"What time is it?" Gucci asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

Kahllah looked at her watch. "Almost six-thirty. You should probably get yourself a few hours of sleep before T.J. wakes up."

"Yeah, he's sure gonna run me ragged and I'll need all my strength," Gucci got up from the chair and stretched. She shuffled over and gave Kahllah a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for being such a good sister."

"Any time," Kahllah hugged her back. "While you're resting, I'm going to run out for a while. I should be back before you wake up, if not, I'll call. Animal left me a set of keys and the alarm codes, so I'll make sure the house is locked up tight before I go."

"Kahllah, where in G.o.d's name are you going at this hour of the morning?" Gucci asked. The look Kahllah gave her answered the question. "I sometimes forget you lead a double life."

Kahllah smirked. "Most of us lead double lives; I'm just one of the select few who aren't ashamed of it. Get some rest, sis and I'll see you in a few hours." Kahllah sat there watching as Gucci shuffled to the stairs leading to the master bedroom. Her shoulders sagged like she had the weight of the world on them. Kahllah imagined that she probably did. The heart was a delicate thing, and it didn't take much to bruise or break it. Time's like those, Kahllah was glad that she had no such attachments. She took no lover and mothered no children, so was the price for her initiation into her order. Kahllah had resigned herself to a life-time of service to the Brotherhood. This brought her back to her own set of issues.

There was no way a low-level, flesh-peddling half-gangster like Klein could've gotten the drop on Kahllah without help. She was the best of the best, which is why her services were in such high demand. A man would need a small army to take Kahllah on, and that's exactly what Klein had had. Obviously someone with knowledge of her mission had tipped him off, but the question was, who? Klein's contract was airtight, it bore the seal of the elders themselves, so it wasn't likely that the corruption started that high up the food chain. Kahn's name immediately popped into her head.

There was no love lost between Khan and Kahllah, because of their differing views on the future of the Brotherhood. They'd clashed several times at council meetings, and Kahn had never hid his resentment of Kahllah being a member of the Hand. Kahllah was one of three women who had been initiated into the Brotherhood since the order was founded, but she was the only one of the three to ever sit at the Hand's table. There were some who were uncomfortable with her wielding such power, but Kahn had been the most vocal about it. To him, women in the Brotherhood had their places, but sitting at the Hand's table wasn't one of them. If anyone had an axe to grind against Kahllah it would've been Kahn, but it didn't make sense. Kahllah rarely bothered with affairs of state, unless her vote was absolutely necessary to decide on a matter. She kept her distance from the everyday politics of the Brotherhood, and in return she was left to her own devices. Kahllah wasn't around regularly enough to challenge whatever he had been planning for the Brotherhood, so he wouldn't need her dead to do it.

If it was indeed Khan who had tried to have her killed, things were looking far graver than she thought. For as powerful as Khan's position as leader of the Hand made him, he did not have the authority to simply order a hit on Kahllah's life. She was also a member of the Hand, so certain protocols would've had to be observed. It would have to go before the Elders to make it official, but it didn't make it impossible. She doubted that the Elders would hand down a death sentence on her, without some sort of formal trial, but there was another way for Kahn to have her killed without risking being disciplined. All he would need was the burden of proof and the right people backing his play; three members of the hand and one elder. Those five votes, including Khan's, were all he needed to legitimately make an attempt on Kahllah's life. If it did indeed play out like that, it meant Khan had gone through quite a bit of trouble to have Kahllah removed from the Brotherhood, but the question was still, why?

Kahllah sighed. There was much to do, and she couldn't get it done sitting there thinking about it. She had to go on the offensive. Kahllah figured that her best plan of attack was to start at the bottom and kill her way to the top.

TWELVE.

"TOP OF THE MORNING, DETECTIVE Sully," the old woman in the ap.r.o.n greeted him from behind the counter.

"Hey, Donna. How's my favorite girl this morning?" Detective Sully smiled at her, showing off his too small teeth that were heavily stained by the cheap cigars he was always chewing on. He was a chubby man, wearing a pair of off the rack slacks and a suit jacket he'd gotten from the Salvation Army. Detective Sully slid onto one of the free stools at the counter. The diner had just opened and he was the first customer, but the breakfast rush would start soon. The only people at the diner at that hour were Donna and her eldest son, Clyde.

