Guard the Throne Read online

  Curtis stepped out of the lobby with a poker-faced gaze at Maino seated behind the steering wheel of his Yukon. As he approached closer, he saw Maino wasn’t alone. Tito was riding shotgun. Tito attempted to step out from the front seat and climb into the back, but Curtis shouted, “Nah, I’ll get in the back.”

  “You sure, boss?”

  “Nigga, stay where you at,” he ordered.

  Tito shrugged.

  Curtis climbed into the backseat and the greeting between them was somber.

  Maino was clearly upset. “I’m ready to ride on whoever did this shit, Curtis,” he said. “I’m ready to murder whoever, nigga!”

  “We gonna find out,” Curtis replied. “Just chill.”

  “Chill? Nigga, Alonzo’s dead. How the fuck I’m supposed to chill?”

  “We need you at a cool head, Maino. Don’t get hotheaded and end up doing something stupid. We need you levelheaded right now on the streets.”

  “A’ight, I’ma be fuckin’ chill—until I stick my fuckin’ gun in someone’s mouth.”

  “Emanuel wanna meet up wit’ us,” Tito mentioned.

  “In Harlem?”

  Tito nodded.

  “Let’s roll then.” Curtis looked at Maino. He looked like a boiling pot that was ready to spill over.

  The ride into Harlem was a somber and heavy ride. Each man had something troubling on his mind. Alonzo’s death weighed their hearts heavy. Retaliations against whoever was responsible for Alonzo’s tragic death were a definite obligation.

  Emanuel had called an emergency meeting. If Emanuel Martinez was in town, then the game was about to take a serious turn. Emanuel was the next to step up and take charge behind Alonzo’s death. The two were first cousins. Emanuel was a brutal man who didn’t play games. He rarely smiled and took killing and torture to a whole new level. He made Maino look like Mickey Mouse. He grew up being an enforcer for a Colombian cartel and had moved up the ranks by spilling blood by the gallons, torturing any poor soul who crossed him. Having Emanuel in New York meant people were about to die.

  Maino drove over the Triborough Bridge and entered Harlem, where the streets were cluttered with afternoon traffic and daytime shoppers. He navigated down 125th Street and then turned onto a side street and parked in front of a vintage barbershop. The three men went indside, where only two barbers were on staff with one customer seated in the chair. The place was retro, with hydraulic, reclining barber chairs with cracking leather, nice wooden-framed mirrors, and aged framed photos of famous celebrities coming into the place for a haircut—even one with Sammy Davis Jr. and Fred Williamson.

  The mixture of talc, hair tonics, Barbicide, and cheap coffee created a manly smell. Classical jazz played inside. This place was known for having that old-school feel, so there weren’t any flat-screens or modern technology.

  Maino and Tito followed behind Curtis as they walked toward the back, bypassing the activity in the shop and moving through a door that led to the basement. Downstairs, they met with a group of six men and Emanuel Martinez. The room was filled with heavy cigarette smoke and chatter.

  When Curtis entered, the room fell silent. Curtis looked around. All eyes were suddenly on him like he was an alien. His heart started to beat rapidly, but he held his composure. He looked across the room and spotted Emanuel standing erect in the room. His dark, steely glare locked in on Curtis as he smoked his cigar.

  Emanuel Martinez only stood five-nine, but he was a strong presence in the room. He was dressed sharply in a three-piece Armani suit and glittering diamond pinky ring, and his thick goatee was trimmed precisely.

  “Curtis,” Emanuel called him over.

  The men standing between them in the concrete room parted like the Red Sea. Curtis moved through the crowd with confidence, penetration, and a deadpan expression. Maino and Tito followed closely behind him.

  When Curtis came near, Emanuel reached his arms out to him and pulled him into a hug. It was a tight embrace. Curtis knew he didn’t suspect a thing. He would walk out of the meeting alive.

  Emanuel sighed heavily and then asked Curtis, “You heard anything?”

  “I just found out this morning. I’m just as shaken up about it as you, Emanuel.”

