"Good to see you too, Black." The two men embraced. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. You still havin’ that same nightmare?"

"Yeah." Nick nodded his head. Mike understood; memories of that night haunted him too. His two closest friends at each other’s throats. "Why didn’t you wake me up?" Nick asked.

"I tried to wake you up, but you were dead to the world. I heard you and Cassandra had a lot to drink."

There was an uncomfortable silence that drifted between them. "So, you know what happened?"

"Yes," Mike said and sat down on the bed. "I talked to Wanda after you called her. She told me what happened. I went by the club and talked to the cook."

"I’m sorry, Black," Nick said as he sat down and started to tell his story.

"Never mind that now. Get up and let’s go. You can tell your story on the way."

Nick stood up and got two other guns out of the suitcase. "Where we goin’?"

"Eight Mile Rock."

While Mike drove, Nick told Mike exactly what happen that afternoon at Black’s Paradise. Mike listened without comment until they reached a house off the main road. "Let’s go," Mike said as he got out of the car. Nick followed Mike to the door. He knocked twice and the door opened. A man with an AK47 stepped to the side to let them in.

"He here?" Mike asked.

"In the back," the man answered and escorted them out the back door to the pool. There were four men, all armed, sitting around the pool. Three of them jumped to their feet when they saw Mike. Slowly, the fourth man turned around. He smiled when he saw Mike coming toward him.

"What’s up, Black?" Jamaica stood up. Then he saw Nick. "Is that Nick?"

"That’s him, Trouble Man in person," Mike said.