The Brotherhood (Precinct 11 Book 1)

Boone Drake has it made. He?s a young cop rising rapidly through the ranks of the Chicago Police Department. He has a beautiful wife and a young son, a nice starter house, a great partner, and a career plan that should land him in the Organized Crime Division within five years. Everything is going right. Until everything goes horribly, terribly wrong. His personal life destroyed and his career and future in jeopardy, Boone buries himself in guilt and bitterness as his life spirals out of control. But when he comes face-to-face with the most vicious gang leader Chicago has seen in decades, he begins to realize that God is a God of second chances and can change the hardest heart . . . and forgive the worst of crimes. A thought-provoking police thriller from New York Times best-selling author Jerry B. Jenkins. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. THE BROTHERHOODA PRECINCT 11 NOVELBy JERRY B. JENKINSTYNDALE HOUSE PUBLISHERS, INC.Copyright © 2011Jerry B. JenkinsAll right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4143-0922-4Chapter OneJUSTICE FREAK 1:58 A.M., FRIDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2011 "Wanna take this one yourself, Rook?" Boone Drake shot his partner a double take. The 911 dispatcher had broadcast a domestic disturbance in progress at a seedy apartment building on West Jackson Boulevard in Chicago's most dangerous precinct, Harrison, District 11. "Myself?" "I mean take the lead," Jack Keller said, eyes fixed on the pavement as he maneuvered the blue and white Crown Vic squad through icy streets. "I'll have your back." Boone didn't want to sound too eager, but there was no way he'd turn this down. He had excelled in twenty-three weeks of training at the academy and was just weeks into his eighteen-month period as a probationary police officer. Boone hoped someday he would look as comfortable in his gear as Keller did. The press described his partner as rugged or chiseled, not bad for a man in his late fifties with a short crop of gray hair. Boone took pride in being in shape and athletic, but there was no hiding his youth. He couldn't let that get in the way if he took the lead on this call. He tightened the Velcro on his bulletproof vest and ran his fingers across his Sam Browne utility belt, including his 9mm Beretta. "It's put up or shut up time, Boones," Keller said as they neared the address. "Sure, I'm in." "Head full of all that training? Planning your approach?" Boone couldn't stifle a laugh. "All I can think of is the POLICE acronym." Professionalism, Obligation, Leadership, Integrity, Courage, Excellence. Keller shook his head. "Big help if this guy comes at you. Remember your moves if he's armed?" "Hope so." "You hope so. Well, so do I. I don't want to have to put one in a guy because you can't subdue him." "Long as I know you're there, I'll be okay. You bringin' in the M4?" "That's way too much firepower for inside. My 9 will be plenty." Once Keller skidded to the curb out front, blue lights dark to avoid attention, Boone grabbed his nightstick and his uniform cap and slid out. As he slipped the stick into the ring on his belt, some druggies on the corner, their breath illuminated by the streetlight, called out, "Five-oh!" Keller turned on them. "Shut up or you're next!" The gangbangers cursed the cops and flashed signals but quickly disappeared. As Boone rushed the front door, it occurred to him that those types were the real reason he was a cop. It was about the gangs. It had always been about the gangs. Keller grabbed his sleeve and slowed him. "Don't get ahead of yourself." When Boone got inside and mashed the elevator button, Keller passed him on his way to the stairs. "On the other hand, we don't want to be waiting when someone's in danger." They trotted up the stairs, gear jangling and leather squeaking, Boone aware of Keller panting as they reached the fourth floor. An apartment door was open a couple of inches and an elderly woman in a bathrobe peeked out, han