Dead Man (Black Magic Outlaw Book 1) by Domino Finn Page A

five bosses."
    "That part's not great," he admitted. "But it's big-picture stuff. The commissioners are concerned with long-term improvements to their districts. That's where the DROP Team comes in. We analyze crime trends from the top down, look for underlying motivators for crime, and choke it out at the source. We're specially reserved for the long view."
    Emily must be proud. "Sounds fancy."
    He shrugged. "Eh, I'm practically a politician now. I get a call, work up an analysis, and send the boys out. Meantime, I'm sitting on my ass. Perks of old age, huh?"
    I kept checking out his office so I wouldn't need to look at him. "I wouldn't know."
    He smiled. "Come on, buddy. Whether you've been alive or dead for the last ten years, you aren't twenty-four anymore."
    I couldn't disagree.
    Evan stiffened. "Look, man, I'll help however I can. You know that. But I don't mess around in your circles. I don't understand the rituals that go on out there and I don't want to. My task force is purely mundane. That will slow me down. What I can do is get you gang intel."
    My eyes zeroed in on his. "The Bone Saints."
    He nodded. "My sergeant came from the gang unit, so I'm plugged into the scene. And what I don't know, I can find out."
    "Let's hear what you do."
    He nodded, eager to get down to business. "The Bone Saints have been making the news lately. A power struggle at the top. Elevated violence on the street. There's not a lot of intel on their new leader because he only recently came into power. The old boss was assassinated last year in a very public shootout. That's the official word." Evan leaned in and crossed his hands together. "It's clear to people like us that magic's involved."
    "Tell me about it."
    "The Saints are into all that voodoo shit, like you and Martine. Jules Baptiste supposedly had a falling out with his lieutenants. I thought he'd be around forever but they got him. That triggered a power play. Several other deaths followed, anyone from top leadership to low level peddlers—all street scum in my book."
    I nodded, attempting to categorize everything I heard into easy buckets. Threat, ancillary, or worth looking into. "Who took over?"
    "His name's Laurent Baptiste. And before you ask if that's a common Haitian last name, they're related. He's the younger brother of the old guard, like Fidel and Raul. You heard about that, right? We got Bin Laden but needed to wait for Fidel to kick the bucket.
    "Anyway, from what I understand, Laurent Baptiste has majority support now and the takeover is complete. The guy's creepier than his brother. Paints his face and carries a snake around, and encourages his crew to do the same."
    "All the bokors do that stuff," I said. He looked puzzled so I explained. "The Haitian necromancers, the bokors, they have a flair for the dramatic. The Bone Saints always did that."
    Evan eyed me, surprised I knew that much. "Well, from what I've seen, there's a lot more face paint out there."
    "That means they brought in more talent."
    "I wouldn't doubt it," he said. "The Bone Saints have been more organized under his leadership. More of a long-term problem. Not just drugs but tax scams and stuff. Baptiste is a control freak in every sense of the word. If his guys are trying to kill you, it's definitely by his order."
    Sheesh, I didn't even know the guy. His brother, the previous leader, probably hadn't been in power ten years ago. How could a dead man get mixed up in an internal gang beef?
    "What's the African connection?" I asked.
    Evan raised his eyebrows. "African?"
    "I was almost killed by an African trickster spider today. I burned it down in Martine's house."
    "Holy shit, Cisco. I don't want to know about that."
    "Forget it then. It's dead. But it makes me wonder how the Haitians are connected to the Old World."
    My friend looked at me like I was stupid. He leaned forward and whispered, "They're black."
    I shook my head dismissively. "Thanks, jackass. I was hoping for something a little more