*Trace*

Trace was the detective's partner on the previous operation, he lived in Kansas, married with two kids. The Rick Ross look alike could fit in in the meanest of hoods. They had conversed for a minute as Turner drove to the mall, he had planned to get on the plane before midnight. Trace was one of those undercovers that didn't mind getting his hands and nose dirty.

Turner turned up the system and listened to Victory Lap as he pulled into Neiman Marcus' parking lot at the rear entrance of the mall. He noticed a female walking to her car struggling to carry her bags. He threw the car in park without pulling all the way into the parking spot to assist.

She had on a wedding ring and her husband had sat in the driver's seat. "U need help?" He'd asked.

"Hell naw nigga, do u?" the nigga who had rolled his window down asked the detective.

"My bad, bro" he said throwing up both his hands, turning to get back into the Challenger.

The lady smiled after the trunk raised for her to put her bags inside.

He'd entered the mall and bought what was in his budget, using cash and his Chase Sapphire credit card.

After purchasing the Burberry clothing he purchased the shoes and belt to match and texted Cartier, "1 hour."

"I ain't tellin no lies I just run it up," he sang getting in the Challenger.

The drive home took a few minutes, he took the tollway to eliminate some travel time, exiting on Pierre, turning into Weeping Brook and driving through the gate of his new domain for the next 6 months.

He had to get dressed.

Chief had texted him while inside Neiman Marcus, he responded 8-1-5, he sent back a thumbs up.

After he showered he headed back to the Hills. When he arrived he was greeted by a nigga with a big white pit bull in a muscle shirt with braids; the pink nosed dog, alert and intimidating. The nigga led him to the den.

The egyptian themed room had gold Nefertiti faces hanging, decorating the den with emerald eyes, Versace furniture and marble floors. The young kid was living it up.

There were a few niggas in the den, when Chauncey said "what up" neither of them acknowledged the "new nigga".

Cartier noticed and looked at his homie and laughed.

"Aw, he cool..." he said.

"Word? That nigga look like the law fool." a light skinned nigga with tattoos in his face said.

"Chill bro," Cartier said.

The F and N 509 tactical glock he wiped down was one like Chauncey owned, "509 -midsize- 15 -round- shooter," Chauncey said with hood nigga excitement, walking toward his new business partner, dappin him up.

"Fa sho", Cartier said, removing the blunt from between his lips passing it to Chauncey. "Shit, I see ya brought ya swagg out tonight" he said referencing the Burberry attire he really could not afford.

"Nigga, this shit?" he said, appreciating the recognition.

Niggas argued from behind him, "Bitch ass nigga, quit sliding the fuckin' dice! Cartier, tell this nigga!"

"Daddy, he cheating!" A nigga said mocking the crying ass nigga."

"4 muthafuckin 5 nigga", pay me, the nigga that stood from the circle said walking to each individual snatching the side bets.

"Bitch ass nigga," he said.

Cartier looked at Chauncey and said, "don't worry bout them niggas we bout to slide out, Ima show ya around. Bet y'all don't do it like us up in Seattle!"

Chauncey peeped the setup, he laughed..."naw nigga St Louis!" he said, impressed he was quick on his feet.

"I gotta make this run this weekend, u down?" Cartier asked Chauncey while getting up.

"Evelda!" he called out while waiting on his reaction, rather than his response..

"Fuck yea, I'm in," Chauncey said.

He wanted to ask if Quanda was going.

The Hatian housekeeper answered on the intercom.

"Bring that package off the table," he said.

If this bitch come in here with some hoe shit, Ima cut her throat was all Chauncey could think, hell he had seen the movies...he knew how it went.

Cartier watched him to see if he would have a nervous reaction.

She entered the room in the same apron as earlier holding a square black suede box. She extended her arm to give it to Cartier but he gestured her to give it to Chauncey.

He accepted the box.

"Open it nigga," Cartier said.

A 14K white gold and diamond cuban link chain, with the RTL pendant was inside. He knew RTL was his click, Ready to Live.

"Yea, nigga thats u," Cartier said as Chauncey looked puzzled.

"Shit," Chauncey said, looking at the dazzling diamonds. He took it from the box and noticed it wasn't secured.

"U can wear that round here, no worries. Leonard nem harass ya, nigga I'll take care of it, they just want that loot," Cartier assured him.

Chauncey put on the chain, noticing a speck of blood around a diamond.

"Preciate this, I gotta return the kind gesture," he said dappin' Cartier close fisted.

Looking at the time on the Galaxy phone Cartier said, "10:02, time to roll," tucking the FN in the holster he had just put on.