Ambition: A Dark Billionaire Romance Anthology by Lauren Landish, Lauren Landish Page A
Authors: Lauren Landish, Lauren Landish
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outnumber us, and if they think that the attack on the white boys was done by one of us, they might just find the stones to do more than bark. They could find their teeth."
The three Latin Kings nodded. I'd seen the video, and while my face was never shown, there were enough flashes of skin from my movements that it was easy to tell, even in the cheap black and white security footage, that the attacker wasn't black. If the Gangster Disciples thought that the attack was done by another gang, it would have either come from a Latin King, who were mostly light skinned to light brown Hispanics, or an outside white gang, the nearest of which was on the far side of The Playground.
"I'm more worried if it's the Snowman," One commented, earning alarmed looks from the other two.
"Homie, don't even whisper that shit around here,” Big man hissed. "I'm just happy he's stayed pretty much in the Confederation stomping grounds. Filmore Heights was just an affiliate of them, he's left us alone so far."
"And let's hope he stays that way," Rat-Face added. "I don't need a bomb in my mailbox, or a sniper shot in my grill."
"Shit, that'd improve your looks," one joked, causing the three of them to laugh. The Rat-Face guy was a remarkably ugly man, that was for sure. "Hey, did El Patron have anything to say about when we might get a new load for the streets? My cousin's running low, and a lot of customers are feenin'. I know it's been tight the past few months, but I'm 'bout at the point of whipping up some bathtub crystal if we can't get the good stuff goin'."
A car drove by, so I missed a few seconds of of reply. "... in about a week. They're just trying to work it all out."
I was so absorbed in what the Latin Kings were saying that I didn't hear the person creeping up behind me until I was dragged back and slammed against the brick wall of the alley, pulling the earphones from my head, the parabolic microphone clattering on the pavement. Staring me in the face was another man, all in black, his face obscured by a glued on face-mask. "You're dead, amateur," he rasped in my face. "You're playing a game that you aren't ready for."
The sound of my scuffle must have reached across the street, because I heard the three Latin Kings stop their conversation and start coming our direction. My assailant, his forearm pinning me by the throat against the wall, jerked his eyes in their direction before looking back at me. "Follow me, keep up. If not, you're going to get your ass killed."
Releasing me, he took off down the alley, with me hot on his heels. It was hard keeping up, partly because I was wearing supportive combat boots while he was wearing a lighter, more flexible shoe, but also because he was at least fifteen to twenty pounds lighter than I was. Even though I was in good shape, he made me feel like a slob as he rounded the corner and vaulted on top of a dumpster, then jumping and grabbing a fire escape ladder that was bolted to the side of the apartment building we were running behind. "Move it!" he harshly called behind him, giving me a single glance back.
I could hear the Latin Kings coming down the alley after us, and I knew they'd be carrying weapons. Scrambling up on top of the dumpster, I barely cleared the jump to the ladder, pulling with everything I had to find purchase for my boots. Finally my right foot reached the bottom rung, and I followed the masked man up and over the roof, throwing myself over just as two of our assailants turned the corner. I figured the big guy wasn't too far behind, and was most likely bringing up the rear.
"What the fuck?" One of them said, looking around. "You see anything?"
“No, you?"
"Not a fucking thing. Hey, Victor, your fat ass see anything?"
"Fuck you, Ricardo. You know I didn't see shit."
"Still, there was that thing in the alley, someone was there. That sort of shit ain't exactly common."
One of them started to look up, and I jerked my head back out of sight. "What if it was you
The three Latin Kings nodded. I'd seen the video, and while my face was never shown, there were enough flashes of skin from my movements that it was easy to tell, even in the cheap black and white security footage, that the attacker wasn't black. If the Gangster Disciples thought that the attack was done by another gang, it would have either come from a Latin King, who were mostly light skinned to light brown Hispanics, or an outside white gang, the nearest of which was on the far side of The Playground.
"I'm more worried if it's the Snowman," One commented, earning alarmed looks from the other two.
"Homie, don't even whisper that shit around here,” Big man hissed. "I'm just happy he's stayed pretty much in the Confederation stomping grounds. Filmore Heights was just an affiliate of them, he's left us alone so far."
"And let's hope he stays that way," Rat-Face added. "I don't need a bomb in my mailbox, or a sniper shot in my grill."
"Shit, that'd improve your looks," one joked, causing the three of them to laugh. The Rat-Face guy was a remarkably ugly man, that was for sure. "Hey, did El Patron have anything to say about when we might get a new load for the streets? My cousin's running low, and a lot of customers are feenin'. I know it's been tight the past few months, but I'm 'bout at the point of whipping up some bathtub crystal if we can't get the good stuff goin'."
A car drove by, so I missed a few seconds of of reply. "... in about a week. They're just trying to work it all out."
I was so absorbed in what the Latin Kings were saying that I didn't hear the person creeping up behind me until I was dragged back and slammed against the brick wall of the alley, pulling the earphones from my head, the parabolic microphone clattering on the pavement. Staring me in the face was another man, all in black, his face obscured by a glued on face-mask. "You're dead, amateur," he rasped in my face. "You're playing a game that you aren't ready for."
The sound of my scuffle must have reached across the street, because I heard the three Latin Kings stop their conversation and start coming our direction. My assailant, his forearm pinning me by the throat against the wall, jerked his eyes in their direction before looking back at me. "Follow me, keep up. If not, you're going to get your ass killed."
Releasing me, he took off down the alley, with me hot on his heels. It was hard keeping up, partly because I was wearing supportive combat boots while he was wearing a lighter, more flexible shoe, but also because he was at least fifteen to twenty pounds lighter than I was. Even though I was in good shape, he made me feel like a slob as he rounded the corner and vaulted on top of a dumpster, then jumping and grabbing a fire escape ladder that was bolted to the side of the apartment building we were running behind. "Move it!" he harshly called behind him, giving me a single glance back.
I could hear the Latin Kings coming down the alley after us, and I knew they'd be carrying weapons. Scrambling up on top of the dumpster, I barely cleared the jump to the ladder, pulling with everything I had to find purchase for my boots. Finally my right foot reached the bottom rung, and I followed the masked man up and over the roof, throwing myself over just as two of our assailants turned the corner. I figured the big guy wasn't too far behind, and was most likely bringing up the rear.
"What the fuck?" One of them said, looking around. "You see anything?"
“No, you?"
"Not a fucking thing. Hey, Victor, your fat ass see anything?"
"Fuck you, Ricardo. You know I didn't see shit."
"Still, there was that thing in the alley, someone was there. That sort of shit ain't exactly common."
One of them started to look up, and I jerked my head back out of sight. "What if it was you
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