silent.
Chapter 11
Reaching the garage around the corner from the flat, Jerell struggled to catch his breath. He had run so fast, with no idea if the men were chasing him, but he wasn’t prepared to stand around waiting for them to catch up. They were tooled up, and there were more of them.
Jerell released his grip on Tyler then yanked up the garage door. He pointed the butt of his pistol at his Beamer. “Get in,” he ordered Tyler, nodding at the passenger door. They needed to get out of there and quickly.
Tyler slowly climbed into the front seat. He was numb from the evening’s events and scared shitless of what Jerell was capable of doing to him next. He felt totally overwhelmed by everything that had just happened to him and, along with what Jerell had made him do, he couldn’t shake the awful image of Jerell shooting the man. Tyler had almost thrown up at the sight of all the blood that spurted out as he had watched the man grab his stomach before slumping to the floor in front of him.
As Jerell opened the driver’s door and got into the motor, the boys that had followed them ran up to the entrance of the garage. Jerell quickly unwound his window and leant out.
“Whoa, Jerell, what the hell was that about, man; you showed those jokers, didn’t you? Who the fuck was they, man? One of them looks like a goner; think they’re all scraping his guts off the pavement now. There’s blood everywhere.” The oldest boy said. He had caught a good look at the bloodshed as he had run past the group of men all crouching by the front door of the flat. Jerell never failed to impress him with how ruthless he could be. Jerell cut the boy’s banter short. It wasn’t a laughing matter, Jerell was fuming with himself for reacting the way he had back there, but he had felt cornered, and now he had jeopardised everything he had worked so hard to build up by shooting someone on his own doorstep. He needed to think fast; he needed to keep himself from getting pulled in.
“No-one goes back to the flat, ya hear me?” Jerell spoke as calmly as he could manage, but his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted was to get sent down for murder, and the way things had gone at the flat, it seemed likely. He was going to have to get off the radar. Staring at the older boy, his dark brown eyes looked so intense they could have almost been jet black. “Rhys,” he instructed the older boy, “find Reagan, tell him what’s happened. The rest of you, watch the flat. Make sure none of our boys go near it. I don’t want any of you connected to that place while all this shit’s going on, if dem police start snooping, say nothin’, you get me? Keep your heads down and tell all the boys to steer well clear.”
Everything had been going so smoothly, and now he had all this shit to deal with. The police wouldn’t find anything inside the flat other than a few spliffs, but the blood all over the doorstep was a whole other story; one that he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of. He needed to find somewhere to lay low for a while, until he could find out what happened to the man that he had shot, and he had to hope to God they wouldn’t be able to connect the shooting to him. Also, he would have to ditch his gun.
The man must be dead, he thought. There was no way that he could have been shot at close range, right in the gut, and survive. Jerell hadn’t meant to shoot him, but he had got in the way. The fat sweaty man had lunged towards him and had unsteadily waved his gun in Jerell’s direction. The man had looked shaky and scared but the way he pointed the gun about he seemed capable of shooting him, maybe as a last-ditch attempt at playing the hero.
In that split second, the situation had got out of hand and Jerell had decided to get in there before the fat man had a chance to shoot. Only that other guy, the boss man, had got in between them. He had come from nowhere; stupidly, he had launched himself from behind Jerell,
Chapter 11
Reaching the garage around the corner from the flat, Jerell struggled to catch his breath. He had run so fast, with no idea if the men were chasing him, but he wasn’t prepared to stand around waiting for them to catch up. They were tooled up, and there were more of them.
Jerell released his grip on Tyler then yanked up the garage door. He pointed the butt of his pistol at his Beamer. “Get in,” he ordered Tyler, nodding at the passenger door. They needed to get out of there and quickly.
Tyler slowly climbed into the front seat. He was numb from the evening’s events and scared shitless of what Jerell was capable of doing to him next. He felt totally overwhelmed by everything that had just happened to him and, along with what Jerell had made him do, he couldn’t shake the awful image of Jerell shooting the man. Tyler had almost thrown up at the sight of all the blood that spurted out as he had watched the man grab his stomach before slumping to the floor in front of him.
As Jerell opened the driver’s door and got into the motor, the boys that had followed them ran up to the entrance of the garage. Jerell quickly unwound his window and leant out.
“Whoa, Jerell, what the hell was that about, man; you showed those jokers, didn’t you? Who the fuck was they, man? One of them looks like a goner; think they’re all scraping his guts off the pavement now. There’s blood everywhere.” The oldest boy said. He had caught a good look at the bloodshed as he had run past the group of men all crouching by the front door of the flat. Jerell never failed to impress him with how ruthless he could be. Jerell cut the boy’s banter short. It wasn’t a laughing matter, Jerell was fuming with himself for reacting the way he had back there, but he had felt cornered, and now he had jeopardised everything he had worked so hard to build up by shooting someone on his own doorstep. He needed to think fast; he needed to keep himself from getting pulled in.
“No-one goes back to the flat, ya hear me?” Jerell spoke as calmly as he could manage, but his heart was pounding. The last thing he wanted was to get sent down for murder, and the way things had gone at the flat, it seemed likely. He was going to have to get off the radar. Staring at the older boy, his dark brown eyes looked so intense they could have almost been jet black. “Rhys,” he instructed the older boy, “find Reagan, tell him what’s happened. The rest of you, watch the flat. Make sure none of our boys go near it. I don’t want any of you connected to that place while all this shit’s going on, if dem police start snooping, say nothin’, you get me? Keep your heads down and tell all the boys to steer well clear.”
Everything had been going so smoothly, and now he had all this shit to deal with. The police wouldn’t find anything inside the flat other than a few spliffs, but the blood all over the doorstep was a whole other story; one that he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of. He needed to find somewhere to lay low for a while, until he could find out what happened to the man that he had shot, and he had to hope to God they wouldn’t be able to connect the shooting to him. Also, he would have to ditch his gun.
The man must be dead, he thought. There was no way that he could have been shot at close range, right in the gut, and survive. Jerell hadn’t meant to shoot him, but he had got in the way. The fat sweaty man had lunged towards him and had unsteadily waved his gun in Jerell’s direction. The man had looked shaky and scared but the way he pointed the gun about he seemed capable of shooting him, maybe as a last-ditch attempt at playing the hero.
In that split second, the situation had got out of hand and Jerell had decided to get in there before the fat man had a chance to shoot. Only that other guy, the boss man, had got in between them. He had come from nowhere; stupidly, he had launched himself from behind Jerell,
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