The Hands of Love
by Omar Scott
Lorenzo Love is not your average fifteen year veteran detective. Ren, as he's better known, is a high octane control freak that was born with a chip on his shoulder. He knows the streets like no other- mainly because he was raised in them. He is well connected on the force, and extremely intelligent. That's why he has been put in charge of an experimental narcotic unit called the Ghost Squad. This unit was created to investigate high levels of drug trafficking and gang related activity. Ren and his team use unconventional- and sometimes questionable- tactics to get results that are expected of them, and today was no different. They were about to execute a warrant on the notorious Morris Jones aka Momo. He was the leader of the PG's (Pleasant Grove Gangsters), a gang that runs heroine on the east side of Dallas. A man like Ren, with lots of power and little self control can be very dangerous, and you're getting ready to see just how dangerous.
Ren and his squad pulled up to Momo's plush home around eight in the morning. The sun had just risen, along with the hot Texas heat. Momo's crib was in an old rundown area, but he had made a lot of upgrades to his place. He wanted a luxurious house, but he wanted to stay close to the neighborhood so that he could keep his eye on business. Therefore, he spent big dollars to get his home up to his standards. The landscaping was immaculate. He had a pool with a waterfall and a large gazebo built in the backyard that was secluded with an eight-foot high privacy fence. He had high dollar window treatments and siding added on. The inside of the house had been totally redone also. Hardwood floors were placed throughout the house. Crown molding and hand carved paneling decorated the walls. He installed Moen faucets, remote controlled ceiling fans, and a custom stoned fireplace which added an exquisite touch to the house. Momo had put thousands into making his home his personal oasis.
Slamming the car door, Ren surveyed the scene as he walked toward the back of his vehicle. Gazing at the sun for a second, Ren's butterscotch looking eyes sparkled under the bright sunlight. The street was empty for the most part. School bells had already ranged, and Ren had noticed the crossing guard at the end of the block was getting in his car to leave. Searching for the right key, Ren opened the trunk and handed all the members of the Ghost Squad a bulletproof vests. Grabbing a twelve gauge shotgun as well, he slammed the trunk close. He took a stick of gum out of his pocket, popped it into his mouth, and turned to his' guys. With the sun on his back, his muscular build cast a shadow over the men of his unit as he addressed them in his smooth voice. "Alright listen up boys. Manny, you and Keith cover the rear entrance. Jason, you hit the front door with me, and Dwayne you're backup. Switch to channel five on your radios. Everybody got it?"
"Got it!" The guys replied as they headed to take their positions.
Jason followed Ren, as he lumbered over to the front door with a heavy metal battering-ram he was carrying. Ren dropped to one knee, and gently jiggled the doorknob just to make sure that it wasn't unlocked before they hit it. He turned back to the backup man Dwayne, and gave him a thumbs-up.
"Are you good to go?" Dwayne asked talking into his radio.
"Ten-four. We're good to go." Manny shot back, from their position in the rear of the house.
Dwayne pulled out his nine millimeter and nodded his head to Ren. Jason started to swing that ram, then, "Bam!" The door flew open as they rushed in with their heads on a swivel. It was early Friday morning and Momo was still dressed in his robe with his hair uncombed. Relaxing on his plush leather couch in the living room, Momo was watching Good Morning America while eating a bowl Raisin Brain. Calmly, Momo sat up on the couch, put his bowl down, and made no quick moves. Not even to grab the .38 revolver sitting on the coffee table in front of him.
"Freeze! Don't move!" Ren commanded.
Manny and Keith kicked in the back door simultaneously. Once they secured the kitchen, they searched the additional rooms to make sure that nobody else was in the house.
Jason stood there with his shotgun aimed at the Momo's head while Ren holstered his weapon, walked over, and sat down on the armchair across from him. He pulled out his radio. "Area secured," he said to Dwayne, who was still outside.
"How are you doing, Momo?" Ren asked with a smile on his face as he kicked up his Nike's on the coffee table.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Lorenzo Love and the Ghost Squad my favorite set of cops," Momo replied looking down at Ren's feet on his coffee table. "Do you mind? That's Ethan Allen. I spent a grand on that table. And by the way, you didn't have to kick in my doors. All you had to do was knock; I would have voluntarily opened it."
"Momo, I don't think it matters much, a broken door is the least of your problems."
"I know," Momo replied shaking his head.
"You fuck up. You fuck up big time Mo, but I have a way out for you. Unfortunately it's going to require you going to jail," Ren proclaimed locking eyes with Momo.
"What the hell are you talking about Ren?"
"I'm talking about a dead cop, and a city out for blood. Didn't you hear the police chief's speech? You're Public Enemy Number One my man," Ren stated while he grabbed some peanuts out of a jar that was on the table, and stuffed them in his mouth.
"It had to be done Ren. He was getting too close to us. He could've brought us all down. Don't get mad at me for having the balls to take care of business. Remember we still have a deal," Momo said pointing at Ren.
"That deal was predicated on the fact that there would be no violence. Not only was there violence, but you killed a fucking undercover cop. That's a deal breaker Mo," Ren said sarcastically.
"So what kinda trumped up charge you trying to pin on me?"
"Possession with intent to deliver, what else?"
"How are you going to prove it? I haven't been close to any dope."
