Excerpt from All Them Dogs by Djamel White, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

I parked around the corner this time and strolled up with the packet down the front of my jocks where my coat hid the bulge. I couldn't even keep my hood up with the wind, blinking away tears almost like it was telling me to just turn around. My hole. I was committed to it now.

I knocked on the front door and when your one Gemma answered, this time she wasn't holding the youngone. The size of the scowl she gave me. She might think it made things easier for her to get fresh with me, not having the little one there, but it sure as fuck made it easier for me too.

"I have it," she almost spat. I gave her the biggest, most shit‑eating grin I could manage. My lips stung.

"That's a good start. Let us in there, love, would you?" I didn't wait for an answer. She hopped back as I stepped forward. I slammed the door behind me to shut out the howling wind.

"Wait here, I'll get it." She was doing her best, God love her.

"I'll go make myself comfortable," I said, sauntering toward the kitchen. The brown paper bag chaffed against my skin. She made a noise as if to say something, decided against it, and went up the stairs. She'd replaced the vase I'd f lung from the counter already. I took a seat on one of the spinny stools at the breakfast bar. The package dug into the space between my thigh and my left bollock.

Gemma came through the door. Her eyes were hanging out of her. "Where's the little one today?" I said cheerfully.

"As if I'd tell you that."

She slapped a load of cash onto the countertop.

"That's all of it. You make sure that Darren gets every cent."

I spun the stool and yanked the lever underneath; it lowered until I was eyeline with the counter. I peered at the pile of money and then I pumped the stool back up slowly to full height. Then I took the money and started counting. Licking my thumb for each note. Making a show of it while she stood there all tense.

"You're not to be making demands of me now, Gemma," I said, folding the money over and putting it into the inside pocket of my coat. This much would please Flute anyway. I got a little crawl across the back of my neck when I pictured handing it to him. "But see, there's actually been a bit more interest added. Given the time that's elapsed."

"You little bastard. You tell me this now."

"Ah now. I'm sure we can come to another sort of arrangement."

She looked like she was about to be sick. She gripped the other side of the counter with one hand.

"What," she said through her teeth, "could you possibly want?"

I took the paper bag out of my jocks and put it on the counter. She looked down her nose at it. Her nostrils twitched.

"What is it?" Like the shape of it wasn't right there in the bag.

"That doesn't matter. Just need you to keep it nice and safe for me. Out of reach of the little one. Somewhere you can grab it in a pinch though."

She reached out and touched the bag. Felt the shape of the gun. Her eyes popped. She tore her hand away like it had bit her.

"For fuck's sake!" she screamed. "Absolutely not."

"Ah, don't be dramatic," I said. "I'm only asking you to keep it safe for me."

"I can't, you can't expect me to—"

"You're in my bad books already, Gemma."

She said nothing. She stood there trying to steady her breathing, tears starting to well.

"I want it put away now," I said, "before I get out of here."

"Is it loaded?"

"Do you want to find out?"

I saw a dark thought flash across her face. I leaned forward, knowing right well what she was thinking.

"What dya think would happen if you used it on me?" I said lowly. "Where would you put me? Would you chop me up? Bury me? Pray to God that no one comes looking in the last place I said I'd be? Be rational now, love. You're a good person, I'm sure you want this all put behind you."

Her breathing was wet and mucousy. She turned and looked out the window into her back garden, and then back at me.

Excerpted from All Them Dogs by Djamel White. Copyright © 2026 by Djamel White. Excerpted by permission of Riverhead Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.