Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2) by Pamela Samuels Young

show of wealth that begged to be noticed.
    Inside, The Shepherd plodded barefoot up and down the length of his great room, creating deep imprints in the plush gold-speckled beige carpet. The room was the size of two large garages, with high ceilings, fat leather chairs and a wall of glass that looked out over the aqua-blue waters. It had the feel of a model home that had yet to be lived in.
    The Shepherd bore a baby face and the earnestness of a young TV anchorman. In sweats and a polo shirt, he resembled a college freshman. He’d created the look first, then altered his personality to fit it.
    His two lieutenants remained silent as he paced. They were familiar with the unusual way in which their boss expressed his discontent. It was best not to speak while he simmered.
    Pausing mid-step, Shep rigidly sat down in one of the leather chairs, his back facing the two men.
    “This guy has no idea who he’s messing with,” he said, mostly to himself.
    Shep was always careful to enunciate each syllable of every word. He never cursed and rarely raised his voice. He believed that a true leader always kept his emotions in check. He clenched and unclenched his fists as if he was practicing finger exercises.
    “Nobody disrespects me.”
    After receiving Clint’s call about Andre “Dre” Thomas’ visit to City Stars, other calls followed. Jonesy, the manager of one of his liquor stores, reported that Dre had walked into the place and announced that The Shepherd had snatched his niece, so Dre was out for The Shepherd’s blood in return. Several more calls reporting similar threats followed. Dre had gone all over town calling him out. And then Shep got word of the shooting of Clint’s crack head cousin, Leon.
    That had sent Shep off into an internal orbit. He slowly swung the chair around, his narrowed eyes locking with Clint’s.
    “What possessed you to bring someone into my operation without my approval, not to mention a crack head?”
    “I...I was in a fix. He was the only person I could get at the last minute. He’s my cousin. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
    “Well, it is a problem. Your cousin doesn’t know how to keep his mouth closed. You should tell him it would be a good idea for him to disappear. If not, I will make him disappear.”
    As Shep continued to gaze at him, Clint seemed to shrink in size. He would’ve looked away, but Shep demanded eye contact. After a full minute of silence, Shep turned his focus on the second man.
    “It’s your job to thoroughly check out the girls, isn’t it?”
    There was no anger his voice. He might as well have been asking for a drink of water.
    The second man had trouble meeting his gaze.
    “Look at me when I talk to you,” The Shepherd said evenly. “I spend a great deal of time planning my operation. You both know that. All of my girls are well-researched. Since I transferred everything online, we’ve never had a problem.”
    Clint fired off a sideways glare at the man everybody called Large because that’s what he was. Clint’s harsh look commanded Large to step up to the plate.
    “That girl was a referral just like all the others,” Large finally said, glancing at the floor, then quickly back at Shep. He had small ears and a head shaped like a bullet. “The information we got was that she didn’t have a daddy and was back and forth between her mother and grandmother. I didn’t check her out any further.”
    Only girls who fit their profile were targeted by “Jaden.” It was preferable that they were from a group home, in foster care or, even better, runaways. But a troubled family life was a requisite. The likelihood of molestation for such girls was high, so sex wasn’t foreign to them. They were also easily conditioned because they had no self-esteem to speak of.
    “It’s your job to research each girl’s background, is it not?”
    Large shrugged. “Okay. I messed up. But the referrals are usually good to go. We never check them out too hard