The Family Business 3 (8 page)

As Sasha and I rode up Guy R. Brewer Boulevard and turned down 110 Street toward Forty Projects in her sky blue Bentley convertible coupe, we were looking fly as hell, as usual. I was sporting all white, from my eyeliner and lipstick down to my diamond-studded toenails, and Sasha was rocking sky blue with navy blue accessories to match her $150,000 dollar car.

She parked in front of building number five, and we got out of the car like we owned the place. Sasha leaned against the door, and I posted up along the hood of the car, looking like we were on a photo shoot. It didn't take long for damn near everyone on the block to notice us, especially the dope boys. Just as we knew they would, a couple of them sitting on the stoop got up from their place of business and approached us.

“What do you think? The one on the right's kinda cute,” Sasha whispered to me as they headed our way. Leave it to Sasha's horny ass to point out the obvious.

Dude wasn't cute, though. I mean, he was fine in a Drake kind of way and had plenty of swagger, too, but he wasn't for me. I'd been craving a dark chocolate thug like his boy walking next to him for a minute. Too bad he was a little young.

“They a'ight,” I replied, “but let's keep it professional. We're not here for dick. We're here on business.”

She nodded, leaning back on the car.

“What up, ma?” the Drake lookalike said, looking at me like his dreams had come true—kind of like a little boy imagining that the pinup girl on the poster in his bedroom had come to life.

I almost felt sorry for Sasha. She'd basically called dibs on him, yet the brother was staring so hard at me that he hadn't even noticed her. Sucked for me too, though, because his pretty-ass dark chocolate friend was paying more attention to the car than to either of us.

“How can I help you ladies on this fine day?” he said with those little-boy dreamy eyes of his.

I wasn't moved by the attention he was showing me. I could get the same attention just taking out the garbage in my robe and slippers. But I did want something, and so I played up to it. I gave him this knock-'em-dead flirtatious smile I'd been working on. “Either of y'all seen Lojack?” I gave him a sexy once- over.

They exchanged a knowing look before the Drakelooking one said, “Oh, you two must be working girls. That nigga Lojack be buying some pussy like a motherfucker.” He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. “But damn, I'm sure your two fine asses is setting him back a grip.”

“What the fuck you say?” I snapped, totally losing my cool. I'd been mistaken for a lot of things in life, and yes, I was a high maintenance kinda bitch, but I was not to be confused with a street-walking hooker. I was about to open a can of whip-ass on this punk-ass nigga, but Sasha stepped in.

“Yeah, we working girls,” she said, throwing her hands on her small waist. “You want some of what's under this skirt?” She leaned in, slowly running her tongue across her upper lip. “I'll give it to you for free.” She lowered her hands to the hem of her skirt, and the dudes got so excited they looked like they were about to jump out of their skin.

Sasha lifted up her dress just enough for them to see her thigh holster and her .45. She popped the strap of leather that held the gun in place, and then touched the grip like she was massaging a dick. I know she wanted to blow the light-skinned one away for not paying her any attention.

“Oh, shit! She's strapped.” Dude fell backward trying to get away like a little bitch. His chocolate partner looked shook too, but at least he stood his ground.

“What's wrong?” I chimed in. “Y'all ain't never seen two bitches with guns?” I lifted my skirt and showed him my 9mm, but got no response.

“Yo, ma, ain't nobody mean no disrespect.” The dark-skinned one lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Good, no disrespect taken,” I said then got right to the point. “Now do me a favor and tell Lojack that Paris Duncan is outside. We don't have time to play with little boys.”

“No problem.” Dude went running toward the building.

I looked over at Sasha, giving her a smile that said
See, wasn't that easy?
Of course, as everyone knows, shit ain't never that easy.

A minute or so went by, which was a minute too long. I looked up and saw someone peeking through the shades in one of the apartments. Getting Sasha's attention, I patted my gun as a sign to let her know to be prepared, just in case something unexpected went down.

A few moments later, Gerald Mann, aka Lojack, stepped out of the building. Lojack was one of New York's most notorious thieves, but he sure as hell wasn't looking confident right about now. His nervousness was due to the beat down Junior and I had put on him about two years ago for stealing one of our cars. He'd pretty much been our bitch ever since, and a great source of information.

He went into defense mode before I could say a word. With hands raised, he started. “Paris, I ain't stole no cars in over a year, so if y'all shit is missing, it ain't me.”

