As tension etched Jordan’s features.

Jagoan, who had maintained a quiet vigil, instantly discerned the growing rumble of a motorcycle engine drawing nearer. It was heading their way.

In that charged moment, Hogan grasped the gravity of Jordan’s potential entanglement.

His voice turned stern as he demanded, “Jordan, lay it bare. Who have you crossed?”

Conceding that the truth could no longer be masked, Jordan, resigned, began, “Uncle Hogan, these folks here belong to a fresh gang making waves in New York…”

Hogan interjected, “Debt collectors, are they?”

for protection money, three grand

his brows, Hogan inquired, “Hasn’t Chinatown always been run by Chinese syndicates? The fee’s been a mere three hundred

week after a fierce showdown and heavy losses. Big Vigo has

caught Hogan

a month since they’ve started yapping about three grand. Sounds rather fishy,

“Who’s denying that! We toil from dawn till dusk in these stores, paying rent and working under the table since we lack legal status to foot the bills. You’re overseeing it all and after all’s said and done, you’re only scraping together a few grand a month. They want three thousand, essentially

“Who’s behind

sprinkling of Latinos from Brooklyn and downtown. Word is, they’re backed by Italians. The Italians are slowly fading into the background, pulling the strings but keeping out of the fray. They’d rather let these ruthless African-Americans

wounds on

up the sum, so they beat me down. They’ve given me until tonight. If I don’t produce the cash, they’ll

tone carried a mix of

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