Shakedown: Coup De Grâce (Book 3)

By Shawn P. Lytle

A violent war has darkened downtown Orlando—and Patrick Washington is at the center of it all. His attempts to strong-arm the owner of Club Metropolis only brought a war to the city and the cops to his doorstep. Luckily, he’s smart enough to know when to bail, and Columbia, South Carolina was as good a place as any other to escape the follies of Orlando. Patrick may be in a new city, but his goal remains the same—make money, by any means necessary. As power and influence are back within his grasp, Patrick tries to rebuild what was once his. But he must do so before his enemies close in and leave it all in ruins.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shawn P. Lytle
• Release date: May 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311591951

Shawn P. Lytle

Shawn P. Lytle is a South Carolinian living in his adopted home of Orlando, Florida where he splits his time between raising his kids and writing. He is an avid reader of fiction and philosophy. He is a graduate of Florida State University where he obtained his bachelor’s degree in English. Writing has always been his first love since his adolescent days. He learned to express his emotions through his poetry, his concerns through his essays, and his wild imagination through his stories.

Book preview

PART ONE

ELEMENT OF SURPRISE

ABDUCTED

What the fuck you mean someone took Junior?

Detective Taggart slammed his foot down on the brakes; bringing his car to an abrupt stop in the middle of Colonial Drive. The quick stop nearly caused a rear end collision. A loud horn blared from the rear as the driver behind him swerved just in time to make it to the outside lane before contact. 

Taggart’s nostrils flared as he screamed into the phone with a voice convulsed with rage. His raucous tone hinted at imminent violence to follow. Small bubbles of spit flew from his mouth and splashed onto the front windshield forming a snowflake like pattern.

Listen, I’m on my way over there right now! When I get there you better have some goddamn answers!

Taggart ended the call and placed the phone back in the cup holder in the middle console.

Fuck! He turned on his lights and siren and sped down Colonial Drive in route to his soon to be ex wife’s house.

Detective Jackson rode shotgun next to him. He glanced over in Taggart’s direction after listening to the outburst.

What’s going on man? What the hell happened?

His questions went unanswered, but he could feel the car reaching Daytona 500 racing speed. He reached over and pulled down his seatbelt and clicked it in place.

Taggart’s eyes were glazed as he zoomed through several traffic lights. He held a vice like grip on the steering wheel. His fingernails tore through the rubber material, leaving permanent indentation marks.

I can’t believe this shit is happening to me.

He pounded his fist on the steering wheel repeatedly. As his anger elevated, so did the speed on the speedometer. Magic Mall Plaza, Sun State Ford and Reed Nissan dealerships were a mere blur as he traveled at warp speed down Colonial.

The increase in speed was not idea for the conditions. The rain slicked roads were an accident waiting to happen.

Jackson sat wide eyed as he braced himself for a sure collision.

Look here man, you driving too goddamn fast. You need to slow this muthafucka down!

After nearly losing control of the car on a sharp turn onto Kirkman Road, Taggart senses seemed to return as he finally slowed down. 

Somebody took my boy, Taggart mumbled.

 Tears rolled down his face as his voice cracked.

There was no shame attached to his emotional outburst. It was his flesh and blood that was missing. This was not the time to let his pride mask the fact that he was scared for his son’s life.

Jackson had no kids so he could only imagine what Taggart was going through. He rubbed his chin and chose his words carefully.

Why would someone want to take your son Taggart? I don’t get it.

I…I don’t get it either, but I got to get him back Jackson.

Jackson glared at Taggart. He had been on the force for six years now and as far as he could remember, no officers’ kids had ever been kidnapped.

Taggart turned onto Raleigh Street, then made his way to the Fairway Cove subdivision. As soon as he pulled up in front of his wife’s house, he saw several patrol cars already parked in the yard. He slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park in the middle of the street and jumped out.

Two uniformed officers standing guard on the front porch reached for their guns after hearing the loud screeching sound and seeing two figures quickly approaching.

It’s just us, Taggart said; holding up his badge that was attached to a chain around his neck.