  “Muthafuckas, they killed him. Shot him down like some dog in his own fuckin’ place,” Emanuel exclaimed gruffly.

  “We on it,” Curtis assured.

  Maino stepped up, and Emanuel greeted him with the same tight embrace. Everyone had known each other for years. Tito was the only unfamiliar face to Emanuel and the others.

  Every swinging dick in the room was a killer. Collectively, the six men Emanuel had around him had over sixty murders under their belts. They were all casually dressed in button-downs and slacks with indentations of holstered weapons under their suit jackets. Their thick accents indicated they were from out of town.

  “Yo, Emanuel, we fuckin’ on this shit, ASAP, you hear me? Alonzo was like a fuckin’ brother to us. And you have my word, when we find these niggas, I’ma make sure they die slow and painful,” Maino said.

  Emanuel nodded. “You were always the two men I could count on.”

  “It either gotta be these Haitians out in Brooklyn or some bitch had him set up,” one of the men in the room chimed.

  Everyone had speculations. Everyone in the room was itching to kill anyone responsible. Curtis remained cool and appeared upset like everyone else. He was the least suspected. He continued to talk to Emanuel. They had leads as to who could have possibly done the murders, and whoever the finger pointed to was about to be in for a rude awakening.

  “I need to feel better right now. Hector, bring that bitch out,” Emanuel growled.

  Hector, his right-hand man and contract killer nodded. He pivoted on his wing-tip shoes and walked toward the back of the room and approached a locked door.

  A short moment later, he was dragging a naked and bound woman roughly. She was blindfolded. She squirmed in Hector’s grasp and fought with him, but the pistol to the back of her head made her fold up like a lawn chair and cooperate with the proceedings.

  “Who the fuck is this bitch?” Maino asked harshly. “She got somethin’ to do wit’ Alonzo’s death?”

  “Nah, she fucked me over from another personal incident. And now it’s time for this bitch to pay the price,” Emanuel said.

  The men in the room stared at her like she was a sheep trapped in a wolf’s den. They were all ready to tear her apart, not caring she was a woman. She was a little portly with swinging tits and dark nipples. Her hair was disheveled, and she showed signs of abuse and having been tortured already. Her body was covered in bruises and cigarette burns, and her face was bloody.

  When Hector removed the blindfold from around her eyes, they were black and puffy. Someone had worked her over really badly.

  Hector pushed her down into a chair. She was crying and scared.

  Curtis and Maino already knew Emanuel and his ways. He didn’t care who you were. Man, woman, or child, if you crossed him, became an enemy to him, you would surely die in a horrific way. Hector, liked to get creative with death. He was a towering goon, standing over six-six, and was brawny like a prizefighter.

  Emanuel walked over to the frightened girl. She was in her late twenties. She was tied to a metal chair with her arms bent behind her. Her eyes darted around the room like a pinball.

  Emanuel slowly walked circles around the woman in the chair. “You see this bitch? She’s a thief and a fuckin’ liar. You take twenty grand from me, and think I won’t find out. You think that I’ve forgiven for that infraction against me?”

  The men in the room looked on. Everyone was quiet. When Emanuel spoke, everyone hushed.

  The lady was trembling greatly. She finally decided to speak. “Baby, Emanuel, I’m—”

  “Shut the fuck
up!” Emanuel struck the woman in her jaw with his closed fist. “Did I tell you to talk?”

  It was a mighty blow that almost sent her flying out the chair, but the ropes digging into her wrists and ankles kept her seated upright. She spat out blood and coughed.

  Curtis and Maino watched as Hector began preparing to torture the woman. He removed a blowtorch from a bag and lit it, letting the hot blue flame come to life. He looked at Emanuel for the approval, and Emanuel nodded.

  Hector smiled and moved the hot blue flame toward the woman’s nipples. She squirmed and pleaded in the chair with tears streaming down her face. She was helpless.

  Hector didn’t hesitate. He pressed the flames into her nipples, and a piercing scream filled the room.

  “Shit!” someone uttered.

