The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(14)

“Motherf*cker, you got to be kidding me, X!” Jefferson shouted. “Are those guns?”

“First of all, my name isn’t X,” I stated for clarity. I glanced at the 9mm pistols Samuel and Adam were pointing at them. “Secondly, yeah, they look like guns. What do you think, Elijah? They look like guns to you?”

Elijah nodded. “Definitely guns.”

“What’s going on here, Xavier?” Nugent dropped the bag and raised his hands. There was no question about it; he was scared, but he remained cool as a cucumber. “We’ve done a lot to help you and your people, including putting our livelihoods on the line helping you escape. All we want is our money and to go home. I thought we were all friends here.”

“Friends,” I replied. “I don’t think so. I like to think of us as business associates whose association has come to a conclusion. And for the record, I really appreciate all the hard work you’ve done for the cause, especially breaking me out. Regrettably, you know entirely too much about me and my organization, and your partner talks entirely too much. Eventually someone’s going to figure out your involvement in my escape. So your services are no longer required.” On that note, Elijah and I turned toward the cars.

“X, you son of a bitch! You’re not going to get away with—”

Bam! Bam! Bam!

I never looked back, but I can assure you those were the last words Jefferson ever spoke.





Vegas





9


Twenty minutes after I left my car, I stepped out of a wooded stretch of land and was met by the fence that surrounded an expensive gated condo complex. I hopped the fence, staying in the shadows as I made my way toward the buildings. Earlier in the day, Marie and I had visited the place as prospective buyers. Of course, she had no idea I was really scouting the place out for tonight’s business, but as the realtor took us around the property, I was able to get the lay of the land, so I knew exactly which condo unit I was headed to now.

I crept my way around back, climbing up the trellis onto the balcony with Bonnie in hand. It was dark inside the condo, and if I was lucky the occupants were asleep, but that didn’t mean they were to be taken lightly by any means. I took a moment to catch my breath and evaluate the situation, and then I placed Bonnie back in her holster and pulled out a small tool kit, which allowed me to pick the lock on the sliding glass door in a matter of seconds.

Opening the door just wide enough to slip inside, I simultaneously reached for Bonnie. Inside, I remained motionless for a good sixty seconds, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room as I tried to ascertain if I’d alerted the occupants to my presence. So far, so good, but I could hear the sound of a television and some snoring off to my right in another room, which meant I definitely wasn’t alone. I would go check on the identity of the sleeping person in a while, but I wanted to gather some information first.

I made my way over to a desk in the corner, confident there’d be some sign of what I was looking for amid the contents of the makeshift home office. I scanned the top of the desk the best I could in the dark. There was nothing telling, just some bills for a Mr. Curt Bunn. The name didn’t ring a bell, so I moved on to the laptop. I wanted to turn it on, but the light and the sound may have woken my snoring friend. Pulling out the desk drawer, I discovered a nine millimeter handgun very similar to Bonnie, but without the silencer. Just as I reached out for it, I heard the unmistakable sound of a round being chambered in a gun, followed by the sensation of cold steel on the back of my neck. How the f*ck I could have let someone sneak up on me, I don’t know.

“I’d put both of those down if I were you.” It was a determined male voice, and he was whispering as if he didn’t want to wake the person in the other room.

I did as I was told, letting go of the gun in the drawer and slowly placing Bonnie down on the desk.

“Where I come from, people get killed for shit like this—without even giving it a thought. So consider yourself lucky that I haven’t plastered you brains all over my brand new desk.” He pressed the gun firmly against my neck for emphasis. “Now, you damn sure better have a good reason for being here.”

I stared off into the dark, speaking to my unseen enemy. “I’m here to find out if the rumor is true.”

“Rumor?” he whispered. “Most people don’t go breaking into houses looking for rumors.”

“The rumor is that Daryl Graham, who supposedly died in a fire back in New York, is really alive. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

There was a slight pause before he answered in a slightly louder voice, “No, I wouldn’t. As you can see from the paperwork you were snooping around in, my name is Curt Bunn.”

A smile spread across my face as I turned around slowly, looking into the face of the man with the gun. “Curt Bunn, huh? Well, you sure as hell look a lot like Daryl Graham, Curt.”

“Then this Daryl Graham must be one hell of a handsome motherf*cker, Vegas.” Lowering the gun he had been aiming at me, my best friend since I was six years old spread his arms wide to give me a brotherly hug.

“Man, Daryl, it’s good to see you, brother. I missed you,” I said, getting a little misty-eyed.

“It’s good to see you too, V.” Daryl was just as choked up as I was. “I missed you more.”