“You checked the house yet?” Bo wanted to know.

“Quickly, yes. I had to get Angel out of the way first.”

They both pulled out their pieces and went their separate ways, me and Trae leave. They checked the entire house. The downstairs, the upstairs, the backyard, and the basement.

“All clear,” Trae said, coming up from the basement.

Bo came from the backyard. “It’s good back here.”

“Son, what the fuck happened?” Faheem asked as he bounced down the stairs, two steps at a time.

“We went out to dinner to celebrate the new baby, and before we could get settled in, bullets came flying through the house.” I kicked at the shell casings on the floor.

“What if the girls would have been here? This is where I lay my head! Muthafuckas shot up my house where I rest my head, my wife, my children . . .” I found myself pacing. I felt violated. My world had just been turned upside down.

“Damn! How’s my baby?” I asked Faheem anxiously. Then I remembered we were watching my niece, Aisha. “How’s Aisha?”

“They’re fine. They’re with Jaz.”

“Who do you think did it?” Bo asked the question that I was sure was at the forefront of everyone’s mind. “Let’s go run the security cameras and see who these muthafuckas are.”

“If it looks like Kevin, I don’t care if he is Tasha’s brother, his ass is mine,” Trae gritted.

“Let’s see what we can see on the tape.” Trae was familiar with my surveillance system because it was identical to his.

“I hope we see these niggas’ faces,” Faheem said just as there was a knock at the door.

I assumed it was the police. I needed to get my story together as to why I didn’t call them. I made my way to the door only to find Jake, my clean up man. He was there to clean up the mess and cover the windows. Angel must have called him. I let him in; he asked were we all right, and I headed for the basement leaving him to do what it is that he does.

They were all huddled around the surveillance screen as Trae was playing with the quality. No matter how he enlarged the screen, all we saw were shadows. The men were wearing black masks, black hoodies, and black gloves; completely covered. You couldn’t tell what race or color the shooters were. Now I was worried. These cats moved like professionals.

“Maybe we’re looking at this wrong; y’all think it could be Don Carlos?” Faheem asked.

“No.” Trae shook his head. “He needs us right now. Plus, it’s not his style. We would’ve just woke up dead if it were him.”

“How the fuck you gonna wake up dead?” Bo tried to make light of the situation.

“Nigga, you know what the fuck I mean,” Trae snapped.