“I left the boring ones,” he replied and shrugged. “That nigga.” He pointed to the door. “And the Twelve are the exception. Ain’t no way I could’ve left them.”
“Whatever,” I sighed as I stood. “You ready to go?”
“You call Citrine and let him know you’re ready to move?” Pyrite asked as he stood. Hood got up from his chair, untucked his shirt from his slacks, and started to roll up his sleeves.
“Yeah,” I answered with a nod. “He’s going to meet me at the house.”
“Whose?” Pyrite asked as we left his office.
“Luther’s,” I replied.
**
I watched as Luther fucked some old ass woman. Nigga really thought he was doing work, but I could see the woman’s face. She was out of it, probably high as fuck, and just a body at this point.
“That doesn’t look like the first lady,” Pyrite chuckled, and I shook my head. “Oh, he’s a cheating Pastor, too?” He had the nerve to look offended. “Make sure I remember that shit too.”
“As if you’d ever be able to get his flat ass out of your mind,” I chuckled as I pushed the bedroom door open. I tucked my gun into the back of my pants, then grabbed the leather belt that was on the floor and wrapped it around my hand, leaving enough belt out to be able to beat his ass, and swung. The sound of the leather hitting Luther’s bareback echoed through the room as it connected.
“Ahhhh!” he yelled as he fell onto the woman he was fucking. She was barely conscious. The only sign that she was alive was the fact that she blinked.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grunted, then hit him again.
“What the fuck!” Luther yelled as I continued to beat his ass.
I wasn’t letting up. I whooped his ass until I was tired and out of breath, and he was hoarse from yelling. He’d flipped and turned so much that he’d kicked the woman off the bed and was curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the bed.
“Get the fuck up!” I yelled as I grabbed his ankle and pulled him off the bed. I stood over him, breathing hard as fuck, belt still in my hand and ready to end this nigga. “Get the fuck up!”
“I can’t!” Luther groaned. I grabbed the back of his neck and helped him to his feet.
“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me, nigga,” I grunted. Luther grilled me and tried to puff out his chest, but I didn’t give a fuck. This nigga didn’t hold an ounce of power. I flung the belt over my shoulder and nodded. “Now let’s get down to why I’m here.”
“Let that nigga put some clothes on at least,” Pyrite chuckled, and I shook my head. “Why not? That nigga old saggy balls just hanging low. Like real low.”
“I don’t give a damn,” I replied with a shrug. “This nigga has the answers that I want, so he’s going to stand there naked as the day he was born until I get them.”
“I’m not telling you shit,” Luther chuckled, then mugged my brothers and me. “You niggas just signed your fucking death certificates.”
“And he’s a cussing Pastor?” Citrine gawked. “Nigga, Pastor DeCorte would never.”
“Fuck Gabriel DeCorte,” Luther sneered, and I laughed. “That nigga-”
“Is not why we are here,” I cut him off. We knew Luther felt a certain way about DeCortes, which is probably why Citrine mentioned him. I pulled my gun from the back of my pants and shot Luther in the knee. He dropped to the ground. Already over the yelling he was doing, I kicked him in the face, knocking him out, then I looked over at my brothers. “Y’all gonna help me get him downstairs?”
“I’m not,” Citrine said, shaking his head. “That nigga is naked and bleeding, you already know that I’m not fucking with that shit.”
“I’ll let you drive,” I offered, and he shook his head. “Punk ass nigga.”
“I’ll be that,” he laughed and shrugged. “Take that nigga to your truck by yourself.”
“Pyrite?” I turned to my brother, who mugged me and then walked out of the room.
The only thing I could do was laugh as I grabbed Luther’s injured leg and dragged him out of the room. His head hit every step as I pulled him down them and out the door. When I got to my truck, I opened the back door and grabbed the chain from the seat. Toddles lifted her head but didn’t move.
“When we leave here, we will go see your mama.” I patted her head, then closed the door and dragged Luther to the back of the truck. I hooked the chain to the trailer hitch, then used the other end to wrap it around Luther’s ankles and secured it with a lock.
“And what exactly are you about to do?” Citrine asked when I was finished.
