Cop Killas II Read online

  This book is the fictional work of the author. Any likeness to any person living or dead is merely coincidental. All opinions expressed are solely those of the author.

  Copyright © 2017 by D. Mann All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  ISBN: 978-1-945035-07-4

  Edited by Black Lyfe Publications

  Cover Design by Kranch Media Printed in the United States of America

  Cop Killas II

  Renewed Justice

  D. MANN

  Chapter 1

  New Beginnings It was a sunny Saturday afternoon and the mood was festive at Ms. Debra Williams Baldwin Hill’s estate. The soul soothing sounds of 90's R&B glared from the giant concert speaker placed in the corner of the backyard.

  92.3 The Beat radio station was jamming across the airwaves of Southern California this morning. Ms. Williams danced about with a youngness to match the era as Dana and Sharon egged her on. Crafty bullied the barbecue pit while smoking a blunt as DA and Pockets engaged in a fierce competition of skilled dominoes.

  "Oh I got 'em in the graveyard," Pockets yelled, tossing back his glass of Hennessey. "He lookin' fa' bones, he lookin' fa' bones."

  "You ain't did shit," DA retorted, twisting his lips while he continued to pull more dominoes. "You just giving me more ammunition to beat dat ass wit."

  "Come wit' it my elder. Ass whoopin’s are granted daily sir," Pockets teased, connecting his dominoes with a soft touch and uhh noise. "Get on round there! Get on round there!"

  "DA! What I dun' told you about letting that young dude bully you on those bones?" Crafty yelled, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "I’m tired of it! You better hit 'em back right now dammit or yo' ass is on punishment."

  The group roared with laughter as they studied the intense look on DA's face. "He couldn't hit me wit' a Tommy gun if his name was John Dillinger," Pockets shot back, checking his imaginary watch for elapsing time. "Mannnnn! Study long, study wrong bruh. It's only gon' hurt for a minute, like a small needle in the ass. Let's not take all day sir. Let’s not take all day."

  DA studied the board comparing it to his hand. He looked like a lost child studying for a college exam on foreign language.

  Crafty had the aroma of a certified grill master penetrating the nostrils of everyone within smelling distance. The beef ribs, links and chicken were inducing stomach rumblings that over shadowed the party. The group's faces were guided by instinct to the direction of Crafty.

  "Chef Boy Ar you'll never be," Pockets yelled. "When the grub gon' be done? Muthafucka hungry!"

  "Will somebody put something in that boy's mouth?" Crafty urged. "I'm busy. Kick his ass DA! Damn."

  Pockets ignored the comment by waving Crafty off with twisted lips. "Take it like a man DA," Pockets spoke, teasing DA as he continued studying the dominoes. "Take it like a man."

  Dana and Sharon took a seat next to one another watching Ms. Williams as she continued to float around the yard dancing. Moms or mama as the group now called Ms. Williams seemed so different over the last couple weeks since the murder of several officers and the chief of police.

  Ms. Williams was more relaxed and her mood was pleasantly delightful on a daily basis, the death of those guilty officers seemingly brought her some much needed closure.

  "Get it mama!" Dana cheered. "You can tell mama used to dance a lot when she was young," Sharon confided. "She be moving girl."

  The group watched in disbelief as Ms. Williams danced passed Crafty, snatched the lit blunt from between his lips and placed it between her own.

  Ms. Williams was dragging hard on the blunt before the group could utter their first words of protest. They were waiting on her to choke but Ms. Williams held the smoke in like a pro; blowing it out with ease.

  "I know y'all didn't think y'all were the only ones to ever smoke a joint," Moms stated, passing it to the still studying DA while she continued her dance trail around the yard.

  “That’s not a joint mama,” Dana countered. “That’s a blunt…and it’s filled with that bomb ass Kush.”

  "Ooooh mama! You not supposed to be smoking," Sharon taunted, with a bright smile. "HAHA! Fifteen on yo' monkey ass," DA screamed, slamming the domino with enjoyment while staring in the eyes of Pockets. "I need ten to go. Beeaaa!"

