Unlawful Revenge

By Joclyn Gipson Dilworth

Unlawful
In the eyes of the law, running the streets was illegal.
For Isaac and his brother, it was business.
Who said crime didnt pay?

Revenge
When their business and the law got tangled, Isaacs brother got killed in the crossfire. Losing his brother at the hands of a detective, Isaac decided to take justice into his own hands. He was out for revenge.
It was his goal to let his business and the law intertwine once more as he sought Unlawful Revenge!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 10, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469147420

Joclyn Gipson Dilworth

Joclyn Gipson-Dilworth is a native of Pine Bluff, Arkansas and has been her entire life. She is a faithful member of Grace Temple Missionary Baptist Church in Pine Bluff. She is married with two children. Writing has been her passion her whole life as she has been writing for as long as she can remember. She has written several novels, all of which vary from romance to drama to mystery. Her goal is to become well established in her writing ability and a renowned author.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by Joclyn Gipson-Dilworth.

Library of Congress Control Number:           2012900250

ISBN:           Hardcover           978-1-4691-4741-3

           Softcover           978-1-4691-4740-6

           Ebook           978-1-4691-4742-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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CONTENTS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

This book is dedicated to

My husband, Albert Dilworth III,

and my Godmother,

Varry Surratt,

because they raved about it to everyone!

It made me feel good that they enjoyed it that much.

It is, also, dedicated to my friends

Khesia Long, for listening to my whole story,

and The Ladies of Great Expectations!

1 

Year: 2008

New York City, New York

LATE EVENING . . .

Madness and Suspense!

Bloodshed and tragedy!

Everything was corrupt, and the expectations of the future had bland uncertainties. So much was happening that there was only one way to have closure. The solution was to catch the culprits at foul play. Neither was it an easy task nor was it a short-term goal to be accomplished. Every ounce of intelligence, strong-will, creativity, and determination that could be mustered from deep within was required.

The journey to the heights of simplicity was rough, very rocky, but finally the night had come that would cancel all other vile operations. The criminals were going to be apprehended on this very long and much anticipated evening.

Detective Kamarié James and his partner, McKenzie Davenport, were assigned to the case. It was fulfilling for both of them to know that the case was finally concluding. It was a strenuous process, hectic and required long hours. The hours were normal for such a case, but the in-between was overwhelming.

Three extremely wicked and very dangerous drug dealers had been under observation for several months as the case was unfolding.

Finally, the night had come when their hideout would be embarked upon. If nothing failed, the detectives would siege them in the act of doing their dirty business. Every move made had to be carefully contemplated. Too much was at stake. Innocent people, even children, were involved.

It was actually public knowledge that Artis Griffin was a suffering drug addict. Young and naïve, he carried himself as most addicts, carelessly. Whatever methods necessary to get his drugs, he fell through. He didn’t seem to care who got hurt in the process. As long as he got what he wanted, it was fine with him. That was typical of an addict, a sad situation.

At seventeen, it was shameful to see him wasting away, practically deteriorating. If his addiction wasn’t soon rehabilitated, it would be the death of him. Taking one step at a time, the detectives would catch the dealers first, cease his supply. Perhaps, it would postpone his ability to get more, at least for a while. The next logical move would be to turn him over to drug-counseling so that he could rehabilitate himself. Perhaps, he could be an example for his peers, possibly prevent them from making the mistakes he made.

It was a strong suspicion that the wanted drug dealers were his suppliers. If the plan went accordingly, Artis was going to lead the detectives directly to the crooks. Thus far, everything was on a timely schedule.

Presently, the detectives sat outside Artis’s slum apartment building in a rental car to keep a low profile. They were staking out the building, expecting that something was soon going to transpire.

The phone lines had been tapped. The detectives were listening. They wore small earpieces that could be slipped into the inner ear and practically disappeared. It was very inconspicuous. Naturally, pedestrians passing by would assume they were waiting for someone to either arrive at the complex or come out of one of the apartments. It wasn’t obvious that they were two detectives, waiting to make their move.

Earlier, Artis was overheard reporting to another young man that the exchange was going to be made tonight. There weren’t many exchanges that had to be kept a secret, which was an indication that the detectives were on the correct path.

Now, the only task to be done was to wait. Naturally, everything would fall into place without unorthodox hesitation.