“Calm down, Lojack.” I stepped closer to him. “What's the matter? Can't a woman stop by to check on a good-looking man like yourself?” I reached out and touched his face, running my hand down his chest, past his stomach, and along the outline of his package. His dick jumped to life. I have to admit that I really like being a woman, a hot-as-hell, ass-for-days, attention-getting bitch. It usually comes in handy in my work.

“Sh–sh–sure,” he stuttered. “But what's really up? I doubt this is a social call.”

“We thought we'd give you the opportunity to enjoy a little Duncan cash.” Nothing got Lojack's tongue wagging like a few Benjamins.

Sasha pulled out some cash, peeling off a few bills, and I watched his eyes get wide.

“What you wanna know?” He reached out to grab the money, but she held it back.

“Motherfucker,” I snapped. “You know the rules. You don't get paid until we get the information. Come take a walk with us, Lojack.”

I looped my arm through his and nodded for Sasha to follow. We walked to the alleyway behind the building, where Lojack leaned up against the wall, still trying to front like he was all casual. I stood in front of him, planting one hand on each side of him, with my palms flat against the brick wall.

He had a hopeful grin on face, as if the existence of a benevolent God was about to be proven by me getting down on my knees and sucking his dick—then handing him a wad of cash. Poor fool had no idea that a miracle like that would damn sure never take place.

“Tell us what you know about Brother X,” I said.

That grin exited his face so fast I thought I was going to have to catch his bitch ass from fainting. Just hearing X's name had made him tremble. He made a movement like he was considering trying to dip out on us, but the distinct sound of a round being chambered into Sasha's .45 made him think better of that.

“L–look, I don't know shit about X or any of his people.” Lojack always stuttered when he was lying. Did he not think that I knew his ass by now?

I leaned over and took the money from Sasha, waving it in his face. “Then I guess I'm just gonna have to go on a shopping spree with this grand.” I looked into Lojack's eyes as Sasha raised her gun to his head. “I was hoping to give it to you, though,” I said with a shrug as I went to tuck it away. “I guess we'll have to give you a bullet instead.”

“Wait,” Lojack said, swallowing hard. His eyes stayed focused on the money. I could see the wheels churning in his head:
fear or money
? As a girl who loves to shop, I see where he could be conflicted.

“Look,” he started, tearing his eyes away from the cash to look at me. “All I know is that X escaped and is back on the streets. Word is it's the warden who let him out. Made him a very rich man and shit.”

“You hear where he landed since his escape?” I asked.

He fell silent again, so the same way a dog's owner gets it to do tricks by waving a treat in its face, I held the cash under his nose. Money is like an aphrodisiac to a snitch. I thought Lojack was gonna bust a nut right through his pants.

“You didn't hear this shit from me, 'cause I ain't trying to piss him off, but the word is he's coming after your brother Junior hard. Now, why anyone would want to go after that big motherfucker is a mystery to me.”

“Good,” Sasha said, “'cause that ain't none of your business. Now, where can we find X?”

Once again he clamped his mouth shut, so Sasha pointed her gun at his temple. “You better tell this fool who I am, Paris, 'cause I'm about to blow his brains out his fucking head.”

I shook my head slowly. “Lojack, Lojack, Lojack, I think I would tell her what she wants to know, 'cause she's the crazy one in the family, not me.”

He looked at Sasha's determined face as she kept her gun aimed at his head, and he started talking. “Brother Samuel is one of X's key guys. He trusts him with his life. If you can find him, then you locate Xavier.”

“So where the fuck do we find him?” I shouted. I didn't have time for the games. This was my brother's life, and every second counted. I'd already been here long enough.

“Well, publicly Brother Samuel is a good Muslim man. Married, with a couple of kids. Not so publicly, he has a taste for the girly-boys, even set one up in his own place when he got out of prison.” He looked disgusted by the thought.

“You think women have big mouths?” he continued. “Talk to the swishy ones. They love to brag about their conquests: who has to have them, and all that shit. Well, this one lives in a fly-ass, high-end spot in Brooklyn, which is the perfect place to hide your secret. You know those Muslims don't go anywhere near that place. Too many white people.”

“And you know the address?” I asked.

Perhaps I was asking too much of Lojack. He froze up again. “Lojack, I understand you're a little fearful, but sometimes you've gotta deal with the devil who's right in your face versus the one who's around the block.”

Lojack looked down the barrel of Sasha's gun. Sweat beads had begun to form on his forehead. Still, he remained silent.

