Super Gremlin: Switches and Dracos by King Rio

Author:King Rio [Rio, King]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-02T22:00:00+00:00

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Big Worm had two FaceTime video feeds on his phone screen at once, in split screen mode: live video of Pee Wee following close behind Whitney Clarrett’s red Honda Accord, and a second live feed that showed Baby Lord and three more Vice Lords breaking into Whitney Clarrett’s home to search for the suitcases.

It was like watching a virtual-reality video game. He watched in first-person as Baby Lord’s black-and-gold Dior sneaker kicked open the front door. The camera rushed inside, a Glock with a 50-round drum magazine held out in front of it, and Big Worm saw what he decided was a nice single-family home. The living room gave off a sophisticated feminine vibe, with two-toned red-and-pink curtains over the windows, a fuchsia-colored sectional sofa and matching armchairs on a clean hardwood floor, a box of Kleenex tissues and a lidded crystal bowl filled with Reese’s Peanut Butter cups on a glass-top coffee table, and a large screen television hanging on the wall. One of the first-floor bedrooms obviously belonged to a teenage girl, as evidenced by the Pooh Shiesty poster with lipstick kiss marks planted all over it and the volleyball trophies on the dresser. Baby Lord and the other three Lords tossed the room, ripping out drawers and flipping the bed. They found nothing.

The next first-floor bedroom was the master, and there were clear signs that it belonged to Whitney Clarrett, namely the stack of mail on the dresser with her name printed on each envelope. Baby Lord snatched out all nine drawers and dumped them on the floor, finding nothing other than a bunch of nice-looking women’s clothing, a box of 9-millimeter ammunition, and a massive ebony dildo. He flipped the queen-size mattress of the neatly made bed and found nothing underneath it. Looked under the bed and saw nothing aside from four pairs of designer shoes and an empty Magnum condom wrapper. Searched her closet and found only more of her shoes and clothes.

Down in the basement, there seemed to be some sort of in-home lip gloss business in operation, with racks of iKiss merchandise taking up half the floor space and flattened cardboard boxes for packaging and shipping piled atop a foldable wooden table against one cinder block wall.

On the second floor, there were three more bedrooms, as well as a second bathroom and a lined closet. The gang ransacked them all, even going as far as to search the attic, the kitchen, and the first-floor bathroom.

But there were no signs of the eight steel suitcases. Nor were there any clothes-filled trash bags or any of the other things Worm had stored in his storage locker, and this made Big Worm’s blood boil.

He dropped the phone onto his lap and pounded his fist on the dashboard. Bam looked over and gave him a hard look.

“Ay, man. Punch on your own shit,” Bam said.

Big Worm’s “own shit” was parked right in front of Bam’s Cullinan—a pearl-white Rolls-Royce Phantom on 24-inch white-painted Forgiato rims.

They were parked in the horseshoe-shaped driveway in front of a lakefront mansion that had cost their mother $2.

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