The Finale Read online

  “I see a hundred girls like you every year, Halleigh. They stand by their drug-dealing boyfriends through it all. They give up their freedom, their children get sucked into the system, and for what? For nothing, Halleigh. Even if we don’t get to him through you, we will get to him eventually. He’s in love with the streets, and they all fall. And when he does, we will be there to catch him. So you might as well save yourself now. If you don’t care enough about freedom, care enough about your child to make the right choice.”

  Detective Rodriguez was plucking at the heartstrings of a good mother. As much as Halleigh wanted to be strong, the tears falling down her graceful cheeks were giving her away. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go down. Their love story was meant to end in a happily ever after, not like this. No matter what decision she made, her son Malek Jr. would be losing one of his parents. Either she was going to prison for murder, or she was sending Malek in her place.

  “Why are you doing this to us? I don’t know nothing about some kingpin bullshit. There is no money, no cars, no nothing. We’re not even from here. We’re just trying to live.”

  “You should have stayed wherever you came from then, Halleigh. This is Baltimore, and let’s just say Malek has stepped on the wrong toes,” Rodriguez admitted, finally feeling bad for the love-struck girl.

  Halleigh ended the conversation, refusing to speak to the detective any longer, but Rodriguez was patient and knew that time would crack Halleigh.

  Hours passed before Halleigh realized she had been backed into a corner. She loved Malek and always would, but she couldn’t see herself leaving her son. It was no longer just the two of them. She had their son to think about, and he needed her.

  She stood and went to the locked door that held her confined inside the room. She kicked the door and yelled, “Rodriguez!”

  Detective Rodriguez re-entered the room and waited for Halleigh to speak.

  Halleigh put her hands on top of her head. She couldn’t believe what she was about to do. “Aghh!” she screamed in agony as she closed her eyes tight. She wished that when she re-opened them she would be awakening from a bad dream. “I’ll do it,” she said, barely audible.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I’ll do it!” Halleigh shouted.

  It was three o’clock in the morning, and all Halleigh wanted was to go home. Malek had probably lost his mind with worry by now, because he had been expecting her hours ago.

  “I need to call him.”

  Rodriguez leaned across the table. “You will tell him you were carjacked. We brought you here to file a police report. That’s the story you will tell him. We will return your car to you tomorrow and say we found it abandoned somewhere.”

  She began to break down the specifics of what she expected Halleigh to do, how she wanted her to record conversations that would help them take Malek down.

  Halleigh barely listened. It was late, and she was overwhelmed, while exhaustion wrecked her. On top of that, her stomach was hollow from the blood on her hands.

  “I can’t do this right now. I said I’ll do it, but I need to get my head together. I just want to go home,” Halleigh whispered.

  Rodriguez was eager to get down to business and irritated that Halleigh wasn’t listening.

  “Please,” Halleigh pleaded. “We can meet the day after tomorrow at my job.”

  “Fine. But don’t forget what is at stake for you. I’ll still be watching you, so don’t make this hard and try to run.” Rodriguez stood. “I’ll take you to use a phone.”

  When Malek raced into the police station with their son in his arms, Halleigh burst into tears.

  “Keep it together,” Rodriguez mumbled as she watched Malek approach.

  Halleigh, unable to maintain her composure, ran to him and fell into his arms.

  Malek held her face in one hand and caressed her cheek gently. “Did they touch you?” he asked, pain and anger apparent in his voice.

  “No, no, they just hit me when I wouldn’t get out of the car,” Halleigh lied. “I’m so sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for, ma? This isn’t your fault. The whip can be replaced; you can’t. I love you, Halleigh. I would go crazy if anything ever happened to you.”

  Detective Rodriguez walked over to the couple. She had an inside-joke smirk on her face. “Halleigh, I will be in touch,” she said. She handed her a card. “You can contact me anytime if you need me.”

  Halleigh nodded, feeling extremely uncomfortable. “Can we get out of here?” she asked Malek.

