Murderville 3: The Black Dahlia Read online

  * * *

  Rocko pulled up to Po’s house and hopped out of the car. He tried calling Po’s number again, but this time, he got a disconnection message. “What the fuck?” Rocko said to himself as he looked at the phone’s screen to see if he had the right number. He was totally in the dark about what was about to unfold. He walked to the front door and noticed that it was slightly ajar.

  “Yo, Po!” he yelled as he put his hand on the doorknob. He slowly pushed the door open and stepped in with caution. “Yo, Po!” he yelled again.

  Rocko stopped in his tracks when he saw about ten Africans standing with guns pointed at him. He quickly tried to reach for his gun, but a single shot rang out, hitting him in the knee, causing him to crumble. A tall chocolate man with a model’s physique stepped over him. It was Zulu. He had come over to the States to end the burden that was over his shoulders. Dahlia had to die. The itch of killing her was far too difficult to ignore. He had come over for one reason and one reason only. His secret would die with Dahlia, and he wasn’t settling for anything less. He wanted Dahlia’s head. Zulu looked down and pointed a gun at Rocko’s head.

  “I’m going to ask you this one time and one time only. Where . . . is . . . Dahlia?”

  * * *

  Sitting in the parking lot of her hotel, Liberty had a heavy heart. She wiped the single tear that dropped from her face as she sat in the truck and rested her head on the steering wheel. She missed Po and wanted things to be normal, but she realized that she would never be able to make things right. She was ready to leave town and Po for good. She was just waiting until her car was repaired, and then she would leave. As she sat in Rocko’s tinted Rover, she thought about the current day’s date. It was a date that was close to her heart and dear to her soul. It was the anniversary of A’shai’s death. She knew that Po would never give her the love that A’shai once had. Maybe that was why she chased love so quickly with Po. She was merely trying to fill a void that A’shai had left with his death.

  Liberty was ready for a new beginning, a new life. She took a deep breath and started up the car. She was headed to get a bite to eat. A vehicle pulled alongside her. She didn’t even notice the sinister scowl that the young boy had on his face as things unfolded. “I love you always, A’shai,” she whispered as she closed her eyes and imagined his face. Liberty never saw it coming.

  Li’l Mikey extended his arm out the window, and shots rang out from his gun as he Swiss-cheesed the truck. He thought Rocko was in the truck, but the tint didn’t reveal that it was Liberty he was shooting. Rat tat tat tat tat tat tat . . .

  ONE

  “DAHLIA!” LIBERTY CALLED OUT AS HER FEET pounded the pavement and she panted from exhaustion, winded as she tried to catch up to her cousin. “Dahlia, wait up! You’re going too fast!” she screamed, a hint of terror in her voice. Night was falling, and soon the African jungle around her would be pitch-black. Her father had always warned her of the dangers that lay in the wilderness after dark. “You have to respect the way of the land,” he would say. “The animals give us a pass in the daylight, but at night, the jungle belongs to them.” His cautious words echoed in her head as she tried to keep up with her dearest cousin. More like sisters, she and Dahlia were inseparable, but Dahlia had the more adventurous spirit. While Liberty had not thought it wise to venture into the jungle for a game of hide and seek, the hint of danger enticed Dahlia, making the mischievous little girl want to do it more.

  “Come on, don’t be such a baby, Liberty! Nothing’s going to happen! We’ll be out of the jungle way before the sun sets,” she had urged.

  Liberty had allowed Dahlia to persuade her against her better judgment, only to be surrounded now by nothing but wilderness. Her heart pumped anxiously inside her small chest as fear caused her adrenaline to rise. The sun’s light dimmed with each fleeting moment. The orange rays gave way to dusk as the jungle darkened before her eyes.

  “Dahlia! Dahlia!” Liberty cried. Her young eyes darted to and fro, searching frantically as fear crept into her heart. Dahlia’s ebony skin was hard to detect against the blackness that came with nightfall. Her skin was the perfect camouflage as she hid in the dark shadows of night. Liberty stopped running, resting her hands against her knees as she gulped in air, catching her breath. Suddenly, it seemed as though the sounds around her intensified.

