“Sorry, Captain,” Steve said. “They came out of nowhere.”

“Shut up,” Warren yelled. “This ain’t no rap session here.”

With defiant arrogance, Curt stepped over to the wall, leaving his hands on his hips.

“Spit, pat ‘em down,” Warren commanded.

Spit put down the guns he was holding and went to each of the men facing the wall and searched for concealed weapons. He found nothing and stepped back.

“Okay, turn around,” Warren ordered.

The men did as they were told. Except for Steve, who was clearly terrified, all the others had assumed brazenly bored expressions.

“I don’t know where you white trash are from, and I don’t give a shit,” Warren said. “The point is, you don’t belong in this here neighborhood. Now I’m going to keep all this firepower you brought here, but that’s it. Nobody’s icing nobody.”

“Excuse me, Warren,” Jack said. “I think we should call the police.”

“Shut up!” Warren snapped with venom equal to that he’d directed a few moments earlier toward Steve.

Jack shrugged and took a step back. He knew Warren enough to know when he was pissed, and he was pissed now.

“Now I want you people to take your white asses down to your wheels and split,” Warren said. “And believe me, if any one of you show up in this neighborhood again, that’s the ball game. You’ll be gone, no questions asked. And we’ll be watching. You hear what I’m saying?”

“Warren,” Jack said. “I...”

Warren spun around. He jammed a finger toward Jack’s face. “I said for you to shut up,” he snarled.

Jack took another step back. He’d never seen Warren show such rage.

“Flash,” Warren said in a more normal voice. “You and Spit take these white honkies down and see that they leave the neighborhood. I’ve got to rap with the doc here for a few minutes.”

As the group silently fled out, Warren turned to Jack and glared at him. Jack squirmed. He didn’t know what Warren wanted him to say.

With the Tec pistol held in his left hand, Warren used his right to give Jack’s shoulder a series of repeated angry shoves. Jack was forced progressively backwards until a final shove made him collapse onto his couch. Warren hovered over him.

“What’s wrong with you, Doc?” Warren demanded. “You haven’t caused this kind of trouble around here for two years. I thought you’d reformed. But now tonight this happens. I’m telling you, you’re a drag on this neighborhood. You know what I’m saying?”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.