The Family Business 3 (14 page)

The brothers and I finished our evening prayers then sat down to eat a fantastic meal prepared by a handful of the brothers' wives. I'm not sure if it was that the food was so good or that I hadn't eaten all day, but I was on my third plate of food. Elijah had been constantly prodding me to eat during the day, but we'd done an arson job on one of the Duncan car dealerships in Long Island earlier, and I always found it hard to eat until after a job was successfully completed.

“Xavier,” Elijah called to me as he hung up his phone. I glanced his way to acknowledge I was listening, but I didn't stop devouring the chicken leg in my hand. “Most of the Duncans are still at the hospital, except for Vegas, who is impossible to follow, and Junior, who has fallen off the grid with your wife. I'm not quite sure if they know about the fire yet.”

A satisfied smile emerged as I imagined the shock on their faces when they found out one of their precious dealerships had gone up in flames. This was the message I wanted to make sure everyone heard loud and clear: You fuck my wife, I fuck your entire family and everyone associated with you. They had no idea what we had planned for them next.

“What about tonight? Have we gotten the call? Is everything in place?”

“Everything is in place, and the men have all been issued weapons. We're just waiting on you.”

I dropped the chicken back on my plate, my mind back on business. “Well, then let's move out.”

An hour later, everything was in place, and we arrived at the Staten Island warehouse where Lincoln had told us he worked. From the outside, the building appeared abandoned, but upon closer inspection we could see the infrared surveillance system. We sat in our cars at a safe enough distance to go undetected as we watched the Uzi-carrying sentries who circled the building just like Lincoln had described it to us.

“Let's take 'em out,” I told Elijah. He gave the signal, and within seconds our sniper hit the sentries. We watched them fall one by one, and then our men, almost forty strong, stormed the building.

“We've been compromised!” A Duncan guard hollered into his walkie-talkie when he spotted us. He lifted his gun at an unsuspecting Elijah and was about to pull the trigger.

“Drop it,” I commanded, pointing my Desert Eagle handgun at him. Four of our men were standing nearby with their weapons trained on him also.

He didn't pull the trigger, but he didn't drop his weapon, either. Lincoln had said the Duncan employees were loyal, and that was proving to be an understatement. Most men would have dropped the weapon on command when faced with multiple firearms pointed at them.

“I can't do that,” he answered, which came as no surprise to me.

“That's too bad,” I replied right before I unloaded two shots into his chest. His body flew backward before he landed dead on the concrete.

Elijah turned and gave me a grateful nod.

I looked down at the man on the ground and shook my head. “You're incredibly loyal—for a dead man.” The laughter of my men broke some of the tension, if only for a moment.

“Fan out,” I ordered. “And bring me the person in charge—alive.”

They spread out like a swarm of roaches, covering every exit and entrance. For the next five minutes, all I heard was automatic gunfire and screaming. The Duncans' employees were putting up a good fight, but they were outnumbered five to one, so it didn't take long for me to hear the echo of “Clear . . . Clear . . . Clear . . . ” on my earpiece.

Elijah came running to report, “We've got ten Duncan men down and one captive.”

“Good. Losses on our side?”

“Two men dead, one injured.”

“May Allah bless their souls on their journey to the kingdom,” I said.

“May Allah bless their souls,” the men repeated in unison.

“Brother Xavier, I think we might have something here,” Ahmed shouted from across the warehouse.

Elijah and I walked side by side to where Ahmed was struggling to open a large, heavy door. Elijah stepped over to help him, and when they managed to pry it open, we saw something we definitely hadn't expected. I think we had all been surprised by the Duncans' power on some level, but this took it to new heights, because piled almost to the ceiling in that room was enough of marijuana to fill four tractor trailers.

“What do we do with this?” Elijah asked.

It took me a moment to wrap my head around just how much dope in dollars and cents was piled up in front of us. It had to be millions. Sensing that something was up, a group of our men had gathered near the doorway, and turning to look at them, I swear I could see dollar signs in their eyes.

“Burn it!” I barked at Elijah. “Burn every drop of this poison.”

Elijah, as always, didn't hesitate. He shouted to his men, “You heard the man! Burn it!”

I was sure some of the less devout among our men were silently questioning my judgment, no doubt tempted by the money that could be made selling this weed on the streets, but no one was stupid enough to protest out loud. Wisely, they scrambled to set the Duncans' weed aflame.

I stepped outside as the smoke started filling the room, and one of my soldiers brought the lone Duncan survivor out to me. As they approached, I could see that he was terrified.

“My name is Brother Xavier, and I want you to deliver a message to the Duncans. Can you do that?”

The man nodded his head. “As long as I'm alive.”

I laughed. “Tell the Duncans that we're going to keep making these little field trips until they give us Junior. Now, can you do that?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said, looking like he was about to piss his pants.

