Array Ashley - The Last Chapter

“Niggas trying to catch me slipping? Not today,” he stated as he eased up to the light and made a complete stop. The van pulled up behind him, and that was when Mecca clicked on. His street instincts took over, and he acted on impulse. He threw the car into park and quickly hopped out of the car, gun in hand.

“Why the fuck are you following me?” Mecca yelled. He had his gun gripped tightly, holding it like a professional marksmen, almost like a cop would do. Mecca quickly crept up to the car, not giving the driver time to make a move. When Mecca got a glimpse of the driver, he instantly felt silly.

A pregnant, blonde white woman was the only person in the car. She quickly threw both of her hands up and froze in utter terror as a pool of tears filled her eyes. She tried to scream, but Mecca was in her grill so quickly that she had no time to let out a sound. He waved the gun in her face through the open driver’s side window.

Mecca saw the terrified look in the woman’s face and instantly felt guilty. He knew that his nerves were making him reckless, and he made stupid choices when he was reckless. It was something that he was trying to change. His paranoia eased up. Everybody’s not out to get you, Mecca thought as he regretted assaulting the soccer mom.

“Sorry, ma,” Mecca said as he lowered his gun and took a deep breath. “You can go. I thought you were someone else,” Mecca explained as he tried to give the woman a slight grin to ease the tension.

The woman still had her hands up and remained fearful as she stared into the eyes of a killer.

Mecca dropped his head and shook it from side to side as he lightly chuckled to himself. I’m bugging the fuck out, spazzing on pregnant women and shit, he thought to himself as he turned to head back to his car.

He began to think about the shadow of Estes that loomed over him. He knew that he would never be at peace until the beef with Estes was settled. He had to go to Estes and ask for his forgiveness. If he didn’t, Mecca would always have to look over his shoulders, wondering when one of his grandfather’s henchmen would kill him for what he had done to his twin brother.

Just as Mecca took the second step, he heard a familiar noise, which was that of a gun jamming. He quickly swung around and fired a bullet straight through the woman’s neck. Mecca had underestimated Estes. He had killers on his team from all over, and the woman who he had thought was so innocent was really there to murder him.

She dropped the chrome.45 as her hands instinctively grabbed her neck. Blood gushed out of the hole like a faucet.

Mecca quickly stepped closer and let off another round, that time catching her in the forehead. Her head jerked back and she stared into space. Dead on impact.

Enraged, he lifted her shirt to reveal her bulging belly, only to find a pillow stuffed underneath. Estes was pulling out all the stops in the hunt for Mecca’s head.

Mecca breathed hard as he held the gun tightly. He looked down and saw the gun in her lap. He knew that Estes’ hired guns rarely missed, and if her gun had not jammed, he would be a dead man. Mecca gave her another shot to the chest for good measure as his temper flared from the rage he felt.

He was tired of running. He couldn’t beef out with Estes. His grandfather’s reach was too far, and Mecca knew that eventually he would lose. He paused, staring at her, knowing that he had almost been caught slipping.

“This shit has got to stop!” he yelled in frustration as he tucked his gun in his waistline and ran to his car, leaving the woman slumped in her seat.

Mecca sped off, filling the air with the sound of screeching tires. He knew exactly what he had to do in order to end the madness.

Murder stood at the front desk as he checked into the five-star hotel in Ft. Lauderdale. He wanted to observe from afar, and decided to stay in a suburban hotel instead of directly in the city, so that he could remain low key.

“Do I have a package waiting for me?” Murder asked as he gave the desk clerk a smile.

“Um, I don’t know. Let me check,” the young blonde said as she returned the smile to Murder. The desk clerk looked behind the counter and smiled as she saw the FedEx box addressed to the occupant of room 403, which was Murder’s suite.

“Here we go, sir. It was dropped off this morning for a… Mr. M,” she said as she glanced oddly at the box.

“Yeah, that’s me. Thanks,” he said as he slid his room key off the counter and grabbed the box. He headed for the elevators and hurried up to his suite.

Moments later, Murder ripped open the neatly packed box, retrieving two chrome 9 mm guns that Aries had sent to him. He loaded the clips and pulled out the piece of paper that had the address on it. He immediately placed the twin millies on his hip and headed out the door.

An hour later, a cab pulled outside of the brick house that sat on a small hill. Murder tipped the cabbie and watched as he left. Murder then looked at the house and took a deep breath. Murder began to second-guess his plan, and wondered if he was walking into a setup. He pulled out his guns and approached the house, going all out.

He approached the front door and turned the doorknob. It was unlocked, so he pushed the door open. He carefully stepped through the door with his gun drawn. The familiar smell of a rotting body overwhelmed him as he winced in displeasure. The horrendous stench was overbearing, and he instantly pulled his shirt over his nose.

Murder’s heart began to thump as he got deeper into the empty house. The smell got heavier and heavier as he approached the door that led to the basement. He quickly snatched open the basement door and pointed his gun through the opening. The rotting smell had been magnified by ten when he opened the door. He held his breath as he began to walk down the stairs, preparing himself for what he was to find.

“Miamor, please don’t let this be you,” he whispered as his eyes got teary.

When Murder reached the bottom step, it felt as his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach. He saw a decomposing corpse sprawled on the floor, hog-tied. He looked at the arm and noticed there was no hand attached to it. It was then that he knew that it was really Miamor. He instantly dropped to his knees and turned his head away, not wanting to see Miamor that way. Although he had known that finding her alive was unlikely, seeing her tortured and dismembered in the tomblike basement ripped his insides to pieces. The confirmation of her death was the only pain he had ever felt in his entire life. Murder was a cold soul, and before meeting Miamor, he didn’t even think he was capable of love. But she had always been his weakness. She was the woman who could penetrate him, and now she was gone.

“No, ma… no,” he whispered as he put his hand to his ears to drown out the sound of his own internal misery.

Murder’s heart had just been broken in two. He had just verified that the world lost one of the realest bitches who ever walked it. The ultimate sin had been committed against her. It was about to be murder season in Miami. He didn’t care if he had to make the entire city bleed. Somebody had to pay, and he was determined to get vengeance.

Murder, Aries, and Robyn sat on the fifty-foot yacht as they stared out at the Atlantic Ocean, all of them with pain in their hearts and revenge on their minds. Murder had sent for Robyn and Aries right after he found Miamor’s body. They all knew that she was dead before Murder came to Miami, but they had to make sure. The vase full of ashes in their hands confirmed it: they had lost. They both had looked to Miamor as their leader. Her confidence made them confident, and now that she had been touched, they felt extremely vulnerable. Even though the sun was shining, it was a very cold day for Murder and the Murder Mamas.