The Family Business 3 (The Family Business #3)(65)

She looked as though something was on the tip of her tongue, but it took her a while to speak up. Finally, she said, “Can I ask you something? And if it’s inappropriate, just say so and I’ll shut my mouth and walk away.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t, like, hate me for marrying Harris or anything, do you?”

“Nah, I’m over it,” I said. I knew she would get around to that eventually. “I waited four hours and then I got on the flight . . . without you. It wasn’t like I was gonna come back here and go to the wedding.”

Her expression told me she still felt guilty about that day. “You don’t understand,” she said.

“I didn’t then, but I do now,” I said. “You didn’t want to take the chance.”

“Daryl, I—”

I put my hand up to stop her. “It’s okay. That was a long time ago. You don’t have to explain. I know what it’s like to be in love with somebody.”

“But do you know how it feels to be in love with two people?”

We locked eyes for a minute, but neither of us spoke. Everything that happened between us was like a distant echo now, muffled by the current pain of losing my wife. I didn’t have the energy to rehash old hurts with London.

I think she sensed that I was done. Without a good-bye, she went over to the swing set. “Come on, Mariah. Time to go inside.”

“London,” I called out to her. She turned around. “I don’t blame you. If I were you, I would have chosen a lawyer over a thug too.”





Brother X





45


After the botched hit on Vegas, Bernie wanted to meet with me once again. As far as I was concerned, we’d already talked one too many times. He was lucky I’d even agreed to meet in that park the last time, while his old ass fed some pigeons. And yet here he was, calling for another meeting. I was not used to being micromanaged when someone contracted my services, and the Jew was really starting to piss me off. I always finished my jobs successfully, but how the hell was I supposed to do that if Bernie kept wasting my time with these f*cking meetings?

I had a good mind to raise my fee to a million and a half, I thought, as I followed one of his men to a conference room. The thought made me laugh. Nothing would get that cheap bastard’s attention faster than charging him more money.

Our escort stepped to the side and directed me and Elijah to enter the conference room. Bernie sat scowling at the large table, a security guard standing on either side of him.

“How come Vegas Duncan is still alive?” Bernie spat before we had even stepped fully into the room.

“Aren’t you at least going to offer me a seat first?” I said.

“Vegas Duncan!” He pounded his fist on the table. He seemed pretty fearless, coming at a man of my physical stature that way. I studied his eyes and decided that one of two things was going on in his head: either he was feeling a false sense of security because of the guards surrounding him, or a deeper fear about something else was causing him to be reckless with me. Whatever was going on in that brain of his, he didn’t look like he was in the mood for any type of pleasantries, so the same way he’d gotten straight to the point, so would I.

“We almost got him the other night, but the guy’s like a cat with nine lives,” I told him as I settled in to a seat. “Be patient—and trust me. We know what we’re doing. I guarantee that all the Duncan are as good as dead.”

Bernie looked unsatisfied with my answer. “I called you here to find out when you plan on doing what you’re being paid a very healthy sum of money to do. And what do you give me?” He raised his hands and then let them fall. “Excuses. Empty promises. You’ve reached men in prison who are surrounded by inmates, gang members, and guards, yet you can’t get to a f*cking guy driving a red Ferrari?”

My jaw tightened, but I was determined to keep my composure. Elijah, on the other hand, was having none of it.

“Why are we even standing here and listening to his ass?” Elijah always did dislike the Jew.

I replied to Elijah but kept a hard stare focused on Bernie. “I’m starting to feel the same way.”

“I have a million reasons why you’re standing here listening to me.” Bernie reminded me of the payout that awaited us when the job was complete.

“I said we’d do it,” I snapped, “and we will. In the meantime, not that I’m one to give status reports, but we do have a Duncan being held hostage.” I lifted my head and poked my chest out slightly. I was quite proud of this feat.

The sound of weak applause came from behind me. Bernie’s eyes surfed over my shoulders to look at whoever had entered the conference room.

“Very good. You captured a woman.” Our new guest’s voice was laced with sarcasm. “Tell us, Brother Xavier, are we supposed to be impressed?” I recognized the voice instantly.

“Sir,” I said, turning around with a mixture of fear and dread. Bernie had threatened to bring him to our next meeting, but I had hoped he wasn’t going to show up.

I stood up and bowed my head in a gesture of respect. Once upon a time, we had both followed the Nation of Islam, but when Minister Farah returned from teaching in Europe, his vision had changed. He taught me his new philosophy of black economic empowerment, which truly meant “by any means necessary.” On that day, the Islamic Black Panther Party was born, with me as its figurehead leader. Minister Farah maintained the appearance of being part of the Nation of Islam. He kept his involvement in the IBPP so deep underground that even my top men didn’t know who he was.