“Good.” I turned to Ahmed. “Drop him off near that hospital once we get this all wrapped up.” As Ahmed escorted our guest toward the cars, Elijah approached me with his phone to his ear and a frown on his face.

“It's the Jew,” he said, handing me the phone. “He says it's important.”

“Bernie, this really isn't a good time,” I said into the phone. He ignored me and began spelling out the reason for his call.

“Oh, really?” I replied when he was finally finished. “Well, thanks for the heads up, Bernie. I'll make the necessary arrangements on our part.” I hung up and handed Elijah his phone.

“What'd the Jew have to say?” he asked.

Several of our men had started spilling out of the building as the smoke inside grew thicker. They were loitering around, close enough to hear anything I might say to Elijah. “Come on,” I said. “Let's get out of here before we all get contact highs. I'll explain it to you on the way back to Rosedale.”

After a week of the most unbelievable sex with not a care in the world, Sonya and I had finally come up for air. We traveled down to Camden, New Jersey, in a Zipcar, had a little lunch at Joe's Crab Shack, then left the Zipcar in the parking lot and headed down the street to an old tenement. We went around to the unmarked entrance in the seedy-looking alley in the back. It was a place where you had to be either desperate or brave to enter. At the moment, I was a little of both. There was nothing I wanted more in life than to be with Sonya, and I was willing to do anything to make that happen.

“Hey, man,” Damon greeted me as we slipped into his office, a twenty by twenty room jam-packed with computers and printers.

Damon was one of the East Coast's best counterfeiters, and quite possibly the most successful in the world because of his approach. Most U.S. counterfeiters concentrated on making fake $20 and $100 dollar bills, but Damon's specialty was foreign currency. He'd pretty much cornered the market on people looking for non-U.S. money. Our fathers had done business together for years before his pops died, but this was the first time I'd come to him for my own needs. Because of our personal history, he was willing to expand his services beyond counterfeit bills for me.

“My man.” We slapped our palms together in greeting. “You got everything we need?” I asked.

“Yeah. New identities, with passports and credit cards to match.” He held them up for me to see, but his eyes kind of glazed over and he looked away, which made me think he had something else on his mind. Damon had always been a little odd—a genius at what he did, but seriously lacking in social skills. I figured he was just uncomfortable about asking for his payment.

“Don't worry. I got your money,” I said, motioning to Sonya. She opened her purse and handed over the large envelope containing his six-figure fee. Sure, it was a hell of a lot of money, but like I said, I was willing to do anything to be with my woman.

He looked down at the envelope and scrunched up his face. “It's not that,” he said. “I just . . .” His voice faded away and he got that glazed-over look again. Dude was acting truly weird, and it was starting to piss me off.

“What, Damon? Just spit it out.”

“Just, well, I just didn't think you'd go through with jumping town with what's going on with your family.”

Damon usually stayed holed up in this dark room with all his computer equipment, so it hadn't occurred to me that he would have heard any talk about our beef with Brother X and his crew.

“Shit, to be honest, that's why we're leaving,” I offered as an explanation. “With us gone, X should lose interest and back off my family.”

Damon didn't say anything as he walked over to one of his desks and picked up a newspaper. I looked at Sonya, who was still holding the envelope full of cash, and shrugged. I probably should have prepared her for how weird this guy was before we came over here. When Damon brought the newspaper back to me, however, I realized that he wasn't acting strange for no reason.

“This was five days ago, man. You didn't know?”

“What the fuck!” I dropped the newspaper to the ground after I saw the headline:
CAR DEALER SHOT IN LOT AMONGST LUXURY CARS.
The room started spinning, and I had to lean against a nearby table to keep myself from falling over. How could I have misjudged the situation so badly? I thought that me and Sonya disappearing would stop the war from escalating, but it seemed to have done the opposite. And now Pop had been shot. Guilt ran through me like a knife to my heart.

Sonya came running to my side. She screamed when she saw what had set me off.

“Oh my God! He did it.” She started to cry.

I don't know how we got out of there and into the car, but Sonya was behind the wheel as I started working the phone.

“O,” I shouted as Orlando picked up. “Is it true?”

“It's bad. I ain't gonna lie. It's real bad.” He sounded as broken as I'd ever heard him, even more than when his baby mama took off with his son.

“Where is everyone?”

“We're at the hospital,” he answered.

“So, he's not dead?” I asked, sending up a split-second prayer that my father was still alive.

“Nah, but it's not looking good,” he admitted.

“What hospital are you at? I'm coming.”

Sonya placed her hand on top of mine as she drove, offering me some of her strength.

“We're at Long Island Jewish, but you can't just show up here. There's a bounty on your head.”

“Man, fuck that. I'm coming.”

“Look, go home through the tunnel and let me figure out how to sneak you in here.”

“No, I'm on my way!” I was screaming at him now.

