“Even better,” Duce gave a half smile. “You know, even before I met Cos your name was ringing off in the joint. Everybody from Fishkill to Downstate is talking about the Bandit King,” Duce stroked his ego.
“Is that what they’re calling me?” Cowboy smiled. “I like that shit. So what else are they saying about me?”
Duce chose his next words carefully. “They say that you’re the best friend a guy could have and the worst enemy.”
“You better fucking believe it! Me and mine is straight bout that, feel me?”
“No doubt,” Duce nodded. “So, my nigga Cos tells me that now that I’m a part of the team I can make some serious paper.”
“You ain’t part of shit yet, homey. You still gotta prove yourself,” Cowboy told him.
“I guess this is the part where you tell me that I gotta kill one of your enemies or go toe to toe with the big man?” Duce said sarcastically.
Cowboy laughed. “Nah, Thor would murder you in a fight and ain’t nobody stupid enough to be my enemy. What I got in mind is something way simpler, but just as dangerous, if you’re up to it?”
“Like I told you, I need to get my ones up. I’m down for whatever,” Duce said seriously.
“Glad to hear it. Check it, we got this score coming up and this is when you’re gonna cut your teeth.” Cowboy went on to explain the dynamics of the upcoming robbery while Duce listened intently. Cowboy was a master schemer and every bit of an arrogant Harlem hustler. Had the circumstances been different they might’ve been able to do business together, but this wasn’t the case. Cowboy had violated and had to be served justice, just like the rest of them.
Two hours after arriving at the bar Duce and Cowboy were chopping it up like two old friends. He and Cos were visibly tipsy, from all the drinks they had been throwing back, but not Duce. He sipped with them to break the ice, but he was far from dunk. In his line of work, a split second of indecisiveness could mean the difference between life and death.
Cowboy chatted away while Duce pretended to listen to his ranting. Though he tried to relax, something didn’t feel right. His eyes scanned the bar for signs of trouble, but all he could see where the throngs of people on the dance floor, but that didn’t remove the eerie feeling in the pit of his gut. Focusing all his senses, he tried to drown out everything around him and zero in on what didn’t match in the picture. On his second sweep of the crowd, he spotted the oddities.
Posted against the wall where two Hispanic men. To the untrained eye they looked like two cats just enjoying the scene, but Duce had long ago learned to look beneath the surface of things. The first thing that struck him as odd was the fact that they were standing around in bubble coats in a room where the temperature was 90 something degrees. Even wearing just the thermal Duce was sweating, so he knew they had to be suffering under the goose feathers. Secondly, they weren’t drinking. They had drinks in their hands, but the ice had long ago melted out of them and the liquor had yet to be touched. All these things told Duce that something was definitely wrong with the picture, but what sealed the deal were the larcenous glares they were sending over to the corner.
Silently, Duce slid from the seat and headed towards where the bathrooms were located. As he crossed the crowded room, he could feel the eyes of the Hispanics on him, but he didn’t look in their direction. Instead of actually going into the bathroom, he pressed himself against the wall which divided the dance floor from the restrooms. He peered around the corner and to his surprise he didn’t see the men. A quick scan of the crowd revealed one of them moving in Cowboy’s direction, while the other slithered along the wall towards the bathroom.
Duce found himself with one hell of a dilemma. Whoever had set the Hispanic men on Cowboy had nothing to do with him, but Cowboy dying that night wasn’t a part of the plan. True, if they killed him it would save Duce the trouble but Cowboy’s life was already spoken for. For as much as he hated to do it, he had to take action. Before he had a chance to decide on what to do next, one of the Hispanics rounded the corner with a gun in his hand.
Moving more off instinct than anything else, Duce grabbed the man by his arm and yanked him behind the wall and through the kitchen doors. The kitchen staff screamed and did their best to get out of the way of the two combatants. The Hispanic tried to raise his gun, but Duce had his wrists firmly secured. Being that shooting wasn’t an option, he caught Duce with a short left. Duce staggered but kept his grip on the man’s wrist. The man tried to swing again, but Duce stepped inside the punch and head-butted him, breaking his nose. With an audible pop, Duce broke the man’s wrists sending the gun crashing to the floor. When the Hispanic man tried to lunge for it, Duce caught him in a reverse chokehold. He had only intended on putting the man to sleep, but before he even realized what he was going the man’s neck snapped and he went limp in Duce’s arms. Ignoring the dead body at his feet, Duce snatched the gun off the floor and headed back to the dance floor.
By the time Duce came around the corner, the other Hispanic man was easing from the crowd and over to Cowboy’s group. Thor had his back to the man, still chopping it up with the female, so he never saw the man draw a .45 from his coat. Cos screamed his friend’s name before diving out of the line of fire. Cowboy’s eyes got as wide as saucers at the sight of the gun, but he was frozen with fear. At the same moment the man made to the pull the trigger, Duce squeezed off.
The shot hit the man in the shoulder, sending goose feathers flying and knocking the man into the D.J. booth, bringing the music to a halt. Duce tried to finish him with the next shot, but ended up blowing the face off a man who was trying to run for cover. Before Duce had a chance to get another shot in, the club was lit up like Christmas. The remaining Hispanic tried to cut Duce down, but ended up shooting the wall as Duce was already on the move. There was too many people running back and forth for Duce to get a clear shot so he had to improvise. Dropping to one knee, he targeted the man’s legs. The shot took him off his feet and sat the man on his ass in the corner.
Moving through the crowd with the grace of a jungle cat, Duce eased up on the man who was trying to crawl for the exit. When he saw Duce, he tried to turn the gun on him, but Duce’s foot on his hand kept him from raising it.
“That life is spoken for,” Duce said, before shooting the man in the face. There was a sudden movement behind Duce, but before he could turn around someone had grabbed him around the waist and lifted him off his feet. He was about to open fire, but stopped when he saw who it was.
“Easy, shotta, we gotta get outta here,” Thor said, setting him back on the ground.
Though the monster in Duce longed for more bloodshed, he wasn’t willing to run the risk of going back to prison. Wiping the gun thoroughly with his thermal, he tossed it to the ground and followed his team into the night.
TWELVE
“That was a close one,” Cos said, steering the truck onto the Westside Highway.
“Too close. That nigga almost got the drop on me,” Cowboy said, while trying to light a cigarette. His hands were shaking so bad that he had to hold the lighter with two hands.
“Good thing Duce was on point,” Cos said.
“At least somebody was on point. How the fuck did you let that nigga get up on us?” Cowboy turned to Thor.
“Dawg, I was trying to get laid like everybody else,” Thor said.
“Yeah, and you almost got me laid down in the process. If the young boy hadn’t let off, I’d be dead right now,” Cowboy shot back. He turned to Duce and extended his hand. “Good looking out.”