The Family Business 3(34)

I raised my gun, pointing it dead center, until the person was close enough for me to see his face. “What the hell are you doing here?” In that instant, I saw a flash from the corner of my eye and felt a strange warm sensation on my chest. It took me a second to realize what had just happened.

“You—you shot me?” I put a hand on my chest and felt the warm, sticky blood oozing through my shirt just before I collapsed and everything went black.





Vegas





21


I rode in the middle car of a small caravan of vehicles, wearing all black from head to toe, with Bonnie strapped to my hip. From the moment Orlando had called and said the old man was shot, I’d taken over security at the house, orchestrating things to get my family to the hospital safely.

Despite my cool demeanor, I was feeling overwhelmed. The stagnant silence in the car seemed to be sucking all the oxygen out of the atmosphere, but it didn’t matter, since I could hardly breathe anyway. Ever since I got Orlando’s call, I’d felt like I was suffocating, and being in the confined space of the car made it even worse.

We couldn’t have pulled up in front of the hospital soon enough. I needed out. I think I jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. I exhaled and began issuing orders.

“I need two men on the front entrance and two men around back. Richie, case the place for any side entrances, and make sure that wherever there’s an entrance and an exit, it’s covered with one of our people.”

Once my men affirmed their understanding of my orders, I made my way back toward the rear of the car, checking the perimeter. When I was sure the coast was clear, I opened the door and allowed my mother to exit. I had to give it to her: She took “Never let them see you sweat” to the next level. She got out of the car looking as unruffled as if I were just taking her on a Sunday afternoon drive. There I was trying my best to be strong for her, but like always, she was the one holding me down.

We were joined by Harris and London, who’d traveled in the car behind us. I led the family to the automatic sliding doors at the hospital’s entrance.

I turned to give one last order to my men, who would be staying outside. “If you see anyone who looks like they might have so much as a fingernail clipper, stop and frisk them.”

“What about the police?” one of them asked me.

“What about them? You all have carry permits. Tell them to call Captain Marks of the hundred and third if they have any problems. Harris has already spoken to him.”

He nodded his understanding, and I ushered my family into the reception area.

“Duncan,” I said to the woman behind the intake desk. “I need to know which room LC—”

“Fourth floor, surgery,” the woman responded, cutting me off. Apparently she’d been asked this question already. We dashed off to the elevator bank without even saying thank you. I pressed the button to go up.

As I paced back and forth in front of the doors, I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard my mother’s soothing voice. “Calm down, honey.”

“I’m all right, Ma,” I replied, although we both knew that wasn’t true.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened. I raced in and hit the button for the fourth floor, pacing inside as we rode up. When the elevator arrived on the fourth floor, I darted out in front of the others, looking around until I spotted Orlando staring out a window overlooking the parking lot. He looked as bad as I felt.

I called out to him, and when he turned to me, I gasped at the sight of his shirt covered in blood. I’d seen plenty of blood in my life, but knowing that it was my father’s blood that stained my brother’s shirt was almost more than I could process.

“He’s in surgery, Ma, but it doesn’t look good,” Orlando said to us as we approached. He was obviously trying to hold back tears.

Despite everything, my mother was still stronger than all of us. I watched as she embraced Orlando. London lingered close by, touching his back, not quite sure what to do.

“Vegas, can I talk to you for a second?” Harris tugged on my arm and then led me a short way down the corridor. This did not sit well with me. I already didn’t like the guy, and now he was pulling me away from family at the worst possible moment.

“What?” I asked bluntly, looking back to where Ma and Orlando were still embracing.

“So what are you going to do?”

I looked back at Harris to see him standing there with his arms folded like he was scolding one of his kids. If I didn’t already have bigger things to worry about, I would have laid his ass out for this arrogant disrespect.

“In reference to what?” I asked, swallowing the urge to punch him in the throat.

“Everything,” he huffed. “LC’s on his death bed, the girls barely escaped three Muslim hit men at the Marriott, and I just heard Kennedy’s dead. You’re the Duncan messiah. With LC dead, how the hell do you plan on stopping them from killing the rest of us?”

I flexed my fists, still contemplating how good it would feel to break his jaw. “First of all, you arrogant son of a bitch, my old man’s not dead yet. This isn’t the first time he’s been shot,” I growled under my breath, glancing back at my mother, who was engrossed in conversation with Orlando and unaware of me and Harris. London, however, was trying to ear hustle. At least she was smart enough to keep her distance. “And second of all, I’m nobody’s messiah, but if you don’t get the f*ck out my face with this bullshit, I’m gonna nail your yellow ass to a cross like Jesus Christ himself and use you as bait to catch whoever did this to my father. So I suggest you step the f*ck off.”