  Hector continued to assault the woman with the blowtorch in places unimaginable until burning flesh was reeking in the basement room. Her skin was boiling with blisters, and her hair had caught on fire. It was a slow and agonizing death.

  Curtis couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He had seen death before, but the way Emanuel and Hector killed someone was just plain brutal.

  “Yo, I’m out,” Curtis said.

  “What? You leaving already. Shit, they about to get to the good part.” Maino was sadistic just like the rest of them.

  Curtis made his exit, and Maino and Tito followed behind him.

  When they reached upstairs into the barbershop, Emanuel had called out, “Curtis.”

  The men turned around.

  Emanuel came closer. He stood in front of Curtis and said, “Alonzo was family to you and Maino. He loved you like a brother. I want you and Maino to keep these streets close and find these muthafuckas! You understand?”

  “We on it,” Curtis replied.

  “The business you had going with Alonzo will now continue through me,” Emanuel stated. “Whatever you need, you come talk to me directly.”

  “A’ight,” Curtis replied coolly.

  Emanuel took a pull from his cigar, and stared at Curtis for a moment, his dark eyes cold and callous. If Emanuel suspected him, it didn’t show. It was still love and business between them. He turned to head back into the basement, and Curtis, Maino, and Tito left the barbershop and climbed into the Yukon.

  Maino and Tito were ready to execute business in Alonzo’s name. Curtis was thinking of an exit strategy.

  7

  The screams coming from the fifth-floor apartment were quickly muffled. The men who were torturing Loony for information didn’t want his neighbors to hear the commotion and call the police, so they stuffed a towel into his mouth. The place had been ransacked, and Loony was sprawled out on the wood floor bleeding profusely. He had a swollen jaw, cracked ribs, and two bulletholes in his knees, courtesy Maino’s .45 with silencer.

  Tito, with brute force, kicked him in the side, causing Loony to wince.

  Maino yanked the bloody towel from his mouth and crouched down over him. He shoved the pistol into Loony’s mouth. “Tell me somethin’, muthafucka!”

  Loony mumbled.

  Curtis stood by the windows and watched his men work Loony over something serious. He had to bury his conscience. He was the only one who knew Loony was speaking the truth. Loony was just the unfortunate one who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone linked him to being around Alonzo’s penthouse palace around the time of his death.

  Maino decided to follow up on the lead and try to get Loony to confess to something. He removed the deadly tool from Loony’s mouth and said, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”

  “Maino, c’mon, man, I don’t know shit!” Loony desperately cried out.

  “Oh, well.” Maino pointed the gun at his head and was ready to fire.

  “Wait! Wait!” Loony screamed out, his hands stretched out in front of him. “The only thing I can tell you is, maybe Juliette might have something to do wit’ it.”

  “Juliette?” Maino questioned.

  “Yeah, Alonzo’s baby mother,” he answered.

  “I know who the fuck she is. Nigga, you lying to live,” Maino barked.

  “Nah, man. I seen her around pushing this sweet candy apple red BMW. And from my knowledge, her and Alonzo weren’t on good terms lately,” Loony said.

  Maino glanced over at Curtis. “What you think?”

  “I just don’t see it,” Curtis replied. “She loved him.”

  “Curtis, you and I both know Alonzo was the biggest dog in the streets. He fucked everything moving, and Juliette ain’t take too kindly to his infidelity, especially when he was fuckin’ her best friend,” Loony explained.

  “Yeah, it do make sense,” Maino replied.

  “It do. Believe me, man. I know she had somethin’ to do wit’ it. She’s been hanging around a few shady cats lately. She had to set him up,” Loony exclaimed.

  “You know what? We’ll pay that bitch a visit too,” Maino said.

  “You believe me?” Loony asked, looking somewhat relieved.

  “We’ll see.” Maino then fired two shots into Loony’s head.

  Curtis, Tito, and Maino left Loony’s apartment for the neighbors to smell him a week later. No one would lose any sleep over his death.

  The three men climbed into Maino’s truck. Maino turned to look at Curtis and said, “Yo, you know what? It do make sense now.”