  Pockets returned the glare with the most unimpressed look ever witness at a dominoes’ table before calling his own twenty.

  "Bolt the doors on the church house," Pockets yelled. "I'm throwing boulders when I end yo' career. Game over. Next! Beeaaa!"

  "Fuck dat! You got lucky," DA replied, flipping and shaking the dominoes. "Run dat shit back!" "Food ready!" Crafty interrupted, the busy group with his sound off alert. “I got dat shit smelling right.”

  "Whew! I'm starving," Pockets said, beginning his rise from the table.

  "Where da' fuck you going?" DA inquired harshly. "We gotta game going on here." "No. We had a game going," Pockets fired back. "You lost and I won. Let dat ass whoopin' hold until I finish eating. I'll be happy to beat up on you some more…a little later."

  Pockets rose from the table and hurried towards the grill. Pockets intentionally irritated DA who stood directly behind him, by denying him the opportunity to avenge his loss.

  "DAMMIT MANNN! Can we eat first?" Pockets responded, tired of the pressure DA was

  attempting to place on him. "GOTDAMN yo' brother thirsty! Nigga act like we dating or something."

  "That's alright," DA spoke, blowing off the joke. "Imma date dat ass when I getchu' back on those bones."

  "Fair warning bruh," Pockets said, turning and facing DA. "That shit sound real gay of you." "Man fuck you," DA growled. "I'm just saying dawg. Don’t get mad at the messenger,” Pockets stated. “Come in here sounding like Liberachi, I gotta to call you on that shit.”

  The group sat down to enjoy the grilled food while DA and Pockets continued to bump heads over the Domino game. Dana, Sharon and Crafty were busy licking fingers clean as Ms. Williams continued her care free waltz around the yard. She stopped dancing when she heard Crafty thinking out loud.

  “I wonder if that commission shit the chief was talking about is true,” Crafty said, stuffing his mouth full of barbeque ribs. “I don’t think that fool was just talking.”

  “Me neither,” DA answered. “His bitch ass did seem sincere as fuck, but I ain’t never heard no mentioning of a commission anything.”

  “It don’t mean he was lying,” Pockets joined in. “Dude spoke that shit facing death.” “I thinks it’s worth another look,” Dana spoke, sipping on her drink and giving her two cents on the topic. “The police league is still in existence. Me and my baby just watched some TV special on dat shit little over a week ago. And the word commission flashed in and out sound so quick but we both caught that shit.”

  “I think it’s time we stop talking about the past,” Ms. Williams interjected. “It’s my off day, I’m with my family and y’all about to ruin my buzz with this conversation. Crafty! Since you started it, you can refill my drink.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Crafty agreed, wiping his fingers and grabbing Ms. Williams’s empty glass before stepping away from the table.

  “Now that’s enough of that talk. Let’s eat, be merry and celebrate like it’s no tomorrow,” Ms. Williams advised, dancing back off onto her own sunset. “We have plenty time left for that conversation.”

  DA was threw with the conversation for the moment, but the issue re-sparked his interest. This wasn’t over by a long shot.

  “Pockets. Help m
e grab something outta’ the car bruh?” DA asked, rising from the table. Pockets looked on strangely until he noticed the slight head nod from DA. Pockets rose from the table and followed DA through the massive house, out to the driveway.

  “Get in,” DA instructed, hitting the alarm to his truck, automatically unlocking both doors. “Wassup,” Pockets questioned, sliding in the seat and closing the door. “It feels weird asking yo’ opinion,” DA started, with a pause and deep breath. “But sometimes that dumb ass intelligent shit you be spitting be on point. So I have to ask man, what you think about that commission shit for real?”

  “Nigga was that a compliment or an insult! Shit,” Pockets retorted. “Thanks for the compliment, fuck you for the insult.”

  “Nakarebeeshwa,” DA announced.

  “WHAT!” Pockets fired back.

  “That’s Swahili for you welcome,” DA replied.

