You Don't Want None Of This..
QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
The Next Day
Zaniyah laid on Marcus’ chest wall. She uplifted her face.
“I had a very very nice time last night in your bed.” She kissed the side of his neck. “In the shower, and in this bed this morning.”
Zaniyah kissed Marcus under his chin.
Marcus kissed Zaniyah on top of her forehead. He hugged her body closely to his. He bent his head down to detain her eyes.
Zaniyah tilted her face upward.
“Why do you make it seem as if you’re not going to be lying in my bed in the future; more so, like later on, after I take my beautiful woman out to dinner, and no more excuses beautiful woman?”
“Marcus, I like you, maybe more than I am supposed to, however, after today this can’t be. There is too much opposition between us.”
“Yes, opposition who would scar my beautiful woman’s face.”
Zaniyah rolled over and sat up. She palmed the side of her face in remembrance of her father’s fair warning.
“I notice far more things about you than you give me credit for. Is it a spurned lover? If so, I would like the bastard’s address who places his hands on a female.”
Zaniyah prepared to rise from the bed.
Marcus caught Zaniyah’s wrist.
“Sit down we are going to talk. No more fleeing my bed, and then showing up at nightfall for a quick fuck. Now what the hell is going on, and I want the truth, now dammit!”
Zaniyah took a deep breath. She pivoted her face to Marcus. She snatched her hand back.
“How dare you speak to me in that tone? I owe no man; not even my time.”
Marcus rose from the bed and rushed around it.
Zaniyah looked up.
Marcus squatted down on both knees. He uplifted Zaniyah’s chin.
“I refuse to have you invade my life, turn my emotions topsy-turvy and then disappear into the night. Now I’m asking my beautiful woman, what is going on in that beautiful head of hers?”
Zaniyah dropped her head.
Marcus lifted Zaniyah’s chin.
“I’m listening; if not. I will start drawing my own damn conclusions.”
“How could you get your mouth to move to lie to me! I suggest today was the last time you are ever seen with this problem.”
“I’m fine, and my life is according as planned.”
“Planned by whom.”
Zaniyah combed her fingers through her hair.
“I meant. I have a career.”
“How would I know what you do, where you live; we never seem to make it pass my fucking front door.”
He was so handsome, worrisome displayed in his facial features. Wait, worry for himself, or for her she thought.
Zaniyah leaned downward and kissed Marcus on his lips. She leaned back and feather caressed his chin.
“You ask too many questions which could get us both kil. Get many people riled up.”
“Baby, you’re not making any sense. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No. Listen Marcus, I have to go.”
Someone pounded on the entry door to his building.
Marcus knew according to the consistent and vibrancy of the alternating knocks more than one person was in attendance.
The pounding on his entry door persistent in intensity.
Both looked over toward the bedroom door.
Zaniyah latched onto Marcus’ wrist.
“Don’t answer it, please don’t.”
Marcus looked down at Zaniyah.
He swindled his wrist from her grasp.
Marcus rushed over to the carpet, lifted his pair of jeans and slid into them. He zipped them and then snapped the closure. He bent down and lifted his Glock from off the carpet. He tucked it behind the waistband. He rushed over to his dresser, slid a drawer out, and removed a 357. He placed it behind his waistband and rushed out the bedroom.
Zaniyah looked around Marcus’ loft for a place to conceal her presence.
Marcus’ foot hit the last step. He crept over to the window and looked out. He glanced down at a long stretch black limousine parked in front his building.
He rushed over to the couch, lifted back the last couch cushion, and then sat down on the glass table. He lifted both weapons from behind his back and placed them on the middle couch cushion. He lifted a suppresser with a direct thread, lifted his Glock, and mounted the muzzle; he screwed it on the shoulder of the muzzle, snugged it, and placed it behind his waistband. He then lifted a silencer and his other weapon. He rapidly screwed the silencer on the muzzle of his 357; he snugged it in place. He placed the weapons behind his waistband and pushed the couch cushion down.
