Wanting What I Can't Have // Rihanna & Nicki Minaj

CHAPTER xxiii

Detective Underwood's POV

I sipped my iced coffee, as I sat hidden outside the gates of the Carter Manor. How foolish of Jay Carter to flee the country and leave behind his children, especially Robyn. She's been giving the precinct trouble seemingly since she could walk and talk.

I knew there was no way we were going to be able to bag Jay, he moved too quietly. The closest we had gotten so far was Damon and who knew that loud mouth asshole would be the one who said the least? He took his 25 year bid, without so much as a word about Jay or even their silent business partner Biggs. I couldn't help but to chuckle, I'll never understand the thought process that goes into this hoodlum shit.

The night had been fairly quiet, Robyn hadn't made it home yet and oddly enough Cole was alone in the mansion. I was almost ready to call it a night, the caffeine from the drink had given me an extra boost and I was beginning to feel too jittery to continue this stakeout.

Just as I was putting my key back into the ignition, a car pulled up to the golden gates and they soon opened allowing it in. I recognized the car as Onika Maraj's, Robyn's girlfriend. She was an upstanding girl, how she got mixed with the likes of Robyn I had no idea but that was none of my business and I didn't much care anyway.

She wasn't there long, but when she left Cole's car left soon after hers. They went in separate directions, she headed to what I'm assuming was her home as Cole sped urgently down the street.

I started the car and leisurely trailed him, though he didn't make that easy. Something in my gut told me that this is what I had been waiting for. What we all had been waiting for. We were going to get a Carter and they were going to do some hard time.

It wasn't necessarily me who took particular interest in this family, but my chief and a lot of the officers and detectives who had started their career at this specific precinct had personal vendettas against the Carters.

Jay had managed to never see a jail cell or court room from the days he was just some punk kid pushing crack in the projects of Marcy until today. His slyness, his arrogance, his general disregard for the law drove my chief to the brink of insanity. He wanted blood, and he knew he'd be one step closer to getting it?

I did.

She came wrapped up in a scantily covered, tall, lanky, pretty eyed package named Robyn.

Robyn unlike her father was too reckless, her entitlement left her feeling untouchable and besides a probation or two she virtually was.

However with her father being gone and her brother unable to talk sense into her, she'd slip up eventually and that’s exactly what I had been waiting for.

Without slowing down much Cole pulled into the makeshift parking lot that once was for the low income apartment building that had partially burnt down in 1998. It was a hotbed of illegal activity most nights which kept a lot of cops nearby but the cool weather had driven the scum of New York into warmer places. He seemed unfazed that he had almost hit a few of the cars that were already in the small graveled space.

He jogged into the building, a determined look on his face. What was he up to? He was the good kid, the one going off to a prestigious university in a few months.

I sighed, feeling that something was possibly about to go wrong when I saw three teenage boys who have all seen their fair share of the precinct walls scamper out speeding off in their individual vehicles; I called for back up.

As soon as I removed my finger from the radio, I heard a gunshot ring from inside the building. Minutes later Cole ran out, dragging Robyn who looked to be in a daze. They moved almost like clumsy robots as, he threw her into the passenger side of the door before getting in himself.

I took note of the small drops of blood that stained the bottoms of both of their pants, as if it had splattered from a distance.

I pushed the button on the radio, "they're headed west of the Grant building, I believe we have a 187. Someone head this way as well."

A few officers responded, but I let them deal with that as I ventured into the building, careful not to touch anything since this was now a crime scene.

Twenty feet ahead of me I see a body laying slumped over in a pool of blood. I ran my hand over my face. No matter how long I did this job, I still never had the stomach for seeing dead young people.

His eyes were still open as blood seeped from the gun shot wound in his forehead and cascaded down his face.

"I never got used to it either," my good friend Officer Stewart grimaced before confirming my previous call of a homicide and telling the officers to make the arrest.

"We finally got them," I said solemnly, I guess I hadn't realized that part of me wanted them to prove us wrong even if it meant the chief nearly having an aneurism at the utterance of their names.

"One day you'll learn, there's no honor in this work," Officer Stewart said walking away to direct the response group.

I stood there for a while in the midst of the flashing lights from the cameras of the crime scene investigators and the yellow tape. The quiet murmurs of colleagues as they assessed the scene from the perspective of their particular fields. I tuned them out because even if they were loud enough, I would only barely be able to understand their jargon anyway.

Finally I turned to leave, got in my car and made my way toward the precinct. Who knew any of us would live to see the falling of the Carter Empire.

I didn't.

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1. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?

2. How's school so far?

3. Who's one celebrity you think is way overrated?

(also as a sidenote it would be nice if some of you writer niggas would update... I'm looking at you ShadyYaya)

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