Bulletface 5: Drill Season by Rio

Author:Rio [Rio]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Urban, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Thrillers & Suspense, Crime, Genre Fiction, Crime Fiction
Amazon: B012HZC8LO
Publisher: Dub Life Publications
Published: 2015-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

**Chapter 16

A vicious slap to the face awakened Porsche from a drunken stupor.

Last night she and Sasha had finished the night off with two bottles of Remy Martin, Xanax bars, blunts of Kush, and a few grams of coke.

The slap was just enough to compel her heavy eyelids to creep open.

"Bitch, get the fuck up!"

She saw Glo's face, felt his hand wrap tightly around the front of her neck, and suddenly she was airborne.

Her forehead struck the corner of their bedroom door. She looked up at Glo, stunned. Blood spilled down her face.

Her heart drummed with fear.

She didn't know what she had done to infuriate Glo to the point of violence, but she knew one thing: Glo was a killer. He was a savage in the streets, a gunslinger of high-powered weapons. His reputation was the reason he'd been chosen to be a high-ranking leader of the gang.

The ache of her lacerated forehead made her double over in pain. Blood was running into her mouth. She could smell it dripping from her nose.

"Don't ever try to manipulate me like that. Bitch. You got a problem with that nigga it's yo problem." He walked calmly out of the bedroom and returned seconds later with a thick yellow towel that he quickly tossed onto Porsche's face. "Go clean that blood up and get the fuck out."

The pain was unbearable. Porsche rocked and cried like a baby, holding the towel to her head. Within seconds most of the yellow was red and dripping.

Suddenly gentle and civilized, Glo clamped a hand on her forearm and lifted her to her feet. She wanted to resist his touch, to hurt him for hurting her, but the overwhelming throb in her head needed medical attention.

Glo walked her to the bathroom and gave her a weak shove toward the sink.

"Sasha!" she cried out.

"Fuck is you callin' her for? What, you think she gon' help you?" Glo was lingering by the doorway. He had a gun with an extended clip in one hand. His voice was as frigid as ice. "Lucky I ain't wack yo li'l goofy ass. What if I would've caught a murder case fuckin' around out there? I don't even know that nigga Bulletface. Shit, I still might have a body after what went down. Stupid ass bitch."

Porsche cut on the cold water, dropped the blood-soaked towel in the sink, and splashed her stinging forehead.

The blood continued to spill. She could not see through all the blood and water. She heard an unfamiliar voice say, "Glo, come on, big folks. Let's slide. Fuck that bitch."

Seconds later Porsche heard Lil Durk's "500 Homicides" — Glo's favorite song as of lately — blasting from his SUV as he drove off down the alley.

Porsche managed to lift her head a moment later, and the deep gash she saw in the reflection of the oval mirror over her sink was enough to make a person faint.

It was on the right side of her forehead, a gaping slit on top of a knot.

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