Deciding he needed a little more encouragement, I pulled out my gun and pressed it against his groin area. “I hear you like to spend your money on pussy, Lojack. Well, if you don't keep talking, you won't have this money to buy any pussy with, or a dick to fuck it with, even if it was free. You feel me?” I pressed the gun harder into his nuts.

He exhaled hard then began talking like the snitch I counted on him to be. “All I know is that he works at a salon on Montague Street. Loud-mouth little PR with blonde hair, goes by the name of Darlene. Rumor has it that he might be skinny, but he's packing. I don't think a day goes by that Samuel ain't try'na connect with his sidepiece. Darlene is not the most faithful type, so there is a mighty short leash.”

I palmed the cash into Lojack's hand, and we lowered our guns and turned to leave. We were almost out of there when he stopped me. “Wait, you want me to keep an eye out for Xavier? I can ask around. That's worth something, ain't it?” he begged, desperate to get his hands on some more cash.

“What the hell.” I handed him a couple more hundreds and we were in the wind.

Despite everything that was going on with Brother X, I could hardly contain myself as we rode to Sonya's house to look for Junior. I was beside myself at the fact that Pop had actually sent me on a mission with Kennedy, our top security guy. Kennedy and James, my father's driver/bodyguard, had been with the family for years. If Kennedy was involved, it meant this wasn't just a task to keep me busy and make me feel like I was part of the family business. This was some serious shit. I hadn't been sent off to some fancy killing school to get trained like my twin, Paris, or my cousin Sasha, but it felt good knowing that Pop trusted me enough to ride shotgun with a man like Kennedy. He didn't consider me just some flaming fuck-up.

If there was anyone in the Duncan organization I respected, it was Kennedy. He never showed any sign that he cared about my sexuality one way or the other, unlike some of our other employees, who were so bothered by my homosexuality that they refused to even make eye contact with me. One dude always took a slight step away from me, like my “gayness” was contagious. I tried not to take it personally. Those were their insecurities, not mine. But it definitely made me appreciate Kennedy more, because he was secure enough that he had no qualms one way or the other. When Pop gave us our instructions, Kennedy didn't even question the fact that I was the one he was on this mission with instead of a more experienced Duncan. Hell, London only got her hands dirty when she had to, but those other dudes still would have rather had her by their side than me. Not Kennedy.

Okay, now if I'm being completely honest, the fact that Kennedy was so nice to me was kind of a turn-on. I mean, what gay man wouldn't get excited about going on a mission with someone so fine that he could just as easily have been a movie star instead of the hired gun he was? It took some effort on my part not to reveal my crush, but I did what I had to, because I didn't want to embarrass myself or make things awkward for him. Just because he wasn't homophobic didn't mean he was down with the program, if you know what I mean. Considering the fact that we were entering a potentially dangerous situation, now was not the time to be distracting Kennedy with sexual advances, whether they were unwanted or not.

“Here we are,” Kennedy said as we pulled up to Sonya's house. While my mind had been wandering, his serious expression told me he was totally focused on our mission. “You ready for this?”

I shrugged. “Sure. Are you?”

“You know I get paid to stay ready. You, on the other hand . . .” His words trailed off.

“What?” I suddenly wondered if I'd misjudged him. Maybe he was just as homophobic as the rest of them.

“Well, I'm used to this kind of thing, you know, dealing with unexpected trouble. Clubbing someone over the head if I have to. And you. Well . . .” He looked me up and down, his eyes traveling over my vintage Versace shirt and leather loafers.

“What about me?” I challenged, daring him to call me a sissy or something.

“You know. You just like to club. I mean, look at you. Your Pops gives you an assignment that could be deadly, and you show up in your Versace shirt and some six hundred dollar leather loafers.” He laughed. “You look like you just stepped out the pages of
GQ
magazine. All handsome and shit.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “Mm-hmm. Thanks for the compliment.”

His laughter ceased when he realized I might have been offended—which I wasn't. If anything, I was flattered by the fact that he'd noticed what I was wearing. I was just playing coy by refusing to look at him now.

“Anyway, you strapped?” he said.

I snapped my head in his direction. “Am I strapped? I'm a Duncan. That's like asking a stripper does she know how to slide down a pole.”

“I guess you got a point there.”

“Besides, all we came to do is see if Junior is here. Either he is or he isn't. That shouldn't involve a weapon,” I said casually.

