When Freeze came out of the office, Mylo walked over to him. He handed Freeze a shot glass. “What’s this?”

“Remy.”

Freeze drained the glass and handed it back to Mylo. “That was smooth. What was that, Remy Extra?”

“Louis XIII,” Mylo said proudly. A few days ago, he ran up on a case of Remy Martin Louis XIII. Mylo knew Black drank Remy and thought it would be a good idea if he had some on hand if Black ever came there.

“How’s bettin’ goin’ for the fight?” Freeze asked, referring to the upcoming IBC middleweight championship fight.

“Heavy on the champ, just like you thought,” Mylo told him. The champ, Frank Sparrow, was from the Bronx, and with his one punch knock out power, was heavily favored to win. He was also a big time poker player, a regular at the game, and had been since he started winning the big money fights.

“Sparrow been here, lately?” Freeze asked.

“Nah, ain’t seen him since he started training.”

“No shit.”

“Yeah, they got him on lockdown. Got him up in the mountains or some shit.”

“Mark my words, Frank Sparrow gonna find a way to bust outta that shit,” Freeze said as his phone began vibrating again. “That nigga’s weak for poker and pussy,” he said and then pressed talk. “What’s up, Jackie?”

“Travis has been shot,” Jackie screamed as she drove away from the warehouse.

Chapter Three

Freeze turned away from Mylo. “I’ll get with you later, Mylo,” he said and started walking toward the door with his cell still in hand.

“Everything alright?” Mylo asked and followed Freeze to the door.

“Nothing for you to be concerned with.” Freeze left the house and headed for his Navigator. “Okay, calm down, Jackie. Are you all right?” Freeze asked, wondering what they were doing for Travis to get shot.