  “Yeah, let’s get you home,” he said as he kissed the top of her head.

  Halleigh grabbed her son out of his arms and cradled him closely as she allowed Malek to lead her out of the precinct. She could feel Rodriguez’s eyes following her every move, burning a hole in the back of her head. She began to cry softly.

  Malek tried to give her space, figuring she was just feeling vulnerable because of her experience. He was supportive and told her that things would be fine, but on the inside he was furious.

  Chapter Seven

  Derek Fuller and his crew stood in front of Malek’s crack house, all of them wearing concealable bulletproof vests. They were about to ambush his spot and shut down his operation.

  After Scar had given Fuller the rundown on Malek, they immediately began to plot. Scar wanted Malek’s upcoming business to be stopped before it got too big, so Fuller grabbed his trusted squad and set up a raid to try to scare off Malek.

  “One, two, three,” Fuller said as he watched as his crew hold the battering ram, preparing to cave in the door.

  On cue, they burst through the door and rushed into the spot, guns drawn.

  “Everybody on the floor!” Fuller yelled as he rushed in.

  What he saw blew his mind. The house was empty. Only a single card table sat in the middle of the floor. It had Fuller confused, and he and his crew stood there scratching their heads.

  “Fuck!” Fuller turned around in a full circle, scoping out the room. “Bullshit!” He kicked over the table. “Somebody must have tipped him off.” He shook his head from side to side, his hands on his waist.

  Malek sat in his crack house as he observed his youngsters cook, cut, and package the coke. He had set up shop in one of his many spots earlier that day. Malek never stayed in a spot for more than a week, and luckily for him he’d evaded the cops by the skin of his teeth without even knowing.

  Malek saw the money going through the cash machine and got a flashback to when he was getting money in Flint. He took a seat at the table and got a bad feeling. He didn’t get into Baltimore’s drug game to take it over. Just enough to stack a little paper and then retire from the game for good.

  He went into the back room where his right-hand man, Dayvid, was at. “I got to let this shit go,” he said to him.

  “We just got started,” Dayvid said, loading the duffel bag with money as it came out of the machine. “You going to let all of this shit go?” He looked at him with a furrowed brow.

  “Yeah, I got a shorty to think about. I never wanted to stay in this shit. I’m just trying to stack a little paper and bounce. I’ma hand this shit over to you.”

  “Word?” Dayvid said, liking the sound of what Malek had just said to him. Dayvid was only nineteen, but by being under the wing of Malek for the past year, he grew up quick. Malek had taught him everything he knew and was molding him to be a kingpin.

  “You ready for this?” Malek asked.

  “I was born ready.”

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.” Malek dug into his pocket and pulled out a small box and tossed it to Dayvid.

  Looking up, Dayvid reacted quickly and caught the box with one hand.

  “Happy birthday, my nigga,” Malek said, releasing a rare smile.

  Dayvid smiled. He was totally taken by surprise that Malek even knew it was his birthday. Dayvid had no family and never received anything for his birthday, so he never saw it coming. He opened the box and exposed the diamon
d pinky ring and slowly nodded his head in approval as he smirked.

  “You want to be a boss, right? Well, you have to start looking like one,” Malek said as he stood up. “Let’s roll,” Malek said as he headed toward the door.

  Later that night Scar was lounging in the VIP section of the club with his crew as they did every Friday night, bottles of liquor and strippers surrounding them as they enjoyed themselves. They were on the top level, which gave them a clear view of the main floor, and the loud bass from the club’s speakers had the club rocking.

  Scar stood at the glass front and looked down at the floor, watching the stripper on stage shake her ass.

  His goon squinted his eyes and noticed Malek in the corner of the club with his crew. They were showering the strippers with dollars, and all eyes were on them.

  “Yo, Scar, I think that’s the nigga that’s been moving weight on our turf. The one with the black fitted hat on.”

  “You sure that’s him?” Scar looked down at the man in question.

