The Black Kiss Of Death Page 4

  Now, the two kissed and made love in the living room for what seemed like hours. The sound of the door began thudding once more. Brenda quickly broke their passionate embrace so they could put their clothes back on. “Can you answer that for me? That’s Stacy,” she said before heading for the steps.

  “Stacy? Stacy who?” Sal asked.

  “She’s a co-worker of mine. She lives right around the corner,” Brenda replied as she disappeared up the steps.

  Sal headed for the door. When he opened it, he was stunned by the bad sister who was as thick as a Snickers bar. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is, ah…Brenda here?” Stacy asked with her eyes glued to Sal’s sweaty six-pack.

  “Yeah, she’s upstairs. You wanna come in and wait for her?” he asked, undressing her sexy body with his eyes.

  Stacy smiled and brushed by him with a sexy switch in her hips, aware that he was watching. Sal didn’t take his eyes off of her until she sat down. Closing the door, he walked over to grab the rest of his clothes. He could feel her eyes all over him, and when he looked up, Stacy was gawking at him. Before he could speak, Brenda came down the steps in her scrubs, ready for work.

  “You ready, Stacy?” she asked while digging in her bag.

  “I sure am,” Stacy replied, looking Sal dead in the eye. “Just waiting on you.”

  Sal caught her meaning, but quickly tried to hide his intentions by giving Brenda a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be back at five. Please try not to get into any trouble. Okay?” Brenda said, giving him one last peck on the lips.

  Stacy smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mister…”

  “Salideen. Salideen Carter,” he replied.

  Chapter 8

  LOS ANGELES, CA

  The entourage of expensive cars pulled up to the White’s family mansion on a warm, cloudy afternoon. The White family mansion was like the White House of criminal organizations. Built in the hills of Los Angeles with a nice view of the city from certain rooms inside the white stone, the mansion was practically a drug dealer’s monument. Not only was it one of the largest houses on the hills, constructed with the finest materials from around the world, but each room inside had a theme to it, from the chef’s kitchen to the study room.

  The butler ushered the men and women into the mansion, one by one. Each individual was a key member in Charles’ Great White Organization. And each person had his own subdivision that was responsible for bringing in the profits of their illegal business. They assembled at the large rectangular table that Charles had in his conference room.

  The first to walk in was a heavy-set, light-skinned guy with freckles and a thick beard named Reds. Reds’ territory was Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware. Next was a tall, stocky, bald guy with dark skin and a thin chinstrap beard. His name was Gangwar. He supplied every major drug dealer in the DMV.

  As he took a seat in one of the comfortable leather business chairs, a white guy with a black, lightly-trimmed beard, dark hair and green eyes walked in. His name was Michael Pharaoh, but everyone else called him Mickey Green Eyes. He was in charge of New York state and also had a few relatives in Congress. Beside him was a female African-American from Long Beach, California. She was accompanied by Whiskey, who was Puerto Rican and had Texas and Oklahoma in his pocket.

  Last, but not least, was Charles’ number-one enforcer, Sam. Two-Gun Sam. The reason for the name was obvious. Two-Gun Sam carried two big chrome Colt .45s and wouldn’t hesitate to draw on a nigga. Charles couldn’t ask for a better circle. For the past six years, they had been loyal to him and his cause, which made him a multi-millionaire. Not only did they get the cheapest prices on cocaine and heroin, they got the largest quantities.

  As everyone settled down, Charles began. “I thank you all for coming out on this unexpected occasion, but there are a few things I wanted to address with you that couldn’t be discussed over the phone. First, I want you all to know that there was another attempt on my life a few weeks ago, but thanks to Bonnie and her resources, we were able to eliminate him.” Everyone glanced at Bonnie with approval.