Marcus stood and hurried over to the door; he pressed in the intercom.
Domenico stepped to the intercom.
“Mr. Modarius, we need to talk. I’m sure we have a few things in common we need to discuss.”
Marcus released the intercom button. He opened his door and stepped out his loft. He left the door slightly ajar.
Tango pulled the entry door open. He held it open while Domenico entered.
Tango followed behind, allowing the door to close. He locked it.
Both men walked to the freight elevator.
“This bastard is very sneaky. I suggest you watch your weapon.”
“Only a fool would let another man gain access to his weapon worn on his person.”
“It appears you got fucked the last time this blackamoor, took possession of your gun.”
Both men stepped on the freight elevator.
Tango closed the cage, and pressed in the up button. He moved his suit jacket flap aside and lifted his 32 Smith and Wesson weapon from out the gun hostler under his arm.
Domenico divided his black leather jacket aside and lifted his 500 Smith and Wesson Magnum from out the gun holster.
Tango looked down at Domenico’s weapon in his hand.
“How in the fuck could you conceal that baby cannon.”
“Worry about your own fire power in your hand.”
Both men cocked their weapon.
Marcus glanced around his hallway. He looked over at his mirror facing his freight elevator. He heard his freight elevator ascend and then open.
Someone lifted the cage door.
Marcus looked at his mirror. He glimpsed two men step of the freight elevator.
“Kill this black bastard,” Domenico stated.
“No, Mr. Delaro, just want us to scare the nigger.”
Domenico and Tango lifted their weapon and slowly walked down the hallway to Marcus’ loft.
Both stood on the opposite side of the door.
Domenico placed the barrel of his weapon against the door and slowly pushed it open. He peeped inside. He flagged Tango to get behind him.
Tango got behind Domenico.
Both men entered Marcus’ loft.
Marcus stepped from behind the elevator wall partition. He slowly pulled both weapons out the waistband of his jeans and walked down the hallway. He stood at the helm of his loft. He aimed and fired at the gun in Domenico’s hand; he pivoted and then fired at the gun in Tango’s hand.
Both weapons dropped to the carpet.
Domenico’s weapon discharged, grazing Tango’s foot.
Tango hopped on one foot.
Zaniyah covered her mouth after listening to a weapon being fired. She pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from breathing. If caught here; she knew one of her father’s men would take her directly back to her father. It saddened her knowing she may be ordered to return to Italy at his bidding.
Marcus pushed the door close.
“I need you two to turn around and do it real slow.”
Domenico looked down at his bleeding hand.
“Man fuck you.”
“If you don’t in the next second. This bullet going up your ass will do the fucking. Now place your hands in the air!” Marcus looked over at Tango. “You too fat boy.”
Both men placed their hands in the air and slowly turned around.
“Do you know the charges of breaking in and entering a FBI Federal Agent’s residence, with guns drawn intending on bodily harm?”
“I do not see any guns in our hands, nigger.”
“I can respect your imagination, therefore, let me reiterate the shit. Since you boys, were, caught redhandedly. You know what we do in the military; we take care of our own justice.”
Marcus shot Tango in his knee.
Domenico gritted down on his teeth.
“I would not get too fancy with that anger, white boy, today, is not the day to play the hero. Now, we’re going to play a little game. Your answer depends on how long you want your side goon to bleed out.”
Marcus dropped his gun lower and aimed it at Tango’s other knee.
“Who the fuck sent you!”
“Man fuck you; I’m not telling you shit.”
“Tsk…tsk, I suppose you are not your brother’s keeper.”
Marcus shot Domenico in his thigh.
“You crazy bastard, shit.”
Domenico grimaced in pain behind the burning entry and exit of the bullet.
“Who the fuck sent you!”
“Fuck you!” Tango barked.
Marcus aimed his weapon and shot Tango in his other knee.
Marcus aimed his Glock at Tango’s groin.
