Pistol's Grip 2 (An Urban Love Tale) by Nika Michelle

Author:Nika Michelle [Michelle, Nika]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-05T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Pistol

The next morning, I hit the streets early as hell to find out what I could about what had happened to Dank. I needed to know if he was alive and running from something, or if the BHM had done something to him. First I hit Wesley Chapel up to talk to the niggas who trapped with Mike and Dank. They didn’t know shit of course, so my next stop was to holler at the corner dope boys. Those niggas had nothing for me, so I headed to Dank and Mike’s crib. Mike had given me his key to check on the spot.

Once I was at Mike and Dank’s, I turned the engine off, grabbed my strap and headed to the door. I opened it not even knowing what the fuck I was looking for, but I was hoping to find some evidence to lead me to where Dank was. Everything seemed normal as I took a look around. Nothing seemed out of place or anything.

I sighed as I stood there in deep though. Where could I possibly look next? I was at a loss. My eyes drifted down to the floor and I noticed a cell phone right there by the door. It was crazy because there were no signs of a struggle. The door had been locked, but the cell phone laying there was out of place.

Picking the phone up, I wondered if it was Dank’s. I noticed that it was an iPhone and Dank had a Galaxy Note. There was a pattern code to unlock it and of course I couldn’t figure it out. I only had six more attempts before the phone would be set back to factory settings. I damn sure didn’t want that to happen, so I put it in my pocket. I’d figure out a way to crack it later.

Time I put my hand on the doorknob to leave, I heard a noise. By the time I turned around it was too late.

Bam!

I was hit on the head with something. Blood dripped into my eyes, temporarily blinding me. With my shirt, I wiped it away. When I looked down at the floor, I noticed the broken shards of a lamp. The impact from that shit made me stagger, but it wasn’t enough to knock me out. My eyes moved up to see the culprit. That nigga was brown skinned with long dreadlocks. He was about my height, but a lot slimmer. I didn’t know who the hell he was, but something told me that he was affiliated with the BHM. Then I spotted the tattoo that let me know that I was right.

As I got ready to pull my strap out, my eyes focused and I noticed that he already had his pointed at me.

“Who the fuck you is nigga?” He asked chewing on a toothpick.

“Who I am don’t matter. Who the fuck you s’posed to be?” I spat, mad as hell that he’d pulled his strap out on me first.

“That don’t matter either.

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