[Georgia 03] Fallen

most of his neck. A tattoo of a dragon went up his vertebrae. The wings were spread across his shaved head. The eyes were bright yellow.
    Ling said, “My sister’s pretty freaked out.”
    “I can imagine.”
    “Those little shits tried to kill her.” His voice was hard, exactly the kind of tone you’d expect from a man who’d mutilated and killed two women. “They wouldn’t be actin’ so tough if I wasn’t locked up in here. I’d be bringin’ them some pains in their brains. You feel me?”
    Will looked at the guard. The man was tensed like a bulldog ready to fight. Or flee, which seemed the smarter option. Will thought about the raid team waiting, and wondered what Roger Ling could do in sixty-one seconds. A lot, probably.
    Ling said, “You know why I asked to speak with you?”
    Will was honest. “I have no idea.”
    “ ’Cause I don’t trust nothin’ that bitch has to say.”
    Obviously, he meant Amanda. “That’s probably smart.”
    He laughed. Will listened to the sound echoing through the cell. There was no joy in the noise. It was chilling, almost maniacal. Will wondered if Ling’s victims had heard this laughter while they were being strangled to death with Arnoldo’s leash.
    Ling said, “We gotta end this. Too much blood on the street is bad for business.”
    “Tell me how to make that happen.”
    “I got word from Ignatio. He understands Yellow isn’t behind this. He wants peace.”
    Will wasn’t exactly a gang expert, but he doubted that the leader of Los Texicanos would turn the other cheek over his son being beaten and killed. He told Ling as much. “I would assume Mr. Ortiz wants vengeance.”
    “Nah, man. No vengeance. Ricardo dug his own grave. Ignatio knows that. Make sure Faith knows that, too. She did what she had to do. Family is family, am I right?”
    Will didn’t like this man knowing Faith’s name, and he sure as hell didn’t trust his assurances. Still, he said, “I’ll tell her.”
    Ling echoed his sister’s words. “These young guys are crazy, man. Got no sense of the value of life. You bust your ass to make the world good for them. You give them brand new cars and send them to private schools, and the minute they’re on their own, pow, they turn around and pop you one.”
    Will thought “pow” was a bit of an understatement, but he kept that thought to himself.
    “Ricardo was at Westminster,” Ling said. “You know that?”
    Will was familiar with the private school, which cost upwards of twenty-five thousand dollars a year. He also knew from Hironobu Kwon’s file that he’d attended Westminster on a math scholarship. So, another connection.
    Ling said, “Ignatio thought he could buy his son a different life, but them spoiled rich kids got him hooked on Oxy.”
    “Was Ricardo in rehab?”
    “Shit, little dude lived in rehab.” He shifted again. Will could hear the material of his stiff orange shirt rub against the metal door. “You got kids?”
    “No.”
    “Not that you know of, right?” He laughed as if this was funny. “I got three. Two ex-wives always bitchin’ at me for money. I give it to ’em, though. They keep my boys in line, don’t let my daughter dress like no whore. Keep their noses clean.” His shoulder raised in a shrug. “What can you do, though? It’s in the blood sometimes. No matter how many times you show them the right way, they get to a certain age and they get ideas into their heads. They think maybe they don’t have to work their way up. They see what other people got and think they can just walk in and take it.”
    Ling seemed to know a lot about Ignatio Ortiz’s parenting woes. Odd, especially considering the two were locked down in separate prisons that were almost an entire state away from each other. Boyd Spivey had been wrong. Yellow wasn’t making a play for Brown. Yellow was working for Brown.
    Will said, “You have a business relationship with Mr. Ortiz.”
    “That’s a fair statement.”
    “Ignatio asked Julia to give his son a job on the legit side of the business.”
    “It’s good for a young man to have a trade. And Ricardo took to it. He had an eye for the work. Most of ’em, they’re just putting together boxes, slapping on doors. Ricky was different. He was smart. Knew how to get the right people on the job. Could’ve run his own shop one day.”
    Will started to understand. “Ricardo got a crew together—Hironobu Kwon and the others worked at your sister’s shop. Maybe they