A Dirty Business (Kings of New York #1)(11)

They were dressed in sweatsuits, white shirts under, and gold chains peeking out from under their jackets. All my uncle’s men were heavier, from either fat or muscle. All big. All imposing. Some was just for the intimidation factor, but I knew most of my uncle’s men were violent and had to be for him. That was the business they were in.

My car door was opened for me.

Bobby gave a nod. “Tristian.”

Bobby. Barrel. Buddha. They were the three main security guys around my uncle.

I didn’t care for any of them, but my uncle had his ways. I considered them to be in the “old” way, but it was what it was. I gave each a nod, noting none of them used my nickname, which was how it was supposed to be. Trace was used for those I liked.

I headed for the house as a door was opened by one of my uncle’s men.

I stepped in, seeing my uncle at the stovetop. A warm smile spread over his face. “Nephew Trace. Come here.” He put down his teapot and moved my way, his arms up and held out.

I stepped in, giving my uncle a hug. He held me tight a second before pounding my back one last time, then stepped away, but his hands remained on my shoulders. He was looking me over, a proud smile on his face. But he was always proud of me. He never kept that a secret. He shook me slightly. “My boy. My nephew. A big Wall Street guy. You’re doing well. Making our family proud. That’s what you’re doing.”

My throat swelled for a beat.

Dominic West was my father, but in so many ways, my real father was the man in front of me. They were brothers; my father was the eldest, but he was a screwup, and I meant that in a respectful manner, but it was what it was. He was a screwup. My uncle had stepped up to the plate and taken over the family business, and he’d been running it ever since he was twenty-two. It’d taken its toll with three divorces and one son who was dead from a drug overdose and another son who refused to acknowledge his father. My cousin wasn’t exiled by my uncle, but there was an unspoken understanding that no one brought up his name unless Uncle Steph did.

“How’s your sister?” He patted my shoulders one last time before moving back to the teapot and turning on the burner. He motioned to the table. “You want some tea? It’s a new thing my doctor turned me on to, and I have to say, I’m a fan. Once I had the Bengal spice tea, I was a goner. Also doesn’t hurt that my doc is a beautiful woman. I’ll do anything she says.”

I snorted because it was guaranteed she was sleeping with my uncle, but I moved to the table and slid into one of the chairs. The water must’ve been boiling when I first came in because he got two cups ready, dropping the teabags in, and brought them over to me. He grabbed a plate of bread and oil for dipping and also a small bowl of prunes.

I gave him a look, but he just laughed. “It’s why I called you, or part of the reason. My health.”

“Ah. I see.”

Uncle Steph was a big man, but not how his men were. He was tall, six three, and kept himself in shape. If something was going on with his health, it wasn’t good.

He motioned to the prunes. “Have some. They’re good. I actually enjoy healthy crap now. I can’t believe it. Eating so many fruits that that’s all I’m shitting out of me nowadays.” His eyes grew serious, and I felt the mood shift.

I leaned back. “What’s going on, Uncle Steph?”

He leaned back, mirroring my posture, but he put an arm up on the back of the chair next to him and glanced away. “I need your help, and you know I don’t like to call on you if I don’t have to, but in this case . . .” He looked my way, and he swallowed before going on. “I need you to do some things for me, and you’re not going to like them. Any of them.”

I knew. I hadn’t wanted to know, but I knew being called here today, it was serious.

“What is it?”

His eyes flickered before growing firm again. “If Nico wasn’t all the way in Hawaii and wanting nothing to do with this family, I’d call on him, but . . .”

I leaned forward, my hands folding together. I rested my elbows on the table. “Nico wants nothing to do with us. You’ve lost a son, and I’ve lost a cousin. That’s his decision. I’m here, Uncle Steph. Tell me what you need.”

He’d been watching me intently as I spoke, and when I was done, he drew in a deep breath. “Thank you. I—I was worried, but thank you. I’ve always considered you like a son, especially when Dom passed.”

I nodded.

Dom was the opposite in so many ways of Nico. Nico was law abiding, rigid; everything was black and white, and we were firmly on the wrong side to him. Dom was the opposite, and sometimes I wondered if some of my father’s ways had slipped through his name, since my cousin was named after my father. Both Dominic. Nico wasn’t short for any other name. He was only Nico, and Dom was only Dom. But Dom had liked being a criminal from early on. That led to drugs, alcohol, and his stints in rehab never took. The last rehab had been his eighth time. He’d gotten high the very night they’d released him, and it had been too much for his body.

It’d been three years since Uncle Steph had found his body. He didn’t talk about it, but I knew it affected him. Had and still did.

“I’m guessing that part of the reason I’m here is because of my father?”

He nodded, his face shuddering closed. “I got a call from Benny Walden.”