Dyamond Ch 02

Shauna & Giovanni's Apartment, Harlem

Saturday, 2:26 am

Shauna unlocked the front door of her building with shaking hands. The mental image of Darius slumped over the steering wheel of his tricked out towncar kept flashing in her mind. The lights were on in her building and everything seemed quiet as she climbed the stairs.

When she reached the top of the stairs, she froze. The apartment door had been kicked in, the lock broken and the door pulled carefully back into place. "Shit," she mumbled, pulling the Beretta back out of her purse. There were no more bullets, but she hoped the threat of a gun would give her a little bit of leverage in the coming face off. Slowly, she pushed the door inwards.

Everything was silent, and dark. She noticed the trail of nightlights that usually guarded the path from the bedroom to the bathroom had all been unplugged. Cautiously, she flicked the kitchen light on.

A man stood in her kitchen, ready and waiting for her return. In his hand was a shiny new .50 caliber Desert Eagle-not the type of gun you wanted to go up against with a subcompact. Especially one that wasn't loaded.

The two stood in silence in the kitchen for a long moment, sizing each other up. Shauna felt incredibly vulnerable in her six inch stilettos and strappy dress. The man she was looking at seemed to have no vulnerabilities. He was easily 280 lbs of pure rippling muscle under young, taut brown skin. His haircut was as fresh as his sneakers and there was no question that this was a Dyamond dealing playboy. He kept the Dezzy aimed at her forehead and said, "Close the door behind you, sweetheart, and put your gun on the table."

Her mind raced. She had no other options. She reached back and pushed the door slowly closed, until the broken pieces of the lock touched. "Who are you?" She asked as she placed the gun on the table conspicuously slowly.

"Don't worry about me, snowflake, you got enough to worry about. Step in the other room." He gestured toward the living room with his gun. Shauna took a tentative step in that direction, looking desperately for a weapon. The knife block was in reach, but the wrong direction. It would be too obvious if she went for it.

She took another step toward the living room, and in one smooth motion, leaned over, snatched up a knife, and threw it.

The man reacted too quick, ducking right as the knife stuck itself into the wall behind his head with a metallic twang. His hand was on her throat before she could make another move. This was clearly not the type of man who smoked what he sold. His gun pressed under her chin, he growled, "You think that shit was cute, you little stupid bitch? I'm just doing my fucking job. I'm trying to get a check! And I get a hell of a lot more if I bring you in alive, so don't make me kill you." The spittle was flying as he spoke, just inches from her face.

She tried to scratch his face, but his arms were longer than hers, and he held her just out of reach, tightening his grip on her throat until she finally relaxed. He released her, and she gasped for air as he dragged her to the living room by her hair.

Throwing her onto the couch, he pulled out a flip phone. "Put your face down into the pillows." He told her. She crossed her arms and replied with an adamant no, but he just grabbed her by the back of her neck and pushed her face down into the cushions.

"Yo..." She heard him say into the phone, "It's Deejay." Shauna thought the name sounded familiar but couldn't place it. "Yea, I got the white girl. He still out back?" There was a long pause as someone replied on the other end of the line. "Yea, tell him give me like thirty minutes."

He closed the flip phone with a click, and then Shauna heard a sound that made her sit up.

The man, apparently named Deejay, had a roll of duct tape that he had just started to unroll. Shauna sprang from the couch and bolted for the door, confident that he was too concerned about bringing her in alive to shoot her. He was quicker than he looked, and jumped forward to catch her by her hair, snapping her body backwards. Thrown off balance, Shauna fell to the ground kicking, trying not to make too much noise. The last thing she needed was the cops in this apartment.

"Bitch I'm not playing with you!" He shouted, striking her hard across the face. Stunned momentarily, Shauna stopped kicking. Her hands went to her head as stars swam in her vision.

Before she knew what was happening, Deejay had pushed her face down into the couch and grabbed her wrists behind her back with just one big hand. She thrashed, but she was like a tiny fish in the jaws of a shark as he wrapped the duct tape around her wrists and over her hands and fingers, preventing her from being able to claw her way out.