It was likely that Artis was going to be of assistance to them because he was extremely gullible. He had been under keen observation for several weeks, and he was none the wiser. He had always been conspicuous. His actions were irresponsible. Neither did it seem to occur to him that the police could be watching him nor did it seem to occur that the police could be lurking nearby when he associated with his addict friends. Their conversations were so vivid, concealing nothing. No secrets were kept among them. It was quite clear that all of them were gullible or none of them cared enough to be discreet.

So what happened the other night? McKenzie asked, resting her head comfortably against the seat. Her attention was focused straight ahead. Several thoughts swam in her head, but at the moment, she was curious about an unfinished conversation between her and her partner. Listening, she was ready for him to plunge into a long detailed story about his brother and his girlfriend. He last told her that he was thinking of proposing, but he never told her the outcome. Her curiosity was rising now.

Of course, if her partner’s brother was getting married, she would be in attendance at the wedding. That was only right, an injustice if she didn’t go.

McKenzie and Kamarié were more than just partners on the police force. They were, also, best friends, becoming acquainted when they both trained with the academy eight years ago. They worked well together from the beginning.

Starting out as rookie-cops, their partners were different. Kamarié’s partner was an older police officer, who had been on the force for years. Training was his specialty. McKenzie’s partner was a young man, who only had a few more years under his belt than she did. He was a good teacher, however. His lack of years didn’t hinder him from doing his job well. Besides, she learned fast.

Kamarié was the first to become a detective.

The lieutenant, who observed them both thoroughly, suggested that McKenzie go for detective, as well. Taking his advice, she became a detective, also. The lieutenant immediately paired them together, making a wise choice.

Now, they were two of the most distinguished detectives on the New York City police force.

It was getting dark. The streetlights were coming on.

The weather was rather cool outside. A heavy jacket was appropriate. It was a comfortable atmosphere in the rental car. The engine was running, and the heater was blowing warm air.

The question caught Kamarié completely off guard. Silence rained for at least ten minutes before McKenzie’s voice interrupted the peacefulness in the car. The radio wasn’t even on. Even though he knew she was present, her voice came forth as a surprise.

Sitting behind the wheel, he glanced in her direction. What happened to whom? He had no clue what she was talking about. His mind was clouded with thoughts of catching the drug dealers. They couldn’t be on the same wavelength. Surely, she was referring to something totally different.

What happened with your brother? When is the wedding? Naturally, Kasey proposed and Gail accepted. That much should go without saying. It would be the obvious.

Oh! He remembered that he hadn’t updated her on the situation. His brother and his girlfriend didn’t make it. It was a sad ending, but it happened, the unexpected of course.

Kamarié was silent, catching a glimpse of a short teenage boy walking down the sidewalk toward Artis’s building in the rear-view mirror. He wasn’t distracted, just cautious. Nothing should slip by him because he was talking about personal matters. He could do two things at once.

The teenager wore a windbreaker and a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes to protect his identity. A green tee shirt with yellow writing was underneath the thin jacket. His jeans were wrinkled, although not very. The use of a warm iron could have been a quick remedy. His hiking boots were well-worn, obviously comfortably old.

There was an unclear object was in his hand. The other hand was jammed into his jeans pocket. Apparently, he didn’t mean to hide whatever he was holding. Clearly, it was something to be delivered, even though he didn’t hold it with care. It was just in his hand.

Kamarié kept his eyes on him as he drew nearer. He was very suspicious, probably the bait. If indeed he and Artis were connected, Kamarié instantly concluded that he was smarter than his accomplice. Apparently, he was willing to take no chances on anyone being able to associate the two of them. It was a clever move to cover his eyes. Still, he wasn’t too bright. A means of transportation would have been more feasible. A bike could have ridden. Perhaps, someone could have brought him rather than he walk. The getaway would have been easier and quicker. Even if he was a track star, it would be impossible to out run a fast moving vehicle! He could get run down or backed into a corner.

No, he answered his partner. He didn’t even blink. He kept his eyes on the young man. Gail says she’s not ready for marriage. I think they broke up.

What? McKenzie was shocked by the unfortunate dilemma. She was positive that Kamarié’s little brother and his girlfriend were going to be together for eternity. The relationship already had two years of investment. They made a lovely young couple. They didn’t even have any major problems, nothing more than the normal spats between couples. It was a disappointment to hear that the relationship didn’t last, unfortunate and heartbreaking.

