Page 70 of More Than a Hero
Pete leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “They’re part of the Bloods. Started in prison behind bars, but now they operate both inside and on the streets.”
Jeremy added, “G-Shine stands for Gangster Killer Bloods.”
Cybil stared at them like she was waiting for a punchline. “Jesus. What a stupid name.”
Pete let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well, they’re part of the United Blood Nation. Used to go by GKB—same meaning, just more aggressive. At some point, they rebranded to G-Shine, supposedly to distance themselves from the early reputation.”
“Didn’t change much,” Jeremy muttered. “They’re still deep in drug trafficking, robbery, extortion… and they sure as hell haven’t moved past violent crime.”
Cybil shook her head, exhaling slowly. “People like that always think they’re untouchable.”
Jeremy nodded. “Until they aren’t.”
Cybil tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Interesting that some claim affiliation mainly for protection. Do you think that’s younger members who are just afraid?”
Pete leaned back in his chair, rubbing the tension in his forehead. “I honestly don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. “But I’d hate to see that happen here in our area. I don’t want any part of it touching our kids.”
Jeremy nodded, his mouth tightening. “Yeah, and the problem is, once a kid gets in, it’s damn near impossible to get out. Even if they aren’t real players, just tagging along for protection, it only takes one bad situation before they’re in too deep.”
Cybil absorbed that, her brows knitting together. “Are all the Bloods working together?”
Jeremy let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Believe it or not, some of them are working against each other. It’s not all one happy family. Especially with the drug pipelines coming from New York, Philly, Baltimore, and DC. We’re right in the middle of it—ripe for a damn turf war.”
A heavy silence settled between them as they returned to their work. The weight of the conversation pressed on them, an unspoken understanding that their quiet little county was always just one bad shipment, one new recruit, one stupid decision away from chaos.
The office had settled again when Pete noticed a new email pop up on his screen. He clicked it open, scanning the details before speaking. “Looks like we got fingerprints back from Lashawn’s vehicle. As you can imagine, there are Lashawn’s and Robert’s. Some are smudged, but they pulled up three others.”
Jeremy leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Anything we can sink our teeth into?”
Pete’s eyes flicked across the report. “Two are from the Philly area. Both served time. Both are tied to the Bloods. I’ll send their pictures around. But the third one…” His fingers stilled on the keyboard as he read further. “The third one is Tamarcus Waters. He’s not from Philly—his record’s out of Norfolk.”
Jeremy’s brows lifted. “Norfolk? I wonder if he’s the one Robert saw around here.”
Pete’s fingers moved over the keyboard, pulling up the police database. “Getting an image of his mug shot now.”
Jeremy and Cybil abandoned their chairs, moving around to look over Pete’s shoulder. The moment the grainy booking photo loaded, Pete let out a low whistle.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
Jeremy exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Looks like Tamarcus Waters might be the guy Robert saw with Lashawn Tate.” His eyes zeroed in on the distinct features in the image.“Tattoo of a star on his throat, mole right on the side of his nose—same description Robert gave.”
Pete didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his desk phone and dialed the DTF office in Norfolk. After a few rings, a woman’s voice answered.
“NPD, how can I direct your call?”
“This is Detective Pete Bolton from Eastern Shore DTF. I need to speak to someone about Tamarcus Waters. Looks like his last arresting officer was Detective Paul Munfries.”
“One moment.”
After a few minutes of hold music, a gruff voice picked up. “Munfries.”
“Detective Munfries, this is Pete Bolton, Eastern Shore DTF. We’re looking into Tamarcus Waters. We think he may have been up here with a Lashawn Tate, a Blood from the G-Shine out of Philly. Goes by Ciao.”
There was a low growl of irritation from the other end of the line. “Fucking gang bangers and their names,” Munfries muttered. “That little prick, Tamarcus? Goes byFlame. Supposedly because he wears red. Hell, they all wear fucking red.”
Pete couldn’t help but smirk at the detective’s mini-rant. “You have anything on him recently? I saw he got out of jail about two years ago.”
“Nothing solid. He’s been lying low around here. But if that motherfucker’s been seen in your area, he’s up to something. Down here, he runs with the OGB—Outlaw Gangster Bloods.”
