South Beach Cartel Page 6

  Nick and Apple gave chase, and when Takenya abruptly pivoted in a desperate attempt to slam the bedroom door behind her, Nick was there to aggressively push it open. Takenya stumbled backwards and turned to get her gun from the dresser, but Nick grabbed her from behind and slammed the butt of the gun against the back of her head and she collapsed.

  “Bitch, stay your ass down and don’t do anything stupid,” he warned.

  Takenya was dazed and confused. The blow to the back of her head was thumping. She lay there naked on the carpeted floor scared out of her mind. Nick and Apple stood over her, scowling.

  “Don’t make this shit difficult, bitch,” scolded Apple.

  “Please, don’t kill me!” she begged.

  “You fuckin’ scream, and I’m gonna have my nigga slice you up into tiny pieces,” Apple threatened through clenched teeth.

  Nick manhandled her into the nearest chair, where they tied her up and placed duct tape over her mouth. Takenya’s eyes were wide with panic written all over her face.

  Nick looked at Apple. “Go check outside. See if we have company.”

  Apple left the bedroom to see. Their entrance through the backdoor could have stirred up some unwanted attention from a neighbor, and there was no telling if someone had called 911 or not. Apple went into the living room and drew back the curtains slightly and gazed outside. The block was quiet. There were no lights on in anyone’s home as far as she could tell. She went from window to window, carefully gazing out each one, and it was all the same. But yet, it was too early to tell.

  Takenya was shaking like a leaf on a windy day. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She couldn’t take her eyes off Nick. The nigga looked as threatening as they came. Occasionally, they would lock eyes and his look brought about a deep chill down her spine. He was no amateur at this.

  Ten minutes later, Apple came back into the room and assured Nick that everything was okay. She didn’t see any problems outside—no cops, no neighbors, no goons coming for a late-night visit. She figured the bitch lived alone, but it wasn’t guaranteed. But now it was time to get down to business—to get what they’d come there for.

  Apple shoved her gun in the girl’s face and threatened to blow her brains out if she didn’t cooperate with them. Surprisingly, they didn’t have to do much threatening. Takenya wasn’t about that life. She didn’t want to die, so she gave everything up so easily.

  “The money is in the garage,” she spewed.

  “In the garage, huh?” Apple said.

  She nodded. “Yes. I’m just their bank, that’s all. I only launder their money. But I promise that I can be a better asset to you alive and do the same for you two.”

  They didn’t care for her offer. They were there for only one thing, and they were determined to get it.

  “Where at in the garage?” Apple asked her.

  “Behind a hollow wall,” she said.

  “I’ll go check it out,” said Nick.

  Apple thrust the gun into Takenya’s face and exclaimed, “Bitch, you better not be lying.”

  “I’m not.”

  Takenya honestly never saw this coming. She felt she’d done everything right. She was always careful. No one knew where she lived, not even Cane. When they had sex, it was always at his place. Her relationship with Cane was meant to be business, but then it turned personal, and the money she made from their organization was good—really good. Now these two intruders were inside her home and she didn’t know if she was going to live or die.

  It didn’t take long for Nick to find the three duffel bags of money. He brought them into the bedroom and showed Apple. Her eyes widened at the amount.

  “Shit!” she uttered.

  “Yeah, I love it,” Nick announced.

  “See? I wasn’t lying,” Takenya chided.

  “There’s gotta be more where that came from,” said Nick.

  “No, there is no more . . . only half a million, plus the twenty thousand,” she said.

  “I don’t’ fuckin’ believe you,” Nick growled at her.

  “I promise you, that’s it. That’s everything in the house.”

  Nick stepped closer to her in a threatening manner. Takenya was trembling and terrified. What more did they want from her? She’d given them everything.

  Nick fixed a frosty stare on her with the gun in his hand. “Where the rest at, bitch?”

  “There is no more!” she cried out.

