STREET KARMA. Pain
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Suarez, who died tragically in the Atlantic ocean open waters after fleeing Cuba with her boyfriend, my client, Rico Gonzalez some twenty years ago. Leaving their only son behind, they sought a better life in the USA. Julio Suarez, still very much bitter about his niece’s death took advantage of his chance encounter with Rico Gonzalez. He attempted to plant a large amount of cocaine on Rico so he could legally arrest him, murder him, and cover the entire thing up by making it look drug related…”
The team of prosecutors did their best to refute the defense claims, and tried to prolong the trial. Unfortunately Judge Rodriguez had already heard enough, and sighted the conflict of interest in the case as too overwhelming. The judge allowed Rico Gonzalez’s plea of self-defense, and immediately dismissed all charges. Attorney Dawson later filed out the courtroom with her client in tow to a mob of media personnel, and flashing camera lights. Fully convinced he had found his new recruit, Attorney Akbar Muhammad slipped out of the courtroom. The Rico Gonzalez case was Dawson’s last as a public defender.
The sound of honking car horns brought Lonnie Dawson back to the reality of her situation.
“Hey lady what the fuck! Move it already!” A male voice shouted.
Glancing ahead, Dawson realized all the cars in front of her were long gone, and it was now her turn to order. Easing her foot off her cars brakes, she eased her Mustang up to the drive-thru window.
“Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order…?”
“I’ll have a six-piece Chicken McNugget meal, with a small Dr. Pepper.”
It took a while, but finally Lonnie made a left turn onto Aventura Boulevard heading to her condo. While her career flourished to unexpected heights, her social life suffered severely, and was virtually non-existent. Other than a slight slip-up with one of her private investigators, a year ago, Lonnie relied on her vast collection of sex toys to bring her the most intense orgasms she ever experienced. But all that was still nothing, compared to the real thing. It had been three years since she had a good fuck. To a nymphomaniac like Lonnie, three years was beginning to feel like an eternity.
3 a.m.
Dawson made a right turn into the basement parking lot. She only had less than four hours to attempt to get some rest. Shutting off the engine, she reached in her backseat to retrieve her briefcase. An unfamiliar vehicle parked in her neighbor’s reserved parking space caught her attention. Giving the black tinted, late-model vehicle the once over, she quickly pushed her suspicion aside. She was just too exhausted, and wanted to get in bed.
Briefcase and keys were in one hand, her meal and drink in the other, Lonnie stepped out her Mustang. She yawned while locking the cars doors with the remote sensor on her keychain, and made her way toward the building’s basement elevators. Lonnie couldn’t wait to get into her Condo.
“Excuse me Miss.”
Lonnie could hear footsteps closing in fast. She rolled her eyes in aggravation at the sound of the male voice coming from behind her. She turned around, and found herself face to face with a masked gunman.
“Hand over the fucking keys!”
The gunman took a step toward Lonnie with the gun clutched tightly, and aimed dead center at her nose. The initial shock instantly turned into a state of fear. Lonnie’s body temperature began to rise, causing sweat beads to form on her forehead and under her armpits. The Dr. Pepper crashed to the ground.
“If it is money you want you can have my wallet,” Lonnie pleaded.
From her peripheral, Lonnie noticed a shadowy figure creeping. A second gunman approached. Cocking his Mossberg shotgun, he said, “Bitch, didn’t you hear? Hand over the fucking keys!”
The second gunmen spat lifted the shotgun to eye level, sticking the cold steel barrel to Lonnie’s temple.
“Bitch, hand over the fucking keys!”
The demands continued falling on deaf ears. Time was of the essence, and patience was wearing thin. It was now or never, and the gunmen were done talking. Taking a step back, he angrily swung his Mossberg pump like Ken Griffey Jr. at Lonnie’s head. The impact of the shotgun’s one and a half inch, solid steel caught Lonnie just above her right eyebrow. It was lights-out before her fragile body collapsed to the parking lot’s concrete surface. Her keys and all the contents in her hands flew through the air.
“What the fuck!” Low shouted, removing his mask.
He took a knee beside Lonnie’s motionless body. Tucking his weapon in the waistband of his Dickies pants, he peered down at Lonnie. Blood was oozing from a deep gash above her right temple, and flooding her pretty face.
“I think she’s dead!” Low muttered.
Low couldn’t believe Rob hit her with that much force. Murder was not part of this plan. Rob saw the panic on Low’s face. Rushing over to Low, Rob grabbed him by the shoulder of his hooded sweatshirt, and pulled him up.
“Get it together!” Rob said, giving Low a menacing stare. Then he continued. “Fuck that bitch! Stay focused. We gotta find the fucking car keys, and get the fuck outta here before one-time come. Or nigga we’ll really be fucked. Now help me find the fucking key!”
Lonnie Dawson opened her blood-filled eyes to the echoing sound of Rob’s voice. With her vigorous blinking, Lonnie was doing her best to focus her blurry vision. Surveying her surroundings, she noticed the robber with the shotgun frantically rummaging through her briefcase, dumping all its content onto the ground. Darting her eyes toward a row of parked cars, she saw the other assailant on his hands and knees beside her Mustang’s rear bumper. Both gunmen were totally oblivious to what she was doing. With her mind racing, Lonnie painfully rose to a sitting position, and desperately began to reach for her ankle.
“Fuck!” Rob shouted in frustration.
Realizing the car keys weren’t in the briefcase, Rob angrily tossed the leather attaché to the ground. With great effort, Lonnie managed to get a firm grip on her gun. Quickly pulling it out of her ankle holster. She immediately took aim at her car. Rob turned his attention in Low’s direction, and his eyes grew wide with surprise at the sight of what was unfolding.
With one last strenuous effort, Low let out a sigh of relief. He grabbed a hold of the Mustang’s keys.
“I found the keys!” Low smiled, lifting himself up off the ground.
“Low watch out!” Rob shouted, raising his Mossberg, and taking aim.
Lonnie squeezed the trigger of her gun twice in succession, letting off two thunderous shots. The first slug entered just below Low’s neck, grazing his collarbone, and went straight through his flesh. The second bullet missed his head by mere inches, shattering the Mustang’s rear taillights on impact. Lonnie took aim at the second assailant, but her attempt proved futile.
“You bitch!” Rob yelled.
He was running toward her. Then he squeezed the trigger of his shotgun. The pellets caught Lonnie dead center in her chest, lifting her petite frame off the concrete, sending her body flying several feet backwards.
“Yo, I’m hit!”
Low painfully stumbled to his feet, clutching Lonnie’s car keys tightly in his palm. Blood flowed down his arm, and began to trickle onto the concrete. Low staggered toward Rob. He was hovering over Lonnie’s body with a murderous look in his eyes. His Mossberg was aimed at Lonnie’s tilted head.
“Don’t do it! She gone,” Low protested.
Handing Rob the keys, and tugging on his shirt, Low pulled Rob away from Lonnie’s motionless body.
“Damn, you bleeding bad,” Rob said.
“I’m good. Let’s just get the fuck outta here.”
The pair hustled toward Lonnie’s car. Low hopped into the passenger seat, and Rob was in the driver’s side. Low noticed an armed security guard emerging