The Mike Black Saga; MOB Read Online Free Page B

for years and knew how he rolled.
    Travis remembered seeing Freeze and Mike Black one night when they were involved in a running gunfight through the streets. They had shot one man on the run; the other had run out of bullets. Black ran him down and pistol-whipped him while a crowd formed. A woman ran up on them and tried to shoot Black in the back. She missed, though, and hit him in the arm. Before she could get off another shot, Freeze shot her. Black yelled, “That bitch shot me! Hey, muthafucka, your bitch shot me!” Black made the beaten man get on his knees and shot him once in the head.
    “I don’t know, Freeze,” Travis said quietly.
    “I don’t make this offer to just anybody, but I know you. You a smart, schemin’-ass nigga. Always was. I know you got this job, whatever it is, planned out to the very last detail. And I know you plannin’ on hittin’ someplace that’s gonna be worthwhile for you. If you wasn’t that type o’ muthafucka, I wouldn’t fuck with you.”
    “How much you want?”
    “Ten percent. But don’t answer me now. Think about it. Talk it over. I know you ain’t talkin’ bout rollin’ up in nowhere by yourself. I know they down with you. Six hands, six nines.”
    That was two years ago, and since that time, Travis planned and the trio executed four robberies each year. The days and times would vary depending on the particular job. They robbed banks, grocery stores, jewelry stores, and anything else that they could hit quick and come away with a large return for their investment of time. They were organized, prepared, and over all else, disciplined.
    They created names for themselves so they would never make the mistake of calling their real names during a job. Travis, whose last name was Burns, became Mr. Blue. Ronnie Grier became known as Mr. Green. There was a lot of discussion about whether Jackie should be Miss White, Ms. White, or Mr. White, but it was Jackie who had the final say. “I think it’s more important for us to be uniform and consistent than politically correct. And besides, Miss White sound too soft for a robber, and Ms. sound lame.” So, despite the fact that she was a woman with a model’s good looks, Jackie Washington became Mr. White.
    Jackie pulled the Lexus up in front of the home of Murray Sewell, a fence that Freeze had put Travis onto. Freeze had done business with Sewell for years. He was a dirty, low-down, cutthroat, back-stabbin’ muthafucka, but he paid, and he paid well.
    When they arrived, Murray was standing outside the house talking with another man. Once the other man looked up and saw Travis coming toward the house, he dropped his head, turned and walked away quickly. Murray looked at Travis and frowned, but just as quickly, he posted a big shit-eating grin and raised his arms as if Travis were his best friend.
    “Travis, good to see you. Come inside. Best you’re not seen. You know how the old ladies like to talk in this neighborhood.”
    Travis and Ronnie walked in the house past Murray. When Jackie entered the house, she handed Murray the keys to the Lexus. “What year?” Murray asked as he looked at the car parked in front of his house.
    “Two thousand four,” Jackie replied.
    “And the keys? Where did these come from, may I ask?”
    “Key box. Under the car, beneath the driver’s side door,” Jackie advised.
    “Very obvious, but good for you for thinking to look there,” Murray said as he walked out to the car and took a look at it. He unlocked the car and got in, started the engine and checked the mileage, then drove the car in back of his house to park it in the garage.
    Once he came in the house, he picked up the phone. When the party answered, Murray spoke about the Lexus and agreed on a price. “Eight thousand, minus my fee?” Travis nodded his head.
    Murray hung up the phone and turned his attention to the bag that Travis was carrying. “So, Travis, what else have you got for me?”
    “I have the items we