  “You lying bitch! I will tear this fuckin’ place apart, but if you don’t save me the trouble, I’ll kill you right now,” he threatened.

  Takenya was in full-blown tears. The look in Nick’s eyes was just about satanic. Takenya swore she saw hell hiding behind his dark pupils.

  He put the barrel of the gun to her temple and once again asked, “Where that money at?”

  Crying and becoming hysterical, she started to beg and plead for her life. She had nothing else to give him.

  “Please, don’t kill me, there is no more money. That’s all there is. I just help them launder it, that’s all!”

  Bac!

  Just like that, Nick parked a bullet into her temple. Her body slumped in the chair. Such a waste, Nick thought. She was a pretty and smart woman—nice body too.

  Apple didn’t flinch. It needed to be done. Nick looked her way and said, “We need to find the rest of that cash.”

  Apple wondered if there was any more cash in the house. They already had over a half-million dollars, but Apple saw the greed settling into his eyes. When he saw all that cash, he felt there was more.

  He started in the bedroom, ripping open walls, tearing down the ceiling, rifling through the dead woman’s things. He wanted more, and he wasn’t going to stop looking until he was satisfied that Takenya had told the truth.

  Apple felt that she’d created a monster. Nick was hungry for more money like he was the Cookie Monster. She became irritated. He was being greedy and risking both their lives. What if Cane was coming or what if he’d sent a kill squad to his bitch’s place?

  It was around 4 a.m. when Takenya’s cell phone started to ring. Apple picked up the phone and the caller ID said, “Daddy Cane.”

  Apple showed Nick the name and they both shared a quick laugh while a dead Takenya continued to lay slumped in the chair.

  “We need to go,” she said to him.

  Finally, he agreed. Nick had torn the entire house apart. They’d spent hours looking for more money that wasn’t there. She was telling the truth.

  Nick was incredibly hyped and in a great mood. It had taken him nearly two decades to save one million, and tonight he had made half that off of one lick. Listening to Apple’s instincts and following the girl was a smart move, and Nick was proud of his bitch. She was street and smart. She was a survivor and knew how to get money.

  With the mood feeling so right, it was inevitable that they went back to Apple’s place and fucked hard and long. The thrill of money and murder turned them both on.

  Nick’s dick was harder than it had been for some time now and Apple loved it. He fucked her from the back while reaching around to squeeze her tits, taking possession of her body while feeling her love muscles contracting around his erection. Apple submitted to him with her profound groans, as her hands gripped the sheets to hold her position. Nick was in pure beast mode, and they were having some of the best sex of their lives. For Apple, stealing half a million dollars from Citi was about to make for an intense orgasm.

  9

  The stream of piss that poured into the toilet was a never-ending golden waterfall, but Cane really had to go. The Hennessy had him pissing like a race horse, and last night was almost a blur to him. He did know that he’d had a good time with the young beauty lying in the master bedroom. He remembered her young, tight pussy and busting a couple of nuts—and her head game was through the roof. All they did last night
was get drunk and fuck, which made it the perfect night for Cane. Shaking his dick and making sure every drop hit the toilet, he bothered not to flush and turned to leave the bathroom butt-naked.

  He went into the kitchen, removed some orange juice from the fridge, and started to drink from the carton. He guzzled a good portion of the orange liquid like he had just run the NYC marathon, burped loud, and scratched his ass. It was early afternoon and Cane wanted to get his day started. He had plans. He took another swig from the carton, looked around the quiet kitchen, and then it dawned on him that it had been several days since he had heard from Takenya.

  He’d called her the night of the exchange, but she didn’t pick up. He was sure everything was okay. Takenya knew how to move and be careful, but it was still unlike her to go days without reaching out to him. She left the stash house with half a million dollars in the trunk of the Benz, and that wasn’t an amount to be taken lightly.