"Yes you have." Ren looked up and gestured to Keith. Keith ran back to the car, and reappeared with a large duffle bag. Opening up the bag, he pulled out a clear plastic bag that was full of smaller bags of heroine. Without a word, he walked over and set the bag on the table next to Momo. Momo's stoic look never changed. He was known to be calm under pressure. You'd have to be to run a drug organization that was as big as his. Momo's crew controlled the entire Pleasant Grove section of Dallas. He ruled with an iron fist, despite his small stature and good looks. Only five seven, his small hundred and sixty pound frame was hardly intimidating. But nobody dared messed with him. His reputation spoke for itself. Once, he beat a man to death with his bare hands for calling his lady a bitch.
You see, Momo was the ultimate gentleman. He never cursed. He always opened doors and pulled out chairs for ladies. He would never, under any circumstances, allow a woman to be mistreated or disrespected.
"It's your drugs."
"You gotta be kidding," Momo joked with a slight chuckle.
"Oh, I'm afraid not, Mo. You can't kill a cop in this city and expect a free pass. You got an entire police force on your back right now that wants to crucify your ass. You're lucky I'm here instead of them or you have a bullet in your head right now."
"I know, I know," Momo replied looking down at the floor.
"Relax; be glad you're not being charged with first-degree murder. Drug possession charges like this, you'll do five years max. That's enough time to let the dust settle. The public can feel safe that a cop killer is off the streets. The brass can break their arms patting themselves on the back for the job they've done. And maybe, just maybe I'll get the promotion I've been waiting for," Ren stated with a slight grin. "By the way, there's also one more matter."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"A little matter of my fee for straightening up this whole situation for you. So, where's your stash at?"
"What stash?" Momo snapped.
"Don't play dumb. I know you keep it here."
"Oh! So on top of charging me with some bogus shit, you motherfuckas are gonna jack me too. This is bullshit!"
"Whoa! Momo the gentleman is cursing and losing his temper, I don't believe it."
"Believe it motherfucker! I ain't taking this shit lying down."
"Yes you will."
Dwayne stepped up from behind him and pushed the barrel of his gun against the back of Momo's head. He looked a little nervous, but managed to keep his hands steady. Jason also stepped closer and put that gauge only inches from Momo's forehead.
"Now at the end of the day, my boss really doesn't care whether I bring your ass in dead or alive. But I like you Mo, so I'm gonna give you one more chance. But don't test my patience. So, for the last time, where is the money?"
Momo knew he was in between a rock and a hard place. He swallowed his pride and pointed to the picture on the wall. Keith ran over and threw down the picture to reveal a safe.
"Combination please," Ren said sarcastically getting out of the chair, and walking over to the safe.
Momo was mute for a moment. Then Dwayne pushed him in the back of the head with the gun once again.
"12 right 5 left 9 right," Momo said shaking his head in frustration.
Keith opened up the safe and began to thumb through the money. He was the math wiz of the bunch. He majored in accounting when he went to Louisiana State University. It was only in his junior year that he decided to go into criminal justice.
"How much are we looking at Keith?" Ren asked, walking back over to Momo.
He swallowed like he just had a drink of water. "Rough estimate, about five hundred thousand," Keith replied, counting a stack of bills, and then putting the money into the duffle bag that he took the drugs out of.
"Well boys, looks like we hit the mother lode." All the guys started smiling at each other and giving high fives.
"Crooked ass cops. I should've never gotten involved with y'all. Y'all got no code, y'all respect nothing. How do y'all live with yourselves?"
"How do I live with myself? Easy! I'm a cop doing a public service. You see, Momo, we can't stop all crime, but we can control it. That's where you come in. You're my bitch. And like a good bitch, as long as you do what you're told, you can operate. The moment you get outta line, is the moment you get smacked like a bitch. And the cash- that's for services rendered." Ren flashed another grin as he sat back down in his armchair. "Now, Manny read this fucker his rights."
Manny walked up behind Momo pulling out the cuffs. "You got the right to remain silent. If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You…"
"Save your breath! I've heard all that crap before. You know this ain't over, right? I ain't going out like this. If I go down, everybody goes down," Momo warned in disgust.
"Do you know what happens to bitches you can't control?"
"You know, Momo, I wish you hadn't said that." Ren declared, standing back on his feet.
"Keith, what's the name of that Stephen King movie I like? You know the one about the dog?" Ren said snapping his fingers trying to recall it.
"You mean Cujo."
"Yeah! Yeah! Cujo. You ever saw that Mo?"
"You never read the book or saw the movie Cujo? See, that's the problem with you youngsters today. Great movie- even better book. Basically, it's a story about a dog that goes crazy. He gets rabies or is possessed by the devil or something, and once the dog was infected he turned on the family. He tried to kill'em all. There were signs in the beginning, when he first snapped at them, that they couldn't trust him no more. But they ignored it. They allowed the shit to go on and on. But you know what I would've done?" Ren asked, staring straight into Momo's eyes. Momo was still fuming. He hunched his shoulders to acknowledge Ren's question.
"I'd a put that motherfucker down the first time he would have raised up at me."
Ren reached back in his holster and pulled out his 9mm Beretta. Slowly, he aimed at Momo's chest. Now he had Momo's full attention as Momo slightly quivered in fear.
"You can't kill me, you're a cop! I thought you said you'd give me a break."
"I lied," Ren admitted squeezing the trigger at point blank range. The bullet pierced Momo's chest with such force that his head snapped back. Momo had a stunned look on his face. His mouth was wide open as he sat there struggling to breathe. Then blood started gushing out his chest like a can of soda that was poked with a knife. His eyes froze wide open while he slid down the couch and slumped over.