  “Now comes the big issue,” Charles continued. “Verningo Castor. We all know why he wants me dead. And we all know how powerful he is, sitting in his mansion over in Colombia. He’s untouchable. But, we aren’t. We’re within his reach. All it takes is one slip up, which is why we need to get stronger. I’m not just talkin’ about more soldiers. I’m talkin’ about money, as well. Yeah, we’re one of the largest drug distributers in the nation, but we’re screwed if government sharks like the FBI and DEA come after us. We need some white collar guys to protect us. And, I have a good friend that can help with that.”

  “Who might this friend be, Charles?” Bonnie asked.

  “Carlton Butler,” Charles replied. “Carlton and I went to school together here in California. He has a circle that is into prostitution, extortion, but not drugs. They go by the name of The Wolf Pack.”

  “The Wolf Pack. I’ve heard of that name. They’re just like us, only they’re a secret society, like the masons and the illuminati,” Mickey Green Eyes recalled.

  “And, I hear that they got a couple of federal judges in their pocket,” Reds said.

  “All, true. They also want to combine with us to make something really big,” Charles added, which brought silence. “With all our talents combined, not even Verningo Castor can touch us.”

  “Yeah, but what about the Russians? There’s been a lot of tension between us over the years. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried something,” Two-Gun Sam mentioned.

  “You know, he’s right. If we don’t take care of the Russians now, people will doubt whether we can handle business,” Bonnie said. “I think we need to get the Russian mafia out of California to show others that we aren’t teaming up because we’re weak.”

  Charles nodded in agreement. He knew that if he didn’t deal with Sergei Zelinski and his Russian mob, they would eventually do the same to him. As much as he didn’t want an all-out war after his wife had just given birth to his daughter, he had known from a young age that business was never personal.

  Over the years since the death of his wife, Sergie Zelinski had gained power and created fear throughout the Russian mafia. His sick and twisted methods of elimination earned him the right to move up in the ranks. Before Charles could blink, Sergie Zelinski was running things and calling the shots. The worst part about it was that Zelinski was left with the memory of Charles killing his wife, which was something that he would never forget, nor would he forgive. That was a big problem that had to be dealt with before it was too late.

  Looking around at the faces, he asked, “All in favor for a Great White, Wolf Pack connection?”

  When he saw all the raised hands, he nodded. “All in favor for war against the Russians?”

  He got the same reply-- agreement. He now knew what had to be done to stay on top.

  He leaned over to speak to Two-Gun Sam. “Call Sal over in Saudi Arabia and let him know what the deal is. Make sure he delivers the best of what we talked about and prepare the shooters. There’s gonna be a lot of fatherless children out there once this is over.”

  “A slight problem with that, Chuck,” Two-Gun replied. “I called Sal the other day. He’s in Philadelphia. So we might have a delay on that shipment. I suggest we use what we already have until he comes through.”

  Charles got upset at the news, but refused to let it get to him. There was too much going on right now for him to worry about the romance between Sal and Brenda. A war was brewing, and he had to be ready, physically and mentally.

  Chapter 9

  16 MONTHS LATER

  EAST GERMANTOWN, PHILADELPHIA, PA

  “Look, you gonna have to tell her, or I will,” Stacy warned with her arms folded as she stood on the porch of her mother’s Blakemore Street row house. It was a regular evening and school had just let out. The streets were filled with children heading home to tackle homework. A swarm of dead brown leaves from the trees of fall circled in a whirlwind by
Salideen’s leg as he hissed and shook his head.

  “Tell her what?” Sal asked, frustrated.

  “Tell her about us. About my one-year-old daughter and hiding the fact that you are her father. What do you mean tell her what? She needs to know.”

  “Stacy, you know I can’t do that to her right now. She’s six months pregnant,” Sal stated, as he walked up the steps to face her.

  “Well, Brenda’s gonna find out, eventually. Our daughter, Kia, has your last name and she has some of your most prominent features. It won’t be long before Brenda puts two and two together,” Stacy explained.

  “Then let her find out on her own. I’m telling you, Stacy, this will break her heart. I can’t risk that with my baby inside her. You know how I am about my kids. I’ll tell her afterwards. How ‘bout that?” Sal lied, cupping her face before kissing her lips. Within seconds, Stacy’s hostility had melted away.