  “Look here nigga, stop trying to get bright on me ok,” Pockets shot back. “Just keep it dumb and American, shit be simple that way.”

  “Shit be simple that way,” DA mimicked. “Anyways whatchu’ think about that commission bullshit honestly?”

  “Just my like my lady said; shit worth an investigation,” Pockets responded. “In fact after we watched that show on TV last week. I been on my Sherlock Holmes and guess what I found out…that shit really existed back then.”

  “Fuck outta here. How da’ fuck you find out and I got paid experts who ain’t found out shit yet?” DA barked.

  “Maybe I should be on the payroll then,” Pockets said, reaching and pulling a folded piece of paper from his back pants pocket. “Here. I was gon’ show it to everyone together but then moms tripped out.”

  DA studied the paper with intense scrutiny. “I’ll be damn. Where you get this from?”

  “I copied it from the internet, deep out the archives,” Pockets told. DA glanced over at Pockets thinking he was right, Pockets should be on the payroll. DA perused the paper for a few more seconds before laying the paper in his lap. He sat back quietly thinking to himself.

  “I swear I’m firing me a muthafucka first thing in da’ morning,” DA announced, giving himself and Pockets a brief giggle. “So this shit really did exist.”

  “That’s the only piece of evidence I found showing the commission existed in more than of week of searching,” Pockets admitted. “And you see it don’t say shit on it except they met on that day.”

  “That’s all it needed to say. Damn . I owe you one,” DA conveyed. “Thanks bruh. Aye who the whites dudes on the picture?”

  “The tall dude was the chief when he was younger,” Pockets indicated, pointing at the sheet of paper. “Don’t know who the other dude is. And check this out, your boy o’ chief was a member of the police league too.”

  “Doesn’t even surprise me. Damn,” DA murmured, staring back at the photo, with a growing smirk. “The chief aged fucked up.”

  “Yeah he did. C’mon, let’s go back in before they come looking for us,” Pockets advised. The two men climbed out of the truck and headed back to the party with promises of taking that topic up later.

  “I see you just like pretending to be an idiot huh,” DA stated, following Pockets back through the house.

  “Yeah. I figure it’ll str engthen our relationship since you like pretending to be smart,” Pockets replied. “And now, soon as we touch those bones, I’m gon’ beat on you like cracka’ ass slave master. No sympathy DA. None at all sir.”

  “Just don’t pencil whip me bruh,” DA argued. “And this time I’m keeping score…cheating ass.” The two men returned to the festive party. Dana, Sharon and Ms. Williams danced a circle around Crafty as they enjoyed The O’ Jays, For the Love of Money. Pockets quickly joined the dancing group as the euphoria raged on. DA sat back at the table and poured himself another drink. His mind wasn’t on the party, it was on the commission and police league.

  Crafty spied his homeboy at the table apparently in deep thought, he knew just where DA’s mind was at. It was on the Commission! Crafty watched as DA pulled his cellphone, made a brief call and hung up. Crafty made his way over to the table and took a seat next to DA.

  “Wassup bruh? You thinking about that commission shit huh?” Crafty asked. “A little bit,” DA admitted, shaking his head back to reality. “Aye in an hour imma need you to roll with me. I wanna check something out.”

  “Fa’ sho,” Crafty answered, swallowing the rest of his drink and rejoining the dance line. The group begged DA to come dance but he declined time and time again, until Sharon personally dragged him from the table and engaged him in a two-step. They danced for the next hour.

  The family continued to party, drink and eat. DA excused himself and Crafty with the excuse of making a beer run. They had passed nearly fifty liquor stores enroute to their destination.

  “Where we going?” Crafty asked, looking at the downtown skyline.

  “You’ll know in a minute,” DA replied. DA pulled the truck into the garage of the ten story building and parked. Crafty knew exactly what they were doing there now.

  “I don’t see his little sports car at all,” DA exclaimed, performing a quick visual inspection of the surrounding area.

  “Here he come now,” Crafty cautioned, now understanding the who, what and why of their unscheduled visit.

