Duce hit Thor with a series of combinations and kicks, but the big man held his feet. He tried to bring his gun arm around, but Duce grabbed it and held on for dear life. Thor tried to swing the hammer, but there wasn’t enough room in the kitchen to do so. The big man roared and repeatedly slammed Duce from the oven to the refrigerator but still he held on.
Duce slammed his fist into Thor’s jaw as hard as he could, but the big man only got angrier. Dropping the hammer, he grabbed Duce in a bear hug and began to apply pressure. Duce could only yelp because Thor had squeezed too much air out of him for a scream. Seeing the look of pain on Duce’s face, the big man applied more pressure, triumphantly laughing at the sounds of Duce’s bones cracking.
Duce tried to fight the big man off but he was too strong. Spots suddenly began to flash before his eyes as he felt the first tugs of unconsciousness. If he blacked out in Thor’s grasp, it was over before he got to Cowboy. Something gleaming on the kitchen counter gave Duce hope. He leaned his body as far to the left as he could without helping Thor break his spine and wrapped his hand around the object. With all the strength he had left, he plunged the steak knife into Thor’s shoulder.
The sharp pain made the bigger man drop his prey. Duce lay on the ground gasping. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. Through a haze, he saw the rage in Thor’s eyes and knew that it was just about over for him. Thor’s huge hands grabbed for the knife protruding from his shoulder blade, but the constant flow of blood made it hard to grab. Eventually getting a grip on it, he yanked the knife free with a roar, sending blood spattering all over the wall. Thor looked at the knife as if it had been an irritating splinter then turned the same glare to Duce.
“I was just gonna shoot you and make it quick, now I’m gonna break as many bones as I can before I finish you off.” Thor had taken two steps in Duce’s direction when his chest exploded in a spray of blood. He temporarily forgot about Duce and began to grasp at the wound in his chest. He took one more step towards Duce when his head exploded like a rotten melon. The big man’s body crashed to the ground rattling the dishes.
Frankie stood in the mouth of the kitchen looking from Duce to Thor. Blood ran from what used to be the man’s head onto the kitchen floor and tickled the edges of the carpet. Most women would’ve probably thrown up at the sight of so much blood and brain matter, but not Frankie. She just stared at the body with her gun still trained on his back.
“You good?” she asked, extending her hand to Duce.
“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” he allowed her to help him up. “Thank you, baby,” he hugged her. Duce inhaled Frankie’s scent and let it take him to that special place that only they occupied. He nestled his nose in her hair and for a moment forgot where they were and why they came, until the pain hit. Duce never heard the shot, but he felt it… Lord did he feel it. A white hot fire shot up through his back and spread throughout his limbs. He slumped to his knees leaving a trail of blood on Frankie’s chest. Frankie knelt beside Duce, who was breathing heavily.
“Baby, talk to me,” she patted his face.
“I knew I should’ve made you stay home,” he tried to tease, but only ended up coughing blood in her face. “My bad,” he tried to raise his arm to his mouth to wipe the blood off but couldn’t quite manage.
“I’m gonna call an ambulance,” Frankie pulled her cell out, but Duce grabbed her by the wrists.
“And tell them what? I got shot trying to kill your boyfriend over a five-year-old murder?”
“What should I do?” she asked frantically.
“Just hold my hand, baby. Sit by me for a minute and let me think about how it used to be.”
Frankie looked down at him, dropping tears on his face. She couldn’t believe after all this time she was going to lose him again. “Duce…”
“Don’t talk baby, just be with me for a minute,” he pleaded. Duce’s body stiffened as a shock ran through him and then he was still. Frankie placed her ear to his chest but there was only silence.
“Duce, talk to me,” she shook him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was blood. “Don’t die on me, baby. Don’t you dare leave me again after so long!” Frankie pleaded but, as the light faded in his eyes, she knew it was a wrap. Still clutching her lover in her arms, she turned her murderous glare on Cowboy, who was aiming his smoking pistol at her.
Cowboy recognized the look in her eyes and got a firmer grip on his pistol. “By the time you get the notion to do it, I’ll been done rocked your pretty ass to sleep. That was some dirty shit, Frankie,” he continued, “and even though you tried to put my lights out over this nigga, the sucker in me wants to forgive you. The things I’ve done and will do in life are fucked up, but that’s the G-code, ma. Kill or be killed, you know how it is.”
“I hate you, Cowboy. You’re a fucking monster,” Frankie sobbed.
“You don’t mean that,” he said emotionally. “I put you in pocket… gave you a purpose, and this is how you carry it?” he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “Why Frankie, why do this to the man who you’re supposed to love?”
Frankie looked from Duce to Cowboy with tear-filled eyes. “As I sit here watching my heart bleed out on to your kitchen floor, I’m asking myself the same question,” Frankie stroked Duce’s bloody face.
“Come with me, Frankie,” Cowboy extended his hand. “We can work this shit out, ma.”
For the first time, Frankie looked directly at Cowboy and he could see the pure hatred in her eyes when she spoke. “Cowboy, if you’re gonna kill me, you better get on with it, because as God as my witness as soon as I can get the strength in these limbs, I’m gonna snatch that piece up and kill you,” she nodded at her abandoned gun, laying on the floor less than three feet away.
Cowboy looked from the body of his dead enemy to the woman he’d been sharing his bed with all this time. A part of him hoped that he would see those loving and obedient eyes staring back at him, but there was only hate. “Even in death, this faggot still got your heart? So be it, Frankie Five Fingers.” Cowboy’s finger touched the trigger, but several red dots appearing on his chest gave him pause. He looked up and when his brain registered what was going on, all the blood rushed to his face.
“You were a fool to steal from me, bandito,” El Pogo said from the doorway. Several hard-faced and armed men trained their weapons on Cowboy. “Adios,” El saluted him.
“No, no, no!” Cowboy raised his hands, having them blown off in chunks. The first wave of bullets knocked him into the far wall, and the second wave pinned him there. When they finally stopped firing, Cowboy was a little more than a pile of flesh and some clothing. One by one, the men stepped out of the apartment, leaving El Pogo. Without even turning around, Frankie could feel his eyes on her.
“What did you see?” he asked.
“Not a mutha fucking thing,” Frankie said, never taking her eyes off Duce. “As a matter of fact, I wasn’t even here.”
El Pogo nodded. “Let’s hope you stick to that, so my people don’t have to come looking for you too, Frankie Five Fingers,” he said slyly. She didn’t miss the threat beneath his words.
Frankie knelt there for a while longer before the reality of her situation set in. She got to her feet and rushed to the closet where she drug out Cowboy’s roll-on suitcase. She took the money from the safe, the freezer and several other stash spots Cowboy had in the apartment. Trying to keep her cool, she wheeled it all outside and put it with the money in the trunk of Cowboy’s ride. She knew he had several other safe houses where he kept money and jewels, but she would leave that for the scavengers. One thing Frankie always knew was how to cut her losses, Duce had taught her that. Frankie wasn’t sure where she would go or what she would do with her new life, but whichever way the wind blew her, she’d do it by herself. Frankie had been blessed and cursed twice in a lifetime, but this time Duce left her with a priceless jewel. A cold heart wasn’t hard to mend, it was impossible.