Dutch thought of where he was and where he wanted to be.

He contemplated his next move, knowing that stealing cars was a thing of the past. He would always love the thrill of the chase, of stealing cars, of speeding. But the short bid he had served brought on an accelerated maturity, and he realized that the rewards were no longer worth the risks. He wanted bigger rewards. His mother’s unusual and unexpected talk had convinced him of what he had already known.

He could never go back to prison.

He thought about an offer Angel had made to get Barrett to put him on. Dutch couldn’t see it though, nickel and dimin’ for somebody else. Hell no! That wasn’t for Dutch, but the lines had been drawn while he was away.

He was young, black, and free, with nothing to lose, and there was nothing more dangerous than that combination.

Just then an idea hit him like a brick in the face, so hard it almost physically staggered him. Kill Kazami! Take Kazami and his blocks.

“A major pioneer of street fiction.”

—Library Journal