Kasey James, Kamarié’s brother, was cute for a young man.

The James brothers had great resemblance. The obvious relation was there to be acknowledged. Kamarié’s face, however, was much more mature. There was never a question of who was older. Kamarié was clearly the eldest. Kasey couldn’t be mistaken for older than the twenty-three he was.

Kamarié wasn’t very tall, but he was muscular for his size. His torso was nice. He often lifted weights and stayed in the gym to keep himself in shape. It was necessary in case of an unexpected tussle. It could happen in his line of work. He had broad shoulders, firm legs, and a toned stomach. His skin was a nice golden brown. His hair was low, a manageable length. His face was distinguished, as he had thick eyebrows and a well-groomed beard. He was quite attractive. Were they not business partners, McKenzie would have found him attractive on a personal level. Like most, mixing business with pleasure wasn’t her forté.

She was aware that Kamarié was a wonderful person. He would probably make an excellent boyfriend for some deserving woman. He was loveable, even though he didn’t like to allow too many people to get close to him. He didn’t trust very easily, which was completely comprehensible. She was the same way. Supposedly, it came along with the territory of being an extraordinary detective. He was always on his toes, taking his job very seriously, and he always had time for her on both a personal and business level. He knew how to keep them both separate, which was greatly appreciated.

McKenzie sat up straight and looked at her partner, wanting to know what happened in full detail. She was about to open her mouth, but the complex door opened.

Artis stepped outside.

Bingo! Kamarié thought when he saw Artis. It was obvious that he timed when the bait should be arriving, and he was coming to meet him. The timing was immaculate.

Artis’s features were rather boyish. His face had a certain hint of immaturity. No facial hair was growing. His face was smooth, not a single blemish. If one didn’t know him, he could easily be mistaken for twelve or thirteen. It would be difficult to believe that he was actually seventeen. His face didn’t display his years of life. He was dressed moderately sloppy. His button down shirt hung over his pants. The pants didn’t particularly match. They were a smoky gray, and the shirt was yellow. His dull white sneakers weren’t laced. His hair was rough, growing into a mini afro. A haircut was much needed to tame and improve his appearance.

Artis immediately spotted the young man. He ran down the steps to meet him.

The detectives observed quietly, allowing the conversation to fade into the darkness. It was one that could be finished later, at a more appropriate time.

The stranger promptly gave Artis the package, which could then be identified as a paper bag, pointed down the street, and said a few words to him. When the message was delivered, he turned and went back the way he came in no particular hurry to get away.

Artis ran back up the steps with the package in protective custody, disappearing inside.

The detectives exchanged glances.

No doubt, the young man was the person with whom Artis conversed earlier. Apparently, the package was his contribution to the whole deal. What exactly was the content of the paper bag? It was much too small to contain a gun or a weapon unless it was a pocketknife. It wasn’t a knife because it could have been exchanged from hand to hand without the use of a bag. This was exactly what they were waiting for, the obvious link to the crime.

Their eyes darted back to the scene. Curiosity was rising.

The door opened again, and Artis stepped out wearing an overcoat and a baseball cap, but it wasn’t pulled down over his eyes. He looked around to be sure no one saw him. Dark tint on the rental car windows protected the detectives from being singled out as potential witnesses.

The view from the rental was very distinct, but no one could see inside because it was getting dark.

Certain that no one was watching, Artis walked down the street to a limousine parked at the curb, which the stranger so obviously point out for him. He climbed inside.

The limousine was the last piece of evidence to put the case together. It was now an absolute fact that Artis was going to deal with the wanted dealers. Only they could afford to send such an expensive vehicle for a customer. It was, also, another way to keep everything quiet. A taxi couldn’t have been sent. The driver would have to have been informed of where he was going. The information couldn’t be given to just anyone. This specific limousine was probably a personal one. The chauffeur was definitely going to keep things under wraps. He was possibly one of the very few to be trusted with such pertinent information.

Let’s go, McKenzie commanded. Expectantly, the exchange was about to be made.

Kamarié waited for the limousine to pull away from the curb.

The rental car stayed out of sight, following the limousine to what appeared to be nowhere. It stopped in a dark area on the outskirts of town. Artis got out, disappearing into the woods.

The limousine drove away.

