CHAPTER ONE

Fourteen-year-old Jamaal Collins slumped against the far wall of his cold, dingy jail cell and stared at the ceiling. He may have been young physically, but he'd seen far more in his brief life than most men three times his age. What he was thinking about, no one could have guessed but he himself.

Here he was again. This place was becoming far too familiar to him. The first few times he'd been arrested it had been for fairly minor things: petty theft, assault, drugs, disorderly conduct.

But recently his crimes had become more serious, and it was then that he was placed in adult jail instead of the youth rehab center. He was caught a year ago with his friends stealing a car. And the last time, it was for armed robbery of a corner convenience store. But none of that gave him the satisfaction that his latest offense did.

He hated cops. Hated them with a passion. What gangster didn't? And that's just what he was, now. A gangster. A real gangster! He'd finally proven himself to his homies. Before, he'd just been a baby; a wannabe. Now it was serious. Jammal knew he wouldn't be here forever. And when he got out, he'd be a full-fledged member of the Vipers!

While every gang member and criminal hated the cops, Jamaal's hatred went even deeper than most. Ever since he saw his big brother beaten and hauled away barely alive by a squad when Jamaal was only eight. He was too young to understand why it happened. He was too young and innocent, even growing up here, to fully understand words like 'rape' and 'murder' and 'resisting arrest'. All he knew was that first his daddy was gone, and now his brother was being dragged out of his life by...cops. That was the day he decided that police were the enemy.

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As it turned out, his brother wasn't the guilty one. A young woman had been found dead in an alley, her bruised and battered body testifying that a sexual assault and struggle had taken place prior to her death. Jamaal's brother, Alex, had just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, and when his innocence was finally found out he was released.

But not before spending several months in prison, and by that time the damage to both boys had been done. Jamaal hadn't seen Alex in years, but neither had he seen, nor heard from, their father. At least Alex sent a card to his mama and him every year at Christmas. Alex never really explained what was happening in his life; but then again, he was now twenty-four. A man. He didn't have to explain to anyone.

Still, it hurt. And Jamaal knew it all had to do with that day so many years ago. It was the cops' fault. And now he was beginning to get even with the pigs. He didn't care that he had been caught and taken here; it had been worth it. He'd even do it again, gladly! He hated anything and everything even associated with the police. Their cars. Their motorcycles. Their dogs. Their horses. And that's why this was such a victory in Jamaal's mind.

Jamaal wasn't a cop-killer. At least not yet. But what he'd done had been deliciously just as good, in his opinion; and he knew, in his gang's opinion as well. Because to the pigs, it was almost the same. He knew his homies would approve totally of what he'd done, because they all hated cops almost as much as he did. He had status now. It was just a matter of time until he got out.

It was a little taste of payback time for those pigs. Maybe now they'd feel a little bit of the anguish that Jamaal had felt over his brother. Not that a couple of stupid horses could compare at all to a brother, but it was a start. Yes, a start.

It was only a matter of time.