Duce gritted his teeth. “I know what you mean. Back before I went to prison, I had a down ass bitch in my corner. She was a straight gangsta,” he glanced at the kitchen and then back at Cowboy.
“Yeah, I forgot Cos said you were fresh out of the can, but he never got in to the specifics.”
Duce shrugged. “Ain’t much to tell. I went down on a bull shit charge that they couldn’t make stick.”
“So, you were a body catcher, huh?” Cowboy sized him up, wondering if he was bullshitting or not.
“I was one of the best, until a rat set me up.” There was now a chill to Duce’s voice that made even Frankie nervous.
“Two bodies and you only caught five years? How’d you manage to swing that?” Cowboy asked curiously. Frankie had just returned and set two glasses of Hennessy and Coke on the coffee table. Though Duce was sitting perfectly calm, there was something in his eyes that made Cowboy nervous.
“Wasn’t that hard,” Duce turned his glass up and downed it. “See, a lot of people owed me favors in the world and I called in every last one. A few well-placed dollars,” Duce spread his arms, “and here I am.”
“So, you plan on getting back at the cats that tried to shit on you?” Cowboy asked, leaning back on the sofa across from where Duce was sitting.
“Already got the ball rolling,” Duce leaned in, staring Cowboy in the eye. “There’s just one loose end I gotta tie up to complete the circle.” Duce went for his pistol, but before he could draw it, Cowboy had produced a 9mm from beneath the cushion of the couch.
“Try me if you want, but your brains will be out of your head before that gun gets outta your jacket,” Cowboy hissed. “You know, you almost got away with it, son. Had you not felt the need to stroll down memory lane I might not have put two and two together until it was too late, D-Murder.”
“Bravo, cock sucker,” Duce clapped, “but it still doesn’t change the fact that you’re going to die,” he snarled.
“D, you’re even stupider than your lame ass brother was. I’m the one holding the pistol, so it looks like you’re gonna do the dying,” Cowboy gave a throaty laugh, but it was abruptly cut short by the feeling of cold steel against his temple.
“I’ll take that, baby,” Frankie said, pressing a .38 against Cowboy’s temple. He just looked at her in shock as Frankie plucked the gun from his hand.
“You dirty bitch!” Cowboy trembled with rage.
Frankie walked over and sat in Duce’s lap with both guns trained on Cowboy. “Not a dirty bitch,” she kissed Duce on the lips, but her guns never left Cowboy. “A gangsta bitch. Had I known you were responsible for taking the only thing I’ve ever loved in this world, I’d have murdered your bitch ass long before today,” she kissed Duce on the lips and turned lifeless eyes to Cowboy. “I’m gonna enjoy watching you die, nigga.”
No sooner than the words left Frankie’s mouth the front door came crashing in. Thor stood in the wreckage of what had been Cowboy’s front door with his hammer in one hand and a .40 cal in the other. He had been on his way to Cowboy’s when he got the text from Cos’ phone. His intentions had been to tie all three of them up and beat a confession out of the traitor, but seeing Frankie sitting on Duce’s lap, he had all the proof he needed. Once again a bitch had put a monkey wrench in the works, but he was going to deal with them accordingly.
At the same time Frankie moved to fire at Thor, Duce was trying to get up to draw his own weapon which caused them to collapse back into the chair awkwardly. Thor licked two shots before diving into the kitchen. The first one hit the wall, but the second one nicked Duce’s shoulder. Frankie fired at the kitchen with one gun and at Cowboy with the other, but he was able to slip behind the couch.
Duce tossed Frankie to the floor and drew his 9mm, alternating aim between the kitchen entrance and the couch where Cowboy had disappeared. He nodded towards the couch while he moved slowly towards the kitchen. Frankie understood what he meant and began creeping across the living room.
Duce crept along on the balls of his feet moving as silently as he could. He knew Frankie had his back, but couldn’t help but to keep looking in the direction where Cowboy had disappeared. It was during one of those nervous glances that Thor popped out of the kitchen. Duce had barely thrown himself to the floor when large chunks of the wall came away in a spray of plaster. Duce fired from a laying position, missing Thor but punching holes in the refrigerator.
Faster than was probably wise, Duce sprang to his feet. The room swam for a minute, but his grip on the gun never wavered. The abrupt fall coupled with the searing gash in his shoulder made his whole arm feel numb. He flexed his fingers around the handle of the gun and began creeping towards the kitchen.
Duce leaned against the outer wall of the kitchen and breathed deeply. He held the gun pointed at the ground in a two-handed grip and pressed his cheek against the wall. By now, someone had surely called the police at the sound of gunfire so he and Thor’s game of cat and mouse would have to end sooner than later. Tired of being on the defensive, Duce went on the offensive and stepped into the kitchen.
Sweat from Frankie’s palms made the guns feel like they would slip from her hands with the slightest of movements. She could hear movement in the kitchen but forced herself to focus on her target. Her eyes darted from the spot on the couch that Cowboy had disappeared behind to the end of it. The last thing she needed was for him to go kamikaze and get the drop on her. The sound of gunfire from the kitchen caused Frankie to whirl instinctively, which was a bad move. When she turned back around, Cowboy was popping up from behind the couch, now holding the .357 that she dumbly forgot he kept stashed there.
“You stinking bitch, I’m gonna kill you!” he shouted, firing the cannon.
Frankie hit he floor a split second before the couch exploded in a shower of cotton and springs. “Not in this life time, mutha fucka,” she rolled over on her back, firing at Cowboy with the guns. He moved with the speed of a jungle cat, but he wasn’t faster than a bullet. He howled in pain as one of the shots tore through his forearm.
“I can’t believe you fucking shot me!” he cried from behind the couch. The bullet has passed through, but the arm would be useless.
“Believe it, I told you Frankie Five Fingers don’t bluff,” she shot back, getting to her knees. She wasn’t foolish enough to stand up and make an easier target of herself.
“Frankie baby, it ain’t gotta go down like this. We a team, ma. Me and you against the rest of these suckers, right?”
“That me and you shit went out the window when your true colors came out. You should’ve kept it real with me Cowboy, because then I might’ve shown mercy, but ain’t no sunshine now, baby. This is the final curtain, so get out here and take your bow.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” Cowboy asked, his voice thick with emotion. “Well fuck you then!” Cowboy started shooting blindly through the couch trying to get at Frankie. She fell on her ass, dropping one of her guns and scuttled backward across the living room. The entertainment system showered her with glass as one of the mad man’s bullets struck it. Frankie didn’t dare breathe until she had crawled safely behind the wall where Duce had disappeared.
The impact from Thor’s hammer sent shockwaves up Duce’s wrists. The gun clanged to the ground leaving Duce stunned and unarmed. Instead of shooting him, Thor slammed the handle of his hammer into Duce’s jaw. Duce staggered but didn’t fall. Thor tried to bring the hammer around for the killing blow, but Duce sidestepped it seconds before it burrowed into the kitchen tiles. In the moment that it took Thor to free the hammer, Duce was on him.