The Problem with Thugs

Angelino sees his road to riches but the mob won’t let him travel

Angel was forced into kneeling on the floor and saw nothing but leather upholstery with his head pushed into the seat. His heart racing and feeling disoriented, he listened to the conversation in the front.

“I told you he’d be there.”

“Guess you’re right for once.”

The first man laughed. “You owe me a Slurpee.”

“Grape or cherry?”

“Don’t matter to me. But first, we got to deliver this load of shit.”

The slow but steady movement made Angel think they were traveling on the freeway, and it was confirmed when his captor in the back seat relaxed his grip. Angel struggled and caught a glimpse of a freeway exit sign for White Oak Avenue.

“Don’t try anything.” The guard pushed his head down again and held it tight. White Oak Avenue. Encino, a community in the western edge of the San Fernando Valley.

The man gripped Angel’s neck, kept his face buried, and didn’t let up until they drove along a row of hedges that were several feet high. The driver turned into the first opening. They slowed at a gatehouse and a security gate lifted. The SUV continued toward a sprawling ranch-style estate.

The driveway curved to where two armed guards were waiting. The vehicle stopped, doors opened, and Angel was pushed to the ground. The men grabbed him and yanked him to his feet as the front door of the house opened. What he saw made him sick to his stomach. Samuel Amman stepped out. “Welcome.”

Angel shrugged off his captors. “I don’t feel very welcome.”

“You’re always so defiant. Come.” Amman turned and walked inside.

The four men in the SUV drove away while the other two stepped behind Angel and pushed him toward Amman.

This was obviously one of the many exclusive properties in Encino, among the top ten wealthiest zip codes around Los Angeles.

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