Page 45 of The Mob: Shio Cuppacio
“Aye?”
“Hum?”
“You gone tell your followers we married and shit?” He grinned sexily.
Rolling my eyes, I turned as I heard Jisei calling my name.
As I stomped away, I looked back, and he was still in the same spot, his eyes on my backside. All the while, I questioned my sanity. I had to be the most grouped-out bitch on the planet to agree to that shit. But as long as he followed my demands, nothing on my end would change, except I would finally be added to the other group chats. I didn’t know about five days, though. I still needed time to process this shit.
Chapter 9
Shio Cuppacio
Grass crunched beneath my boots as I trudged across the yard. I hadn’t done any work on the cabin's landscaping or exterior, but the grass had grown lush and green. The spring rain, as well as the mist from the neighboring lake, had done wonders for the nearby plants and turf. The trees curving over the cabin didn’t allow much sun to get through, so I didn’t have to worry about the greenery growing too tall. In the instance that it did, I was getting Nel over here to handle it. That nigga lived for yard work. If he could take his nose out of Pia’s ass for five minutes and think, a landscaping company would be a good way to invest his money. But when a nigga is making dough by the boatloads, small investments are the least of their concerns.
The coolness from the central air dried the sweat that formed during my short walk from the truck to the front door. Walking past the covered furniture that had become the resting place for dust, I noticed the thermostat's setting was way too low for my liking. The central air was one of the few upgrades I’d made to the cabin. When I bought it, I didn’t initially know what I would do with it. But something compelled me to add a state-of-the-art security system that included soundproofing and anon-penetrable door for the basement. I could hide the fucking president in here, and no one would know unless I gave them insight. When the temperature was set, I made my way down the stairs into the basement.
The smell of Dove soap hit my nostrils as soon as my foot hit the last step. Not much had changed since I was last here, but there was a cot in the corner, a dresser, and the bathroom had been stocked with toiletries. Besides that, it was just concrete walls.
Tossing the bag of food in the middle of the floor, I crossed my arms at my crotch. “Aye, whatever it is you trying to pull, just know… it’s only one outcome and that shit ain’t gone work in your favor. Not now and damn sho’ not later.”
A grunt, followed by the scraping of feet, sounded to my left, but instead of turning my eyes toward the noise, I kept looking straight ahead.
“Nigga, I could kill you in here.”
Reaching behind my back, I held out the Glock for Hobo to take. He stood a few feet away from me in the joggers and white T-shirt I’d provided him. Steam was still emitting from the small bathroom, letting me know he’d just handled his hygiene. The last time I was here, the nigga smelled like he’d shitted himself, so I made it a point to bring some sanitation products down here along with soap and clothes so he could handle his fucking business. He was too fucking grown to be smelling like something had crawled up in his ass, died, and clawed back out.
In his hand was a metal pole that he must’ve pulled from the iron bed nestled against the wall. With a snarl on his face, he eyed the gun, contemplating his next move. If he decided to take it, he would have not only one but two weapons, and if he knew what the fuck he was doing, he could overpower me. That was a big-assif,though.
“You got me in this bitch, locked away like a fucking animal, nigga!” He spat on the ground, releasing a nasty, thick yellow glob.
Keeping the gun held out, I looked around the space, doing a one-eighty with my head. “I don’t see no fucking chains or cuffs. You’re free to roam this bitch just like you’re free to take this gun and blow my head off. Or… you can use that pole to slap the gun out of my hand and beat me to a pulp.”
His expression hardened, and he tightened his grip on the black pole. His knuckles were bruised and cut, and the faint blood marks above his bed provided evidence that he’d been in here punching the walls. If he broke his gotdamn bones, his ass was just going to have crooked fingers. I wasn’t dragging a doctor down here unless he was facing a life-or-death type illness.
“What the fuck you on? You’n think I’ll take your gun and kill you, nigga? I’m a real killa! A real fucking gangsta! You not really ’bout it because you would have killed me. You don’t have the heart. What type of kidnapper gives clothing and food to the nigga he kidnapped? A bed? I would have been in this bitch torturing you!” He snarled like he had all the answers.
I’d never been the type of person to point out what another person looked like, but Hobo was the bottom of the barrel. Shit—the nigga was the barrel. His dark skin didn’t shine; it was dull and textured, and that was before I tossed him down here. Even the huge veneers in his mouth did nothing to improve his features. Honestly, it made him look more like an animal than anything else. I didn’t know if he was part horse, gorilla, alien, or all three. I have no idea what Pia was thinking when she hooked up with this nigga. He and Nel were in two different leagues. Luckily, her beauty overshadowed everything because if it hadn’t, my nephew would have come out looking all types of crazy.
Taking six steps in his direction, he flinched but tried to play the shit off. “I’ve been holding the toolie out for six minutes now, but all you’ve done is talk about what youwould’vedone. You’re alive, yes… but only because I’m a man of my fucking word. I told your jit I’ll keep you alive until he’s ready to take your ass out himself. Plus, I’m not into caging and starving grown-ass men. My rap sheet is extensive, but kidnapping isn’t my usually choice of crime until I snatched yo’ big ass up. It would have brought me great pleasure to take yo’ hoe ass out like I’d done that bitch you’d been laying up with.”
His eyes expanded as he stumbled upon my revelation.
“Oh, you think just because I wear this fucking Jesus piece that I have compassion?” I took another step in his direction. By now, he was damn near in the bathroom. “When it comes to my family, matter of fact, it can’t come to them. And that’s why yo’ bitch somewhere stankin’.”
“You… You killed a woman? I thought… I thought mobsters don’t kill women and children?”
Flapping the gun in the air, still waiting for him to take it, I laughed. “Ion know why you thought that dumbass shit. And when the fuck you become the moral police? I mean… I knew yo’ ass was the police since you and Detective Davis had a good rapport with one another, but… morals? Nigga, you tried to take yo’ baby mama out but shot your son instead. Then you ran, like a bitch. Hobo, you in this bitch without shit binding you. If you was really ’bout it, you would have been gone. So, last chance—take the gun.”
We stared one another down, and even though this shit was a complete waste of my fucking time, I wanted to give him a fair chance.
“I should kill you.”
“Shit, what’s stopping you?” I cocked my head. “Take the gun. I gave you the play. But you may want to grab that Biblefrom over there on the corner. You’re gonna need it because, if you miss, your ass is done.”
“Fuck you and that bible! You niggas playing a dangerous game.”
“Stop thinking I play by any rules outside of my own, Hubert.” Waving the gun at the bag of food before tucking it inside my waistband, I crossed my wrists in front of me. “Pick the fucking food up and eat it. You need your strength.”
