A Player's Prayer

Nine

The next couple days in Atlanta was tense and frictions were at an all time high. Shit from New York was trickling over and affecting the way Saint's organization conducted business. Not to mention he got word about the threats from Sicario which he planned on addressing very soon. Niggas was on his time now, they would have to just wait and pray.

The previous weekend was active in Houston with Angelo catching a couple bodies and scratching more names off Saint's list. His list was almost complete, the final piece to the puzzle was Don Miguel. Or so he thought.

Pulling up to the trap in the cut off Cleveland, he parked outside the withering home noticing a couple familiar cars lining the street. This was the same house Juice and Saint went from boys to men after a drop went wrong. Now they owned the shit. The street was a dead-end into abandoned railroads making it so there was one way in and one way out. A trap. A very deadly outcome for those who had no business being in the area in the first place.

Clutching as he walked up the stairs, he was met with the sounds of deadbolts being unlocked before the door creaked open.

"What's good." Saint gave his associate a quick head nod as he walked in the spot greeted by the other men in the room. Among them was Juice, seated on one of the couches smoking and doing what he did best; taking niggas money in 2k.

It was rare to catch Juice, Angelo or Saint in the trap leaving that shit to the little niggas. Frequenting in an area like that was what got niggas caught up in the first place.

The trap used to strictly be for cooking up and stashing product but eventually they outgrew that and moved on to stashing product in warehouses. They no longer cooked up either, they had people for that. Saint contemplated selling the house now that he had no use for it, but he saw the beauty in the privacy and the fact that the cops avoided the area as much as possible. It was a good asset to have.

"How ya let a white boy do ya dirt like that?" Saint chuckled, seeing all the money stack on the table in front of Juice.

"Fuck up pussy." Juice chuckled, dapping Saint up as he laughed.

"Ya niggas go take a walk or some shit I gotta chop it up wit Juice real quick." He said, watching as Juice leaned over and grabbed the stack from the table. Had to be about five thousand.

"What's the word?" Juice asked as the other men left the room to just them two.

"You know that Sicario problem we had?" Saint asked, sparking up the blunt he rolled on his way over.

"Yeah."

"It's turning into a mafia problem." He said as Juice kissed his teeth.

"I'm listening." Juice mumbled, pouring some wock in the tall styrofoam cup full of Sprite he had on the table.

As it turned out, the mafia and cartel were in business together under something called the Five Families. The Five Families were known to be a discreet but well respected and feared association of men all united under a common goal and brand. Sicario cartel and the Lupertazzi family were smaller subsets of the Five families.

The Five families consisted of The Williams family in New York, The Sicilian mafia based in Italy, The Perez Cartel in Mexico, the Liu Dynasty in California and lastly the O'Bryan family in Ireland.