The nigga can disappear like a magic act. Poof!” Chase said, throwing his hands up as if he were really performing a trick. “You’re hit. You need your rest. You don’t got to put in your own work. That’s what you got soldiers for.”
Indie’s chest was on fire, and he knew that he was overexerting himself. He inhaled deeply as a sharp pain filled him. “I don’t need soldiers for this one, fam. You just bring him to me. The day that I’m out of here, I want to see this nigga in front of me. I’m not doing no more talking. I’m tired of yapping. These slow Southern-ass niggas ain’t hearing me. I’ma let my cannons bark until my baby girl is back home.”
Against the advice of his physicians, Indie checked himself out of the hospital the very next day. His legs barely worked, and he was forced to submit to a wheelchair, but he was determined to leave. Too much time had passed and there was too much to do. His daughter was still missing, and that was more important than his own injuries. The police had made no progress, and although the media was keeping the case alive, it did little to help. Everyone was starting to give up—everyone except YaYa and Indie.
When YaYa wasn’t at Indie’s bedside, she was out canvassing the neighborhoods, searching for Skylar, and passing out flyers. Calling in the authorities had been useless. Their presence only complicated things, and as she walked beside Indie, holding his hand as the nurse wheeled him outside, she felt hopeful that he would fix everything. Somebody had to, before she went insane.
When they emerged from the hospital, Chase was waiting in front of a black Lex coupe. The girls were parked behind him in a matching silver vehicle. He walked up to Indie and helped him to his feet as the two slowly embraced.
“Good to see you standing, fam,” Chase greeted.
Indie nodded his head and replied, “Feels good, man. Feels real good. Did you and Khi set that up for me?”
Chase nodded.
Indie turned to YaYa and kissed her forehead. “The girls are going to take you home. I’ll be there shortly. I have something to handle real quick,” Indie said.
“Indie…” she whispered as her eyes grew sad.
“I’m coming home, ma. Don’t worry yourself. Have dinner waiting for me when I get there.” He gave her a playful tap on her derriere, causing her to smile.
She folded her arms and watched him enter the car, and then Chase pulled away from the curb.
Indie sat back as Chase wheeled him into the warehouse. The single bulb that illuminated the space shone down on the man who was restrained in the middle of the room. He was untouched. He had no injuries, yet fear still burned in his gaze. He was alarmed. With his legs tied to a wooden chair and his hands bound tightly in front of him, he knew that the worst was yet to come.
When Indie had given the order to snatch him, it had been executed efficiently. The slip of a pillowcase over the head and a .45 to the neck was all it took to get him to oblige. Minnie had been sitting in the pitch black warehouse for the past two days, anticipating death. Khi-P had shown no mercy on the nigga either. Under no circumstances was he untied.
“Shit on yourself,” was the response when Minnie requested a bathroom.
“Eat a dick, you bitch-ass nigga,” Mekhi had told him when Minnie asked for food.
Like a newborn baby, Minnie’s life was in their hands, and until Indie was released from the hospital, he sat in limbo, wondering what would become of him.
Chase wheeled an injured Indie directly up to Minnie until the two men were sitting face to face.
When Minnie saw Indie’s face, he chuckled slightly as he shook his head from side to side. “Ol’ fuck nigga. I should’ve known. This is how you East Coast bitches do it, huh? Had to hire a pit bull from the South just to catch a nigga slipping?” he asked, referring to Mekhi doing his dirty work.
Indie looked at Chase and nodded his head. Chase
Indie’s chest was on fire, and he knew that he was overexerting himself. He inhaled deeply as a sharp pain filled him. “I don’t need soldiers for this one, fam. You just bring him to me. The day that I’m out of here, I want to see this nigga in front of me. I’m not doing no more talking. I’m tired of yapping. These slow Southern-ass niggas ain’t hearing me. I’ma let my cannons bark until my baby girl is back home.”
Against the advice of his physicians, Indie checked himself out of the hospital the very next day. His legs barely worked, and he was forced to submit to a wheelchair, but he was determined to leave. Too much time had passed and there was too much to do. His daughter was still missing, and that was more important than his own injuries. The police had made no progress, and although the media was keeping the case alive, it did little to help. Everyone was starting to give up—everyone except YaYa and Indie.
When YaYa wasn’t at Indie’s bedside, she was out canvassing the neighborhoods, searching for Skylar, and passing out flyers. Calling in the authorities had been useless. Their presence only complicated things, and as she walked beside Indie, holding his hand as the nurse wheeled him outside, she felt hopeful that he would fix everything. Somebody had to, before she went insane.
When they emerged from the hospital, Chase was waiting in front of a black Lex coupe. The girls were parked behind him in a matching silver vehicle. He walked up to Indie and helped him to his feet as the two slowly embraced.
“Good to see you standing, fam,” Chase greeted.
Indie nodded his head and replied, “Feels good, man. Feels real good. Did you and Khi set that up for me?”
Chase nodded.
Indie turned to YaYa and kissed her forehead. “The girls are going to take you home. I’ll be there shortly. I have something to handle real quick,” Indie said.
“Indie…” she whispered as her eyes grew sad.
“I’m coming home, ma. Don’t worry yourself. Have dinner waiting for me when I get there.” He gave her a playful tap on her derriere, causing her to smile.
She folded her arms and watched him enter the car, and then Chase pulled away from the curb.
Indie sat back as Chase wheeled him into the warehouse. The single bulb that illuminated the space shone down on the man who was restrained in the middle of the room. He was untouched. He had no injuries, yet fear still burned in his gaze. He was alarmed. With his legs tied to a wooden chair and his hands bound tightly in front of him, he knew that the worst was yet to come.
When Indie had given the order to snatch him, it had been executed efficiently. The slip of a pillowcase over the head and a .45 to the neck was all it took to get him to oblige. Minnie had been sitting in the pitch black warehouse for the past two days, anticipating death. Khi-P had shown no mercy on the nigga either. Under no circumstances was he untied.
“Shit on yourself,” was the response when Minnie requested a bathroom.
“Eat a dick, you bitch-ass nigga,” Mekhi had told him when Minnie asked for food.
Like a newborn baby, Minnie’s life was in their hands, and until Indie was released from the hospital, he sat in limbo, wondering what would become of him.
Chase wheeled an injured Indie directly up to Minnie until the two men were sitting face to face.
When Minnie saw Indie’s face, he chuckled slightly as he shook his head from side to side. “Ol’ fuck nigga. I should’ve known. This is how you East Coast bitches do it, huh? Had to hire a pit bull from the South just to catch a nigga slipping?” he asked, referring to Mekhi doing his dirty work.
Indie looked at Chase and nodded his head. Chase
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