  Yeah, she was stealing her girlfriend’s man, but she had a right to. Sal was a good man, regardless of his lifestyle. He had a good heart and supported her and his child. There was no way she would let Brenda waste a good man like this because she wanted to fool around. Not only was Brenda trying to have her cake and eat it, too, she had dark secrets about her past that would change the way Sal felt about her, and Stacy knew it.

  Stacy took Sal’s hand and led him into her mother’s house, up to her room, where they made love as if there was no tomorrow. As the two lay in bed together with Stacy listening to the beat of Sal’s heart, she said, “Sal?”

  “Yeah, baby,” he murmured while stroking her long hair.

  “Tell me something. You’ve always been so concerned about the welfare of others, but who’s concerned about your welfare?”

  Sal smiled before kissing her on the forehead. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I really don’t know.”

  “Well, if it’s worth anything, through thick and thin, you can always count on me, no matter what. Just as long as you stay true to what you have right in front of you. And I’m not just talking about me. I’m talking about that little girl over there.”

  Sal looked over at the sleeping baby in the crib and knew what Stacy was asking for. A commitment. Although he agreed to her request, he knew that he might not be able to stick around long enough to see his kids grow up. There was no question: Papa was a rolling stone.

  Chapter 10

  LONG BEACH, CALIFORNIA

  Reclining in a brown leather chair in the living room of his 30,000 square-foot estate, Russian mob boss, Sergei Zelinski, enjoyed a relaxing foot massage from his personal masseuse. Zelinski had some real stress in his life. For one, he watched his wife die in his arms, which he never got over. And ever since Zelinski and his mob migrated from Russia and established his criminal enterprise, his main nemesis was always Charles White and the Great White Organization.

  Since the early ‘80s, Mr. White had been building an empire of his own, from Cali down to Texas. His reputation had rapidly spread across the Midwest to the East Coast, engaging in gun battles with some of the toughest mobsters around, burning down nightclubs, and extorting Russian bathhouses.

  As Zelinski tried to relax and clear his head, one of his underbosses, Pete, from Chicago, entered the room, followed by a few other Russians. “Sergei, we need to talk,” Pete said to the fat Russian man reclining in the chair.

  Realizing that Pete had caught a flight from Chicago to talk to him in person, Zelinski told his masseuse to leave and had his eyes glued to her ass as she walked away. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked with a heavy accent, while circling his temple with his fingers.

  “It’s about the Whites, Sergei. Those bastards are outta control,” Pete explained. “Not only do they have the DMV and the Tri-state, they’re now moving in on the south. And their product is good quality. Now I’m hearing that they’re uniting with the Wolf Pack in New York. I told you the minute he killed your wife to get rid of him because sooner or later he was gonna get too big for us.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, huh?” Zelinski snapped. “I’m the boss. You don’t tell me nothing. I tell you. Now don’t worry about small potatoes, Pete. I’ve said many times that Charles White will be destroyed in due time.”

  “But that’s just it, Sergei. The more we wait, the larger this man gets. It’s not like he sends his army to do his dirty work and just sits on his ass. This guy is making major moves. I’m telling ya, if you sleep on this…”

  “Pete!” Zelinski shouted, signifying that he had heard enough. “I said, let me handle it. Now, go make yourself useful while you’re in LA and have your people pick up that money from Phillip at the warehouse. In fact, you go do it.”

  As much as Pete hated being told what to do, he nodded his head before getting up to exit the lounge. When the masseuse came back into the room, Zelinski had a job for her, as well. “Get, undressed,” he demanded.

  The woman looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. Before she could protest, he slapped her to the floor. Zelinski studied her like the predator he was and knew that after he raped this woman, he would see what she really tasted like.

