Rakim
"We have the woman".
"Meet me at the Hyatt on 15th".
"Less.", we sighed of relief .
"We in there boys!", everyone in the car was relieved that so far things were going smooth. I glanced through the rearview mirror and I even saw Jodye crack a little smile.
After all, she was the reason I was doing this. But deep down inside I knew this was a bad idea.
~
We pulled up to the hotel in less than thirty minutes.
"We're looking for a Venyatti?"
"Suite 235, sir", we walked in guns loaded and all.
Jodye stood behind me.
"I'm scared", she whispered in my ear. I feared her safety as well.
"Go to the bathroom. I'll text you when it's over."
"Okay.", she kissed my cheek.
I banged on the door. Some big guards opened it.
"Mr. Venyatti has been expecting you." I nodded for Ferg and Nast to be ready to take them out, while Yams and I handled Venyatti.
We walked through the double doors to see a heavyset, Italian man with suitcases at his ankles. He had a Cuban cigar attached to his lips.
"The woman.", I nodded at Yams to hold him down, while I questioned him. Within minutes, multiple gun shots were fired, indicating the guards were dead.
"Why the fuck is there a hit on her head?", I pointed the gun at his temple.
"I cannot say!", and with that I shot him in his leg.
"Fucking say it!"
"Mr. Rodriquez needs her!"
"Why? Nigga why!"
"I don't fucking know!"
"Where the fuck does he stay?", he ignored me, so I repeated it again. I hated being ignored, so I shot his ass in the arm.
"Okay, okay, please. He stay in Florida, drive a big red Bentley. Great Berry Hills, house on the end. His name is Rodriguez.", he breathed hard due to the bullets lodged in his arm and leg.
I turned on my heels to leave when I remembered.
"Nigga, snitches die.", he shouldn't have been so quick to rat his crew out.
"Florida? That's a long ass way. We'll meet tomorrow about it". I nodded and texted Jodye that our work was done.
If ain't one thing, it's another.
