Brock 2 Page 3

  “How does it feel, bitch? How does it feel? It don’t feel good being kicked, uh huh? Do it now? You fucking rich, stuck up bitch. You think you can just kick someone in their face and get away with it. That is the problem with you spoiled mother fuckers. Y’all think you can treat the rest of society beneath you, but that is not the case. In reality, we are people too. Our lives have just as much meaning as someone with a larger bank account or a spoiled brat living off daddy’s money,” the masked man said, kicking her repeatedly. Giving her no time to breathe or to catch her breath, each blow he kicked her harder pressing the heel of his Timberland boot on her cheek and on her pink lips saying, “Kiss the heel of my boot, bitch.”

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Chenille and the masked man heard someone yell in a deep tone. They both looked towards the room door way to see his partner with Bruce standing in front them with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head.

  “I’m teaching this trust fund bitch a lesson.”

  “No, please stop, don’t hurt my daughter,” Bruce screamed as he dropped to his knees and begged.

  “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” the man in the Bill Clinton mask yelled, and then turned his attention back to his partner, “For the last fucking time, I told you to stick to the plan. We don’t have time for this. If I warn you again, I will put a bullet in between your fucking eyes. Am I fucking clear?” the robber in the Bill Clinton mask asked through clenched teeth.

  His partner could not see the expression on his face because of the mask but could see rage in his eyes and the tone of his voice was steady and calm, letting him know he meant every word. He swiftly removed the heel of his boot from Chenille’s face and pulled out a clear zip tie and tied her hands behind her back with her wrists together, and then zip tied her ankles together. As he bent down and placed the duct tape around her mouth, he said, “Your ass is lucky today, bitch. But I promise you if we ever cross paths again, I am really going to show you what pain is,” he mumbled, and then stood up straight.

  The robber with the Bill Clinton mask on lifted Bruce off the floor. “Your daughter is fine now. Now, where is the money?” he said in a demanding tone while pushing Bruce towards the master bedroom with his partner following closely behind them while rubbing his head.

  “Fucking little bitch,” the George Bush masked man mumbled under his breath as Bruce pushed open the double doorstop. The master bedroom revealed to be a grand room. The size of two living rooms. Everything was decorated in black and white. On the far side of the room was a painting of Penelope wearing a skin tight red dress that left little to the imagination. It had a split on the side showing off her perfectly shaped thighs and a silt in the front of the dress showed off her cantaloupe cleavage. “Damn if your wife wasn’t such a bitch, I would be tempted to slide in that once or twice. She is sexy as hell. I can see why you put up with her. Look like you invested a nice piece of money into that body of hers,” the robber with the George Bush mask stated as he thought of her fighting back as he tried to take her sweetness. The thought of it aroused him and he could feel his dick growing inch by inch in his jeans.

  “Shut the fuck up and remember to keep your mind on the task at hand,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask shouted, and then turned his attention back towards Bruce. “So where is the fucking money?”

  “I am going to take you to it now,” Bruce said nervously. Please don’t let them kill me or my family after they get what they want,” Bruce prayed to himself, hoping God could hear his prayer to the safe. “I need my hands cut free,” Bruce said.

  “No you fucking don’t just tell us the combination to the safe and we will open it,” the robber with the Bill Clinton Mask replied.

  “It is not that kind of safe. I need to scan my hand print in order to open it,” Bruce replied.

  “Man, he is lying. I say we kill him and his family and take any jewelry we can find and get the fuck out of here. He is just trying to buy time until the cops show up,” the robber with the George Bush mask said and pushes the barrel of the gun to the back of Bruce’s head.

  “We did not come here for any chump change. Fall the fuck back and let me handle this,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said as he pulled a flip pocket knife from his pocket and pressed a button and the knife flipped open displaying a blade that he used to cut the zip ties off of Bruce’s wrist. “You better not be playing me for a fool or I will let my partner have his way with your family. And from looking at this painting on the wall, I now he is going to enjoy the sounds of your wife screaming,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said.