  Lately Cane had been caught up in sex, booze, and having a good time, but still handling his business. His sister ran the show, and her nigga, Scar—well real recognized real, and Cane knew Scar was a stone cold killing muthafucka. But Cane wasn’t intimidated by Scar, because he could equally match his craziness. They had mutual respect in some twisted kind of way, and they stayed out of each other’s way.

  Cane decided to give Takenya a call. Though they’d done the cash exchange nearly two dozen times and she was always successful at laundering their money, this time something felt different for some reason. Cane went to get his cell phone and dialed her number. Her phone rang several times and then it went to her voicemail. He dialed her again and got the same results. He dialed a third, fourth, and a fifth time, and each time it was the same. She wasn’t answering her phone.

  “Shit!” he cursed.

  Something was wrong. He felt it. He’d fucked up. This time he hadn’t kept tabs on his bitch and the money, and he let too much time go by without contacting her. He had gotten used to shit moving smoothly. Takenya would contact him to let him know that everything had gone well and the cash was transferred to overseas accounts or into various shell companies and it would come back clean to the state’s bank accounts for profit. She would give Cane the account numbers and proof of transactions to reassure him that she’d done her job.

  Irritated that he couldn’t get in contact with Takenya, Cane marched into the bedroom and started to rudely stir the girl awake. She was a young and dim-witted bitch with easy and good pussy, just how he liked them.

  “Bitch, get the fuck up!” Cane yelled, turning the TV on full blast.

  Stacy complained about the rude awakening. She was still hung over from last night. “Baby, I’m tired. I just wanna stay and sleep for a moment. Can I just chill and suck your dick later on?”

  “Fuck that. You need to fuckin’ go. I got business to take care of.”

  He had moves to make, and he wasn’t about to allow any bitch to stay in his place alone. Even if he had to drag the bitch out of bed and toss her out of his place butt naked, he was willing to do it. He was giving Stacy fair warning.

  She sighed. Cane was being an asshole.

  “Stacy, get the fuck out now before I throw your ass outside naked!” he shouted.

  Stacy finally caught the hint. She leaped from the bed with a serious attitude. Glaring at Cane, she cursed, “Muthafucka, fuck you! Why I gotta fuckin’ leave, Cane? You can’t even let a bitch sleep after we done fucked all night? See if you get this good pussy again, nigga! Fo’ real, nigga!”

  “Just shut the fuck up and get the fuck out!”

  She stormed around the bedroom collecting her things and got dressed. She felt used and rushed. She was upset, but Cane didn’t care. He stared at her with no regard for her feelings.

  When Stacy was finally gone, Cane got down to business. He called Takenya’s cell phone and got her voicemail yet again. It was time to take action. He needed to find her and his money.

  He went into the bathroom to pick at the small, curly afro he had growing. He could hear the TV blaring from the bedroom, and as he was picking out his hair he heard an anchorwoman announce, “Disturbing news out of Glen Cove, Long Island. A young woman has been found murdered inside her home in what appears to be a violent home invasion. Local authorities have no idea how long she’s been dead, but she was found by a neighbor who had grown concerned after not seeing her for several days and decided to call the police. The victim, Takenya Admassou, a former child model and native of Ethiopia, was found in her bedroom early yesterday morning with a single gunshot wound to her head . . . .”

  Hearing her name, Cane immediately stopped what he was doing and hurried into the bedroom to lay his eyes on the news. On the TV screen, they displayed Takenya’s beautiful home swamped with police activity and yellow crime scene tape. He saw a glimpse of coroners removing the body from the home in a body bag and placing it into the coroner’s van.

  Cane was utterly shocked by what he was seeing.

  “What the fuck?” His attention stayed fixated on the television and all kinds of feelings and concerns started to flood him. They mentioned her name again, so he definitely wasn’t hearing things. Someone had murdered her? He was just with her. Cane didn’t know what to do. He thought about the money—shit, the money. He became upset and emotional. Staring at the television and watching everything unfold, Cane couldn’t help but to become a bit teary-eyed. Thing is, he really liked Takenya. She was a very beautiful woman, and she was different. She was smart. He was sure if the chance had ever come for him, he probably would have married her—yet, he didn’t know much at all about her, not even where she lived. The crazy thing about that was he trusted her with his money. Takenya had this glow about her that he liked.