After the officers made facial recognition, they eased their hands off their holsters and went back to their casual conversation.

Once inside, Taggart spotted his wife Felicia sitting on the sofa, taking a long pull on a Newport cigarette.

I know damn well this bitch don’t be smoking around my son.

He stared at Felicia for a second. Her eyes were bloodshot red and her hands shook as she struggled to keep the cigarette up to her lips. She barely looked up at him. Just as he was about to sit down next to her, her boyfriend Tyreek plopped down right beside her.

This bitch ass nigga!

 Taggart was furious after seeing his son’s barber sit down and hug his wife. This was the same guy who had smiled in his face, shook his hand, and took his money at the barbershop. Now he was sexing his wife and playing daddy to his son. It took a tremendous amount of restraint for him not to pull out his gun and pistol whip Tyreek like Caine did Chauncey in Menace to Society.

What happen Felicia? Taggart bit down hard on his bottom lip, then crossed his arms in front of him. He counted backwards from ten in an attempt to woosa his way through the moment as he waited for his wife to answer the question.

There was a knock at the door, Felicia took two more pulls on the cigarette, then blew out a stream of smoke and continued, I went to answer it and outside was some guy holding up a badge talking about he was from the sheriff’s department so I opened the door. He pointed a gun in my face and told me to go get Junior. I started screaming and Junior came running from the back and he grabbed him and left.

What the hell you open the door for?

I told you the guy said he was from the Sheriff’s department. He had a badge. Shit, it looked real to me.

How many times have I told you not to open the door to strangers? I don’t give a fuck who they claim to be, you still suppose to talk from behind the door. You know the rules.

Felicia dropped her head. I fucked up. I know.

You damn right you fucked up. Now we have to find this guy and we don’t have time to waste. What else can you tell me about him?

Looking around the room while Felicia took her time to answer the question; he saw where all the money he was giving her for his son was going. The sight of the Italian leather furniture, sixty inch flat screen televisions, and exotic paintings made him want to rethink the divorce proceedings and consider opting for a hitman to alleviate any further damage. 

Did you hear anything I just said? Felicia asked. She frowned up at Taggart, who seemed to be in a daze.

Taggart glanced back at Felicia. He was half listening to her, but had gathered most of what she said.

Yeah, you said the guy reminded you of Terry Crews and he drove a black Impala. I heard you.

Sounds like James, Jackson blurted out. He stood next to Taggart dressed in a custom made suit with diamond cufflinks. The outfit made him look more like a high priced attorney rather than a small time detective solving crimes in the area.

I was thinking the same thing. Get Sarge on the phone and let him know what’s going on. Call a BOLO on James and the black Impala. It looks like I’m going to have to go down to the station and pay Patrick a visit tonight.

Felisha stood up and walked over to Taggart and shoved him with both hands in the chest.

He stumbled back.

Why the fuck you so calm? She yelled.

She flicked the half lit cigarette she was holding in his direction.

Taggart ducked, but the ashes still landed on his Orange County Sheriff’s department black tee shirt.

Our son is missing and you round here with this small talk. You need to be telling some of these donut eating mutherfuckas to hit the streets and find out where the fuck our son is at.

Taggart stepped to Felisha and pointed his finger in her face. Bitch, if you ever—

Hold up Playa, Tyreek jumped to his feet with the quickness. He balled up his fist and stepped forward.

Taggart pulled his gun out of the holster and pointed it. You want to go night night nigga!

The room got quiet.

Tyreek’s eyes got big. Man, you damn cops think y’all can do anything to people.

Fuck that cop shit. I’m a man first. One that don’t tolerate any bullshit, Taggart stared Tyreek down. 

Tyreek quickly took a seat back on the couch. He looked at Felisha and shook his head. The look on his face said it all. She was on her own with this one.

Taggart had been waiting on this moment for months. If he could have killed Tyreek right now he would have. He was bitter, but deep down inside he knew it was not Tyreek’s fault. He exchanged vows with Felisha not with him.

After walking over to the couch and placing his gun to the head of the light skin, Hawaiian Silky relaxed haired brother; Taggart made his intentions clear.