  “No…no. I am not playing any games. Please don’t hurt me and my family. I will show you,” Bruce said as he hit a small black button next to the large painting of his wife. He stepped back and the painting slowly opened up to reveal a large safe behind it. Bruce stepped towards it and pressed his hand against what looked like a small T.V. screen. A bright green light came on and scanned his hand print and the safe opened up.

  “Yes…yes. I told you we hit the right house this month,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said. As he stared over Bruce’s shoulder into the safe, he could see stacks on top of stacks of money with a wrapping around each stack reading $10,000,000 and jewelry also could be seen on the ground of the safe. He quickly tied Bruce back up with the zip ties and shoved him down on the bed, and then orders his partner with the George Bush mask on to take the pillow cases off the bed and hand them to him. He wasted no time.

  “Vegas, here I come!” he said in excitement.

  “Just shut the fuck up and get over here,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said.

  They quickly stuffed all three pillow case bags with money and jewelry. “We are going to need two more bags. I never understood why the rich keep so much fucking money in their damn house. Hey Bruce fill me in on that shit would you?” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said.

  Bruce’s heart raced, praying they would just hurry up and just take the money and leave. His mouth was dry as his lips pushed open for him to speak. “The enemy is money. People never know what they have to escape with if all the banks shut down because of a black out. A con artist would still need money too, but would not have access to it,” Bruce said, swallowing his spit.

  “Some enemy. HAHAHA! There’s more money than most would make in a life time,” the robber with the George Bush mask said.

  “Okay enough talking. Take these three bags and run them to the truck. I will get another pillow case and a sheet to grab the rest. Make sure you take them out to the car,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said.

  “Yes,” his partner replied sarcastically. As he scooped up the pillow cases filled with money and jewelry, he walked off singing the tune, “On the First Day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, two bags full of money.” As he walked down the stairs, he took a peek at Penelope. She was squirming around on the marble floor, crying unable to move. Lustful thoughts ran through his mind as the picture up stairs flashed in his mind. ‘Hmm, I wonder if I have enough time just for quick taste, a quick feel of her pussy. Just to see her crying and squirming around, is such a turn on,’ he thought to himself as he became aroused and felt his dick rising, getting hard as a rock. The sound of Leah and Paula crying snapped him back into reality. “Damn, I guess there will always be a next time, my dear,” he said out loud as he walked passed her in the living room to the grand double front doors. He opened it and laughed without a care in the world. “Damn, I am going to buy me that new car I wanted and my condo and fuck as many whores I can. I’m going to buy the best pussy. Hahahaha,” he said to himself while day dreaming about the many ways his life was about to change for the better with his new found fortune.

  “Freeze! Don’t move!” He heard someone scream in a deep tone voice, snapping him out of his day dream. He looked straight ahead to see a police car had pulled up into the long drive way and a passenger hopped out of the car before it could come to a complete st
op. There was a young Caucasian man in his early twenties, gripping his 9mm glock with both hands aiming his way.

  “Shit! Shit! I can’t go to jail. Why didn’t I take the back door of the house? Our truck is parked in the back of the property behind the gate, out of sight.” The robber could sense the police officer was a rookie and had never dealt with a situation like this before just from the way he rushed into the situation without evaluating what was happening. He just jumped out of the car without his partner, no backup. He should have used the front of the car door to shield himself.

  “Hey, I live here. This is my property,” the masked robber shouted, thinking fast. He dropped the bag.

  “Take off the mask and put your hands up in the air! I will take your wallet out of your pocket in order to confirm what you are saying is true,” the young police officer shouted back in a demanding tone.

  “Okay! Okay!” the robber replied as his mind raced, thinking of his next move. He dropped the three pillow cases full of money and jewelry on the floor and slowly grabbed his mask by the chin area to lift it up. He pulled it up over his mouth while keeping his eyes on the police officer.