Donna shrugged her frail shoulders. "I could complain, but who would listen?"

"I'd listen, mama," Clyde said in a slow drawl. He was six-foot-five, and well over two hundred pounds, but had the intelligence and demeanor of a ten-year-old.

"You're a good son, Clyde," Detective Sully told him.

"That he is," Donna patted her son's cheek affectionately.

"Hey Donna, how about a cup of joe and a couple of eggs, huh?"

"Coming right up," Donna said, pouring him a cup of coffee. "Come on Clyde, you can help me with Detective Sully's breakfast."

"Can I crack the eggs this time, mama? I promise I won't get no sh.e.l.ls in them," Clyde said excitedly.

"Yes, you can crack the eggs this time, Clyde," Donna told him, leading her son through the kitchen doors.

Detective Sully sat, sipping bitter black coffee, and going through the sport's section, checking the scores from the night before. He cursed as he ran his fingers down the stat-line of the baseball games. He had lost more than he won, and the money from the few games he had won would have to go to paying off debts from the games he'd lost last week. Sully had a serious gambling problem, which is why after almost thirty years he was still busting his hump for the L.A.P.D, instead of having retired years ago. He was so far in the hole that he felt as if he'd never climb out. The only reason he hadn't swallowed a bullet yet was because he hadn't finished paying off his youngest daughter's college tuition. Of all the people he had disappointed in life, he never disappointed his kids. His wife . . . she was a different story.

Sully was about to check the lottery numbers, hoping he'd find a sliver of luck there, when someone b.u.mped him while taking the stool next to his. Sully looked up and saw a good-looking woman wearing tight jeans and a low cut black t-shirt. She had long black hair that spilled from beneath the dark baseball cap she was wearing. A length of chain ran through the loops of her jeans in place of a belt. Covering her eyes were dark sungla.s.ses. Sully might not have given her a second look, had it not been for the fact that it was already eighty degrees outside and she was wearing black gloves.

"h.e.l.lo, Detective Sully," Kahllah greeted him, before backhanding him off the stool. She spun gracefully off the stool, and flicked her wrist, magically producing a retractable baton. From his back, Sully managed to draw his gun, but a whack from her baton sent it skidding harmlessly across the diner.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Sully asked frantically, sliding back on his elbows, trying to make it out of her reach.

"Where are my manners? Let me give you my card," Kahllah removed something from her bra and flicked it at Sully. A small dagger planted itself between Sully's legs, just missing his privates. Carved into the handle of the dagger was a black lotus flower. Sully looked from the dagger to the woman and turned as white as a ghost. "From the loss of pigment in your face, I take it you know who I am and why I've come?"

"Somebody help me!" Sully yelled, scrambling away on all fours trying to get away from her.

Kahllah s.n.a.t.c.hed the chain from her jeans and whipped it out at Detective Sully. One of the steel hooks bit into the flesh on the back of his thigh. "Don't run off before we've had a chance to chat," she pulled him towards her slowly. Kahllah reached down and grabbed a fist of his thinning brown hair. "My target knew I was coming and I want to know how?"

"You crazy b.i.t.c.h, I'm a cop! You can't just come in here and do this to me!" Detective Sully shouted.

Kahllah slapped him viciously across the face and tossed him through one of the wooden tables. She grabbed him by the collar of his cheap jacket and yanked him to his feet. "You're a f.u.c.king middle man for the Brotherhood, which means I can do whatever I want to you."

Detective Sully snickered. "Do what you like, but I'm more afraid of what the Brotherhood will do to me than what you will. Without their backing, you ain't s.h.i.t but an over-qualified freelancer."

Kahllah kicked Detective Sully hard in his chest, sending him stumbling backward, but she jerked him back by the hook in his thigh before he could make contact with the wall. Sully opened his mouth to scream, but Kahllah's hands around his throat trapped the sound. She lifted him by his neck and slammed him through another table as hard as she could. The impact knocked the wind out of Sully, leaving him dazed and confused. She straddled him and placed one of her knives against his throat.

"You piece of s.h.i.t, dirty pig, you think I'm playing with you?" Kahllah applied pressure to the blade and drew a trickle of blood from Detective Sully's throat. "Who altered the deal? Who wants me dead?"