Look, I’m going to say this then I’m going to end mine. I don’t give a fuck about that bitch, he pointed at Felisha, You can have her. All I care about is my son.

No one in the room dared to say anything to Taggart. This was a personal matter so the three officers that were inside of the house left the room and headed outside.

Jackson stayed behind to make sure Taggart would not do anything stupid that he would later regret. He had never seen this side of Taggart but he knew that a woman could either bring the best out of a man or the worst out of him. It all depended on the situation and what was at stake.

Taggart holstered his weapon, then turned to Felisha and grabbed her by the face with his right hand.

Bitch, if you ever disrespect me again, I’ll kill you.

He pushed Felisha to the floor and stepped over her.

Let’s go Jackson.

Oh no you didn’t just put your hands on me! Felisha yelled. Jackson, you saw what he did to me! I’m pressing charges!

Jackson looked back at Felisha, Saw what?

He turned back around and followed Taggart out of the living room.

FAMILY FIRST

As soon as all of the officers vacated the premises, Felisha got up and slammed the front door shut. She was pissed and ready to let Tyreek have it over his cowardly act. 

Why you aint help me? You just gone sit there and let him throw me to the ground like that? 

Tyreek snapped his head around. What about when he put the gun to my head?

Oh….that was different, Felisha answered, with a smirk on her face.

The joke broke the tension in the room. It was well placed humor considering the contentious moment.

Baby, you know he was just acting like that because he’s jealous that he can’t have what you got now.

Felisha spun around then put her hand on her hip to exemplify her point. Her breasts were sitting high and perky in her, You Wish You Could Be Me, novelty tee shirt and her butt was pushing the seams in her low rise Gap jeans to the limit.

But Tyreek was not buying it.

I don’t believe that at all. What I saw was more hatred in his eyes than jealousy.

Felisha looked away. The truth in Tyreek’s words brought her back to reality. She knew that Taggart hated her. Who wouldn’t have? She had committed the ultimate marital sin—adultery.

You know what? You’re probably right, Felisha hands trembled as she lit another cigarette and blew out the smoke then pushed her hands through her long Sisterlocks that were dyed blond at the ends.

When they find Junior, I think I’m going to let him go live with his daddy. I think that will be best for everybody.

Yeah, that might be for the best because I don’t know how many more guns I’m willing to stare down.

I know you didn’t let him scare you. Did you?

Shittttttt! That nigga had me scared, but I held my own, fuck that.

The two burst out laughing as Tyreek acted out Pinky’s part on Friday after Next. He showed her that he too could be funny while facing a difficult situation.

Felisha continued to laugh but the stress lines around her eyes painted a picture of extreme sadness that lingered beneath the surface. Her only child was out there in the hands of a stranger. Despite their differences, she wished she could be with Taggart; out there searching for their son together as a team.

I fucked up, she mumbled to herself, I fucking fucked up for real this time.

Her grandmother had told her on several occasions that she would only learn the real value of love after it was gone. Now she knew exactly what she meant and that feeling was not sitting too well with her.

Come here baby. Let me make you feel better, Tyreek pulled Felisha closer. He leaned over to give her a kiss, but she turned away. 

What’s wrong? Did I do something?

Felisha got up and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of Pink Moscato out of the refrigerator and poured her a glass. She guzzled it down like a shot of liquor. After another glass she leaned against the stove, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Tyreek walked into the kitchen. He rubbed his hands together and leaned against the wall. He stared at Felisha but did not say a word.

Felisha’s eyes were closed and tears were running down her face.

This aint gone work, she said, after hearing Tyreek enter the kitchen. I want my family back. I love my husband and despite how it looks right now, I know he loves me too.

Tyreek dropped his head. I don’t know why I let myself get involved with you. You said you would never go back to that nigga. You got me believing y’all getting a divorce. I thought we had something going here.

His voice was cracking as he spoke.

Felisha wiped the tears from her eyes and walked to the front door and opened it. Her mind was made up.

Let’s not make this any harder than it should be, she looked back at Tyreek.