  “I’m positive. There is his li’l man, Dayvid. The one that’s making it rain.”

  “Send him a bottle of Mo and then tell him I want to holla at him.”

  Scar was a good businessman. He knew that beef wasn’t good when making money, so he took the peaceful route, and decided to make Malek an offer to get down with his squad.

  “Cool,” Scar’s goon said as he grabbed up a couple of niggas and headed down to confront Malek.

  Scar rubbed his hands together. Young stupid niggas always trying to make a come-up, he thought as he smiled to himself.

  Scar had learned earlier from his police informant that they had just missed Malek when they raided his spot, so he decided to step to Malek and offer him a position on his team. He’d been in the game too long, and he knew how to muscle people with his money. He was going to make Malek work for him and make him think he was a business partner.

  Malek sat back and watched as his li’l man enjoyed his birthday. Although Malek was in the midst of half-naked women and his niggas, he was only thinking of Halleigh and his son.

  Just as he formed a slight smirk, he noticed three men approaching the booth that he and his crew were sitting in, and immediately Dayvid and company stood up and went for their guns.

  “Whoa, whoa! Hold on, fam. We come in peace, fam,” the goon said, holding up the bottles of Moët in his hands.

  Dayvid put his hand on the chest of the head goon as they were headed straight for Malek. “What the fuck is the problem?”

  “First, get your fucking hand off my chest,” the goon said to Dayvid as he looked down at his hand. “Second, we’re not coming over here on no beef shit,” he added in a non-confrontational tone. We just wanted to talk to your boss, that’s all.”

  “Let ’em through,” Malek said, sitting back and watching the scene unfold.

  Dayvid stepped to the side and let the goon through, leaving Scar’s other two goons standing at bay.

  “What can I do for you?” Malek said as the goon sat across the table from him.

  “Scar sent you these bottles of Moët and wants to have a sit-down with you.”

  “Sit down with me?” Malek then paused. “For what? We don’t have anything to talk about,” he said calmly.

  “That’s for you and him to discuss. I’m just the messenger.”

  “No, I’m good right here. Tell your boss he can keep those bottles too. As you can see, we have our own bottles.” Malek grabbed a bottle of Dom and took a swig.

  Malek didn’t even give the goon a second look as he focused on the stripper on the main stage, and the goon slid out of the booth and headed to Scar to tell him the news.

  Malek had heard about Scar, but didn’t feel the need to make any new friends. He sat back and continued to enjoy himself.

  Not even ten minutes later, he saw the same group of men approaching his table again, but this time they had another person with them. It was Scar.

  Malek’s crew all stopped partying and slid their hands down to their waists as the crew approached. Scar’s crew was notorious for busting their guns, so Malek’s squad wasn’t going to take any chances.

  But Malek knew who Scar was, so he immediately told his crew to fall back and relax.

  Scar came humbly and stood at the table with both of his hands collapsed into each other, in a non-threatening approach. “Hello,” Scar said as he looked Malek directly in the eye with a small smirk. “I hear you’re making a lot of noise in the streets.”

  “That’s what you hear, huh?” Malek answered as he returned the stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, homeboy. I’m a working man.”

  “Please don’t insult my intelligence, young brother. I’m not here to rain on your parade. I just want to give you a business proposal. I see you recruited my li’l man Dayvid, huh? I raised that nigga!”

  Dayvid just stared at Scar with hateful eyes and never said a word. They’d had a past relationship that was a story of its own. Although heated by Scar’s comment, he remained silent and played his position.

  “I’m listening.” Malek had already made up in his mind that he wasn’t going to deal with Scar, but he would hear Scar out, so he wouldn’t seem like he was blowing him off.

  “I see you moving heavy coke. I know that I can beat your supplier’s price. If you cop from me, I can keep the local police off your crew . . . and protection.” Scar quickly grew a more sinister look on his face at the end of his statement.

