Page 21 of Dom 3
Smoke blew through the streets now, mixed with the smell of gunpowder and gasoline. “Everybody keep your lines tight!” I roared. “Nobody leaves the block! Fuck that! We finish this shit today!”
Manny’s voice came through again, shouting over gunfire. “Got two down near the corner, one still moving!”
“Finish it,” I said.
Carmen yelled something from inside the church, but I couldn’t make it out over the chaos. I turned around long enough to make sure she was still safe before reloading my clip adding an extension on it. My people were pushing forward, taking ground, and moving as one. The war had come straight to us, and we had a feeling it would that’s why we were prepared and ready like always. They thought it was sweet, but they were about to regret that decision. Bullets were still ripping through the air, moving sharp and fast. The Royals were deep in it now, laying people down with clean shots, and didn’t have no moves or ammo to waste. I crouched behind a burning SUV with my eyes bouncing across the chaos. I was looking for one person and one person only… El Blanca. Then I saw him.
He was standing by the black Tahoe at the far end of the street, with a white linen shirt open, and a gold cross swinging, with a gun in his hand. His hair was slicked back, and his face was still calm like he wasn’t standing in the middle of war. He fired two clean shots into the crowd, hit one of our trucks, and turned to run to take cover and remain undetected but my eyes were too sharp for that, it was too late. The El Blanca I remembered used to be fat, but it seemed as though he’d slimmed down a bit.
“Tone!” I yelled. “He’s here!”
Tone looked up from behind a Toyota and followed my eyes to catch a sight of him, and yelled, “Say the word, King!”
I didn’t answer because my blood was already boiling. All I could see was that muhfuckas face flashing in my head. He was the one behind Hector’s death and now he was pissed. He’s the one who tried to play me even using Victoria to do it. That punk muhfucka is the one who’d been plotting trying to take over theMiami streets. He was like a ghost that refused to stay buried. The sound around me faded until all I could hear was my own breath. Carmen’s face flashed in my head for a split second, then it was gone. I couldn’t focus on that what if’s right now.
I ran from cover and moved fast, probably faster than I’d ever moved in my life. My Louboutin’s pounded the pavement, with glass crunching under me. Every few steps I fired, bullets shooting sparks off car doors and light poles. It didn’t matter. El Blanca’s people tried to cover him, but they dropped one by one as my people covered me. Tone and Dique saw where I was headed and started laying busting heavily to clear my path.
El Blanca jumped into the Tahoe and the tires screeched off, with smoke filling the street. I ran straight toward a motorcycle laid out on its side beside the curb. It was one of ours from the procession, a matte black Ducati that one of the soldiers had brought. I grabbed it, yanked it upright, and twisted the throttle to start the engine.
“Boss, what you doin’?!” Tone shouted over the mic.
“Ending this shit!” I growled and shot off down the street.
The wind smacked my face hard putting my cheeks on fire as my suit jacket flapped behind me. The Ducati roared and weaved between the cars as I chased the Tahoe weaving through traffic. Civilians screamed and ducked as bullets flew past them. I had purposely paid extra to any police agency on our payroll to delay and stay away, at least stall us out for a few had it come to this. El Blanca leaned out the back window with his gun blazing. One of his shots grazed my sleeve, burning through the fabric. I leaned real hard left, letting another bullet miss my head by inches. “Shit!” I spat. My heart was pounding, and not from fear, but from focus. Death was on my front porch right now, and this shit could go either way.
The Tahoe tried to swerve onto a back street, but I was too close. I reached into my jacket, pulled the Glock, and aimedwith one hand while still riding. The first shot blew out his rear windshield, and the second shot hit the driver. The Tahoe spun out of control with the tires screeching in donuts right before it slammed into a row of parked cars. I didn’t slow down either. I jumped the curb and hit the brake sliding the bike sideways until it stopped just a few feet from the wreck. The smell of gas instantly hit my nose from a gas leak.
El Blanca stumbled out of the passenger side, coughing up blood with blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. His white shirt was soaked crimson red, but that arrogance was still there. He raised his gun, and smirked.
“You always did think you could play God, Royal,” he said, voice steady even with the smoke rising around us.
“I ain’t God,” I told him. “But I send people to meet him bitch.”
He fired first the first shot, and I allowed it because he was weak, and his aim was off. The bullet missed me by a few inches but mine didn’t. It hit him dead in the chest, pushing him back against the hood. He gasped, as his eyes widened. It was almost as if he didn’t believe the person who used to have much respect for him, was stronger than him. I slowly walked toward him with my nostrils flared and my Glock still raised. He tried to lift his, but his hands were shaking now, and his hands were to slippery from blood.
“You should’ve stayed gone El Blanca,” I said. “It was enough room for us all to eat.”
He laughed, a weak laugh gurgling on his own blood. “You kill me… and another takes my place.”
I stepped closer, pressing the barrel to his forehead. “Then I’ll kill him too.”
He smiled again, but it was that sick kind of smile that only a man who was prepared to die would have like death was a joke. I pulled the fucking trigger and the sound echoed through thestreet. This one shot was louder than all of them I’d heard today. His body dropped to the pavement, with his gold cross clinking when it hit the ground. I stood there for a second, breathing heavy, taking it in. El Blanca took me under his wing; he named me The Miami King. Everything that he loved about me, was everything he hated about me and spited as well. He was the cause of his own demise. The Ducati engine was still running, as the mic buzzed in my ear. I could hear the sirens now.
“King, talk to me,” Tone said.
“It’s done,” I answered in a calm voice.
“Blanca?” He asked
“Gone.” I replied with one single word.
“You good? You need me to come to you?”
“I’m straight, secure the street and make sure Carmen, O’Shynn, and Miss Twyla safe.”
“Got you.”
I looked down at El Blanca’s body one last time, then at the burning Tahoe behind him. The Miami King had just reclaimed his city. I climbed back on the bike, turned it toward the church, and hit the throttle until the engine was warm. The back tire kicked up all the smoke as I disappeared down the street as quickly as I’d come riding straight into the chaos I’d left behind. By the time I made it back to the church, the street looked exactly like what it had been through. Black smoke was everywhere surrounding the flipped cars, and the sound of those sirens were creeping closer but not close enough to matter yet.
