The Family Business 2

Book 2: Family Business

by Carl Weber, Treasure Hernandez

Genres: Christian Suspense

Synopsis

In his typical jaw-dropping fashion, Carl Weber returns with part two of his New York Times bestselling Family Business series. He's brought along a friend in bestselling author Treasure Hernandez, and together they've added more drama and new family members to the mix.

By day they are upstanding citizens running one of New York's most respected car dealerships; but by night, they're criminals who control most of the East Coast drug traffic. No matter whether they're on their day or night jobs, one thing is true about the Duncans: there is never a dull moment to be found. Momma drama takes over the Duncan clan, as there is still uncertainty about who has fathered the Duncan sisters' new babies.

Meanwhile, Orlando Duncan, the family's new CEO and a man with his own baby momma problems, has just developed a new product that may make the millionaire Duncans into billionaires. Orlando only has one obstacle in front of him, and it's not law enforcement or one of his family's many rivals. It's his mother, and she may be his most formidable opponent to date, because she's making the family take sides. A civil war within the Duncan family be averted before it tears them apart?

Release date: September 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

We weren’t used to hearing much from my wife Chippy at these board meetings lately, except to occasionally chastise the twins, Rio and Paris, for speaking out of turn. She’d been under the weather for the better part of a year now, waiting patiently for me to retire and take her to a warmer climate. Her focus had become more on the well-being of our children and grandchildren and less with the day to day running of our family business. That was why her firm objection to Orlando’s new drug stunned us all into silence. I could count on one hand the number of times Chippy had spoken out against me in front of our children, especially without warning. She might as well have run up behind me and pulled my pants down to my ankles, because that’s how out of character this was for her.

“Are you serious?” Orlando asked. If I thought I was caught off guard, you should have seen his expression. He looked like someone had hit him in the back of the head with a sledgehammer—and he’d just realized that someone was his very own mother.

Chippy rose from her chair and said, “Yes, Orlando, I’m very serious. I know this is important to you, and I’m sorry, but I just can’t get behind this.”

“But why, Mom?” Orlando asked with a little too much whine in his voice.

“Because it’s not safe. We’ve operated below the radar of law enforcement for almost thirty years. Something like this is going to bring them to our front door. You mark my words.”

“Chippy,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “let me worry about the cops. I can take care of it.”

“I’m talking to my son,” she snapped. Her tone was so dismissive it caused me to take a step back. This sudden change in attitude was something we would definitely be addressing on the ride home.

She continued, “Nothing you can say is going to change my mind on this, LC. Your greed and selfishness almost got Rio killed last year. I’m not about to let you put my other children in that position too. I don’t give a damn how much money is involved.” Chippy still hadn’t forgiven me for sending Rio to the West Coast last year as part of a business deal gone very wrong. She locked her eyes on mine, letting me know that she too planned on addressing all of this on the ride home. I just hoped I would be the one in control of the conversation.

Orlando cut in. “Ma, this is an opportunity of a lifetime. H.E.A.T. will set up the Duncan family for the next five generations. Besides, it’s no different than what we already do, except we won’t have to kiss anybody’s ass for product anymore. They’ll be kissing ours.”

“Are you that naïve?” she asked. “’Cause from where I’m sitting your opportunity opens us up to a whole lot more exposure, not only from the authorities but from everyone else too. Do you really think the Italians, or the Jews, or the other black families for that matter, are going to kiss your black ass? ’Cause I can assure you they won’t. What they will do is fight to take what you made. I, for one, don’t think we’re ready for that.”

I wasn’t usually one who involved my feelings when it came to business, but I sure felt sorry for my son in that moment.

Orlando confronted her. “You’re not sure we’re ready for that, or I’m not ready for that, Mom? Which one is it? If Vegas was sitting in this chair, would you be objecting to this?”

“If Vegas were here we wouldn’t be having this conversation. The plan always was for him to take over that side of our operation and for you to run the legitimate side. I never wanted this for you.” Chippy loved and supported all of her kids, but she held no illusions about their strengths and weaknesses. In private, she’d told me she didn’t think Orlando was a natural born leader, but she’d never come so close to saying it in front of the whole family like this. She might as well have ripped out the boy’s heart right in front of us.

