The loud rap music from the underground club thundered through the cracked walls like a war drum. Outside the night air was thick with weed and gun smoke, Two young men walked inside the club and a tall handsome yet dreadful looking young man of about 25 years of age said with a smile "welcome to midtown Sacramento where dreams died quicker and a wrap of weed, where men are men and sheeps are scared. The young man's name is Dean... One of the devils hustlers, trying hard to entertain their scared customers who have come to purchase weed for the first time.
James Stacks, Black well built man with clean shave hair and beard, He is gang's master strategist.
Watching from the penthouse of the club looking over the activities of his men, seated close to him was Malik his godfather the man who raised him and who he took over from.
At 28 James was already the face of the Downtown Devils, feared from the south blocks to the west heights.
He wasn't born into this life. His father was a poor grocery shop owner who was murdered by robbers and his mother died when he was born. Malik has been family since then and he learned to survive by the sword.
Tonight was business
The shipment was late.
And late shipment in Sacramento meant only one thing... Someone was trying to play a fast one.
He turned to Drake his "ride or die lieutenant" the closest homie to him after Malik. "They got only five minutes or we are burning every corner down from here to the 44th Street"
Drake with a sly smile sipped his cocktail, dropped the glass and cocked his pistol with a gaze into into James eyes he whispered "say the word"
Before James could speak, a black Escalade drove in. It parked in front of the club. Doors opened, out stepped two Colombian runners and a slim girl with a blond hair wearing a black hoodie, she looked way too clean for the midtown. That caught James attention instantly. She walked like she wasn't afraid... that's unusual for people coming to the Devil's club for the first time. That alone was dangerous.
Her name is Jazmine Richardson, but no one knew that yet.
Four of the Devils men led the guest up to the penthouse with guns pointed at them all the way through.
James eyes was locked on hers. Fair, bold and burning with something he hasn't seen in years -Fire. Not fear, Fire!
The Colombians handed over the duffed bags
James opened one.. kilos of fentanyl, pressed so clean you could see the ghost of death hiding in the powder.
After a few minutes checking thoroughly, "Short by by ten, James said coldly. " You tryna play me?
One of the Colombian runners stuttered "we got jacked-up near Oak Park by Some MS-13 motherfuckers. We were lucky to get out alive "
James raised his gun and pressed it against the runner's forehead... "You think I care who jacked you? You bring me short, you bring me disrespect. And I don't take shit for granted."
The girl stepped forward. "Then let me make it right ".
James looked at her... Pointing the gun to her direction
"Who the fuck are you?"
"I'm Jaz," she said calmly. "I can help you find the rest... Let me get it back. You kill us you lose your trail".
Drake laughed, "And why would we trust you?"
With a horrified grin she replied "Because we are on your side, we wouldn't want to lose our dealers... I'm not afraid to die, but I'm more useful to alive."
There was a grave silence for Silence for sixty seconds.
James lowered his gun, Not because she convinced him but because she was dangerous in all the ways that intrigued him.
"Twenty-four hours," he said. "You have twenty-four hours, bring me the rest, or you will be dead... All of you."