right person. Although Jeff was considered to be his right hand, after seeing him sniffing the drug that day, he felt he had to double check everything that Jeff brought his way. But the fact that Jeff mentioned his ride or die chick was present when the information was obtained, he felt Jeffâs story was solid. Mike B made a mental note to ask Lenore why she hadnât come to him with the info herself, the way Denise had with Jeff. But now that he had a name and a face, Mike B was already contemplating when and where he intended to get justice for his cousin.
Chapter Nine
Three days later. Early Friday morning.
Â
Â
âWake up, muthafucka!â a voiced boomed and echoed throughout the secluded area of Greenbrook Park.
A forceful slap accompanied the words. The blow delivered across the face of the man who laid sprawled out in the knee deep bloodstained snow brought him back to consciousness.
The manâs eyes shot open. He gasped for air. After taking a deep and long breath, the bleeding man tried to regain his vision. Blood shot out of his mouth as he let out a painful sounding cough. Although he couldnât see it, he could taste the salty, thick liquid fighting its way back down his throat passage. He could feel the blood that managed to escape his mouth freezing up on his face from the winter chill. Trying to lift himself up with his elbows, he still fought to clear his blurry eyes as he attempted to focus on the two images that stood over him. He was stopped by a pressing foot in his chest.
âWhat the fuck you think you doing? Lay your bitch ass still,â a voice and the owner of black Gortex boot planted in his chest growled.
The sound of a cocking gun followed the threat.
A chill ran through the manâs body as snow from the boot managed to find its way in the unzipped top part of his jacket. His teeth began to chatter from the coldness as the snow dissolved into liquid. It melted, seeping through his Polo sweater, tee, and wife beater, until it reached his bare chest. His heart rate quickened from the cold snow turned water, as it trickled downward.
The owner of the boot raised his foot from off of the chest of the man he and his partner had abducted. Gaining better balance, he plunged his boot back into the manâs chest again, only this time, he put more of his weight behind it. The impact nearly caved the manâs chest in.
The bleeding manâs body was already stiff and sore. Still, he managed to tense up in an attempt to minimize the pain he believed it would cause. The assault had only added to the pain he had already felt. He was torn between that, and the cold running through his entire body from laying in the snow for God only knows how long. He was still somewhat in a daze from the previous blows he had received that had knocked him unconscious. The cold made it difficult for him to think straight. He wasnât sure whether he was freezing due to the snow he felt underneath him or because he was simply bleeding to death. His senses were now on high alert. For the life of him, he couldnât figure out why he was in the predicament he was in, nor could he narrow down who was behind it. He recalled having a few run-ins and minor altercations with a few dudes in recent months, but nothing so major that it would warrant someone wanting to kidnap him or possibly want him dead, he believed.
Had it not been for the black, North Face jacket and the insulated socks he wore under his beef and broccoli, Timberland boots, he was sure he may have frozen to death. He remembered seeing on the news before he had stepped outside that the temperature was in the low thirties. As cold as it was that early morning, he had doubled back inside the building and retrieved his gloves. But none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered was that when he opened his eyes, he saw silhouettes of the barrels of two guns pointed at him by two blurred images. They stood to the
Chapter Nine
Three days later. Early Friday morning.
Â
Â
âWake up, muthafucka!â a voiced boomed and echoed throughout the secluded area of Greenbrook Park.
A forceful slap accompanied the words. The blow delivered across the face of the man who laid sprawled out in the knee deep bloodstained snow brought him back to consciousness.
The manâs eyes shot open. He gasped for air. After taking a deep and long breath, the bleeding man tried to regain his vision. Blood shot out of his mouth as he let out a painful sounding cough. Although he couldnât see it, he could taste the salty, thick liquid fighting its way back down his throat passage. He could feel the blood that managed to escape his mouth freezing up on his face from the winter chill. Trying to lift himself up with his elbows, he still fought to clear his blurry eyes as he attempted to focus on the two images that stood over him. He was stopped by a pressing foot in his chest.
âWhat the fuck you think you doing? Lay your bitch ass still,â a voice and the owner of black Gortex boot planted in his chest growled.
The sound of a cocking gun followed the threat.
A chill ran through the manâs body as snow from the boot managed to find its way in the unzipped top part of his jacket. His teeth began to chatter from the coldness as the snow dissolved into liquid. It melted, seeping through his Polo sweater, tee, and wife beater, until it reached his bare chest. His heart rate quickened from the cold snow turned water, as it trickled downward.
The owner of the boot raised his foot from off of the chest of the man he and his partner had abducted. Gaining better balance, he plunged his boot back into the manâs chest again, only this time, he put more of his weight behind it. The impact nearly caved the manâs chest in.
The bleeding manâs body was already stiff and sore. Still, he managed to tense up in an attempt to minimize the pain he believed it would cause. The assault had only added to the pain he had already felt. He was torn between that, and the cold running through his entire body from laying in the snow for God only knows how long. He was still somewhat in a daze from the previous blows he had received that had knocked him unconscious. The cold made it difficult for him to think straight. He wasnât sure whether he was freezing due to the snow he felt underneath him or because he was simply bleeding to death. His senses were now on high alert. For the life of him, he couldnât figure out why he was in the predicament he was in, nor could he narrow down who was behind it. He recalled having a few run-ins and minor altercations with a few dudes in recent months, but nothing so major that it would warrant someone wanting to kidnap him or possibly want him dead, he believed.
Had it not been for the black, North Face jacket and the insulated socks he wore under his beef and broccoli, Timberland boots, he was sure he may have frozen to death. He remembered seeing on the news before he had stepped outside that the temperature was in the low thirties. As cold as it was that early morning, he had doubled back inside the building and retrieved his gloves. But none of that mattered now. The only thing that mattered was that when he opened his eyes, he saw silhouettes of the barrels of two guns pointed at him by two blurred images. They stood to the
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