“I’d heard so many times that once you take a life, the dead haunts you, but for me, it wasn’t like that. It was like once my mind was convinced that they had done something wrong enough to be dead, guilt didn’t register. I started to think that I was turning into a monster and even at that age, I feared what I might become. However, I was more afraid that I would end up a statistic after witnessing countless Black Saints, and others die young and senselessly.”
She paused and all I could think was, please keep going.
“After the attack and my retaliation, I think I had an epiphany. I started soaking up knowledge, reading anything I could get my hands on, and volunteering at businesses in exchange for information. I searched for training on how to fight and defend myself. I volunteered for boot camps and took self-defense classes. I was like a sponge soaking up anything that could give me an advantage over an enemy. Raymond was the first to tell me that I was wasting my time, until he noticed the results of my self-imposed training.
“The Black Saints I worked with had always given me a certain level of respect, because I was always grinding and being dragged through the same trenches as they were. They started noticing the way I handled myself in a fight, handled a weapon, and even speaking like I was about something. I started gaining respect, a lot of it, to the point where they were asking me to train them.”
The knowledge gave me more insight on the relationship she had with her men.
“Raymond gave me my first test the day I turned sixteen. He sat me down and planned out a mission that involved me taking out one of his enemy. When I completed the mission without a hitch, I became Raymond’s secret weapon. By the time I was twenty, I had taken out seven people for him, and a few others that he didn’t even know were coming for him. He saw me as a gun, a quiet way to take care of his problems.
“When he started gambling and it started to get out of hand and cause him to make poor decisions, I became much more than his gun and a street runner. He knew that I was making decisions for him, and didn’t question me about it as long as it didn’t come back to him. He knew that I was making connections and paying off people that could help keep us out of jail. However, he had no idea how deeply into the game I was embedding myself.”
She kept feeding my intrigue about her, and my hunger for everything there was to know about Mecca was endless.
“I started investing in the information trade, getting to know corrupt law enforcement officers, and finding effective ways to carry out murders. I started making connections with people who could help me in a pinch, to spy if I needed them to, to make bodies disappear. I was becoming more than just a street goon, but I kept it all quiet and continued to maintain my role. It’s why my men now have their suspicions about who I truly am.”
I agreed with her men. If they didn’t know any of what she was telling me, I understood why they thought she was a hitwoman.
“Raymond had the same fire that had come alive in me until he started gambling. He would fuck up and use me to clean up his messes. There were times when he wasn’t even aware of his messes, but I’d clean them up for the sake of the Black Saints. When he presented this alliance, I thought it was the best decision he had made in a long time. When he left me in charge of the Saints, it was the chance I had been waiting for, but it didn’t take long to uncover that Raymond had done much more damage than anyone knew about. Now, I’m here, cleaning up his mess to keep the legacy of the Black Saints alive.”
She reached up and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. It appeared my wife was done sharing for the night. I knew there was more. I wanted more. When was she going to tell me more?
Mecca
Dammit!
The low hum of my disposable cell phone buzzed through the air and found me through the small crack I had left in my closet door. A serious case of déjà vu hit me at the sound, as this day was starting out similar to the day I had met with the Haitians.
Later today, we had plans for my crew and Arjen’s to come together and brainstorm any and all clues as to who may have been targeting me and possibly him.
If we made the mistake of approaching the Cardenas Cartel with false accusations, it would be a mistake we may never recover from. We needed to be sure. I had to do everything in my power to find proof before I accused the Black Saints of any wrong-doing as well. I was still in the process of proving myself as a worthy leader, and although we weren’t a political organization, a certain level of diplomatic finesse needed to be applied.
“Mecca,” the delicate voice called into the phone.
“Angel. What do you have for me?”
“We found the last rapist. He admitted to having sex with Tashonda without her consent. We’re taking him to the cabin,” Angel stated.
“How did you extract the information?”
“We didn’t damage him. We gave him a shot of sodium thiopental, and he told us what we needed to know.”
“Good, I’ll be there in about forty-five.”
“Mecca,” Angel called again, and I didn’t miss the hint of warning in her tone.
“Yes.”
“I don’t think you were meant to survive that incident with the Haitians.”
“I know. Something didn’t feel right about the entire situation. It’s why I called you and Devi. I believe this may have something to do with the rat problem the Saints have.”
No matter what, in my position, there was always going to be someone gunning for my life, but to set a trap like the one they had set up for Arjen, and with the Haitians for me, took a certain amount of planning and money.
The death note on my head wasn’t coming from a low-level group out to make a come-up. I was being targeted for assassination by someone with power. The Cardenas Cartel fit the profile, but them wanting me dead didn’t make sense.
If it was the Cardenas Cartel targeting me, had they found my replacement? Could they have been working with someone from the Black Saints?