“Wait...Mr. Delaro sent us; he only wanted us to scare you. He wants you to leave his daughter, Zaniyah alone.”
“Hum, too late. The woman has already sucked my dick, and I have already nutted in that tight pussy. Now as a courtesy for your uninvited visit. I would allow you gentlemen to limp out of here, but those weapons stay. I’m pretty sure they have plenty of bodies on them, therefore, you show the fuck up here again. I will not be so nice, and those two weapons, along with the first one from you fat boy, will be sent to Ballistics for fingerprints. I’m sure there are several cold cases concerning one or maybe two of those weapons. Now get the fuck out of my loft, you two are fucking up my carpet. And tell Mr. Delaro, if he ever wants to talk to me; be a man, and do his own bidding, and not send any more amateurs.”
“Not to worry, nigger, you will get yours in the end.”
Marcus aimed his weapon and shot Domenico in his other hand.
“Not by your hand white boy.”
Domenico shook his hand.
“You two have two minutes to leave quietly, after that, you die.”
Domenico and Tango limped over to the door.
Marcus followed them out to the elevator.
“You ask Zaniyah, how she let me fuck her, and then have a nigger’s nutt inside of her now.”
“You know the saying, once you go black, you never go back.”
Marcus lifted the cage to the freight elevator. He pushed Domenico forward.
Tango limped onto the freight elevator.
“See you later, boys.”
Marcus held the gun on the two while he closed the freight cage to the elevator.
Tango reached over and pressed in the down button.
The elevator dropped.
Marcus ran over to the window.
Several seconds later. He saw both men limping out to the limousine.
The chauffer hurried to open the door.
Both men got inside.
The chauffeur promoted his presence to the driver side, opened the door, and then got inside the limousine. He plugged the key inside the limousine and started the vehicle. He scurried the limousine away.
Marcus took a deep breath. Damn, he needed to call an undercover crime scene cleaner, and then have his carpet replaced. He will definitely make sure he sends the carpet cleaning bill to Mr. Delaro.
He was pissed after learning Zaniyah slept with one of her father’s hired men. He stormed down the hallway into his loft and pushed the door close. He locked it and pressed in the intercom button, locking his entry door. He set both door alarms.
Marcus ran over to his stairwell and ran up the steps two at a time. He angrily marched into his bedroom.
“Thank you,” Zaniyah stated to herself.
She slid the shower door back and stepped out the shower. She walked over to the door, opened it, and then walked out the bathroom into the bedroom.
Marcus grabbed Zaniyah by her hand.
“We are going to talk about why people are trying to kill me on behalf of your father’s word.”
Marcus pushed Zaniyah down on the bed.
“I’m sorry. I did not know; my father would send someone to…to scare you.”
“So, you knew about this shit!”
“Not quite, I told you it’s complicated.”
“Well, dammit uncomplicate the shit and explain it to me!”
“My father somehow found out you work for the FBI.”
“And he thought, I was using you to get to him.”
“Ain’t this about a motherfucka”
“And would you please quit waving those weapons around.”
Marcus looked down at the weapons; he somehow forgot they were still in his hands. He walked over to the window and placed them on the window seal to cool off both barrels. He walked back over to where Zaniyah sat.
“Maybe you’re right. This relationship is doomed from the start.”
“You were not thinking that when you had your dick inside of me, my mouth.”
“Yes, way before, I fell for a woman, who keeps secrets, in almost getting me fucking killed.”
“I did not such thing. And I once advise you we are not meant to be.”
“Dammit, you should have tried harder!”
Both looked at each other.
Zaniyah stepped aside and walked to the door. She stopped before walking out.
Marcus looked at Zaniyah’s stiff back.
Zaniyah walked out Marcus’ bedroom. She descended the stairwell. She looked down at the two guns and shell casings on the carpet; she cringed at the blood stains scattered throughout Marcus’ loft. She walked over to the door.
Marcus looked over the railing as Zaniyah opened the door, walked out his loft, and then pulled the door close.