“Terrell?” asked Quadir, realizing it wasn’t Jerrell at all but his brother, his older twin brother, Terrell.

“That’s right, you do remember me. I used to fuck you up at the playground, nigga. You couldn’t hide either, remember? I’d find you and whoop your little ass and take your fucking lunch money.”

“Who is he?” asked Gena, still not connecting the dots.

“He’s Jerrell’s twin brother, the one that’s been after you. He must have thought you killed Jerrell.” Quadir added that line with mad sarcasm, hoping to catch Terrell’s attention. “Truth is, you should have been after me, Terrell. I’m the one who killed your brother, not her. And all that talk about the playground, just know it’s a new day, nigga, and I’ll murk your ass just like I buried your brother.”

Ice-cold blood ran through Terrell’s veins at the sound of Quadir voice. He stood toe to toe with Quadir. Their eyes met and Terrell saw no remorse. Quadir’s face was emotionless. He had no sympathy and no regard for what he had done and to top it all off, he had the nerve to admit that it was he who had in fact murdered his brother, without fear, at that. Who do this nigga think he is? Him and this bird-ass broad. I’m going to fuck her while he watches. We’ll see how cocky this motherfucker is then.

Quadir saw the gun first, and he reacted. He slung one of the suitcases toward Terrell, distracting him. Terrell caught the bag as Quadir dove into him, knocking the gun away and sending it sliding down the hall. The two of them fell to the floor and began to struggle. Gena knew that it was him. She knew that this had to be the man who had brutally violated her grandmother, the man who shot Gary, the man who shot Bria’s boyfriend, the man who killed Markita. And now she knew why. He looked just like his fucking brother; he looked just like Jerrell. He had been stalking her to avenge his brother’s death.

Terrell and Quadir grappled with each other, rolling around on the floor, jockeying for position while trying to free their hands. Each was occupied with not allowing the other’s hands to become free. Both men knew that they were in a life-and-death struggle.

Terrell threw a punch that landed squarely on Quadir’s jaw that stunned him and allowed Terrell to throw Quadir off him. He immediately began to crawl for his weapon. Quadir grabbed Terrell’s leg and yanked him back. He punched Terrell in his back and side and crawled back on top of him. Terrell elbowed Quadir in his stomach and rolled over, again knocking Quadir off him. Quadir threw a wild punch, striking Terrell in his chin. He followed that with a left cross that struck Terrell’s nose. Terrell swung and landed a solid blow on the side of Quadir’s head. This blow was followed by one that landed on Quadir’s ear. Quadir wrapped his hands around Terrell’s throat, determined to squeeze the life out of him. Terrell broke Quadir’s grasp by kneeing him in his testicles. Pain shot through Quadir’s body, causing him to cry out.

Quadir’s wounds had closed, but they had not fully healed. His tissue began to pull apart from the inside, causing a searing pain throughout his body. He knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer, not going blow for blow with the monster he was battling. But, then again, he knew that he couldn’t lose. His life and Gena’s life were on the line. Not to mention that if he ended up at another crime scene, Amelia’s life too would be affected, and he didn’t want that. If his body were found, there would be some serious consequences behind it. Amelia would lose her license and probably even go to jail. Gena would lose her life, and that would definitely send her grandmother to an early grave. So many people depended on him at that moment. So many people were counting on him to be the man they always believed him to be. Was he truly gangsta? Was he really built to last? Were they all wrong for looking up to him, admiring him, wanting to be like him?

Quadir summoned every piece of strength that he had left in his body and swung at Terrell. The blow sounded as though it could be heard clear across the city. He followed it with another blow, and then another. He wanted to put this nigga to sleep. But Terrell had other plans.

Terrell growled and head-butted Quadir, opening a gash between Quadir’s eyes, just above his nose. Terrell knew that he was built to last. He wasn’t going out like no sucker. He wrapped his hands around Quadir’s throat.

Gena could hear Quadir gasping for air. She raced down the dark hallway searching for Terrell’s gun. Desperate, she dropped to her knees and scoured the floor until she found it. Quadir needed her. And despite what she had said before, she didn’t want him to die. She loved him. She wanted him to live. She needed him to live. No matter what happened between them, no matter what was going to happen between them in the future, she wanted him to live, even if that meant he’d be with someone else.

Gena raced back to where Quadir and Terrell were struggling and pointed the gun. She was scared to pull the trigger. Scared of hitting Quadir instead of Terrell. Scared of actually having to kill another human being.

Quadir’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and slowly he leaned forward. Terrell smiled, knowing that he was squeezing the life out of Quadir. There was nothing like killing a person with one’s bare hands. Quadir leaned forward until his and Terrell’s faces were nearly touching. And then he smiled. He was a built-to-last nigga.

Quadir opened his mouth and clamped down on Terrell’s nose with the ferocity of a hungry pit bull. He shifted his last bit of energy to his jaw muscles and bit until his teeth met. Blood ran down his chin as he rose and spat Terrell’s nose down the hallway. Terrell covered the bloody hole where his nose used to be and rolled around on the floor screaming in pain.

Quadir kicked Terrell in the head, then stomped his head down into the ground so that the back of it hit the concrete floor hard. He stomped again, and again, and then again. After the fourth stomp, blood oozed from the back of Terrell’s head, and he stopped moving completely. Quadir turned to Gena, who rushed into his arms.

Quadir was barely able to stand. His old wounds felt as though someone were sticking a red-hot poker into his flesh. He was out of breath, tired, and sore all at once. “Help me pick up all of the money,” he said weakly. “We got to get out of here.”

Dick Davis hung up his cell phone and turned to his partner. “Ratzinger said that this thing’s getting out of hand. He wants us to tighten things up.”

Ellington peered over at her partner. He looked pale.

“Dickie, what’s the matter?”

“He wants us to kill her,” Davis whispered. “He wants us to kill her and whoever’s with her. No witnesses.”

Ellington nodded. She had known what the deal was from the beginning. She knew that Gena’s death warrant had been signed the moment they all agreed to go after that money. Davis was green. “Dickie, are you okay on this?”

Davis nodded. He hadn’t bargained on having to kill anyone. He thought it would be just a matter of taking some drug money away from some undeserving little dope dealer’s wife and distributing it among police officers who truly deserved it. But murdering people over it, that was something else entirely. Would that make them worse than the drug dealers?

“What did Cleaver say?” Ellington asked.

“He said that there’s only one self-storage place along this highway that is open this late. That’s 4-U-Self Storage.”

“He give you an address?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, let’s go and get our fucking money,” Ellington said excitedly.

“Josh, it’s Steve over in technical,” Lavon Stokes said.

“Hi, Steve!” Josh shouted toward the receiver.

“Josh says hi, Steve.” Lavon told him. She turned back to Josh. “Steve says that they just intercepted a call from Ratzinger, giving the order to kill the girl.”