Kamarié turned off the engine, parking a little distance away to stay out of sight. He and McKenzie anxiously got out of the car and crept through the woods after Artis.

Up ahead, a light shone, leading the way.

That must be the hideout, McKenzie whispered, anxious to see for herself. Obviously, it was.

Kamarié was in total agreement. Of course! Let’s go, he whispered back.

The hideout was exactly that! It was practically hidden in a far out place, and it would have been a well kept secret had Artis not lead them to it. No one would have ever guessed to drive so far for the many exchanges that were probably made in the secret place.

Quietly, the detectives crept through the woods, keeping a keen eye on Artis.

Stay down, Kamarié whispered.

They approached what looked like a hidden garage with plenty of windows.

McKenzie ducked down behind him, careful to stay close. A small gun was in her hand. She was ready for whatever the night could bring forth.

The crisp air was cool against their faces.

The sky was dark, and the lit garage seemed to be like a twinkling star in the night.

At the edge of the woods, they stopped and spied on Artis.

He walked up to the garage and yelled a secret password at the closed door.

Seconds later, the automatic door lifted, and he entered. The door closed behind him.

Ok, let’s move in. McKenzie nudged her partner.

Kamarié was ready. He was anxious to see what would be revealed from the bag.

In a matter of seconds, the case was going to be closed. Artis was overdue for more cocaine, and he was about to fill his own personal prescription.

Earlier over the phone, he told someone that he was craving more drugs. Then, he practically begged him to help him get a refill. It was probably the young man who arrived on the scene at the apartment. Clever, the two never used names while speaking to each other over the phone.

Afterwards, Artis left the house. When he returned, another phone call was made. This time, he reported to someone else that the exchange would be made tonight. Those were the two major clues that he was going to replenish his supply of cocaine tonight. The only question was who was his supply man?

There was only one way to find out, and the detectives were about to discover the answer.

They crept up to a window, hoping their footsteps hadn’t been detected. They peeped inside.

The garage was filthy, filled with a lot of junk. Shelves lined every free wall, and they were filled with tools and various mechanical parts. Tires were stacked in one corner of the building. Gasoline barrels were spaced out in another. Paint cans were everywhere.

The lighting was very bright, almost lighting up the night.

Just as suspected, all three men were present.

The ringleader, Isaac Paylor, better known on the streets as Ice, was rather tall and built. His black hair was in ear length twists. He was a dark skinned fellow, one who would vanish into the darkness of the night. Only the whites of his eyes would be visible.

There was hardness about his face. It was obvious that he wasn’t a child. His age, however, couldn’t easily be guessed. It would be difficult to pinpoint because once his age was actually known, one would automatically assume that he had a hard life. There was a roughness that one would expect of a man of his character. His expression was often cold, hard, and always threatening. He definitely wasn’t a friendly person, the all business, no nonsense, type. He was an intimidating person because he gave the impression of unsympathetic and sinister. His attitude was reflected in his features. It was obvious that he preferred to be left alone, and he didn’t entertain much company.

His dress code was that of a businessman, but the colors were always dark and dull. It was apparent that he enjoyed the quiet dullness of the night as opposed to the beauty of a bright day.

Jordan Paylor, his younger brother, was the total opposite of him. He was short and light in complexion. His face had a look of innocence. Just by sight, no one would ever suspect him capable of mischief. His appearance displayed a young intellect, not at all a young thug or a budding drug dealer. His dark brown hair was braided in neat designs going to the back. There was length to his hair. His braids extended and hung with clear beads on the ends. His hair was always fresh and neat. Appearance was everything to him. His ears were pierced and diamond studs were in them.

His nickname on the street was Dino.

He wasn’t as conservative as his brother. He wore whatever felt comfortable, which was usually a tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Each article of his attire was always name brand and matched the other. His jeans were always starched and well creased. The sneakers always matched his shirt.

The last of the Paylor men, as they were from a renowned family, Isaac and Jordan were close, having a tight bond. The foundation of the Paylor family began with Henson Paylor, their grandfather. He, a workaholic, struggled hard to pave the way for his three sons. A wealthy businessman, Henson owned a real estate company, a small chain of department stores, and several rental properties. A wise man, he invested his money in stocks and bonds, which when cashed, paid for his sons’ college education. His death was of old age.

Dexter Paylor, his