  On the other side of town, it may have felt as if it never rained, but considering the heavy artillery that Mr. White and his accomplice were strapped with, it was damn sure going to be a very nasty lead shower. Sitting in the tinted limo with Mr. White were Bonnie and Two-Gun Sam. Together they watched an armored truck back into the warehouse loading dock that distributed ecstasy and other high-quality drugs. The place belonged to the Russian mafia. Mr. White had gotten this tip from a member who was responsible for trafficking women into America to work in Zelinski’s whorehouses -- right before Charles blew the man’s brains out.

  After two big Russian guards guided the truck inside, Two-Gun Sam checked both of his semi-automatic pistols to make sure that there was one bullet in each chamber while Bonnie checked her M-16 assault rifle to make sure it was cocked and ready to blow.

  Once the doors started to close, an army of Great White soldiers stormed the building. Two-Gun Sam, Bonnie, and Charles followed. Seeing this, the Russians inside reached for the Uzi’s strapped around their necks. Bonnie fired first, as always. The others followed her lead.

  Four armed Russians dropped to the ground instantly from the violent rapid fire that ripped through their bodies like razor blades. More Russian henchman emerged after hearing gunshots. They had no chance against the well-trained army of Great White soldiers.

  Philip, who ran the warehouse for Zelinski, wobbled up the steel steps to his office, with two killers on his heels. “Holy shit!” the fat, crater-faced Russian shrieked, using the railing for support. He wheezed for air like a leaky tire, trying to make it to the top.

  Once inside the office, he tried to jump down the fire escape out back. But, the men had a strong grip on his shirt collar. Philip tried oozing out of his $1,500 Versace shirt, but the goons had him surrounded. The gun battle inside the warehouse slowly came to an end as Mr. White walked through the office front door, his eyes burning holes through Philip.

  “No, got-dammit!” Charles growled. He pointed to the fire escape.

  “Please, Charles. Is it the money? It’s in the truck,” Philip said as the men ushered him out of the office, onto the fire escape.

  “I already have money. Who gives a shit about yours?”

  “Charles, please don’t do this. I was just doing my job. Of course, you can see that.”

  Charles looked down at the long drop, then back at the Russian. “I can see. Well, carry on with your job. By all means, don’t let me stop you,” he replied, giving the men the signal to throw him over the railing, head-first.

  Six stories down, Philip’s body went splat like a bag of spaghetti sauce. Meanwhile, one of Sam’s men wired the place with explosives. By the time they pulled off, the warehouse was erupting into a giant ball of flames. A few minutes later, Pete’s limousine approached the burning warehouse and came to a complete stop when they saw
the Los Angeles fire trucks massed, trying to put out a huge fire. Pete shook his head; he knew this wasn’t an accident. He then picked up his car phone and dialed his boss’s number. On the third ring, he answered.

  “Hello?” Zelinski said.

  “Yeah, Sergei, I’m afraid we’re too late. White got to it before we could. I think it’s time to drop this guy before he drops us.”

  Click.

  Chapter 11

  PHILADELHPIA, PA

  1 YEAR LATER

  After witnessing the birth of his baby boy, Rafeek, Sal headed for Brenda’s house. This was his second child by Stacy, and Brenda still hadn’t found out about his betrayal. Although Brenda had his oldest son, Kenneth, it was clear where his heart was. He was living two different lives; now it was time to set things straight with Brenda. When he pulled up to her block, he parked at the bottom, and took the alleyway to keep from being seen. When he reached the backyard of Brenda’s house, he walked up to the door and knocked.

  Seeing him, Brenda opened the door in a panic. “Oh, my god, Sal, I’m so glad they didn’t get you. You got to get outta here before they come back,” Brenda said frantically, while continuing to talk a thousand miles a minute. In her arms was his baby boy, who was reaching out for his daddy.

  “Wait, wait, and slow down, Brenda. Now, who’s been here?” Sal asked.

  “The feds. They say they have a warrant out on you. Something about finding a bunch of unregistered weapons in one of your stash houses. They threatened to take my baby if I didn’t cooperate with them. So you got to go,” Brenda explained as tears trickled down her cheeks.