"You believe him?" Cesar asked Carl quietly as the man closed the office door behind him. Carl had called him several hours ago, instructing him to bring every weapon CJ had hidden in his apartment. It had put Cesar on high alert, uncertain what exactly was happening. When he'd arrived, gym bag of guns in hand, to the sight of Carl duct taping a sobbing OG Loc, some of his fear abated. The two had spent nearly every moment since Cesar's arrival interrogating, threatening, nearly torturing, the sobbing man tied to the broken office chair in the garage's dirty office.

Every secret Loc had, came out that night. "Which part? The thing with the pickle; or the prison showers being a good place to pick up overweight racists looking for a good time?" Carl laughed as he and his brother in law walked over to Chi Kim's car, leaning on its hood and looking back at the office. Both could hear the sobs coming from it even while across the garage. "Honestly? I don't. That shit about him only looking for a car and hearing about us maybe having Chi's through the grapevine…doesn't add up."

"You think he saw us jump the deal at the bay?" Cesar was still waiting for the other shoe to drop on that one. You didn't jump deals like that and walk away to die of old age.

Carl shrugged. "How the fuck else did he find us? Saw us there, followed us here, makes sense. Was probably gonna jump it for hisself we just beat it to him. If he was gonna jump it though, that means he ain't alone."

"You said he was on the phone before you shot him?" Cesar reminded his friend.

"I did…?" Carl shook his head, still a little drunk from the mystery liquor he'd found in the desk drawer in the office. "Right, right. Whoever he was talking to before I shot him's probably gonna come lookin' for him sooner or later." That had been the only subject Loc wouldn't talk about, always dodging the questions or admitting to some other terrible thing he'd done in his life to throw his captors off.

"We should clear out then, homes." Cesar moved away from the hood of the car. "Take the one car we got, stash it somewhere else and tune it there, lay low and bide our time until the race." Cesar hadn't always been one to shy away from violence, but his wife had started to tame him a little. The impending birth of his daughter had cooled him down even more. Before long he'd be working some nine to five dead end job and driving a mini van.

"What about the second car?" Carl countered. "What about the coke? We need another car man, and the space to work on it. The garage at my apartment ain't exactly the place I want to be stashin a couple of stolen rides at, especially when one has a felony amount of drugs in its trunk. It's not really equipped to work on em either."

"Chi's ride's pretty fit to race as it is, esse. A couple of replacement parts, a new paint job, she'll be good to go." He ran his hand along the hood of the car as he spoke. "We could do the race in the same car, forget the hassle of a second one-"

"That don't exactly increase our odds of winning though." Carl muttered, getting up and moving away from the car. "Listen, you take the car, I'll call up some back up and watch the garage to see who shows lookin for his ass." He motioned to the office where Loc still sat sobbing. "I'll have this shit cleared up by the end of the day. If not…" he looked at the office. "I'll start shooting low and work my way up, figure when I start nearing his waist he'll get real talkative."

Cesar grimaced and shook his head. "We don't need to go to war esse, not over this." He reached out to put a hand on Carl's shoulder.

Carl slapped it away. "Listen, you want to hide, hide, I'm tired of sitting around drinking and waiting for something to happen." Carl's life these last few years hadn't been the best. Losing everything he'd worked so hard for, watching it get eaten away by everyone around him couldn't have been easy. Then Sweet…the only thing Carl had done since was drink. "Take the fucking car," he fished around in his jeans for a moment before throwing a set of keys at Cesar. "You go lay low, I'll take care of everything, I always do." He spat before storming out of the garage.

"You believe me now muthafucka?" Loc's voice was hoarse from sobbing for the past five or six hours. He and Carl had been sitting in the office ever since Cesar had left. Carl had called Woozie, asking for one last favor. It had taken some convincing, but it came down to Woozie needing to make sure Carl survived long enough for them to sell the cocaine in Chi's trunk. So the triad had positioned themselves across the street from the garage, watching and waiting for anyone suspicious. "No one's coming for me man, I told you already. I was watching the deal, yeah, I admit it. But I wasn't after anything other than that chink's car, you gotta believe me man!"

"So who was on the phone then?" Carl asked from his perch on the end of the rusty bare metal desk in front of Loc. "Your moms?"

Loc looked from Carl to his feet. "…sw…t…" he whispered, just too low for Carl to understand. A quick rap on the knee with the butt of Carl's pistol made him speak up. "SWEET, it was SWEET! Jesus nigga I think you shattered my knee cap!" the name was like a sack of bricks over the head.

"What…? Why? Why the fuck would he work with you?" Carl wasn't sure how to feel. Sweet…he'd been eclipsed by Carl after everything had happened. His brother had never been a jealous man, but it was hard to see something you'd spent your whole life building be taken away from you by someone better. Worse when that someone better was your baby brother who not even a year before had been a busta ass laughing stock.

Carl had fallen into drinking after the dust had settled, but Sweet…when people started talking about him behind his back, cracking jokes about needing his brother just to wipe his own ass…he'd gotten violent. At first it was a brawl here and there, but then guys started getting taken out. Stabbed, shot, beaten to death, run over in the middle of the night. At first everyone pointed at the few smaller sets who still remained in Los Santos, the few ballas, the vagos, a couple of the newer small fries. In the end Carl had found out the truth. He'd given Sweet a bag of cash and the option to walk away, otherwise…if he didn't end him someone else would. You didn't kill your own people…green on green wouldn't fly anymore now that he was back reppin' the set. No exceptions, even for family. Sweet took the money without a word and disappeared. Carl had reached out repeatedly since then, never getting anything back.

"Why do you think man?" Loc whimpered, looking at his swelling knee. "Me an' him got something in common. Your ass fucking us over." He leaned forward against his duct tape restraints. "He sent me here for the car, alright? He heard about you an' the spic getting into the race, guess he wanted in too. Show your ass up or somethin'. Already helped him steal one car up in venturas, some rich asshole's show car. Told me if I helped him again I'd get some of the money when he won, enough to get some studio time, get my comeback started."

Loc continued talking, mentioning he'd written better rhymes, that stealing cars and illegal street racing would be good for his street cred, but Carl ignored him. He walked out of the office in a daze. Sweet was alive at least, but that was the only up side to the situation. Carl absentmindedly pulled his phone from his pocket and called the triads outside, telling them to go, everything was handled. Then he dialed Cesar.

"Sup esse, everything good at the garage? You alright?" his brother in law sounded more than a little concerned. "You need me? I can be there in a flash, just say the word."

"Yeah, but not for what you think." Carl said, staring down at the dirty garage floor. "I think I just found us a second ride…"