten and used.

  “We need to link up and talk about things,” Chico continued.

  “Talk about what?”

  “About us . . . business.”

  “There is no business between us.”

  “I know what went down wit’ you in Mexico. I know what Shaun did to you down there, and if you want that muthafucka wit’ a ribbon, then you’ll meet me.”

  Apple sighed. “Where?”

  “Harlem. I need to tell you my side of the story.”

  “Okay. When?”

  “This weekend.”

  “I’ll be there.” She hung up.

  Apple didn’t care for Chico’s side of the story. All she understood was that he had forgotten her—left her to rot in a foreign country and replaced her with some new Barbie bitch under his arm. The only thing on her mind was revenge on the people who had wronged her.

  Apple walked toward the corner room, the dungeon on the lower floor, where she heard Guy Tony shouting from. The door was shut, but it wasn’t locked. She entered the room, but wasn’t taken aback by what she saw. The floor to the office-sized room was lined with plastic, and Guy Tony stood over two bound and gagged men. They were on their knees, hands tied behind them and whimpering. Guy Tony gripped a 9 mm in his hand and ranted. There were two other thugs in the room with Guy, both looking detached from what was taking place.

  Apple stood at the doorway wrapped in her towel and didn’t flinch. She didn’t care that Guy’s men saw her unclothed. This was her world. She was used to seeing the ugly—murder and death, and she accepted her situation like her monthly period.

  Guy Tony turned and glared at her. “What you want, Apple?” he growled.

  “Handle ya business first, baby, and then we can talk.”

  Guy smirked and focused his attention back on the two young men on their knees and at his mercy. They could be heard whimpering and pleading for their lives under the duct tape over their mouths.

  “Shut the fuck up, snitches!” Guy Tony exclaimed from behind his first victim. He raised the pistol to the back of the man’s head and squeezed. Pop!

  The man folded over and collapsed facedown against the plastic, contorted in death, as crimson blood began pooling beneath him.

  Guy positioned himself behind the second man. He raised the 9 mm and repeated the same action. Pop!

  And he fell to his death too, lying next to his cohort.

  Guy Tony looked relieved. He gazed down at his wicked deed. “Fuck wit’ me!” He handed the smoking gun to one of his goons. “Take care of this. Wrap ’em up, bury ’em, and make ’em disappear.”

  The goon nodded, removing the pistol from his boss’s hand.

  Guy then turned his attention back to Apple. He walked over and made his exit, closing the door to the room and leaving his men to clean up the mess and the bodies.

  “Now, what you wanna talk about?” he asked.

  “Chico just called me.”

  “And?”

  “I want him dead.”

  Guy Tony smiled. “That’s my bitch.”

  One

  Lyondell’s on Frederick Douglass Boulevard in the uptown Manhattan community of Harlem was teeming with patrons this balmy Friday evening. The chic restaurant was the hot spot in Harlem, with its polished décor in caramel hues and warm earth tones, and the dimly lit chandeliers setting a sensual mood. The music was jazz, and the crowd was posh.

  Apple strutted into the place clad in a miniskirt, exposing her meaty thighs and fresh tattoos, and a tight, tiny metallic halter top with a plunging neckline that showed enough cleavage to make the room feel almost X-rated. She was accompanied by a young goon when she spotted Chico at the bar, downing a drink. He was all thug and all riches, his jewelry decorating him like ornaments on a Christmas tree. He wore his Yankees fitted tilted on his head, Timberland boots, and appeared to be alone.

  “Fall back,” Apple told her bodyguard. “I wanna talk to him alone.”

  He nodded and disappeared into the foyer.

  Chico turned to see Apple coming. She looked stunning. The two locked eyes. Apple didn’t smile. Things had drastically changed between them. Their love was torn apart now.

  “You look good, Apple.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat.” Chico gestured to the chair next to him. “Let’s talk.”

  Apple, her nerves on fire, took a seat near her ex-lover. With the pistol in her purse and her goons on standby, it was clear she didn’t trust him.

  “You want a drink?”

  “I’m not thirsty. You know why I came. You left me to rot in Mexico.”

  “Look, to set things straight between you and me, I fuckin’ searched for you, turned this city inside out trying to find you, but you just upped and disappeared on a nigga. I hired professionals to find you, and then when I found out about your abduction, I sent the squad to get you back, but you were already gone.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?”

  “You fuckin’ believe what you want.”

  “You easily had me replaced with that fuckin’ Barbie on your arm, threw her an extravagant birthday party in the Hamptons. That’s how you forget about me? By being in some new pussy?”

  “You’re fuckin’ unbelievable. I loved you, Apple.”

  “Look, cut the bullshit. I came here for one thing and one thing only. Where is he?”

  “So this is how it’s gonna be between us from now on?”

  “I’m about my business. You give me what I want, or I’ll just take it.”

  “I got what you want outside in the trunk.”

  “How did you find him?”

  “Like I told you, I have my ways and resources. The same way I found you is how I found him.”

  “You expecting some reward for this nigga?”

  “After what he did to you, I don’t need anything.”

  Chico stood up, and Apple did the same, and the two made their exit from the restaurant and walked onto the streets of Harlem. It was late, so the block was quiet. The only activity came from the restaurant they’d just left.

  When Apple’s pricey heels hit the concrete pavement, she was watchful of everything. Chico was dangerous, and she had her eye on him.

  “Where?”

  Chico pointed to his gleaming black Benz parked across the street. “He’s in the trunk, bound and gagged for your pleasure. Just follow me.” He started to walk toward his Benz, his keys in his hand. He hit the alarm button.

  Apple felt uneasy. Something wasn’t right. She started to follow behind Chico but stopped in her tracks.

  Chico turned and asked, “You coming or what?”

  For Apple, it didn’t
add up. It seemed too easy. Chico seemed too comfortable. “No,” Apple uttered.

  “What the fuck you mean, no? You wanted this muthafucka, and now I got him for you, gift-wrapped in the trunk.”

  “How did you find him? You never explained that to me.”

  “I told you, I got peoples out there,” Chico replied heatedly.

  “What peoples, Chico? Guy Tony couldn’t find him, so I’m supposed to believe it was that easy for you?”

  Chico fell silent, and the two locked eyes.

  And then it suddenly happened. Chico’s goons came from nowhere, like dark devouring light. It was an ambush.

  Apple quickly removed her pistol from between her inner thighs and fired recklessly, trying to survive. She took cover behind a parked car, but not before a bullet ripped through her upper thigh. She fell on her side, cringing.

  Chico thought he and his goons had Apple pinned down, but little did he know, she had planned an ambush herself.

  A dark van careened the corner, hurried onto the street, and came to an abrupt stop. The side door flew open, and machine gun fire from two Uzis lit up the block.

  Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat! Tat!

  The erratic gunfire shot out car windows, shattered glass windows of shops and storefronts, violently pierced a few of Chico’s thugs, and sent patrons dining in the nearby restaurant scurrying to the ground for cover like rats. It sounded like a third world war on the streets of Harlem with the screams and all the chaos.

  Chico opened fire at the van with his Glock as he stood poised in the middle of the street with the gun in his hand and his arm outstretched. His expression displayed the mind of a lunatic.

  “You fuckin’ bitch!” he screamed.

  Apple’s goons had quickly gained the upper hand. Chico’s men were outgunned and outnumbered. Chico stumbled back, still firing at the threat. The men in the van were relentless and trying to shred everything in their sights. They made Harlem look like the streets of Mexico—like two cartels at war.