"What the h.e.l.l is going on out here?" Donna came out of the kitchen when she heard the noise. Her eyes got wide when she saw Kahllah with the knife to Detective Sully's throat. Her gnarled hands dipped beneath the cash register and came up holding a .45, which she aimed at Kahllah. "Last sons of b.i.t.c.hes that came through here to rob my joint left with lead in their a.s.ses and I ain't about to have you break my streak," she said before pulling the trigger.

Kahllah rolled off Detective Sully, just in time to avoid a bullet that slammed into one of the benches along the wall. Detective Sully used the distraction as another attempt to flee, but Kahllah gave the chain a yank and dropped him back to the floor. She wrapped the end of the chain around one of the bar stools, which were bolted to the floor, while she dealt with the old lady and the gun.

"Clyde, we got burglars. Get the police on the line!" she screamed, trying to line Kahllah up in her sights.

Kahllah moved low across the room, sucking bullets and the obscenities Donna was hurling at her. This was one more thing, in an already f.u.c.ked up day, that she didn't want to deal with. As she pa.s.sed one of the dining tables, she grabbed a salt shaker and hurled it as hard as she could at Donna. The little gla.s.s shaker cracked Donna in the forehead, and stilling her and her big gun. She would have a h.e.l.l of a headache, and a serious knot on her head when she woke up, but she would live. Kahllah was just about to turn her attention back to Detective Sully, when a much larger problem came rumbling out of the kitchen.

Clyde looked from his unconscious mother to Kahllah and let out a feral scream. He grabbed a meat cleaver from the cutting board and bounded the counter. "You killed my mama!" he roared, coming at Kahllah with the meat cleaver.

"f.u.c.k my life," she said, taking a defensive stance against the brute. Clyde swung the cleaver with so much force that she guessed he could probably remove her head with one swing. She needed to take him down before they had a chance to test the theory. She stabbed Clyde twice in the side with the knife, hoping to slow him down, but it only seemed to anger him. Clyde went high with the cleaver, while Kahllah went low with the knife. She ducked under his strike, slicing her knife through his stomach.

Clyde staggered, blinking his eyes as if he had just awakened from a dream. He looked down at his stomach, as the layers of fat came open and freed his entrails. He tried to catch his intestines in his hands, but they slipped through is fingers and littered the floor at his feet. With a roar, Clyde charged Kahllah, intent on finishing her. Kahllah stood perfectly still, blade hanging at her side, and body tensed. When Clyde was almost on top of her, she made her move. At the last second, Kahllah sidestepped the lumbering brute and jammed her knife into the base of his skull. It was a quick and painless death. When she was done with the brute Clyde, Kahllah turned her attention back to Detective Sully. To her surprise, he had managed to dig the hook out of his leg and was limping towards the front door, leaving a trail of blood in his wake from the wound. Kahllah walked up on him slowly and grabbed him by the back of his suit jacket. "I ain't done with you," she s.n.a.t.c.hed him off his feet and slid him down the countertop, breaking the cookie gla.s.s container of danishes when his skull made contact with it.

Kahllah climbed the counter, and straddled Detective Sully so he couldn't move. She picked up the steaming hot pot of coffee and held it over his face. "You're the broker who was handling the contract on Klein. Somebody stuck their dirty hands in my business, and you're going to tell me who."

"It's like you said, I'm just the broker. I deliver information from one place to another and get a fee. Any extra twists that get put on it aren't on me," Detective Sully said.

"Then who added the twists? How did Klein have the means and the knowledge to ambush me?" Kahllah demanded to know. When Detective Sully looked hesitant to talk, she doused him with a face full of the hot coffee.

"Wait . . . wait . . ." Detective Sully choked. "Look, you know how careful your organization is. I never meet the person who sends the contracts face-to-face; I give them the information and tell them where to pick the money up and they give me timeframes for when the hits will be done. I never see them and they never see me."

"Well I guess that makes you just about useless," Kahllah flicked her blade into a stabbing position, and held it over Sully's heart.

"I don't know who handled the contract, but I know where they outsourced the shooters from that tried to take you out," Detective Sully informed her.

"I'm listening," Kahllah said.

"If I tell you this, my life isn't gonna be worth s.h.i.t," Detective Sully told her.

"Your life isn't worth s.h.i.t now, but at least you still have it . . . for the moment. Where did the men come from who aided Klein in trying to kill me?"

