The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(33)

“Wouldn’t think of it, Pop. I know how much it relaxes you. Look, I’m going to see if I can get a hold of Junior. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” he said.

“Sure thing,” I replied as I headed for the rear entrance and the new car prepping lot. I sat on a bench, cutting the tip off my cigar and lighting up. There used to be a time at the end of the day when my brother Lou and I would go out there, light up, and look at the cars. Lou used to call it “enjoying the fruits of our labor,” but I’d been so busy lately that I hadn’t taken advantage of one of my simpler pleasures.

A dark blue Range Rover caught my eye. She was a real beauty. I had a mind to go inside, grab the keys, and take it for a ride. That’s when I felt a buzzing in my pocket and reached for my phone. It was the call I’d been waiting for the past three days.

“Did you hear about Kennedy?” I said as soon as I answered the call.

“Yeah,” Vegas said sadly. “Rio told me when he picked me up at the airport. What’s up with Junior? What’s his status?”

“He’s been MIA since this morning. I told your mother he’s working on something for me so she wouldn’t worry, but we need to locate him before X does.” I took another pull off of my cigar. The sweetness of the smoke did little to counteract the bitterness of this conversation. “How’d your trip go?”

“Not as well as I expected.” I heard a heaviness in Vegas’s voice that hadn’t been there when he left town. It damn near broke my heart, especially since I had a good idea why he sounded like that.

“So it wasn’t him?” I felt bad for my son. Somebody had to be playing a nasty trick on him, but what choice had he had other than to check it out? It must have felt like he had lost his best friend twice. I’d had my doubts about the outcome of his little trip to begin with, but even I didn’t question Vegas when he set his mind to something.

“No, it was Daryl in the flesh,” he said.

“Are you sure?” I found this hard to believe, considering the fact that after his death I’d had some of my people break into the morgue and take pictures of his burnt-up body for my own peace of mind.

“Yeah, it was him. I spent almost five hours talking to him. Felt like we’d seen each other last week,” Vegas reminisced.

“That’s all nice and dandy, but then why do you still sound like you have bad news? Was he on the plane with you, son?” I couldn’t hide the desperation in my voice. We needed all the help we could get at the moment.

“No, Pop. He wasn’t.”

“Did you tell him what’s going on? That we need him. That the family needs him.” I felt myself getting worked up. Daryl was like another son to me, so I was happy to hear he was still alive, but it was hard to understand how he could have ignored the call to come help. He and Vegas together were as formidable a team as there ever was. Throw in the girls, hopefully Junior, a couple of Daryl’s Israelite buddies, and favors from a few business associates, and we actually had a chance of surviving this whole mess.

“Of course I told him. He has his own issues, Pop,” Vegas assured me.

“Well, obviously I don’t know the whole story, but I have to say I’m a more than a little frustrated that he’s putting something else before family. I did not raise my kids that way, and I treated that boy like one of my own.”

“His wife is dying.”

“I see,” I finished, knowing that I had to let it rest.

Vegas changed the subject. “What’s this Ma’s telling me about you meeting with Popeye and Tony the pimp?” Vegas had never really liked Tony; something about some woman they both messed with a few years back. But of course, there was always a woman involved where Vegas was concerned.

“They’re suggesting we all pool our resources. Merge together so we have a united front against our enemies and a stronghold on the black drug trade.”

“They’re looking for weakness, Pop. They don’t give a damn about any united front. If we weren’t up against X, they’d never come to us with this crap.”

“You sound like your brother Orlando.”

“Can’t fault a man when he’s right,” Vegas replied.

“One thing’s for sure,” I said. “We need to get our soldiers together because like it or not, we’re at war.” I sighed, suddenly feeling too damn old for this shit.

“Sure sounds like it. I just wish we had more options. I can’t believe that with all the money we make for these people, no one is coming to our aid.” Vegas sounded as frustrated as I felt.

“We did have the same visitor from Williamsburg who offered not just to help, but to solve our problems. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a route of last resort.”

“I agree. We take that deal, we might as well close up shop.”

“Tell that to your brother when you see him,” I said.

“Let me make some calls. I already pulled together some guys from the old days that were always dependable,” he suggested, but neither of us finished that sentence with the words I was sure we were both thinking: “Not as dependable as Daryl Graham.”

“You do that. I’ll see you back at the house.” I hung up the phone.

I heard a sound coming from behind me and turned toward the back of the lot. A slight movement caused me to pull out my .38 as I went over to investigate. Halfway there, I saw a figure appear from the shadows.