The text came through at 2:47 PM on a Tuesday, right in the middle of a deposition.
Darrence King Darby kept his eyes on the opposing counsel—some kid from Latham & Watkins who couldn't have been more than two years out of Yale—and let his phone buzz against the mahogany table in the conference room on the forty-second floor of the Gas Company Tower. Downtown LA spread out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows: the 110 snaking toward Pasadena, the downtown skyline catching September light, the San Gabriel Mountains hazy in the distance.
He'd built a perfect life. The corner office. The billable hours. The German sedan. The house in the hills. Everything designed to bury the kid he used to be—the one who ran with T-Bone Langford through the burning streets of Inglewood when the world was on fire.
But the past doesn't stay buried. Not in LA. Not when blood demands blood.
"Fire & Blood" is a searing crime novel about identity, loyalty, and the impossible distance between who we become and who we were. Nick Razer delivers a story that cuts between the marble floors of corporate law and the concrete corners of South Central, asking the hardest question: can you ever really escape where you came from?