"The guy you need to talk to is called Panama Black. He's the one who provided the soldiers to take you out," Detective Sully revealed.

The name didn't ring familiar at all. "Who is Panama Black and what is his connection to the Brotherhood?"

"Panama Black is an immigrant piece of s.h.i.t, who was p.i.s.sing on the heads of law enforcement in Florida until he popped up in California a few months ago. Him and his boys are hired guns, willing to put in work for the highest bidder. They have no real standing amongst the heavier crews, but they're a crazy f.u.c.king bunch."

"And how did this Panama Black come into the picture?" Kahllah was curious to know. She was aware that Khan wasn't above hiring mercenaries, but involving street punks in Brotherhood business was a stretch even for him.

"On my kid's life, I don't know. All I was told was that Panama Black would a.s.sist in coordinating the hit, which is what gave me the feeling that something was funny. For as many years as I've been setting up deals for the Brotherhood, they've never had anybody looking over my shoulder. After the incident with Klein got screwed up I started hearing the rumors about the Brotherhood booting you out."

Kahllah studied Sully's face for signs of deception, and reasoned that he was telling the truth, which only made her situation stranger. Who was this Panama Black and what was his connection to the Brotherhood? The Brotherhood of Blood had many different affiliate factions who they networked with, but something as sensitive as taking out the Black Lotus wouldn't have been trusted to hired help. Either Khan was slipping or there was something she was overlooking.

"Where can I find this Panama Black?" Kahllah asked.

"I don't know for sure. He's a nomad and never stays in one place for too long. Some guys a.s.sociated with his crew got a social club over in Watts. I hear he's banging one of the waitresses, so that may be a good place for you to start your search," Detective Sully told her.

When Kahllah was certain she had all the information she needed, she climbed off Detective Sully.

"What about me?" Detective Sully asked.

"What about you?"

"Now that I've told you what I know, I'm sure your friends in the Brotherhood are going to be on my a.s.s, if Panama Black doesn't get me first. I need protection. You gotta get me somewhere safe. With the kind of beef I'm gonna have, I need to be somewhere so secure that only G.o.d can touch me. You owe me that!" Detective Sully told her.

"You're absolutely right. I do owe you," Kahllah said, before snapping his neck. "Now you're in a place where no one but G.o.d can touch you," she said to his corpse before heading for the exit. She had more of a direction to go in now, but she still felt lost. She was sure it had been Khan who ordered her death, but Sully couldn't confirm it. Before she acted, she needed to be sure.

Kahllah had done enough damage for twenty-four hours. She figured it'd be best to head back to the house to check on Gucci and the kids, and get some rest. For as tired as she was, Kahllah knew sleep wouldn't come easy. Her head would be filled with the thoughts of a man named Panama Black, and how best to kill him.

THIRTEEN.

IT HAD BEEN QUITE SOME time since Animal had set foot in New York . . . two and a half years to be exact. When he'd been released from prison he'd only stuck around long enough to get his parole transferred to California and he was gone. He'd often dreamt about what his home coming would be like, to breathe in the stale . . . post up on some random corner with his old friends trading war stories about the men they used to be. His return was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but it was not. He wasn't there to reconnect with the place of his birth. He was there to handle business.

"You okay?" Sonja asked, noticing the tense look on Animal's face.

"Yeah, I'm cool. It's just that, since I was old enough to hold a gun I've never been in the streets of New York without one. I guess I'm just feeling a little naked," Animal told her. Since they were flying to New York there was no way he could take his guns on the plane. Almost no one knew he was there so he doubted he would need a pistol any time soon, but it still felt awkward not to have one.

"Don't worry, big homie. Once we link with my peoples they'll make sure we got all the guns we need," Ashanti said proudly.

"I hope your people are reliable. I'd hate to have my baby daddy defending my honor with nothing but his d.i.c.k in his hand," Sonja said smugly.

"My d.i.c.k is none of your concern, Sonja. If you don't agree with the arrangements Ashanti has made for us, why don't you call your people to handle it?" Animal asked sarcastically.

Sonja replied by giving Animal the finger. They both knew that was impossible. Every resource Sonja had was connected to her father. She wasn't sure who, if anyone, she could still trust in the cartel.

