Page 4 of Royce (Atkins Family Saga #1)

Three

Royce

T hree days had passed since I took care of Walt and his flunkies. I was still pissed and in the dark on who the fuck took my shit. My name alone gave muthafuckas incontinence. Somebody had a problem with me and was too pussy to let it be known who the fuck they were. That was so disrespectful.

Sitting on the couch, I sipped on a stiff glass of L’Essence Courvisier.

Cognac tended to help a nigga think before acting irrational.

I couldn’t wrap my head around Walt pick and rolling my shit to whoever the fuck he got in bed with.

He was a fuckin’ idiot and it showed. Biting the hand that fed you meant you had another hand that was more powerful than mine.

I couldn’t lie; a nigga was truly intrigued.

My cell ringing on the coffee table grabbed my attention. Sitting up, I placed my glass on the coaster and picked up the phone screening the call. It was the head of the compound security. I answered immediately. He only called when there was a problem.

“Wassup Nyx?”

“You got four blues on the way down.”

I turned on the tv and flipped to the cameras. Sure enough, twelve was flying down the private road. I smirked knowing whatever they were coming for would be a failed mission like the plenty prior to.

“I got it. Call Senior and tell him wassup. He’ll know what to do,” I instructed before hanging up.

Standing, I casually walked upstairs to my bedroom and slipped on some sweats, a t-shirt, and some tennis shoes. I proceeded to brush my teeth to get that liquor off my tongue then took my ass back downstairs. By the time I hit the bottom step, I had muthafuckas knocking at my door.

“Sage Springs Police Department!”

“Yeah, I know, bitch,” I said as I approached the front door.

Swinging it open, my arch nemesis held up a document as a smile etched across his face. Detective Troy had it bad for me. Hell, if I was being honest, every muthafucka who thought they had authority did.

“Mr. Atkins, it’s good to see you’re home. We have a warrant for your arrest.”

“I really don’t give a fuck what you got, Troy. Get the fuck off my property.”

“I will, but I won’t be leaving alone. Cuff him,” he demanded stepping to the side so the officers he brought with him could do their job.

I took a step back saying, “Don’t touch me.” Troy might’ve been their boss but them niggas stopped dead in their tracks. “What’s the charge?”

“Oh, you’re going to love this one. You’re under arrest for the disappearance of Walter Harris, Ryan Carter, Isaiah Evans, and Gregory Davis. You can’t pay your way out of this one. This time you were sloppy. Like I said, cuff him and read him his rights!”

“Royce. Royce. What we doing?” My lawyer snapping his fingers in my face brought me back to reality.

“You snap in my muthafuckin’ face again and they really gon’ have a charge to stand on. Don’t play with me, Yonnis.”

“You was daydreaming nigga. What else you want me to do? And stop threatening me. We can get down in this muthafucka and you know it,” he countered.

I sat back in my chair and eyed him with annoyance.

Yonnis was a friend before he was our lawyer, which was why he was so comfortable talking to me crazy.

Much like Striker, he grew up with the fam and stayed close.

Me, him, and Striker ran through Sage Spring University like a muthafuckin’ tomb raider. The bitches couldn’t stay off us.

“Get me the fuck out of here, Yonnis. I’m ready to sleep in my own shit nie.”

It had been three months since I been in this muthafucka and quite frankly, I was tired of it.

All I heard from Yonnis was to sit tight but I was confused on how much sitting he wanted me to do.

He made a quarter mil in thirty days off my family alone.

He had to know I wasn’t settling for this shit much longer.

“I don’t tell you how to do your job so don’t tell me how to do mine. Right now, they think they got something on you. Feed they ego for now.”

“Do I look like him?” I inquired.

“What you mean? Look like who?”

“That pussy ass nigga you used to playing with. I’m not telling you again, Yonnis. Get me the fuck out of here. If they had something, I would’ve been convicted by now.”

“Nah, if you don’t show them having a hardon for you, the judge won’t look at it as harassment.

You need to show that, trust me. All they doing is making this case sweeter for us.

” He was confident in what he was spitting, so I let him have it.

After all, he ain’t never failed me or the family so giving him the benefit of the doubt was the only choice I had.

“How much longer, Yonnis?” It was only a selective amount of time I had left before I started knocking everybody the fuck off. Wasn’t gon’ be no damn prosecutors fuckin’ with me.