  “Fuck me!” Cane cursed.

  With a sudden and brisk motion of his hand, he angrily swiped everything off the dresser and sent all kinds of shit crashing to the floor. He had no one to call. Who was her family? Did she have family? Was he to make funeral arrangements for her?

  Abruptly, Cane’s knees became wobbly and he collapsed into a chair in the bedroom. He couldn’t move. He was grieving. He was upset. Someone violently took something special from him—and that someone needed to pay. But for now, Cane was overcome with emotions that he never knew he had. He really did care for Takenya, and he trusted her too. He felt that he could trust her with his own life. Now she was gone.

  Three hours later, he was still sitting in the same spot, naked and silent. He seethed, and he was sad. He then sighed, finally stood up, got himself right, and shook off the shock of her death.

  “Fuck it,” he said. A dead person is still dead whether you grieve or not, he thought.

  Cane picked up the half-empty bottle of Hennessy from last night, poured a glass, and downed it. He needed to get his mind off Takenya. There was no use in moping all day. He decided to call Stacy back and apologize for his actions. Surprisingly, she answered and said she was willing to come back to his place and give him some pussy. He decided to make the best of a bad day.

  Soon, though, he would find out who had killed his bitch and taken his money.

  10

  Apple stepped out of the bathroom wearing a brand new thirteen-thousand-dollar mink coat and YSL heels. She smiled at Nick, who was lounging on her bed in his boxer shorts with his eyes fixed on her. Apple decided to put on a show for him, and she opened the mink coat to reveal that she was completely naked underneath.

  His face said, Wow!

  “You like it, baby?” she asked.

  “Damn, baby, I love it. Shit!” Nick replied merrily, his eyes matching the wide smile on his face.

  “I knew you would.”

  They were celebrating tonight—a continued celebration. They had scored a half-million dollars. They had a reason to celebrate. They wanted to enjoy themselves, and that meant popping champagne, going on expensive shopping sprees,
and having great sex. It was business and murder, but it was also fun and love.

  “Damn, baby, you’re making my dick hard. Do a dance for me.”

  Apple chuckled. “You want me to dance for you?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  Nick already had his hand in his boxer shorts grabbing for his growing erection. Apple completely turned him on. She was everything he dreamed of—sexy, beautiful, and a down-ass bitch. She was fierce and a go-getter. She could kill like him, and she could fuck like him—probably better. Their age gap didn’t matter; they were nearly equal in everything. Nick felt if he had met a woman like her in his earlier years, then they would’ve ruled the streets together—maybe the world. They would have been unstoppable—and, of course, she would have given him a few babies.

  Apple started to seductively move around the bedroom for Nick. She dropped the mink coat down to her shoulders, her tits showing and her shaved pussy looking marvelous. She dropped eagle style toward the floor and started to bounce up and down. Nick was fixated on her. By now, he had his fist wrapped around his big dick and was jerking off in front of her. They both liked being nasty and freaky; it gave their relationship a spark. Nick’s age wasn’t a deterrent. In fact, Apple felt he came with the experience to handle her.

  Apple started to twerk for him and she moved like the best of them. Nick’s eyes continued to light up and his dick continued to grow. It started to look like a rocket ready to launch.

  “Damn, baby, I can’t take it anymore. You need to come over here and do something about this,” he said.

  “Oh, you want me to do something about that?” she teased.

  “Hells yeah.”

  “Keep jerking off. I like that shit,” she said.

  Nick continued to masturbate as his arousal reached a magnitude that almost hurt. He grinned at her. “Baby, you know I need your help with this.”