The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(25)

“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 f*ck 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 f*ck?

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.”