"There were some guys posted up, tryin’ to roll at Doc’s place last night. Freeze thinks they work for Derrick Washington, calls himself D-train. He used to be Chilly’s lieutenant."

"Curl? That bitch nigga ain’t got the heart to take Freeze on," Mike said, thinking that somebody must be backing D-Train up.

Jamaica sat in the front seat and talked on his cell phone while one of his men drove. Nick sat quietly behind the driver while Mike stared out the window. Naturally, his mind was on Shy, hoping that she was at least unharmed, if not safe. But there was something, a few things, actually, about this that werewas bothering him. First off, why would somebody plan a drug deal in his place? Anybody who was anybody who was connected to the game knew who he was and knew that Black’s Paradise was his place, and the one thing Mike Black didn’t tolerate was drug dealing. Then he couldn’t get past the DEA agent being in there with no backup.

Mike looked over at Nick and he leaned toward him. "I’m sorry, Black. This is all my fault. I was too slow taking the shot."

"Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done. Besides, I should have been there. Something I wanna ask you, Nick. This DEA agent, what was his name?"

"Roman Patterson."

"This guy, this Roman Patterson, how well did you know him?"

"I knew him pretty well. We were in the same unit for two years when I was in the Army."

"What kind of guy was he?" Mike asked. "Was he a team player or a cowboy?"

"Team player, no doubt. Always about procedure, everything by the book."

"See, Nick, that’s what’s bothering me. Cowboys go in alone, without any backup, ’cause a cowboy always thinks that he can shoot or fight his way out of anything. Like you, Nick."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Mike laughed. "I heard you rolled up in Rocky’s place by yourself," he said, noting that Nick had rolled up in a den of drug dealers and killers by himself.