Page 29

REVENGE

The shit Hurricane revealed in his letter had me on demon time.

I was glad he finally confessed, but it pissed me off, too.

After a few good days with Yummi, I was back in the mud.

Just when I thought I could walk away from the bullshit for a while, Hurricane pulled me right back in.

I promised myself this was the last time anyone would make me step out of character.

Taking a nigga out of his misery was easy, but I never liked being a killer.

That shit drained me mentally. After I did what I had to do, I needed to get away.

I didn’t want Yummi dealing with the aftermath of my demons like Hurricane had her doing.

She was too soft, no matter how hard she tried to be.

I was gonna clear my mind before I got back to us.

It was four in the afternoon, and I was on a day hunt. I didn’t give a fuck about waiting until nightfall. I had two hours before my flight, so I needed to move quick. Hurricane claimed he wasn’t hiding, but it took him two days to show up at his house. That told me everything.

I sat a couple of houses down from his spot with Tory behind the wheel. We were in my Bentley truck—it was bulletproof, just in case. When I saw him pull up and go inside, I had Tory park in his driveway, right behind the cars scattered out like a damn car show.

“You sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” Tory asked as I got out of the car.

“Nah, this is personal. I’m good. I’ll handle this fast, though. Just take me to the airport after.” I stepped out with my heat tucked.

I used the keys I took from Yummi to let myself in.

The door opened easily, and the smell of Za hit me right away.

The house was humid and stale with old smoke.

I walked through the foyer until I made it to the living room, where it was cooler.

That’s when I spotted Hurricane, sitting on the couch with a tray of dope on his lap, getting ready to do a line.

I’d always known he was on drugs. I’d seen him overdose more times than I cared to remember. Hell, I kept Narcan around for him ‘cause this nigga was reckless.

I felt the breeze on my arms from the open balcony window. The curtains swayed. Something about the atmosphere had me on alert, but I kept my eyes locked on him.

“I turned off all the cameras because I knew you were coming,” Hurricane muttered, looking up at me. “Coast is here, too. He wants to watch whatever you’re about to do. He’s the reason I confessed... wanted me to kill myself. But you told me to stand on my shit, so here I am.”

He glanced at the open balcony door, then down at the tray. He took a line.

“Them drugs always been your problem,” I said flatly. “What happened to not getting high on your own supply?”

“Everybody can’t ignore their demons like you do, my nigga. You take shit on the chin. I don’t.” He sniffled and wiped his nose.

“You’re a coward,” I growled with clenched teeth. “That’s why you had Coast taken out.”

“I told you in the letter why I did it,” he shot back, standing up from the couch. “All this shit was a competition, and you won. You came to take me out. Do what you gotta do.”

I lifted my gun and watched the sweat bead on his forehead. I never thought I’d have to take out one of my own, but this moment told me nobody was really loyal. Not even family. Not even him.

I walked up to him, pressing the barrel to his head. He didn’t flinch. He stared me down with those dead eyes.

Then, I pulled the trigger.

The blast hit him hard, sending his body flying into the wall behind the couch. His head exploded on impact, his body folding like a lawn chair. I watched him drop; his body still, but I wasn’t done.

Gunshots rang out. One caught me in the back. The hot lead made me stumble, but it snapped me right into defense mode. I spun around, returning fire. I hit one of the men in the neck who’d come in from the balcony. He dropped like a sack of rocks.

I didn’t care who the shooter was. I bolted out of the house, pain roaring in my back.

“Damn, my nigga, what happened?” Tory asked with urgency when he saw the blood on my hands.

“Somebody was in there. They shot me after I took that nigga out. No hospitals. Take me to the airport.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yeah, drive off, nigga.” I lay back in my seat as he reversed out of the driveway.

The blood kept coming, but I wasn’t stopping for anything. I had a private flight waiting, and I needed to get the fuck out of Sable Cove.

All I could think about was Yummi, hoping I didn’t bleed out on my flight.

When we got to the runway, I stepped out of the truck and boarded the plane.

There was a medic on the airstrip, so I paid them to patch me up enough to get through the flight.

They assured me they would, and they worked on me the whole way to Colorado.

$$$$$

When I touched down in Starlight Hills, Colorado, I was barely breathing.

That flight damn near killed me. I blacked out three times on the way there, and by the time we landed, the medic on board was panicking.

They rushed me straight to the hospital with lights flashing, sirens blaring, like I was somebody important.

I was just another nigga trying to outrun his demons, bleeding out on a private jet.

I had plans to pay Storm and hide out at her crib, but not right away. I was going to lie low in a hotel. But now, I needed her, and thankfully, she was an ER nurse at the hospital and working the night shift they wheeled me into.

Tears were in her eyes, and she looked scared.

Before I knew it, they were putting me in an induced coma and had me knocked out for days.

I woke up to Storm and nobody else since I was far away from home.

She stayed by my side, did overtime to help the other nurses, and played caretaker.

I can’t lie—Storm held me down. I was laid up, healing.

Couldn’t move right, couldn’t think straight, barely wanted to breathe most days, and she was right there telling me I could.

It was just too bad that I couldn’t be with her like before because I was engaged to Yummi.