Free Flippin' the Hustle by Trae Macklin Page B

once they reached their destination, he would be introduced to an entirely new crew. The Assassins.
    Derrick pulled the Benz behind a black SS Impala parked in front of the house that supposedly contained Thunder and Lightning. Derrick eyed a group of men standing along with Lil’ Roy and Eli.
    Casually, he and RJ exited the car and joined the men on the sidewalk.
    RJ walked into a barrage of hugs and daps, while Derrick received ‘ice grills’ from everyone present.
    Turning to a dark skinned man with a mouth full of diamonds, RJ asked, “So, Shay, what’s the consensus?”
    â€œOnly them little niggas Taz and Meechie be on that bullshit, yo.”
    â€œA’ight! But who did it!” RJ blurted.
    â€œI’m almost certain them niggas did it, but as far as which one? Well, I’m a have to put the twins into action for that,” he stated, motioning to the two identically featured men standing beside him.
    â€œFuck the details. Even if one might be responsible, they both get it,” RJ declared.
    â€œIf we snatch one of ‘em up, I know they’ll tell who was responsible. Especially when my niggas get at ‘em,” Shay commented in a smooth demeanor.
    â€œI know where them niggas be at, too,” Eli said. “Right over in Flatbush.”
    RJ was becoming even more frustrated by simply talking about the situation. “A’ight! Fuck all that! We gonna roll over there and pay these bitches a visit, yo!” He then walked off in the direction of his car.

    * * *

    Derrick and RJ inconspicuously sat in RJ’s Benz, eyeing the traffic as it came and went at the neighborhood bar. Shay, Lil’ Roy, and Eli were on the opposite corner in Shay’s SS Impala.
    The serene atmosphere inside the Mercedes gave Derrick’s mind a moment to reflect on the day’s events. The terror shown in Naria’s beautiful eyes caused a chill to run down his spine. On the one hand, he wanted to protect her for the remainder of his days, and yet on the other he wanted to somehow detach his personal feelings from the situation.
    Just when Derrick’s mind began to toss any inhibitions out the window, he noticed one of the twins round the corner and enter the bar. Almost simultaneously, RJ’s cell phone blared to life.
    RJ placed it to his ear. “Speak.”
    After listening to the brief back and forth, Derrick assumed the caller was either Lil’ Roy or Eli. However, once RJ ended the call, he said, “Watch this.”
    Instantly, the door to the bar swung open and out came a medium built light-skinned man closely followed by one of the twins. As if on cue, the other twin popped up as if he was Houdini. The approaching twin delivered a barrage of karate style kicks and punches, sending the man to the ground in a heap.
    They snatched the man to his feet and threw him into an awaiting car and then pulled off.
    Derrick parked behind Shay’s car, which was parked behind the twin’s car, which sat directly in front of an abandoned house on Lafayette Avenue in Brooklyn.
    Witnessing the twins nearly drag the helpless man into the empty house, Derrick turned to RJ and asked, “Wassup? We going in or what?”
    RJ pulled his phone out and began to punch in numbers. Turning to look at Derrick, he said, “Nah. We going to let them niggas do them. But believe me, if son knows anything, they will get it out of him.”
    After sitting parked for nearly an hour, Lil’ Roy emerged.
    Once RJ pushed the button, rolling the dark tinted window down, Lil’ Roy kneeled. “Shay was right, yo. That nigga Taz did that shit, but . . .” Lil’ Roy stated.
    â€œBut what!” RJ yelled.
    â€œTaz is Biggs’ little brother . . . The Gucci Crew.”
    â€œFuck the Gucci Crew! Them niggas gotta pay, yo!” RJ blurted.
    â€œA’ight, yo! But we gotta be smart about how.”
    â€œSmart! Motherfucker, was this nigga being