"Speaking of your homies, do they understand the sensitive nature of our visit? The last thing I need is them blabbing it and having every n.i.g.g.a in the hood knowing I'm in town," Animal said seriously.

"I'd trust them with my life, in fact I have trusted them with my life and I'm still here to vouch for them. The twins are solid," Ashanti a.s.sured them.

As if on cue a green minivan pulled up to the curb where they were standing. Abel climbed out first, climbing from the pa.s.senger side. He walked up on Ashanti and greeted him with a warm smile and a hug. "My n.i.g.g.a," he patted Ashanti's back.

"Good to see you, Abel," Ashanti returned the love. Just beyond Abel, Ashanti saw Cain standing at the curb, smoking a cigarette and staring at him from beneath his hood. "What up, Cain? Show ya n.i.g.g.a some love!"

Cain expelled the smoke, and took measured steps towards Ashanti. "Welcome back," he hugged Ashanti, but he didn't feel the warmth in it as he had with Abel.

Ashanti picked up on his vibe, but didn't mention it. "Fellas, let me introduce y'all to a good friend of mine," he waved Animal over. "This is Animal, Animal these are the twins, Cain and Abel."

Abel gave Animal dap, but Cain stared at him for a few seconds before shaking Animal's extended hand. Cain's skin was colder than it should've been, considering it was a warm day. Animal didn't know what disturbed him more about the young man, the scar that marked one half of his face, or the predatory stare he was giving him.

"Sup, with you?" Animal asked Cain, finally tiring of the staring contest.

"They say that you are a man who cannot be killed. Is this true?" Cain asked in way of a response.

Animal studied his face for signs of sarcasm, but found only sincerity in the question. "I reckon that I can be killed, they just haven't figured out a way to do it yet."

"Fascinating," Cain said, studying Animal. He had never met the man personally, but knew his body of work very well. A few years back he had stumbled across a crime scene. There was a crowd of people and twice as many police trying to keep them away from the corpse in front of the building. Cain had been able to slip through the crowd and steal a glance at the dead man. He had been shot multiple times, but what caught Cain's attention was his mutilated face. Someone had carved the word war in it. To Cain, it wasn't just a murder, it was a crime of rage. Whoever had done it was just like him, an angry and broken soul. Rumor had it that it was done by someone who called himself Animal and from there Cain dug up as much as he could on the phantom killer. It was a total coincidence when Cain and Ashanti became friends, and he found out Ashanti had been the protege of Animal. Cain could sit and listen to Ashanti for hours as he told stories of capers he and Animal had pulled. Cain's love for Ashanti was genuine, but he also wanted to be closer to the myth. If Ashanti had learned from Animal, then Cain would learn from him.

"d.a.m.n, Blood, you staring at the homie like you wanna kiss him," Ashanti joked.

Cain's face became hard again. "You're a funny guy. I guess your time away from the hood has given you a sense of humor. Maybe one day I'll develop one," he said coldly. "Let me go help the lady with her bags," he walked off to a.s.sist Red Sonja.

"What's that all about?" Animal asked, picking up on the tension.

Abel shrugged. "My brother sometimes wears his heart on his sleeve. Give him some time and he'll come around. We should probably get going," he climbed back into the pa.s.senger seat.

Animal helped Sonja into the back then got in beside her. Ashanti climbed in the back row. Animal happened to look in the back of the van, where Cain was loading the bags, and saw that he was staring at Ashanti. It wasn't a hostile stare, just a black and constant one. Animal knew there was something between him and Ashanti that neither of them was speaking on. It was a situation that he would definitely watch closely.

Their first stop would be the twin's apartment. Sonja wanted to go check into the hotel, but Animal wasn't trying to hear it. Before he did anything, he needed to arm himself. Once he had a pistol on his person, they could do whatever Sonja wanted. They were expecting to go somewhere in Harlem, but were surprised when Cain instead headed into Brooklyn.

"I didn't know y'all moved out of the hood," Ashanti was surprised. Neither Cain nor Abel had ever mentioned anything about having a new apartment.

"s.h.i.t, we had to. Can't keep dropping bodies where you lay your head. That s.h.i.t'll add years on your life," Abel told him.

"Or take years off," Cain snickered from behind the wheel. He'd been otherwise quiet for the whole ride, except to offer a one word answer if someone asked him a question.