  The young police officer cut his eyes looking sideways for a second to see that his partner had put the car in park and was hopping out of the car. That one second of looking away from the robber was all the robber needed. He pulled down his mask quickly and pulled out his chrome 9mm from his waist line of his pants, aimed it, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet rushed out of the gun and slammed into the center of the young police officer’s forehead and exited out of the back of his skull, taking brain matter, tissue, and chunks of his brain mixed with flesh flying everywhere in the air. The young police officer blinked twice as a single stream of thick red blood leaked out of the perfectly shaped O hole in his forehead. He fell to the ground head first and his skull split wide open, shattering like a glass plate being thrown to the ground.

  “NOOOO!” his partner screamed and began firing wildly, sending bullets towards the robber’s face. The robber returned gun fire while ducking low and running for his life. He ran back into the house. “Ten…Thirteen, Ten…Thirteen! Officer down…officer down! Shots fired! I need back up!” the police officer yelled into his walkie talkie.

  The robber was breathing hard as his partner came down stairs with a pillow case filled full of money. “What the fuck? I heard gun shots and where is the money? Did you put it in the car?” the Bill Clinton masked robber said, hoping his insane friend hadn’t killed Bruce’s family.

  “No! There is a police car outside. I killed one of the cops and I heard the other one call in for back up. We have to go now,” the robber in the George Bush mask said.

  “I told your dumb ass to go out the back door. Where is the money?” his partner asked.

  “I had to drop it.”

  “You fucking fool! Let’s go. I have a plan,” the robber with the Bill Clinton mask said as both of them ran through the kitchen to the back door and ran out of the house. Sirens could be heard coming from down the block, getting closer to the house. Bruce’s property sat on four acres of land.

  In the back yard a marble stair case lead down to a large pool and a pool house, and then to a tennis court. The robbers ran passed the tennis court and into the neatly sculpted, trimmed brushes. They hopped over the black fence that had spikes on top of them. As they hopped into their car that was waiting for them, they removed their masks, stuffing them up under the seat, and popped open the glove compartment retrieving two golden shields that had chains on them. They placed the chains around their necks and then started up the car. One of them hit a switch on the dashboard in the car, turning the red and blue flickering lights on joining in with the other sirens as they pulled up following four blue and white police cars to the front of Bruce’s mansion. The two robbers looked at each other and grinned. “I swear robbing the rich can’t get no easier than this,” the leader said as they both burst out laughing.

  Chapter 5

  Natalie gripped the small black judge revolver 2.50, which it only held five bullets, but each bullet was the size of a grown man’s index finger. It took her a month to learn how to handle the recoil for the gun. A bullet could blow a hole the size of a baseball in an object, but could also knock Natalie flat on her ass until she learned how to brace her stance when shooting. She lifted up the sleeve to her hoodie and stared at the scar of the teeth marks that ripped away her flesh. She fought back her tears as she imagined Brock keeping her trapped in the living room, butt naked replaying through her mind. She touched her stomach swearing she could still feel him inside of her. A single tear traveled down the corner of her eye down to her cheek.

  “I swear, I will find you and kill you. You took everything from me,” she said as the tears began to stream down her face and the water in her eyes clouded her vision.

  She wiped her tears away as she stood across the street of the huge house surrounded by a brick fence. “I know you are close. I can feel it. That dog is the devil himself,” she mumbled to herself. She walked across the street to the Thompson’s house that she has been watching for over the past week. “I have seen two Great Danes and a German Shepherd. I could not make out the faces of the two Great Danes to see if one could be mixed with a Boxer. I read in the newspaper one of the dogs attacked a ten year old girl, tearing chunks of her thigh away. The family paid the child’s family a large lump sum of money in order to make the charges go away. I just know one of those damn dogs is Brock. I just need to get a good look at their faces,” Natalie said to herself as she bent over and picked up the plastic grocery bags, filled with three thick cut raw steaks she had just gotten from the supermarket.

  It was in the middle of the afternoon. Most people were at work or handling some type of business. The sun was shining bright in January. Natalie looked like any other normal woman, jogging and that was concerned about her weight. Natalie was a woman on a mission. Her black tight leggings matched the black hoodie she had on. In the front of the hoodie, it held her favorite new toy that she couldn’t wait to use on Brock. Her New Balance sneakers were laced up and tied tightly, ready if she needed to run. She was prepared for anything. As she began to act as if she was jogging, she made her way across the street. The closer she got to the house the more her stomach bubbled in fear. “Don’t be afraid. I cannot be weak. That damn piece of shit dog took too much from me. I can never live a normal life until he is dead,” she said out loud to herself while continuing to stare at the house.

