The Corner III (No Way Out) by Alex Richardson, Lu Ann Wells Page B

being stopped. Leave and wait till you hear from me. We went west, so you need to head east. That’s to your left.” He ended the call as two detectives approached their vehicle with their guns drawn.
    *     *     *
    Elisa had talked much shit to Rivera. She had called him everything from a wet-back, banana boat rider, bean eater to a spic. She was tough as nails and wasn’t going to tell the police shit. They had nothing on them, and it was obvious they were there to rob. Rivera and the other detectives were waiting for a call from Styles. They hoped their partners had stopped the men and got the money. The narcotic detectives were good detectives in the sense that they did good police work and made many cases and good arrests. But there also was an evil side to them—they did whatever they could to get money. And they had a tip that many kilos and money was being moved. The detective sat on the houses two weeks ago and everything went as the young man said, so when he called and said that the same move was being made, the detectives jumped at the chance to get the money because they all needed it. Spivey and Smith were gamblers who stayed in debt from the casino riverboats. Barnes, an avid fisherman who was born and raised in Huntsville, Alabama, was saving all his dirty money to buy a house on the Gulf and to open a bait shop. Rivera and Bates had a penchant for partying, gambling and women. Detectives Styles, well, he was simply greedy and loved power.
    Rivera’s cell rang, and he immediately answered. “What’s up, boss?”
    Styles, who was pulling in at the scene where Bates and Smith had the Maxima pulled over in a Jewel grocery store lot, said, “Clear out, and make sure they know this shit never happened.”
    Rivera slid the cell in the front pocket of his jeans then said, “Y’all free to go.” He looked at Elisa saying, “This shit never happened or some for real shit will happen. Feel me?”
    Elisa, whose face was swollen from the beating Rivera gave her, didn’t say anything; she simply glared at the detective, etching his face into her long term memory, she had made up her mind after the first punch, she was going the get the detective back no matter what it took.
    *     *     *
    Barnes and Smith had Shaun and Greg handcuffed and sitting in front of the sedan. Styles had his badge hanging from his neck chain resting on a black T. “What you got?” Styles asked as he walked up to Barnes who was pretending to run the young men’s information for show since there were a few spectators.
    “Stopped them for speeding and running a light,” Barnes lied. “We smelled marijuana on them, and to my surprise, the pretty boy right there consented to a search,” he said as he pointed to Shaun.
    Styles was pissed, but with the bystanders he didn’t show it. With Shaun agreeing to the search without hesitation that most likely meant the men weren’t carrying.
    After the search of the vehicle failed to produce anything, Styles had the men uncuffed and told them they were free to go. It burned him inside to have spent all the time trying to come up on the lick. In a low voice, he told Barnes he’d call him that he had to call the informant to see what had happened.
    *     *     *
    Feet walked into the basement to tell his soldiers that it was time to shake the spot, that there was nothing happening. As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Parker’s phone rang. He glanced at the phone saw the number and didn’t answer.
    “Damn, nigga, that’s why shit always fucked up. You niggas always got bitches calling when you supposed to be getting money,” Feet spat. “Let’s break camp, shit’s fucked up right now.”
    “Damn, they ain’t bringing the shit? That mean we ain’t gonna get paid,” Red hissed as he headed for the stairs.
    “I got you, shorty. I take care of my people. I’ma break you off with something,” Feet told him just as Parker’s phone rang with the