Killer Dolls by Nisa Santiago

Author:Nisa Santiago
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Brooklyn Books
Published: 2015-10-13T07:00:00+00:00

SIXTEEN

Polo lay in the hospital recuperating from two gunshot wounds and being stabbed twice in the chest. The shooting and stabbings took a lot out of him. He was lucky to be alive. He had flat-lined twice, once in the ambulance, and then again on the operating table.

Two weeks earlier, when he was in ICU, he had struggled to breathe and was immediately hooked up to a respirator. The trauma team had to keep suctioning blood that repeatedly accumulated in his mouth. Polo looked like an extra from The Matrix, with all sorts of lines and wires for monitors, tubes for IVs and other machines. Polo seemed lifeless, but then he came through like a miracle. He was too tough to die so soon.

Now he was awake, but still in bad shape, and on his mind was revenge. Greasy Dee was gone. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. One moment he’s having a good time, thinking he’s gonna get some pussy, and the next, there’s an ambush.

He remembered the sexy bitch in the front seat with Greasy Dee just suddenly went berserk and plunged that knife into his friend’s neck with no hesitation at all.

Three bitches had outsmarted Polo. He had no clue that everything was connected to AZ. He didn’t think it was a hit; it was just too sloppy in his eyes. He figured Greasy Dee had triggered that bitch somehow, made her upset. The way the other two girls were screaming, and the biting on his neck didn’t smell like a hit. Assassins wouldn’t handle business like that. But none of them were about to get a pass. Bitches or not, they were all dead.

Polo didn’t remember much about them, but what he did remember was that one of them had a slight Jamaican accent and her eyes were unforgettable. He also heard the name Rihanna, and she was the one who’d shot him twice in his side.

***

As Polo started to recuperate, his hospital room became busier, first with detectives coming to question him. One was black and older, and the second detective was white and a little younger. They were both clad in dark suits and ties.

“I’m Detective Williams, and this is my partner, Detective Surdak. Do you remember anything about that night?” Detective Williams asked.

Polo frowned. He hated police. He wasn’t a snitch, and he wasn’t about to have the NYPD handle his business. “Nah, I don’t remember shit!”

“You sure about that, Polo?” Detective Surdak chimed, intentionally calling him by his street name. “Whoever it was, they did y’all in good. Your friend is dead, and you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Like I said, it happened so fast, detectives, I don’t remember shit.”

Both detectives sighed.

“Do you have any idea who might want you dead?” Detective Williams asked.

“Nah.”

“Well,” Surdak interjected, “we hear you have a beef with someone named AZ.”

“Who? I don’t even know that name.”

“You sure? Because when they find out you’re alive, what do you think is going to happen, Polo? Huh? I tell you what’s going to happen—they’ll come back to finish the job.

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