Page 55 of Love & Vendettas

The other guy chuckles and replies. “Fuck no. You ever stop smoking, nigga?”

“Fuck you,” the guy carrying me replies.

“Aye, yo, grab me some chicken, Q,” a third voice commands.

“Where are you going?” Q, the chicken guy asks.

I open my eyes and take a quick peek around. No one is facing me, but I can tell that we’re in a warehouse. There’s a cut-out window that gives me a view of the kitchen. I can’t see Q because he and the microwave are both out of sight.

There’s a set of stairs to the right, which are the stairs the pissing guy must have taken. There’s a door immediately to the right of the kitchen.

“Gotta call Myiesha. Tell her I’ma be late tonight,” the third voice explains, walking away.

He takes the metal stairs too.

The man carrying me takes a few more steps as he shifts me in his arms. Before he can lower me, my dangling arm shifts, and I grab the knife from my side.

“Oh, you’re—” he begins but doesn’t finish.

I jab the knife into his neck with one hard thrust and twist. The man goes still for a few seconds, and I wonder if I hit my target as I struggle to free myself from his grip despite the blood spewing forth and spraying me.

When his hold on me relaxes, I jump free just as he crumples to his knees and grabs his throat.

“The hell is that?” I hear Q call out.

I race toward a door to my left. Seeing my purse lying on a crate beside the door, I snatch it up and jerk the door handle just as Q calls out, “Yo! Get your ass back here.”

The door slams shut behind me just in time as a gun goes off.

Running and reaching inside my purse, I grab my gun. I have no idea where I’m at, but the parking lot that I can see through the windows to my left is open, and there aren’t any cars around except for two.

I have zero knowledge about hotwiring a car, so that’s out. I take the second landing and then race down the last flight of stairs.

Voices shout out above me as my mind races to plan what my next step will be. Just as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I slam into a body that steps out of the darkness.

“Where you going, bitch?”

I look into the disfigured features of my brother-in-law, Kenny. My blood runs cold as he sneers at me with a swollen jaw and split lip.

Damn.

26 – ZAIRE – MISTAKEN IDENTITY

“What the hell? Who are you?” An obese man grumbles as we push the door to his office open.

“Pull up your security footage. Now!” I bark, walking around behind his desk and towering over him.

“You don’t tell me what the fuck to do. Get out of here now,” he demands.

“I’m not going anywhere until I get the answers I came here for,” I reply firmly.

“I don’t know anything about anything.

Now get out before I call the cops.”

“I don’t give a shit what you don’t know. I don’t give a shit about you calling the cops. Run that fuckin’ tape back,” I snarl at the obese man sitting behind the desk.

We walked back to the owner’s office, to the chagrin of the customer service staff out front a minute ago. We didn’t bother to ask to see him or be let in, because I didn’t have time for games.

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