Page 63 of Widow Mayker

“A robbery homicide occurred some months back. The victim was someone Jemell had a run-in with on several occasions. I believe he set it up to look like a robbery to throw off the investigation. It was never about the money or drugs. He wanted my victim dead and used robbery to cover it up.”

“Do you have any evidence?”

“Not enough to tie him to the scene. His crew is deep, and not one of them is gon’ rat on him.”

Moving from my left side, Maja started in on my right side. With patience, she worked out the kinks stress of the last few days had put there.

“Why kill Iyana, though?” she questioned. “What would be his motive?”

“Besides the fact that he was surely abusing her? She was close to breaking,” I confessed.

Therein was what made my stomach turn. Iyana knew that flipping on Jemell was her only way out. She couldn’t move through the city without one of his homeboys having eyes on her. Jemell had too much control over her life. I’d finally been able to find a way in with her by going to the credit union and slipping her my card. It took days, but she finally reached out to me. Since then, I’d make random stops at the credit union just to check on her. I didn’t want to push her or scare her into changing her mind. Visiting her was how I’d ended up bumping into Maja.

“Poor girl. She must’ve been terrified.”

“Exactly. I hate a muhfucka who thrives on terrorizing his partner. For that, I could never respect a nigga like him. That nigga deserves a fifty-cal to his head.”

“I prefer a thirty-eight,” she said.

Although dazed from the way she massaged me, my eyes popped open. Maja’s smiling face was above mine as she continued working. Her hands moved up the back of my neck, firmly applying pressure to the back and up into my scalp.

Something crazy nagged at me, but when my eyes drifted shut again due to her hands’ onslaught, the thought and feeling disappeared.

***

What seemed like hours later, I awoke to the ringing of my cell phone. Maja’s naked body was joined to mine. Not too long ago, I held her while she screamed my name and shattered around my dick.

“Gunner,” I answered groggily.

“1145 Wilmington Street. Sound familiar?” Sergeant Potter asked.

I sat up, startling Maja. I leaned over and kissed her lips as her eyelids fluttered open. “Go back to sleep, baby.” When her eyes closed, I threw the blanket off myself and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, I know the address.”

“We have a homicide.” Frustration laced the heavy sigh he breathed. “Jemell is dead.”

Stunned, I didn’t have a thing to say.

“This isn’t good, Gunner. His crew…Jerell… They’re going to tear this city apart until we find who the hell killed him. Get there now and keep this shit close to the vest.”

“Understood.”

Potter disconnected the call, and I sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes longer, gathering my thoughts. Someone got the drop on Jemell. That shit was unheard of. The streets were about to explode, and I didn’t have the first person to pin this shit on. If anything, I had multiple suspects.

Within an hour, I pulled up outside of one of Jemell’s properties. It was located in a decent part of Pensacola where crime wasn’t so bad as it was in other areas. There was nothing spectacular about the house other than the three luxury sedans parked in the driveway. Jemell flaunted his money, making him a target to almost anyone. However, I knew nobody was that stupid to knock this nigga off. Then again, this seemed like retribution. Again, my suspect list grew.

Jerell stood on the lawn with his hands tucked in his pockets. He stared at the house being guarded by several police officers. He barely glanced at me as I walked by and entered Jemell’s residence. The hair on my skin rose, slowing my step. Peering around, I expected to find someone watching me. Nothing seemed amiss, so I shook it off and focused on my crime scene.

Jemell’s body was fully clothed and positioned in the middle of the living room floor. His hands were spread out and so were his legs… Instantly, ice chilled my veins.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled to the coroner, just short of pushing him out of the way. I stooped down to get a better look at the bullet hole in Jemell’s forehead.

“Any shell casings?” I asked one of the crime scene unit technicians.

“No, sir,” she replied. “This is the cleanest scene I’ve ever worked. Without surveillance, I can guarantee you the suspect will likely get away.”

Eerily, this shit was familiar. Fuck!