“Don't.” It was Vegas's voice on the phone now. “We need you to be smart, because if anything happened to you, Mom would not make it. Just give us an hour, that's all. Plus, you need to get Sonya to the house so that she's safe. We'll figure something out.”

Where Orlando had sounded broken, Vegas sounded calm and in charge. I realized that he was talking sense. “Fine,” I said. “We'll go to the house, but if I don't hear from you in an hour, know that I will be on my way.”

“Of course. You're a Duncan. And, Junior, this isn't your fault. This is the life we live, and it was only going to be a matter of time.”

I hung up, hoping that one day I would come to believe, like Vegas did, that I wasn't to blame for all of this.

Sonya and I drove in silence. Finally, as we approached the family compound, she asked, “Should I be here? I mean, this is all my fault.”

I reached out and touched her face. “You're a part of me. You're my family, so you need to be where I can keep you safe.”

“But your mother hates me,” she protested, unable to contain her worry. “She'll blame me for what happened to your father. For going back on my word to stay away from you and setting this all in motion. And she won't be wrong.”

I shook my head. “You tried to stay away, but I wouldn't let you. I wouldn't give you up.”

She still looked uncertain, so I tried again to convince her. “Sonya, here is something you don't know: When my father met my mother, they were not supposed to be together. They were on two very different paths, but they fell in love, and sometimes love forces you to make a choice. They went through a whole lot of challenges because of their choice, but that's just what you do when you love someone. Trust me. No matter what she said to you, my mother understands this, and one day she'll admit that to you.”

“I can't stop loving you,” she said.

I squeezed her hand. “Good, because I don't want you to. Ever.”

Sonya fell silent again, and my mind traveled to the image of my father lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life. I would find the person who gave the order and the one who had carried it out. There was no place on this entire planet where they would be safe from me. The only way I could free myself from guilt would be to kill the bastards who did this.

When we got to the safe house, I directed Sonya to drive the car into the garage. As soon as the garage door lowered, I hit a button and the floor slid open, revealing a rig that lowered the car into a sub-basement. Once we were down below, the floor closed again, so that there was no trace of our car ever having been there.

Sonya looked surprised, but of course she was. This was some James Bond type shit that allowed us to come and go like ghosts if we needed. I led her through a maze until we arrived at an underground bank vault, where I put in the combination. We stepped through into a stairwell that led us upstairs to another solid steel door with another combination, and then through one more door that opened into a back room. I touched my thumb on a keypad that validated who I was, and then we were safe.

As we entered the main house, I spotted Harris seated at the kitchen counter. He didn't even bother to let us get all the way inside before he went at me.

“Where the hell have you been?” he snapped without acknowledging Sonya at all. “Do you know what happened to LC?”

“Yes, I know, and that's why we're here,” I answered, working to steady my voice because I probably had a five second window before I jumped all over his ass. Sonya, sensing my mood, reached out and grabbed my arm.

“Well, it's a little late considering whose fault all this is.” He glared at me.

“Fuck you, Harris. And unless you want the next blood that's shed to be yours, you'd better step the hell back,” I threatened.

“Well, I'm the one here helping your mom and your family as you run around with another man's wife,” he continued boldly. If it hadn't been for London rushing into the room, he would have wound up face down on the floor.

“Harris!” she shouted, getting her husband in line. “You okay?” She came toward me, wrapping her arms around me. “I've never been so happy to see anyone.”

We held each other tight for a minute, until she noticed that I wasn't alone.

“Sonya.” She smiled, acknowledging my woman in an appropriate way. “We were worried about you too.”

“We're good. Sorry to hear about your father,” Sonya offered as the two of them hugged.

“He's strong, and I don't care what anybody says; it's gonna take way more than this to kill LC Duncan.” I hoped like hell that my sister was right.

“Well, clearly I'm the only one around here dealing with reality,” Harris chirped, sounding like he was still itching to get his face smashed in.

“Honey, can you go check on the girls?” she asked, with anger simmering just beneath the surface in her tone.

“Marisol is with them,” he said, still not understanding how unwelcome his presence had become. The look that passed between them must have clarified it, because he stood up and left the room.

“Yes, I know he's being a jerk,” she said in defense of her husband, “but we all deal with our fear differently.”

My phone rang, and Orlando's number showed up on the screen.

“In ten minutes, a bulletproof car is going to meet you on Dixon and Third. Three of our men will be there, along with a second vehicle. Two blocks from the hospital, a paramedic vehicle will meet you, and they will transport you into the emergency wing, where you will be placed onto the back elevator and brought to Dad's floor. We have guards at every entrance to the floor. You will be safe.”

“What about Sonya?” I asked.

“It's probably best she stay with me,” London announced.

I looked at Sonya, who nodded in agreement. “I'm not ready to see your momma, Junior.”

“Okay. See you soon.” I hung up, kissed my woman, and then I was on the way to see the man who had given me life, hoping that somehow my presence would help him hang on to his life now.