  All of a sudden a dark gray cloud covered the sky, blocking the sun and it started to rain lightly. “All the signs are here. I must do this,” Natalie said to herself as she looked up and down the street, making sure no one was watching her. She inched closer to the five feet brick wall, and then jumped up grabbing the edge of the wall, pulling herself up and leaped over the wall landing into some bushes and grass. She gained her composure checking her hoodie and making sure her gun did not fall out during the scaling of the wall and during the landing. She stepped out from the bushes, studying her surroundings. At a first glance, she could tell that the owner of the house was not rich, but successful like a lawyer or doctor like her husband. The driveway was big enough to fit five cars but only a Nissan Maxima was parked there. The grass looked as if it was cut in to a terrible zip patch cutting as if someone had cut a tic tac toe design to it. The house was a three story brick house. Natalie turned her head and saw that the neighborhood children’s balls hand bounced into the yard. ‘That must be the reason that the little girl got attacked last came on this property was for her ball,’ Natalie thought to herself as she slowly creep from the behind the brushes towards the back yard.

  GRRRRR! The sound of growling came from behind her. She stopped in her tracks. GRRRRR! The sound of the growling stopped her heart beat for just a second. It started beating slowly, and then rapidly sped up. “Oh God,” she mumbled as her mind flashed back to her sleeping in her bedroom.

  She had shut the door,
but somehow Brock opened it. The sound of low growling had woke her up from her sleep to see the dark green eyes, glowing in the dark. Brock’s large mouth opened and sunk his teeth into her ankles, and then yanking her off the bed, dragging her out into the hallway screaming.

  “AHA,” Natalie let out a light scream as she relived the flashback. It felt as if she was right there all over again. The sound of her own voice from screaming snapped her back into reality, making her realize she was no longer in that position but might be in one that was just as dangerous. She slowly turned around to see that she was now standing in the pouring rain face to face with a brown and black German shepherd. The kind that police officers use to chase down criminals or to sniff out drugs. It snarled, showing off its razor sharp k-9 teeth while growling.

  “Calm down! Calm down! I am not the bad guy,” Natalie said in a soft tone.

  GRRRR! The sound of a deeper tone growl caused her to lose control of her bladder. Urine ran down her legs mixing in with the grass and rain. As she turned sideways, keeping her back towards the brick fence so nothing could sneak up on her from the corner of her eye, she could now see the two huge gray Great Danes. They were not the size of Brock but bigger than the average dog, standing about two and a half feet tall and only weighing 80 pounds. She studied their faces and came to the conclusion that these two dogs were not him. ‘Damn it,’ she said to herself. She realized now she had to get herself the hell out of this situation. On her right side was a mean looking German shepherd, waiting for her to move. And on her left side were the two Great Danes waiting to tear her up to pieces. Aaaagh…agggh! The dogs barked uncontrollably.

  “Calm down! Calm down! Just relax, I have a little treat for you,” she said as she slowly dug in her back pack with her hand. Every move she made caused the dogs to growl more as if preparing to attack. She tossed a thick slab of steak towards the German shepherd, and then towards the Great Danes. “Okay as soon as they eat, I will run like the wind and hop my ass over the fence before they even look up,” Natalie said to herself as she prepared to run. She glanced behind her at the brushes and imagined herself running through them leaping over the brick fence. She turned her attention back to the three dogs that surrounded her. Her heart skipped a few beats and then stopped all together, and then began to beat fast as if it wanted to break free out of her chest as the dogs just sniffed the slabs of meat and looked straight up at her with a deranged look in their eyes. “Why the fuck are they not eating the steak? Eat boys, eat girls, and eat the meat. Mmmmmm yummy, good meat,” Natalie said to them, hoping her voice would soothe the rage in them and make them feel as if she wasn’t a threat.