“Charlotte,” I said, “there’s nothing to worry about. Orlando’s perfectly capable of handling things. Besides, I’ll be here to help him. So will Harris and Junior.”

She glanced at both men and then shook her head. “Is that supposed to comfort me? I already have one son locked away for some shit you did. I am not about to let you put another one of our children in harm’s way, LC. Not on my watch.”

I slammed my hand on the table and stood up. Bringing up Vegas’s arrest was a pretty low blow. I still wasn’t sure where all of her anger was coming from, but I had to put a stop to her tirade before things got any more out of control.

And then London let out a squeal that tore through the tension in the room.

All attention turned to my oldest daughter, who was holding her round belly, looking up at her husband. “Harris, I think you better go get the car. It’s time.”

Within seconds Chippy was at London’s side. Her face, which had been so stern and condemning when she looked at me, was now softened by maternal concern. Orlando, on the other hand, was still frozen at the head of the table with the same look of disbelief that was there when his mother made her first objection. I’m sure he hadn’t been expecting his meeting to turn out like this.

I’d been circling the block for the better part of ten minutes before a parking space opened up in front of Rocky’s BBQ. My mouth was already watering as I slid on my shades, checked my pink shoulder-length wig in the rearview mirror, and refreshed my pink lipstick. I looked pretty damn fierce if I did say so myself, but then again, when didn’t I look good?

I stepped out of the car and strolled toward the neon-lit restaurant. The sign above the door announced the place as HOME OF CHITOWN’S BEST RIBS. They didn’t have to spell it out for me. I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and it was now almost ten PM, so it didn’t matter to me if they were the worst ribs in Chicago. I planned on having some with corn bread and collard greens.

Surprisingly, for a restaurant that boasted about being the best, the place was damn near empty when I walked in. That was a good thing, though, because I hated crowds. Aside from the Robocop-looking dude behind the counter and the Puerto Rican cook, there were only three loud mouth guys in the back half of the place, along with an old man in the corner eating some BBQ chicken like it was going out of style. There was no doubt I was gonna have some of that.

I leaned on the counter, giving the simple menu the once over.

“What you having?” the guy behind the counter asked. He was at least six foot four, two hundred and seventy-five pounds, with a weight-lifter’s body. He gave me a look like he’d been doing this shit way too long and didn’t have patience for any BS. He really did look like Robocop.

“Let me have some of that chicken he’s eating, and a rack of ribs with a side of collard greens and corn bread to go.” I gave him a half smile, but I don’t think he noticed because his eyes never left my body thanks to my snug, low cut running top, which showed off my flawless C-cups. His gaze wandered down all five foot ten inches of my frame, paying extra attention to the black leggings that hugged my phat round booty and athletic legs perfectly. If I wanted him, he could have been mine in a matter of minutes.

“You want mac and cheese or a drink with that?” he asked, jotting down my order.

“No, I’m good. I got water in the car.”

He turned to hand my order to the cook, and I decided to flirt with him a little to pass the time. “Are your ribs as good as Carson’s? I been to Carson’s, and their ribs are finger licking good.”

He laughed. “Fuck Carson’s. Our ribs are the best in Chicago.”

I flashed a smile at him, satisfied that I’d finally gotten him to make eye contact. “Where’s your restroom?” I asked.

He pointed to a door in the back. I gave him another flirtatious smile then strutted past the old man, who was eating his chicken. When I got close to the table with three men, all conversation ceased as I walked by—that is, until they saw my butt.

“Look at the ass on her,” I heard one of them say under his breath.

“You a ribs kinda girl?” one asked, sounding straight out of Brooklyn, not Chicago.

I stopped and turned, making sure I gave him the best view. He was the cutest of the three, and although all three were wearing suits, his stood out as the only one that hadn’t come off the rack at some cheap department store.

“You don’t look like a ribs kinda girl,” he flirted.