  She could hear the hungry growls of wild cats, the threatening hisses of poisonous snakes, and the rustling of leaves as predators maneuvered around her. She shook as her head whipped left, then right, as she tried to adjust her eyes to see the animals around her. She felt like the fallow deer that the men in her village would hunt. She was open, defenseless, and full of fear as her wide eyes misted with tears. She wanted to call out to Dahlia once more, but she seemed to have lost her voice the moment she lost the sunlight. She didn’t have the courage to scream out into the unknown.

  What she didn’t know was that Dahlia was close by and was the only predator focused on Liberty that night. She lurked behind the large trunk of a tree, peeking out at Liberty. Sure, she loved her cousin, and they shared an inexplicable closeness, but as they grew older Dahlia couldn’t help but notice the difference in the way people began to treat them. Liberty’s exotic complexion among the ebony children in the village garnered much attention. Her beauty was rare, and Liberty was doted on as if she was birthed from royalty. If gifts were given, Liberty’s was always better. During mealtimes, Liberty’s portions were always more plentiful. Even Dahlia’s own mother had begun to praise Liberty’s transformation into adolescence. While Liberty was like a rose, her beauty always apparent, Dahlia was like a black orchid. It took a certain amount of maturity to appreciate the beauty she had to offer to the world. In childhood, she couldn’t recognize how exquisite the black orchid was. She was too distracted by the growing rosebud by her side. So while Dahlia loved Liberty, a tiny seed of jealousy had been planted and was being watered with each passing day. How easy it would be for Dahlia to let Liberty fall victim to the jungle’s nocturnal dangers. Dahlia knew the forest like the back of her hand. She had hunted there with her father before he died of pneumonia years ago. Every day, she would accompany him on his morning hunt. Before the sun came up, they would be in the jungle. He showed her how to adjust her eyesight and see beyond the darkness. “It is the fear of the dark that paralyzes your vision,” he had said. She knew this was true, because once she stopped being afraid of the darkness, she could see in it. He taught her to navigate, to survive, and always to be the predator, never the prey. So as she stalked Liberty, she smiled at the fact that she was the better of the two in this moment. Liberty’s soft features wouldn’t save her from the jungle. Out here, Dahlia had the upper hand.

  She could practically smell the pit of quicksand that Liberty was about to run into. Dahlia smiled as she imagined her pretty cousin sinking into the abyss. The thought of destroying Liberty was ever present in her young mind, but there was not enough hatred built up in her heart for her to follow through just yet. It would take years of separation and building animosity before Dahlia fully turned against Liberty. She watched Liberty inch toward death unknowingly, and just as she was about to be sucked into the sand pit, Dahlia called out to her.

  “Liberty!”

  Liberty stopped mid-stride and turned toward Dahlia’s voice. “Dahlia!” she cried out.

  It was so dark that Liberty didn’t see Dahlia until she was right in her face. Liberty’s tears instantly turned to anger.

  “I told you not to leave me! I told you we would be trapped in the dark! Why didn’t you stop running when I called you?” Liberty shouted as she pushed Dahlia in frustration.

  “I didn’t hear you!” Dahlia shouted in her own defense as she pushed Liberty back. “If it wasn’t for me, you would be stuck out here. You shouldn’t be so weak. Only the strong ones survive. I’m the strong one. Remember that!”

  The look in Dahlia’s eyes that night sent chills down Liberty’s spine, and years later, as she sa
t behind the dark tint of Rocko’s Range Rover, she felt the same chill. The memory from their childhood had Liberty in a daze. Dahlia had always been the strong one, the fearless one, while Liberty was weak. The pecking order between them had been established from early on, which made it easy for Liberty to fall into the role of victim. What once had been a childhood rivalry had transformed into a relentless vendetta between grown women. It didn’t matter that they were blood—one of them had to lose. And as Liberty sat thinking, she made a promise to herself that this time, it wasn’t going to be her.

  “Only the strong survive, dear cousin,” she whispered.

