Chapter 15

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No one really appreciates a friendship, until they are tested with a situation that requires loyalty.

A situation, in which a person has proven, that their integrity is not based upon something as trivial as money.

When it's time to determine whether or not they help their comrade make it home safe, the bond that binds them as friends will not be broken.

As events unfolded at the bank, in search for the robbers, and law enforcement scoured through the woodland like ants over an anthill, Kirkwood Kenny had already decided that his friend was not going to make it.

With a fifth of peppermint Schnapps vodka palmed in his hand, Kenny sat beside the couch and glanced at D-Money's injured leg.

"Damn, homey..." he mumbled and passed D-Money the bottle.

Beads of sweat covered his brow.

His hands shook.

His lips were chapped.

His movements were sluggish.

D-Money took a swig of the liquor and passed it back.

Blood smeared the outside of the bottle as they passed it back and forth between them.

"Man, I'm not trying to die in this dingy muthafucker..."

"You're going to be good, Shawty. Just rest."

"I'm dizzy, dawg. It feels like I'm getting sleepy...but I'm not about to go to sleep."

There was firm conviction in his voice.

He was fighting hard to maintain consciousness.

"Maybe I need to go to the hospital after all... See if they can stop the bleeding."

Kenny took a swig from the bottle and passed it back without saying a word.

The towel wrapped about his leg was saturated with blood.

D-Money followed the trajectory of his gaze and knew that his friend was calculating.

He could tell by Kenny's body language, that he expected him to kick the bucket.

Without D-Money alive, to incriminate him, there was no one else to testify against him.

No one except Swaylo...

When he considered everything involved, Kirkwood Kenny knew that he would not hesitate to eliminate his friend, as an enemy to his freedom.

D-Money could see where his thoughts were evolving.

He had over a half-million in cash within his possession, and his only companion lay dying in Shonda Williams' apartment.

There was no ceiling to obstruct the flight of his rocket.

Kenny took the bottle back without speaking.

The pain that D-Money was experiencing, was captured in each grimace of agony, that flashed across his features.

For nearly ten minutes there was nothing but silence.

Each of them lost in what that moment meant to them...

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, homey..."

D-Money did not decipher his meaning.

They both were supposed to be en route to the beautiful beaches of Miami.

But here he was laid up, bleeding...

Certain that he would probably not see another sunrise.

Death could be seen lingering upon the horizon.

Kirkwood Kenny slid a butchers' knife from his side, waiting for D-Money to take another swig of vodka.

As the warm liquid coated his esophagus, Kenny drove the knife into his neck and held it.

D-Money grunted pain, as Kenny's palm slammed into his collarbone, with the force of a punch.

His whimper of shock was accompanied by a grab at Kenny's wrist.

His eyes were bulging with tears, fears, and raw desperation.

He made a brief attempt to wrestle Kenny's weight from atop of him, but the struggle was futile...

Darkness began to envelop him like syrup flowing over hot pancakes.

He was beyond the realm, where the bustle of life could be heard through the silence.

When D-Money's body ceased to twitch with convulsions, Kirkwood Kenny stood to gather up his belongings.

He did not want to leave behind anything that could lead back to him.

Once he located Swaylo, he planned to disappear, without leaving behind any link between them.

That meant that he was on a very short timetable.

He had to eliminate Swaylo before he got caught by the cops, or he began talking to somebody, Kenny decided.

And he had an idea just who he could contact, from Eastlake Meadows, that would point him in the right direction.

But, first, he had to clean out his belongings from Shonda Williams' apartment.

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