Picking her body up off the couch with a sleeper hold, he wrapped the duct tape around her hips, keeping her arms securely in place, then threw her back onto her face.

Shauna kicked again. This time her foot connected with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him with a loud grunt. He stumbled back, but it didn't give Shauna enough time. She fumbled with the duct tape, but it was like wearing mittens made of tape. She was helpless. Furious, Deejay grabbed her hair again and yanked her head back until she yelped. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He asked. He coughed once, a heavy smoker's cough, and spit the phlegm into her face.

Coughing in disgust, she wiped her face against the couch, tears finally starting to sparkle in her eyes. Deejay took advantage of the momentary distraction, pulling her feet up to her wrists hogtie style. Slipping her stilettos off and dropping them on the floor, he taped her ankles to one another, then wrapped more around her middle, holding everything together.

Deejay stood back and admired his work. Shauna just laid there, her hair a mess, makeup running, dress hiked up around her waist. Her legs were stretched back, exposing her crotch and the tiny black thong she had under her dress.

"So we've got two goals here," Deejay said, leaning down close to her ear. "Somewhere in this apartment there's 50K cash, and somewhere in this apartment there's 50K in Dyamond. As soon as you tell me where they're both at, we can get the fuck out of here."

"We? What's all this we shit? I'm not going anywhere with you." Shauna muttered, trying not to pull too had against her bounds. She had to conserve her energy; she had a feeling things were going to get much worse.

Deejay pulled her head back and forced her to look at him. "You don't have much of a choice, snowflake. So do you want to do this easy? Or hard?"

Shauna forced out an unbothered laugh. "I'm up for a challenge."

"Dumb bitch," He mumbled. "Just trying to make my job more difficult, for what? I'm not even supposed to mark you up."

Now she had a fighting chance. She was wanted, not just desperately but alive and in one piece. The only thing she didn't know was why.

Deejay disappeared into the bathroom. The tap squeaked, then there was a roar of water filling the bathtub. He returned with a grey duffel bag and placed it in the middle of the living room floor. As he unzipped it, Shauna craned her neck, struggling to see inside.

There was a magazine she couldn't identify, too big for the Desert Eagle, as well as another roll of duct tape. As he dug in the bag, she saw a sheathed machete and a coil of rope before he zipped it closed again, a small Leatherman multi tool in his hand. With a soft click, he unfolded a pair of scissors from the tool, and carefully cut away her dress. Shauna bit her lip and fought back tears, knowing there was nothing she could do. Without Giovanni, she was just a pretty girl with a lot of drug money. Her own gun, a Glock 19, was locked in the safe in the bedroom, where it was doing absolutely no good at all.

Deejay picked Shauna up by the hips like she weighed nothing, carrying her to the bathroom. The tap was still running, filling the bathtub with cold water. "Nooo no no no!" Shauna shrieked, thrashing in his arms. "This is NOT happening!" Everything seemed so surreal as he plunged her face first into the icy water. First came shock, the cold stunning her to her bones. Then the panic, as she struggled to turn over. She splashed on the surface of the water, but with her hands and legs behind her back and the water getting deeper, there was no room to right herself. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to relax, tried to organize her thoughts into some kind of plan, but her entire world was cold, wet, and noise.

Finally she surfaced, Deejay lifting her by the hair. She sucked in the humid air. Her hair was stringy and wet, clinging to her face and neck and blocking her vision. Just when she thought she had begun to catch her breath, she was pushed back underwater.

This time she stayed calm, conserving her oxygen. She tried not to thrash too much but eventually her lungs started to protest. She arched her back, trying to raise just her head above the water.

Mercifully, he pulled her up again. She gasped for air. "Stop!" she gasped, "Please stop...Why are you doing this?" She was crying now, her tears disappearing into the water. Deejay brushed her wet hair back from her face and kissed her ever so softly on the forehead.

"I just need the combination to that safe an then we can be on our way." He spoke so gently, so sweet, like it wasn't even the same man who had almost drowned her just a moment before.