“It shouldn't, but you never know.” Kennedy unlocked the doors and stepped out. I followed behind him, up the walkway and to the door.

“Whoa. Hold up.” He put out his hand, which just so happened to press flat against my chest. I knew he didn't mean anything sexual by it, but that didn't make my heart beat any less rapidly.

“What?” I asked, hoping this man would leave his hand right where it was just a little bit longer. So what if he was straight? A boy can dream, can't he? The way he looked at me sometimes, I refused to believe that he might not play for the other team every now and then.

“Check that out.” He removed his hand from my chest and pointed at the door, which was slightly ajar. I might not be in the heart of the action most of the time, but any fool knows that an open door is not a good sign.

Kennedy took out his gun and held it in front of him, so I did the same thing. Just to prove I wasn't scared, I made a move to step around him. Once again he stopped me with a hand on my chest.

“Let me go first,” he said.

I sure was grateful that he was in charge. If anything jumped off, it would land on him first. Not that I wanted to see anything happen to Kennedy, but I loved myself too much to want to risk my life. Truth be told, no matter how happy I was that Pop was including me, I was too damn cute for this shit. However, if anybody heard me admit my true distaste for violence out loud, I'd get my Duncan card revoked, so I just nodded at Kennedy and stepped back.

Kennedy crept up to the door and pushed it open, pointing his gun from left to right, then straight in front of him again. After a few seconds, he looked over his shoulder at me and nodded that it was okay for us to enter.

Kennedy went in first, and I was right behind him. The moment I stepped my black ass through the door, we were ambushed by three men.

“Rio, run!” Kennedy shouted as he let one off, hitting one of the men in the chest. That man fell to the ground.

This fired up the other two, who immediately began shooting. At first I was going to follow Kennedy's orders and make a mad dash for the car, but he'd been protecting me since the moment we set foot on the doorstep. It was time I returned the favor. I started shooting at the two guys left standing—even if I did position myself slightly behind Kennedy. Don't hate! Hell, his gun was bigger.

I swear it was like a crazy Western scene. It was two against two, and no one was backing down. Within seconds, another man inside Sonya's house was down, and then finally the third.

“Hell, yeah! That's what the fuck I'm talking about!” I cheered. This was bananas. We'd actually had a face-to-face shootout with three of X's men, and both of us were left standing. That was some shit.

Kennedy turned around and looked me in the eyes. “You did good, Rio. I might have to buy you a drink after we pick up Vegas from the airport.” I thought I saw him fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from rising into a smile.

This man had done everything in his power to protect me. What I really wanted to do was run into his arms and thank him, but I played it cool. “Thank you, Kennedy. I might just take you up on th—”

Before I could get the last word out, I heard a gunshot. Next thing I knew, I saw blood seeping through Kennedy's shirt. He grabbed at the wound on his stomach, looking down at the crimson fluid flowing between his fingers. Then he looked up at me, his confused expression asking,
What the fuck?

There was another shot, then Kennedy hit the ground. I immediately began shooting toward the doorway, backing up as I fired the gun. I saw a man lying in the doorway, taking his last breath. In his hand was the gun that had fired the last two rounds that took Kennedy out.

“Son of a bitch,” I murmured. Then I looked down at Kennedy's blood-soaked body, and it came out as a scream. “Son of a bitch!”

Kneeling down beside him, I lifted his head into my hands. “Kennedy, man. You okay? You're going to be all right.”

Gurgling through blood-stained lips, he gathered the strength to tell me, “Go. Go to Vegas, now.”

I shook my head. “I can't leave you like this. I'm going to call for help.”

“No! You're a Duncan. You're too valuable. Just go. Go to your brother. Lincoln is on the way.”

“I'm not leaving you. No way, not going to happen. I refuse.”

Barely able to move his lips anymore, he mumbled, “Rio, I would have come out for you. Please go. Please.” He closed his eyes, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he would drown in his own blood.

Gently resting his head on the floor, I got up and ran to the car. It was unlocked, and the keys were still in it. Clearly Kennedy had known there was a chance we would have to make a quick getaway. I looked back toward the house and silently thanked him for looking out for me.

I had no idea if more of X's men were on the way, so I jumped in the car and wasted no time getting out of there. Fumbling for my phone as I drove, I dialed Orlando's number.

“Kennedy is dead!” I cried out. “Fucking sons of bitches killed him. O, man, we need to get that motherfuckin' Brother X.”