enough to leave a mark or deter him from killing Scott. He managed to wipe the sticky black liquid from his eyes just in time to see Scott running top speed back towards Eighth Avenue. If Scott made it out of the block and onto the avenue, it would be harder to kill him because of all the witnesses. No, he had waited too long to let revenge elude him.
Instantly, old muscles came back to life and Duce was after his prey. Scott had too much of a lead on him for Duce to Catch him in an outright sprint so he tried something else. His booted feet made thunderous noises as he ran up the back of someone’s Maxima to stand on the roof. The cold mixed with his adrenaline made it hard to breathe, but breathing was essential at that point. Steadying the 9mm in a two-handed grip, Duce jerked the trigger twice.
Scott had managed to make it three buildings from the corner when what felt like a baseball slammed into his shoulder. It happened so fast that Scott didn’t even realize that he was shot until he was airborne. His chin made contact with the frosty ground, before the rest of his body did. When he gathered his wits enough to look up, he saw the man he’d known as D-Murder sprinting towards him and began to scream like a frightened child.
“Shut ya bitch ass up,” Duce kicked him in the mouth, bloodying his boots. “So, you wanna throw hot coffee on niggaz, huh?” Duce aimed the gun at his face.
“Please, man,” Scott pleaded, trying to shield his face with his good arm.
“Huh?” Duce asked as if he didn’t hear him. “Are you begging?” he asked sympathetically.
“Listen, I got some dough in the crib. You can have that and my chain if you let me live,” he said hurriedly. “Please, man.”
“Your chain? Do you think a funky ass chain is gonna bring my brother back?!” Duce fired a bullet into Scott’s thigh. A few inches higher and it would’ve hit him in the testicles. “Let me ask you this,” Duce leaned down to whisper to Scott, totally ignoring his screams. “What did you gain from all this, his bitch, and his position? Marsha is a ho and Butch run the block. Fuck you got?”
“D-Murder,” Scott called him by his title, hoping the show of respect would increase his chances of living. “Nobody was supposed to die. They said that nothing would change and we’d all be partners if Knowledge would agree to step down, but your brother wasn’t trying to hear it. It was supposed to be good for business.”
Duce’s body went rigid for a moment, but the rage leaked away. “Business,” tears glistened in his eyes. “My brother died on a street corner because it was good for business?” Duce fired twice into Scott’s gut.
Scott’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish but no sound came out. The pain was so intense that his vocal cords wouldn’t work. Duce could’ve shot him in the head and ended it, but Scott didn’t deserve a quick death. He needed to die slow. As Duce looked back and saw Scott trying to keep his intestines from spilling into the snow, he was pretty sure that he would.
Duce drove his Explorer as calmly as he could down St. Nicholas Avenue. There was blood on his boots and a hot pistol on the passenger seat, but panicking wouldn’t change that nor would it change the fact that he had killed two people in as many nights. Marsha’s death had made him feel better, but he savors Scott’s far more. It had been Scott who called Duce to the apartment that would spell his doom, and Scott who he had treated like family. Part of him wanted to turn around and shoot Scott again.
When the Boost phone he’d purchased that day went off, he almost jumped out of his skin. He’d only given one person the number so he knew who it was without looking at the caller ID. “Yo,” Duce said, holding the phone with one hand and steering with the other.
“Young blood, what it is?” Cos said.
“Ain’t shit, about to go see this broad,” Duce lied.
“Man, fuck that broad, I got
Instantly, old muscles came back to life and Duce was after his prey. Scott had too much of a lead on him for Duce to Catch him in an outright sprint so he tried something else. His booted feet made thunderous noises as he ran up the back of someone’s Maxima to stand on the roof. The cold mixed with his adrenaline made it hard to breathe, but breathing was essential at that point. Steadying the 9mm in a two-handed grip, Duce jerked the trigger twice.
Scott had managed to make it three buildings from the corner when what felt like a baseball slammed into his shoulder. It happened so fast that Scott didn’t even realize that he was shot until he was airborne. His chin made contact with the frosty ground, before the rest of his body did. When he gathered his wits enough to look up, he saw the man he’d known as D-Murder sprinting towards him and began to scream like a frightened child.
“Shut ya bitch ass up,” Duce kicked him in the mouth, bloodying his boots. “So, you wanna throw hot coffee on niggaz, huh?” Duce aimed the gun at his face.
“Please, man,” Scott pleaded, trying to shield his face with his good arm.
“Huh?” Duce asked as if he didn’t hear him. “Are you begging?” he asked sympathetically.
“Listen, I got some dough in the crib. You can have that and my chain if you let me live,” he said hurriedly. “Please, man.”
“Your chain? Do you think a funky ass chain is gonna bring my brother back?!” Duce fired a bullet into Scott’s thigh. A few inches higher and it would’ve hit him in the testicles. “Let me ask you this,” Duce leaned down to whisper to Scott, totally ignoring his screams. “What did you gain from all this, his bitch, and his position? Marsha is a ho and Butch run the block. Fuck you got?”
“D-Murder,” Scott called him by his title, hoping the show of respect would increase his chances of living. “Nobody was supposed to die. They said that nothing would change and we’d all be partners if Knowledge would agree to step down, but your brother wasn’t trying to hear it. It was supposed to be good for business.”
Duce’s body went rigid for a moment, but the rage leaked away. “Business,” tears glistened in his eyes. “My brother died on a street corner because it was good for business?” Duce fired twice into Scott’s gut.
Scott’s mouth opened and closed like a beached fish but no sound came out. The pain was so intense that his vocal cords wouldn’t work. Duce could’ve shot him in the head and ended it, but Scott didn’t deserve a quick death. He needed to die slow. As Duce looked back and saw Scott trying to keep his intestines from spilling into the snow, he was pretty sure that he would.
Duce drove his Explorer as calmly as he could down St. Nicholas Avenue. There was blood on his boots and a hot pistol on the passenger seat, but panicking wouldn’t change that nor would it change the fact that he had killed two people in as many nights. Marsha’s death had made him feel better, but he savors Scott’s far more. It had been Scott who called Duce to the apartment that would spell his doom, and Scott who he had treated like family. Part of him wanted to turn around and shoot Scott again.
When the Boost phone he’d purchased that day went off, he almost jumped out of his skin. He’d only given one person the number so he knew who it was without looking at the caller ID. “Yo,” Duce said, holding the phone with one hand and steering with the other.
“Young blood, what it is?” Cos said.
“Ain’t shit, about to go see this broad,” Duce lied.
“Man, fuck that broad, I got
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