  Liberty wiped the tears from her eyes. She was tired of sulking and mourning the loss of Po. If he wants to choose a bitch like Dahlia over me, then I’ll let him, she thought. I’ve tried to warn him, but it’s clear that he has to be bitten before he realizes he’s sharing his bed with a snake. Liberty took a deep breath and reached into the backseat to grab the Gucci duffel. All of the money to her name was tucked inside. She didn’t trust anyone at this point and needed it within eyesight at all times. She never knew when she would have to pick up and leave. When the time came for her to make her exit, she wanted to ensure that she had the means to do so. She turned to exit the car, but before she could push open the door, a car pulled up on her side. It was so close that she didn’t have room to open the car door.

  “What the fuck? Hey . . .” she protested as she began to roll down her window. But before she could finish her sentence, bullets rang out, shattering the glass window as all hell broke loose.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Instinct pulled her to the floor of the car, and screams of fear erupted from her gut as she curled up, tightly hugging her knees while covering her ears.

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Glass rained down on top of her as the car was assaulted with hollow-tips, and smoke from the gunfire filled the air.

  “Agh!” she screamed. She had survived many things, but in this moment, she felt in her bones that her life had reached its end. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she cowered fearfully. Her heart pounded, and her stomach went hollow. Her eyes widened as she anticipated the pain that the bullets would cause. She waited, wondering why her life hadn’t flashed before her eyes. She was hoping, praying, to see A’shai’s face. She knew that if he came to her in her final moments, then she could follow him into the light. A piece of her hoped that this was her final day. At least then she could leave the pain of mortality and live in a forever peace with her one true love. Liberty closed her eyes.

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  “Agh!” She could hear her blood beating in her ears as her heart took an express elevator down into her stomach. Terror-stricken, she sat immobilized by the threat of imminent death. Tears pricked at her eyes and fell down her cheeks.

  The door was snatched open, and Liberty looked directly into the eyes of the masked shooter. She had no idea who Li’l Mikey was, but he knew exactly who she was. Po had made it a point to make sure everyone acknowledged his queen. She was too high up in the hierarchy to know all of his li’l niggas, but everyone on the bottom looked up to her. They were well aware of her position. They knew that she was the lady on Po’s arm, and her presence in the vehicle startled Li’l Mikey.

  Fuck is she doing here? This is Rocko’s whip. She not supposed to be here! His thoughts were frantic as he snatched her out of the Range Rover violently, pointing a pistol directly in her face.

  “Where’s Rocko?” he shouted with a raspy baritone as he gripped her collar with one hand while keeping his aim steady with the other.

  “I don’t know!” she screamed as she pulled her head back in resistance. “I don’t know, I don’t know!” She choked on her own sobs as she closed her eyes and waited for the blast that would end her life.

  Li’l Mikey was indecisive. In any other circumstance, he would have pulled the trigger, but Po’s directions had been clear. He wanted Rocko’s head on a platter. Li’l Mikey didn’t want to be the one to make the decision to execute wifey. It wasn’t his call, so instead of finishing what he had started, he flung Liberty to the ground and ran over to his car. He hopped inside and pulled off recklessly, burning rubber as he made his getaway.

  Liberty turned and tried to run, but her legs were like Jell-O. Unstable and trembling, she could barely keep her balance as she grabbed her duffel bag. Patrons and hotel staff had begun to filter out of the hotel.

  “Miss are you OK?” a valet worker asked as he ran to assist her.

  Liberty shook her head and pushed him off of her slightly. “I have to get out of here,” she whispered frantically, speaking more to herself than anyone else.

  “The police . . . they are on the way. You really should wait for them . . .”

  Liberty pushed through the crowd of onlookers and ran into the middle of the street. She stood directly in front of oncoming traffic, causing a cab to come to a screeching halt in front of her. The cab driver jumped out of the car, enraged.

  “Hey, lady! Are you insane?” he asked as he threw up his hands in frustration.

  Liberty rushed around the car and hopped inside. “You get me out of here as fast as possible, and I’ll give you five hundred dollars,” she said.