I’m not. It’s whatever. It is what it is. I’ll live, Tyreek walked out and slammed the door behind him.

Felisha leaned against the door, then slid down to the floor. She started crying again. She was beside herself with disappointment. 

After crying until she could not cry anymore. She finally calmed herself enough to get off the floor.

If anything was going to change, she realized that she would be the one that had to change it.

She walked into the living room, grabbed her car keys off the table, and ran out of the house into the stormy weather.

THE GETAWAY

With the heavy rain providing cover, James navigated the Chevy Impala down the city’s back streets with one hand wrapped tightly around the steering wheel and the other firmly clutching a Smith & Wesson 40 caliber handgun. His eyes stayed locked on the road as water splashed onto the windshield as he drove through several puddles.

Fucking Florida weather! Clear skies all day, now a damn rainstorm appears out of nowhere. Go figure.

James complained about the weather just like the rest of the Floridians who endured its unpredictability.

If it was up to him, he definitely would not have been out in the rain driving around with a ten year old boy in the backseat knocked out. Instead, he would have been cuddled up with his girlfriend Pam watching a movie. But it was not up to him. Patrick called the shots.

After entering the Parramore neighborhood, he breathed a sigh of relief. The safe house where he was to drop off his car was a block away on Citrus Street. As he drove down the block, he hesitated after spotting an unmarked Ford Taurus parked in the garage of the house he was headed. But before he could turn around, the headlights flashed three times with two follow up flashes. It was a signal that Patrick often used so he drove in and parked.

After parking, he looked over his shoulder at the kid in the back seat. The boy was snoring and in a deep sleep. 

He shook his head.

The situation had gotten out of control.

Everything was going in slow motion as he turned back around in his seat and stared at Patrick who was staring at him.  

Patrick leaned against the driver’s side door. He rubbed his hands together, then glanced around the garage of the dilapidated house. The ceiling leaked water in several spots. The door leading from the garage into the kitchen area was badly decayed with pinball size holes in it. The hinges were missing screws and barely hanging on to keep it upright.

Damn this place is fucked up.

 He glanced at his watch, then back over to James.

He needs to hurry the fuck up.

James finally got out of the car.

Where’s the boy? Patrick wasted no time getting the show on the road.

He’s in the backseat knocked out.

You didn’t use too much of that chloroform did you?

Nah, just enough to shut his screaming ass up. That boy got some fight in him.

Patrick smiled. I wouldn’t expect anything less. His father’s a rough and tough—

A loud thudding sound startled Patrick and James and brought their conversation to a halt. They pulled out their guns and pointed them in opposite directions while standing back to back.

The rotted out wood in the ceiling had cracked under the immense pressure of the rain; causing parts of the ceiling to collapse and water to pour onto the floor.

 After looking up at the ceiling, they could see the heavy rain and dark skies through the stop sign sized hole in the roof.

Grab the kid. We got to get out of here! Patrick yelled.

While James grabbed the boy out of the back seat, Patrick poured gasoline on top of and inside of Sergeant Macdonald’s unmarked police car then, walked over and did the same to James’ Impala. He started a trail from the garage and continued through the house. Rats roaming around in the semi furnished living room ran over to the liquid, then scampered away from the stench of the smell. When he reached the back door, he dropped the can then lit a match and tossed it onto the liquid. The blue and orange flame lit the trail all the way to the garage.

Once outside, Patrick and James were met with a downpour as they ran through the backyard to reach the fence. Patrick hopped the rusty orange colored gate first. He reached back over and grabbed the boy out of James’ hands. James quickly hopped the fence and followed him.

Patrick turned to James as soon as they reached a big Oak tree for cover.

I got a black Tahoe parked down the street on Piedmont, He tossed James the keys; I’m going to stay here with the kid. Hurry back

James missed catching the keys as they bounced off of his hand and hit the ground. He bent down and searched through the mud to retrieve them. His scrunched up face could not be seen through the darkness. He was tired of playing second fiddle to Patrick. He just hadn’t figured out a way to break away from him yet. The last thing he wanted to do was to follow his orders and force that kid to go with him, but once