  “Protection?” Malek smiled as he sat up from his slightly slumped position. “Protection from who?” he asked, feeling the tension coming from Scar. “That sounded like a threat more than a proposition.”

  “You can take it how you want,” Scar said, tired of playing games.

  “Good day to you, sir,” Malek said as he focused his attention on the stripper a couple of feet behind Scar.

  Scar turned around to see what Malek was looking at. He chuckled, not believing Malek’s arrogance. “You have a lot to learn, youngblood. Do you know who the fuck I am?” Scar asked, his jaws clenched tight.

  Malek’s crew acted accordingly to Scar’s comment, and they all began to slide their hands to their waists, where their guns were, and Scar’s crew followed suit.

  Scar nodded his head slowly and stared at Malek intensely. He was growing more furious by the millisecond. He chuckled and then looked around at his crew, who all had ice grills and were ready to shoot on command.

  “Let’s go,” Scar said, already having plans for Malek.

  Scar turned around and left Malek and his crew alone. Scar’s crew followed him. From the look on Scar’s face, they knew what was to come next: He don’t want to get with the program, so he about to get shut down.

  “This is my city!” Scar mumbled as they made their way out of the door, cutting their night short.

  Malek and his crew sat back and laughed at Scar’s proposition and continued to have a good time.

  An hour had passed, and it was approaching one A.M. Malek was taking shots with Dayvid, celebrating his birthday. Little did they know, Scar and his crew had no intentions of letting them leave that club alive on that night.

  “This whole shit about to be yours, son,” Malek said as he raised his glass and downed a shot.

  “You’re going to let all of this money we getting go?” Dayvid asked, not understanding how anyone could fathom an exit when business was booming.

  “Yeah, I have been there, done that. I came to B-more to escape the street life, but it’s so alluring, ya know. It seems as if the game just pulled me back in,” Malek said, dropping knowledge on his young protégé.

  “I’m going to buy this club and set up a legit life for me and my family,” Malek said.

  Just before Dayvid could respond, masked men ran into the club with automatic assault rifles and began to send shots at them. The sound of the bullets zipping out of the guns and shattering mirrors caused the whole club to go haywire.

  Malek’s c
rew quickly ducked for cover and returned fire, trying to defend themselves. Dayvid caught a bullet to the shoulder, but still managed to bust shots back while escorting Malek to the back exit.

  Seconds later the rest of Malek’s crew came bursting out of the back exit, and they jumped into the Suburban that they came in.

  “What the fuck?!” Malek asked as he sat in the passenger’s side, taken completely off guard by Scar’s ambush.

  “Get in!” Dayvid yelled, revving the engine as he waited for the other crew to jump into the truck. Once they were all in, he sped off, leaving tire marks on the back parking lot pavement. They had to leave and regroup. Scar had just started a war.

  Scar sat back comfortably in an oversized Jacuzzi surrounded by three naked women, all sucking on different parts of his tattooed body.

  The big plasma television that hung on the wall held his attention. He listened closely as the news reporter talked about the rising drug problem in inner city Baltimore.

  Scar smiled, knowing he was the main cause of the drug problem in Baltimore, and by him having direct ties with the head of the Baltimore Narcotics Unit, he was untouchable.

  He also knew shooting at Malek and his crew would lead to some sort of backlash, but he wrote Malek off as an amateur, which was a wrong move on his part.

  Chapter Eight

  The night was winding down, and Malek had just checked in on his sleeping son. Halleigh was lying in their bedroom, waiting for him. Malek had a lot on his mind, but didn’t want to tell her about it.

  He never wanted to bring his street business into his home, so he remained quiet about almost losing his life earlier that night. He instantly began thinking of ways to get back at Scar, but he was going to sleep on it, so he would make the best strategic move.

  Malek walked in and looked at Halleigh and instantly wanted to make love to her. He sat on the bed, and she cuddled against him as he ran his fingers through her hair. He grabbed the remote and turned on the stereo. Classic Sade began to play.