His buddies were now standing behind me, and I could practically feel their eyes touching my ass. Not that it was a problem, because a girl’s gotta be honest with herself: You don’t wear an outfit like this if you don’t expect to attract attention.

“Oh yeah? What kind of girl do I look like?”

He stared confidently in my eyes. “You look like the kind of woman who would enjoy champagne and caviar, dinner on the French Rivera . . . and making love on a yacht in the middle of the Caribbean.”

My smile broadened. He really was talking my language.

I leaned over, placing both hands on the table to show him more cleavage. I wasn’t usually into white boys, but this one showed promise. “And you can make that happen?”

“Sweetheart, I can make that happen and more.” He extended his hand with a smile. “My name’s Mike Nugent.”

“I’m Sasha,” I replied, taking his hand and flashing a sultry smile.

“Forget the ribs, Sasha,” he said smoothly. “Let me take you to a real restaurant, someplace with atmosphere and a five-star menu.”

“You know what, Mike? I like the way you talk.” I stood up and turned toward the door to the restroom. “Now hold that thought. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He sat back in his chair like he owned the joint. “I’ll be waiting,” he said confidently.

I swung my hips like a supermodel on the runway as I made my way to the restroom. They waited until I turned the corner to start talking about me, but that didn’t stop me from leaning against a wall to listen to their conversation.

“Holy shit, Mikey. She’s fuckin’ beautiful. Looks like Nicki Minaj. I’d pay to fuck a broad like her.”

“Well, Paulie, too bad you’re not me, ’cause I’m gonna fuck her for free,” Mikey said with a laugh.

Silly boy, I thought with a smile as I headed into the restroom. In his mind he’d already had me in bed, probably already saw me on my knees, sucking his dick before he hit it from behind. It wasn’t the worst thing anyone had ever thought when it came to me, but I had other ideas for Mr. Mikey Nugent, because nothing was ever free.

In the bathroom, I placed my bag on the sink, humming Nicki Minaj’s song “My Love” as I washed my hands. I gave the contents of my bag one last check, threw the bag over my shoulder, and then smoothed my hair before opening the door to make my grand entrance.

Mikey and his crew were all smiles, their eyes feasting on my body as I walked back over to them.

“So, what’s it gonna be, doll? Italian, Greek, seafood . . . you name it.” He sounded even more confident now.

“Hmm, sorry to say this, but I’m thinking about just taking home the ribs I ordered,” I said as I reached into my purse. “I would ask for a rain check, but you’re going to be dead in the next five seconds.”

The silenced pistol that I’d pulled from my bag was pointed at his head before he even had time to react. His boys were so busy looking at my tits and ass that they missed any chance they might have had to stop me.

“Oh, shit! Paulie, it’s a hit!” Mikey yelled just before I pulled the trigger with a smile on my face. The bullet lodged between Mikey’s eyes, and he fell backward out of his chair. I’m sure he was dead before he hit the ground. His boys were still reaching into their jackets for their weapons when I spun around, taking them out with two shots apiece.

It was over except for the old man, the cook, and Robocop at the counter. The old man threw his hands in the air the second I looked in his direction. I gestured for him to get on the floor, and he did what he was told. He was no threat. The cook wasn’t stupid either. Once I started moving in his direction, he hit the floor too. Unfortunately, I could tell from his body language that Robocop was going to be a problem—a big fucking problem. He proved me right when he jumped over the counter holding a sawed-off shotgun.

“You bitch! Those guys owed me ten grand from the Bears game. Now who’s gonna pay me my money?” he howled.

Damn. Why did this guy have to complicate things for me right now, just when things were going so well? I’d come in expecting to hit Mikey. Finding his partners Peter Mann and Leo Garza there was an added bonus. My contract was complete, and no one else had to die, unless Robocop didn’t want to back the fuck down.

“Trust me, baby,” I said with a sigh. “They would have never paid you. Why do you think I’m here? They owe my employer over five hundred grand.”

“I don’t give a damn how much they owed other people. They were going to fucking pay me,” he said, standing his ground.

