CHAPTER 3
“Hey, hermanita, wassup!” Ant pulls me into a huge hug at the door of his row home. He and his gang, the DE Reyes, keep an entire block of them in Hillside.
I return his hug, relieved to see him in one piece.
But then I immediately pull back to ask him, “What the hell, Ant? Why did you text SOS if you’re okay?”
“I mean, I’m okay.” He rakes a hand through his thick black hair, then scratches at his tattoo-covered neck. “But I got caught up in some Chinese-on-Chinese crossfire s**t. And now I got an associate in the basement beat all the f**k up.”
I tip my chin down. “You texted me SOS for an associate?”
I’m used to being Ant’s first text when one of his guys needs patch-up work. But he’s only supposed to use SOS, our agreed upon code for “drop everything and get your ass ove