“Not much longer. Let’s see what they trying to bring today and go from there. They don’t have shit so I’m sure they’re scrambling for something. Let me get in there and get situated. I’ll holla at you after. And, Royce, please let me do the damn talking.”

“Yeah nigga, whatever,” I said waving him off.

He gave a light chuckle as he stood from the table.

Grabbing his briefcase, he exited the room before I tore in his ass a lil’ more.

The guard entered after him motioning for me to stand.

I did so and allowed him to escort me to the hallway that led to the courtroom.

This entire thing was bullshit. Three months in this bitch and nobody had shit to prove.

Yeah, Yonnis better do something and fast.

Minutes passed and each one that passed raised my irritancy.

I hadn’t showered properly, ate a decent meal, or saw my folk in a comfortable setting.

Finally, the door opened showing the many faces that either wanted me behind bars or was ready for me to get out.

My parents showed up every time and my best friend, Heidi, sat next to them.

She was a ray of sunshine when my world had its moments of gray clouds.

Cedees and Striker was on the other side making their presence known.

I didn’t stop moving until I was placed beside Yonnis. The judge was already seated watching my every move. She nodded to the bailiff, and he announced her entrance with everyone standing. Once that bullshit was over, I took a seat to hear more bullshit.

“Mr. Reynolds, where are we with the case?”

“Actually, Your Honor, we have a slight problem and we’re requesting a continuance.”

“Excuse me? Mr. Reynolds you informed me the last time we were here that you had a key eyewitness that was willing to provide solid evidence. What kind of problem have you run into?” she questioned.

I tapped Yonnis on the arm trying to figure out what the hell she was talking ‘bout. He looked back at me with concern in his eyes. My nerves were bouncing off the fuckin’ wall. I looked at Striker giving him that expression to listen the fuck up and take notes.

The prosecutor chuckled nervously saying, “We were unable to get in contact with our witness. We’re just asking for a little bit more time.”

“Your Honor it sounds like bullshit to me,” Yonnis spoke up.

“Hey, you watch your language in my courtroom, Mr. Taylor,” the judge interjected.

“My apologies, Your Honor. However, Mr. Reynolds is playing games. He claims there’s a key eyewitness with his/her identity sealed who they can’t find. Please ask Mr. Reynolds to help me understand this,” Yonnis replied.

“Well, Your Honor, Mr. Atkins has a lot of financial backing and let’s not forget we’re here on the disappearance of four men who had some type of connection to the defendant.” The prosecutor was running his mouth just to run it at this point.

“So, what are we saying here, Mr. Reynolds?” she questioned.

“We need to keep these thugs off the street,” he responded.

“Sounds like a personal vendetta instead of the disappearance of these men,” Yonnis shot back.

“Keep the theatrics out of my courtroom, counselors,” she said trying to reel it back in.

“Your Honor, my client has been sitting here for three months while Mr. Reynolds plays a cat and mouse game with this so called eyewitness of his,” Yonnis added.

“You’re right counselor. Mr. Reynolds, it shouldn’t take you another three months to find your witness. You have three weeks.” She banged her gavel closing out all arguments. She went her way, and we stood to go ours.

Just before the officer approached to take me to the back, Yonnis held his hand up. “Give me a second with my client. All I need is a minute,” he said.

As the prosecutor gathered his belongings, he made sure to throw one final statement our way. “I will find my witness and put you behind bars permanently.”

I smirked with a raised brow. Reynolds wanted to put me down bad. He’d been trying for years right along with his butt buddy Detective Troy. That nigga wasn’t gon’ find shit and I was gon’ make sure of it.

“Don’t get lost doing so,” Yonnis threatened. If didn’t nobody else catch that shit, I damned sure did.

“Is that a threat, Taylor?” Reynolds’s face was bright red. He was so goddamn mad, I couldn’t hide my smile.

“Focus on finding your witness and I’ll handle my client.” Yonnis turned his back to him and addressed me and Striker. There was nothing else to discuss with beet face. “Striker where we at with it?”

“Shit, I needed them three weeks, too,” he answered. All I could do was glare at his ass. I was ready to go the fuck home, and he was out there playing.

“Nigga, you gon’ get us both killed. Send the damn video so I can go over that shit one more time. It’s only so many people that make fake plates in the city,” Yonnis chimed.

“Mr. Atkins, it’s time to go,” the officer said approaching the table. I slipped from behind it and walked toward the exit.