Free Dark New World (Book 3): EMP Deadfall by J.J. Holden, Henry G. Foster

stand beside Black in solidarity. This could get ugly. Taggart read the situation and made a quick decision. The conversation would go better if he had it in private, to keep Black’s pride out of it. “Black, will you come with me? I want to talk to you in private so we can work this out. Like a briefing.” Like hell.
    Black paused, glanced at his homeboys, and stood up tall, chin up. “Yo, lead the way, soulja boy. Yeah, we can talk. Don’t wanna embarrass you in front of my homies.”
    Taggart didn’t reply, but walked away from the group. Let him have his pride, it wouldn’t change Taggart’s decision. Black followed, swaggering. They got out of earshot, and Taggart stopped and turned to face Black.
    “What up, puto? You can’t take off without me like that, yo. This whole thing is my posse, my set, my dead homies. I saved your life, and you need my four-one-one. So you better recognize, and lay down before you stay down.” Black’s face was red, and the left side of his mouth twitched.
    Taggart kept his face stoney, unreadable. “I have no idea what the fuck you just said, civilian. I respect what you’ve done, setting up a Resistance cell and saving lives where you could. That makes you a hero in my book, but make no mistake, Black. We are under Martial Law, and we are at war. You are under my command. The only reason I haven’t drafted your men is that they respect you, they follow and listen to you, and we’re on the same side. If they were under my direct command, their bullshit gangster crap would force me to deal with them like insubordinate shitbirds, and ‘we ain’t got no prisons,’ as you once said. So, now, do you feel me? ”
    Taggart paused to let that sink in. When Black’s face contorted in angry shock, he continued, interrupting whatever gibberish Black was about to spout. “Don’t get me wrong, Black. You’re a good leader, but you aren’t a soldier. You don’t have that training. You also aren’t in the chain of command, so I can’t allow my unit to take orders from you. What I can do, the best I can do, is leave you in charge of your men. But you might have fucked up my operation with all the noise your guys made coming in. If I lose people because you let the entire damn neighborhood know we’re here with your civilian bullshit swagger, I’m going to hold you personally responsible. I promise you won’t like that. And think carefully before you speak. I will take what you say seriously, and act accordingly. What do you have to say, and what do you intend, civilian?”
    Black glared at Taggart, red-faced, but Taggart neither flinched nor looked away. After a long, tense moment, Black’s shoulders slumped slightly, and he broke eye contact. His fists came unclenched, and then he let out a long breath. “Taggart, I get what you’re sayin’. And I know that we didn’t have this talk sooner just because your mission was easier if you went along with the program, but then Spyder took my turf. Things are different now, yeah. But I gotta save face, homie. Those bastards out there, they butchered my homies like they was pigs. I’ll get pushed out if I let that go unanswered, yo, especially after losing my turf. I’m on the ropes, man. It don’t help none of us if I catch a nine to the head by one of my men lookin’ to move up.”
    Taggart nodded, slowly. “I hear you, Black. Leading your men is your concern, so long as you follow my orders in my operations. Your operations are your own affair, if they don’t interfere with us. We’ll help if we can. And I’d much rather deal with you than with one of them, so what can I do to help?”
    Black looked back into Taggart’s eyes, but this time there was no rage, no threat behind the look. “Listen, Taggart, I’m a criminal. All I know is pullin’ work for my set, and reppin’. But this is my country too, and fuck those invaders, and fuck that traitor, Spyder. That’s why I tried to help people, yo. It was, like, my