“I’ve been lookin’ at a little spot I wanna hit.”

“Thought so. Now listen. Here’s the deal. I give you the guns and whatever else you need, you give me a cut of the job.” Travis sat back and didn’t answer. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Why don’t I just buy the guns myself and keep all the money?” Freeze said with a smile.

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“’Cause if you do it my way, you work for me. You have my protection, and the protection and services of this entire organization. If you need something, you come to me. You have a problem, you come to me. You get caught, you call me. You keep your mouth shut and I take care of you. You tell me what you’re gonna hit, I tell you first if it’s gonna be more of a problem than it’s worth, if you dig what I mean. Then, if it’s worth your time- ”

Travis thought about what Freeze was saying. It sounded appealing, but he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted to get involved in. He had known Freeze 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.”