Shauna thought for a moment. If she kept denying him what he wanted, he was just going to duck her back under the water. Who knew how long that would go on for. But if she left with him, he would have to at least release her feet to walk her out. And that gave her a fighting chance.

"Okay!" She shouted as her lips began to kiss the surface of the water one more time. She went under momentarily, then came back up shouting, "Okay! Whatever you want. Fine. I'll unlock the safe."

A Few Blocks Away, Harlem

Saturday, 3:00 am

"Yo! Yo man...you aight?" A voice shouted. He knocked on the driver's side window of Darius's towncar, struggling to open the door.

Darius opened one eye slowly. The other eye was stuck shut, and as he reached up to touch it he felt the cold stickiness of drying blood. He looked up. A scrawny dark skinned kid was peering through the window. "You need me to call an ambulance, man?"

Darius sat up, looking himself over for injuries. "Nah, man...no cops. Keep this between you and me..." He mumbled, reaching into his pocket and slipping the kid a new, crispy hundred dollar bill. "Just help me out real quick."

"Yeah, bro, you got it," he said, reaching through the gaping rear door to take the money. The kid yanked on the front door again, and with Darius pushing against the inside, it finally came unstuck from the damaged frame. Sawing through his seatbelt with a pocket knife, Darius extracted himself carefully from underneath the mangled dashboard.

"Yo what happened though? You aight?" The kid asked, looking up at Darius. He stood tall and strong, with blood running in a star pattern from the wound at the back of his head. His whole face was streaked with red, but he seemed uninjured and unbothered.

"Look, man, when you got here I was already gone. You just saw the car all smashed up and you don't know what happened, you heard?"

The kid licked his lips, thinking for a moment. "Yea, aight." He reached out a hand, and Darius shook it. "You be safe, bro."

"Always." Darius replied. And with a snaggle toothed smile, he turned and walked away.

"Fucking bitch!" He cursed to himself. He shuffled toward Shauna's block, staying close to the buildings and avoiding the glare of the streetlights. The blood on his head practically sparkled. He had to get off the street.

Hitting the first number on his speed dial, he held his phone close to his ear. "Yo, Deejay."

There was genuine relief in Deejay's voice as he replied, "You good man?? What the hell happened?"

"That dumb bitch happened, fuck you think? I'll tell you when I get upstairs, I gotta clean myself up." He saw Shauna's building up ahead, but there was a crowd of people blocking his path. He ducked around the corner out of sight and tried to get a better look at them.

It seemed to be about seven or eight kids, most of them teens or early twenties. They had liquor bottles hidden in black plastic bags and were passing around Black & Milds. They were obviously harmless, but the way Darius looked at that moment, he couldn't be seen by anyone on the street. "Shit, man. There's a bunch of kids out here."

Deejay laughed. "So pop off a couple shots and they'll all run inside. We about to be outta here anyways. I got the cash."

"Aight. Buzz the door for a minute and stay on the line." Darius mumbled. He produced a Glock from his waistband and put his phone in his pocket. Staying hidden, he aimed the gun at a spot on the sidewalk just a few feet from one of the kids' boots. All it took was one shot.

The sidewalk exploded with a cloud of dust, and the familiar reverberating crack of a gunshot filled the air. The girl closest to the impact shrieked, and kids scattered. He aimed at the ground one more time and buried another bullet just inches from her Nikes.

Panicking, screaming kids dove into the nearest store, keeping themselves low to the ground. Either it was their first time being shot at, or none of them had their guns on them, because they rushed inside the building like ants in the rain.

Taking off at a full sprint, Darius rounded the corner and ran to the door, disappearing inside Shauna's building before anyone saw him. He pounded furiously up the stairs, the bloody lump in the back of his head throbbing painfully. Finally, he threw open the door to the apartment and there she was.

Hogtied on the floor, dripping wet with makeup running down her face, Shauna lay in the middle of the living room, glaring up at Darius with fire in her eyes. Darius glared back. "Didn't I say it was bulletproof glass, retard?"