  “What the fuck you talkin’ about, Maino?” Curtis asked.

  “I ain’t been seeing that bitch around lately. She pushing a new Beamer, and since Alonzo’s death, she’s been MIA. And, c’mon, who else would be able to get close enough to Alonzo like that? In his penthouse suite, and get the drop on him? Someone he trusted.”

  “I just don’t see it, Maino. Juliette ain’t that smart or cold to pull it off. Loony was lying to save his own ass.”

  “Nah, fuck that shit. She guilty of something, and if she ain’t pull the trigger her damn self, then she got someone to do it for her. Probably some nigga she fuckin’! You know Alonzo would be doin’ the same for us. And I ain’t gonna rest till I murder every last one of them muthafuckas involved.”

  “Let’s ride then, nigga,” Curtis said halfheartedly.

  ****

  Maino pulled up to a posh brick building on Harlem’s West Side. It was early morning, and the neighborhood was quiet with the chilling cold keeping the majority of the residents off the streets.

  Tito and Curtis sat in the truck smoking. Maino reached for the pistol under his seat and cocked it back. “Yo, let’s see this bitch!”

  Curtis was still reluctant, but he knew it was best to go along with the program. Even though he was the boss man, he had to follow every lead they heard on the streets to avoid bringing suspicion upon himself. Emanuel and his men were looking for victims to slaughter, and he had to divert attention away from himself and his family.

  “Let’s just do this shit,” Curtis said.

  The men exited the truck and coolly walked to the front of the five-story building that towered over the still morning streets. Their guns were concealed under their winter wardrobe, and their faces were stone cold. Maino and Tito followed behind Curtis. They had gotten information about Juliette’s whereabouts and apartment number through an informant. She was steadily moving around Harlem from one apartment to the next, but a few hundred dollars spread out through Harlem streets was able to root up what they needed to know.

  The men moved through the tiled lobby with one mission on their minds—revenge. They stepped into the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor in silence. Stepping out, they quickly began looking for apartment 5D. It was located down the hall, snuggled between the other two apartments like a cozy little secret.

  “Here we go,” Maino said quietly. He was anxious to kick down the door and start blazing, but that would attract t
oo much attention from the neighbors.

  “You two, stay out of sight and let me do the talking,” Curtis said. He knew seeing three thugs outside her door would intimidate Juliette and prevent her from opening up.

  Curtis took a deep breath. He took one last glance at his goons poised for action and nodded. The knocking was loud, and at first, there was no answer. It seemed like no one was home.

  Curtis knocked again, and this time he heard movement behind the door.

  “Who is it?” a female voice shouted.

  “Juliette, it’s me, Curtis. Open the door, so we can talk.”

  “Go away, Curtis,” she yelled. “I don’t want or need you here.”

  “Juliette, I just wanna talk to you.”

  “Fuck off, Curtis. You think I’m gonna trust you or anybody else after what happened to Alonzo? Get away from my fuckin’ door!”

  Curtis sighed and contained his frustration. Juliette wasn’t budging.

  “Why are you being so stubborn? I’m only worried about you. Alonzo was a brother to me, and I know he would want me to check up on you.”

  “You ain’t come alone. I know you got Maino with you. I can fuckin’ smell him from behind my door. And if you don’t leave from my gotdamn door in one minute, I’m callin’ the police.”

  Curtis knew it was pointless to keep arguing with her. Juliette was obviously spooked.

  Juliette suddenly shouted, “And if you even think about chargin’ through that door, I got shotgun in my hands and won’t hesitate to kill anyone who comes in this muthafucka!”

  Chk-Chk!

  “Fine. I’m leaving. When you stop actin’ like this, come and holla at me so we can talk. I ain’t the fuckin’ enemy, Juliette. I owe it to Alonzo.”

  “Tell me whatever, nigga!”

  Curtis stepped away from her door, and Maino and Tito followed behind him. Stepping into the elevator, Maino cursed, “Stubborn fuckin’ bitch!”

  “We’ll just come back,” Tito said.

  “Hells yeah,” Maino said. “When she least expects it.”