  Without a second thought, the cab driver hopped into the car and pulled away from the chaos. Liberty hunched down in her seat as the sounds of police sirens neared. She reached for her bag and removed her cell. Her first thought was to call Po, but she quickly decided against it. She had to see him face-to-face. She knew that he didn’t harbor enough hate for her to put a hit out on her. If she had been the target, she would be circled in chalk right now. The shooter was coming for Rocko. She gasped as dread filled her when she came to her next realization. On Po’s order. The thought caused her much distress, because she knew that although Po was the only one who could order such a hit, it was Dahlia’s influence that had caused it to happen. She leaned her elbow on the edge of the window and brought the back of her hand to her forehead as she exhaled. She had to stop this. As much as she wanted just to take her money and run toward the future, she couldn’t. Loyal to a fault, she felt obligated to open Po’s eyes to Dahlia’s manipulative ways. To leave Po in Dahlia’s clutches was equivalent to killing him herself. Dahlia was like poison, and she had infected Po. I have to get him to see clearly, because if he doesn’t, she is going to ruin him.

  TWO

  “MMM.” DAHLIA COULDN’T CONTAIN THE MOAN THAT escaped her slightly parted lips as she watched Po hit the lines of blow that were laid out between her legs. The sun beamed brightly, sending heated rays down upon them as they sat aboard the luxurious yacht that Dahlia had persuaded Po to rent for the weekend. Halfway to Mexico, Dahlia and Po had anchored their vessel to bask in the middle of the ocean. Po lifted his head and gave her a crooked smile as he sniffed and rubbed the cocaine residue from the tip of his nose. Dahlia grinned mischievously. Po was a beautiful specimen of a man. If she were a weaker woman, he would surely have her wrapped around his finger; fortunately for her, she was the puppeteer. She tensed as she felt Po trace a finger up and down her womanhood. The thin fabric of the gold string bikini she wore was soaked immediately from her fountain.

  “Damn, you’re wet,” he whispered, in awe of her. Dahlia was always wanton and ready. Her sex game was out of this world. She was well versed in pleasing a man. She never said no, and Po loved that about her. The feel of his fingers on her most delicate places caused goose bumps to form on her body. He massaged her pulsating clitoris through the fabric. Dahlia sucked air between her teeth as she rotated her hips slightly, matching his rhythm as he slowly rubbed her pussy.

  “This my pussy?” he asked.

  Dahlia flashed him a wicked smile as she came up on her elbows so that she could see him better, but she never answered. No, nigga, this is my shit, she thought. She was the boss. She was the ruler of her own universe. She knew that if a man owned her body, then he owned her mind. Dahli
a wasn’t a possession; she was the possessor. When she first laid eyes on Po, she was attracted to his American boy appeal. He walked as if he was capable of taking over the world, he talked with a slight Southern drawl that made her panties moist with every syllable, and he carried a street aura that told her he feared no one. She knew that she had to have him when she saw how he treated Liberty. He was attentive, protective, providing, but still supportive. He gave Liberty the freedom to live, something that Dahlia did not have. Dahlia had lived on a tight leash until she weaseled her way into Po’s bed. Now she had the world at her feet as she sat beside Po as his new queen. There was only one problem: being queen wasn’t enough for Dahlia. She didn’t want to be the woman behind the man. She wanted to be the king, and now Po was in the way.

  She sucked her teeth, hissing in pleasure, as he moved her bikini bottom to the side and found her treasure. He licked her lips upward, then downward, upward, then downward, lapping at the folds of her pussy as if they were covered in honey. Her clit swelled in anticipation. She knew that he was purposely avoiding her love button, making her eager as she squirmed at his touch. This man’s head is phenomenal . . . it’s such a shame that it’s time to get rid of him, she thought.

  “Hurry,” she whispered.

  “Be patient,” he responded as he kissed a trail up her body, moving on to her nipples. He circled his tongue around her mounds, and her body reacted. Her back arched as she pushed her pelvis into the bulge that had formed under his linen pants. She reached down and freed him. She gasped as she felt his skin against her skin. The head of his dick was so full, so thick, and her insides clenched achingly. Nothing wrong with one last fuck before I ruin his life, she thought. He parted her legs as he nuzzled her neck and then reached into his pocket to retrieve a condom. He leaned back, opened the wrapper, and rolled it onto his length. The first stroke was always the best. Dahlia felt his thickness open her up, filling her to her limit.