Mi a live and try play the cards right fi mi family. Those words circle in my head, I can’t afford to mess up. Mi promise, mi affi be there fi Zara and mi youth. Wah mi a do right now? Risky. Reckless. But mi cya protect nobody but Jordane right now.
Eyes sharp. Mind racing. I scan every corner, every shadow, trying to plan the move. Then her words hit me sharp
“M-mi never plan fi be a single mom so stop talk to me so.”I breathe out slow. Nah go mek yuh feel so, Mami.
That’s why yuh affi stay focused, even when yuh alone.
And I am.
The heat slap me as soon as I step out. Breeze dead. Whole place quiet like it’s holding its breath. I walk straight. No hesitation. Four man outside. Sitting. Domino slamming down. White rum sweating on the table. My shadow fall over them before they even look up. Then dead silence.
I draw out the glock. “None a unuh no move.”
Chairs creak. One lean back like he’s contemplating to run. My gaze lock on him. I sweep through their faces then stop. Denzil. He’s stiff. Sweat dripping down. He raise both hands. “A wah dis ‘bout?”
“Nickoi!” Lorie’s voice slices through the air from inside the bar, high and frantic.
I glance up just in time to see her barefoot, skirt flaring, scrambling through the shop door like a coward in retreat. She disappears into the house behind it, slamming the door. How far she really think she a run go?
I turn my attention back to Denzil. His face is pale, full of panic. “Yuh nuh know?” I ask.
BLAOW!
The gun kicks once in my hand. The shot rips through his shoulder. He lets out a sharp yelp and drops off the stool, collapsing on his back. Brawling.
Chairs crash to the ground. Dominoes scatter. Bottles tip. The other men leap up, scrambling in all directions. My focus locked on Denzil. He’s dragging himself across the dirt, one hand soaked in red, the other trying to pull his weight. Then he’s up limping fast, stumbling straight toward the house.
I move. One of his friends shoots at me, not smart.
POP. POP. POP. POP. POP.
Five bullets. Last one punches through his forehead. His knees buckle. Head snaps back. He drops like a sack of rice. Gunfire erupts from the side, two of Denzil’s other boys ducking behind a low zinc fence, firing recklessly. I dive behind a stack of building blocks. Dust clouds lift around me. Concrete chips off the corners where bullets bite through. Calm.
I breathe once, then pull my second gun lighter, deadlier. I peek. Aim.
POP. POP.
One of them hits the ground. Twitches. Goes still. The other one? He runs. He’s out of bullets. Now him just running fi him life. I glance around quick scan then take off after him. We cut through the side of a tenement yard. A woman is bent over a red bath pan, washing clothes, earphones in. Oblivious. She turns just as we rush past, her face twists in terror. She screams. The man stumbles on a stone. That’s all I need.
CLAP!
I slam the gun into the back of his head. He drops to his knees, gasping.
POP. POP. POP.
Three clean to the skull. He slumps forward, face-first in the dirt. Blood pooling. No more breath. Suh’m bout head shots. The woman is still screaming, running now. I push open the back door of the house, slam into it hard, shoulder first. Inside. The air is hot and stale. Fan creaking slow overhead. Then I see her. A girl, maybe thirteen, maybe fifteen crouched at the side of a low bed. Eyes wide, hands over her mouth. She sees me. I lift my finger to my lips, gun in the other hand. She nods quick and looks away. I step to the wall, flattening myself against the cool concrete, listening. Footsteps. Heavy. Rushed. Denzil. He’s coming. And this time, I’m the one waiting. As soon as he steps through the doorway, I don’t hesitate, I swing my foot up and kick him straight in his chest.
BAM.
He crashes onto the bed, the whole thing creaking under him. He spins, disoriented, trying to reach for his weapon. But his hand sloppy, panicked. The gun slips from his grip.Clink. Before he can grab it again, I step forward and kick it across the floor, sending it skidding under the dresser. I raise both guns.
BRRRT! BRRT! BRRT!
His chest jerks with each shot, blood spraying against the wall behind him. He gasps, twitches. By the time the fifth shot hit, him done fa, but me nuh done yet.
From the corner room, I hear it, sobs. It’s Lorie. “Please nuh kill mi…” she pleads, curled up in the doorway, tears streaming.
I walk over, slow. Ice in my veins. I swing the barrel of the gun, catch her right in the mouth. She drops, her lip bust open. Blood mix with spit on the tile. Bitch. She scrambles to crawlaway, shaking, begging. I plant my Clarks on her wrist and press down hard.