  The two men sat back quietly sharing a blunt. DA had parked in the far corner to remain unnoticed. They watched the man rise from his low sport car, grab his briefcase and head for the elevator doors.

  “Dude look a little spooked to me,” Crafty advised. “I wonder what his problem is.” “Yeah his ass do look nervous,” DA replied, watching the man board the elevator while smashing the blunt in the ashtray. “C’mon. Let’s see what’s got this dude so shook up.”

  DA and Crafty exited the vehicle and walked to the elevator doors. They entered the elevator and DA pushed the button for the six floor.

  The doors opened and the man stood there fumbling with papers he attempted to stuff in his briefcase. The man glanced up in time to witness DA arms snatch him into the elevator.

  “Back down!” DA called out, signaling Crafty to their next location. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. What’s goin’ on man? You making a brother feel pretty unimportant these days, especially after I paid you my money. Where you been hiding lately?”

  “Get your fucking hands off me brute and the name is Edward,” the man responded. “Damn that’s a switch. What’s got you so uptight and in a rush?” DA questioned, straightening the man’s jacket collar back into position.

  “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into but you’d be wise to leave it alone now,” Edward warned. “Some powerful people got upset about that simple inquiry into the Commission and now I’m receiving visit from unidentified strangers. I’m not asking another question about the Commission and I’m leaving town pronto.”

  “What strangers?” DA roared. “Don’t know. They never identified themselves,” Edwards proclaimed. “But they sure as hell as look official and downright evil.”

  “I give a fuck how they look! What the fuck they wanna know about?” DA yelled. “Ooh, they didn’t come to find out anything. They came with a message,” Edward disclosed. “Stop snooping or else. I think I’m gon’ take that advice, it seems sound…and you should do the same. You’re definitely receiving a full refund.”

  The doors of the elevator opened and Edward walked away repeating his warning for DA to let this commission thing be a dead topic. DA wasn’t taking advice today or any other day, he was just getting started with his probe.

  Chapter 2

  Street Races DA sat on the phone waiting to be connected. He had been looking for two other information brokers that he employed to research the

  commission group.

  “Something’s wrong,” DA spoke, sighing. “Neither one of these dudes was at the office yesterday and neither one of ‘em answering today.”

  Sharon sat back thinking. “You think its foul play
? Edward did say yesterday that some evil, official looking goons popped up. Maybe it’s connected.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” DA mentioned, sliding out of the bed and heading to the bathroom. “You going into work this morning or you wanna make a couple runs with me?”

  “I’d rather have you crawl back in this bed and finish what you started this morning,” Sharon answered.

  Sharon pushed the sheet covering the lower half of her body pass her ankles, and exposed her nakedness.

  DA simply stared with a smile across his face. It took a second for him to snap back to the world before he gave his reply.

  “Get yo’ fine ass outta bed. Its business time,” DA ordered, watching Sharon’s movements like a hungry wolf.

  DA needed a release and Sharon had offered her love earlier this morning, DA accepted and ravaged her given passions. It was time for work now.

  Sharon crawled out of bed, swaying her naked body pass DA standing in the bathroom doorway. He could feel himself getting excited as he slapped her buttock and watched it jiggle. Sharon looked down and noticed DA’s excitement also. She grabbed his member, pulling him into the shower.

  “I could be doing a follow up to an inquiry I made into the police league,” Sharon told. “Or I could doing you.”

  “Its business time,” DA uttered, giving a quick reminder to Sharon who was massaging his extension with passion.

  DA spun around, turning the knob and let the water rain down over his physique. He quickly began to lather up to Sharon’s vocal disapproval.

  “That’s not fair DA,” Sharon protested, wrapping her arms across his chest and hugging DA from behind. “I give it you when you want it.”

  DA began singing his one repeated line, business; I just wanna do business. “That’s cool,” Sharon whispered, in his ear. “Just don’t get mad when I wanna do business. I’m not doing nothing but business.”

  DA smiled knowing Sharon could never hold her word when it concerned him. He finished

  showering, stepped out and started getting dressed. He waited for Sharon in the truck.