“Oh yeah? When? The game was Monday night; it’s Thursday now. I doubt they have a thousand bucks between them, bunch of coked out losers.”

“Well, bitch, then you’re going to pay me.” He took a step closer, and I felt my finger twitch on the trigger.

“Mister, I don’t like being called a bitch. Matter of fact, I’ve killed people for less. Now drop the fucking shotgun so I can get by.”

“I want my money!” He took another step closer.

Well, at least this time he left the bitch out of it.

“Look, I don’t have a lot of time. Either you drop the gun or I make you drop it. ”

“Who the fuck you think you are, Annie Oakley?” He sounded angry, but the look on his face said he was more confused than anything. It wasn’t the first time some dude had misjudged the power that lay beneath my beauty.

He took another step in my direction. Bad move.

“Annie Oakley ain’t even in my fucking league,” I said as I pulled the trigger and blew the gun out of his hand.

“You shot me!” he screamed. “You fucking bitch. You fucking shot me!”

“What did you just call me? Didn’t I tell you not to call me a bitch?” A swift kick to his groin dropped him to the floor. “You ungrateful bastard. You could be dead right now. I coulda killed you instead of shooting your hand. Now stay down or be dead!”

He looked up at me with hatred in his eyes, but at least he knew enough to stay put. I left him lying there, holding on to his bloody hand.

“Hey, is that my order?” I asked when I spotted a bag on the counter. When I didn’t get an answer, I raised my gun again, pointing it at no one in particular. Putting a little more bass in my voice I repeated, “Is. That. My. Order?”

“Yeah,” the cook said from the floor behind the counter. “Those are your ribs.”

“How much do I owe you for them?”

“They’re on the house,” the cook replied, sounding close to tears.

I glanced over at Robocop. “That cool with you?”

“Yeah. Just get the fuck outta here.”

“Thanks, hon.” I stashed the gun in my bag, snatched up my order, and headed out to my car. Five minutes later, I was in a parking garage, switching vehicles and removing the tacky sunglasses and the wig. I’d just finished changing in the backseat when my cell phone rang.

“I have been told the job has been completed?” a deep, Indian-accented voice asked.

“It has,” I replied.

“Then I will arrange for the second half of your payment to be delivered in the normal fashion, along with the first half of your next assignment.”

“Next assignment? I was hoping to get a little R&R, maybe a week or two off for vacation. I’ve been at this for six straight months.”

“I am sorry, Ms. Sasha, but that is not possible. Your next assignment is very important to our employer. It must be completed as soon as possible.”

“I hear you. Look, just let them know that a sister needs a little time off for herself.”

“I will convey your message and make arrangements for your flight in the morning. Good night.”

“Yeah, you too.” I hung up the phone and finished getting dressed, determined to make the best of what little time I had. At least with my flight not leaving until the morning there was the possibility of hooking up tonight and getting laid.

“This shit just ain’t fair,” I whined to Rio as we sat down in the sandwich shop in Long Island Jewish Medical Center. We’d been waiting almost two hours already for London to give birth, and my own baby was kicking the shit out of me, reminding me it was time to eat.

“What ain’t fair?” Rio asked, scooping soup out of a bread bowl.

“That London’s having her baby before I’m having mine. We had the same damn due date.” I sighed, ripping open a second packet of mustard and spreading it on a baguette. “She’s always trying to outdo me in front of Daddy. I know she did that shit on purpose. She just wanted her baby to be older than mine.”

Rio laughed. “Girl, are you for real? Do you really think she went into labor in the middle of a board of directors meeting—while Mom was on the warpath, I might add—just to piss you off? You need to get over yourself.”

I replied quickly, “I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s a nurse, ain’t she? She probably figured out some way to induce labor before she even got to the meeting.”

“Why? Because that’s what you would do?”

My twin brother knew me and my methods well, I thought as I gave him a smirk.

“No! Girrrrl, you need to stop. You were not going to induce labor just to make sure you had your baby before London!”

“The hell I wasn’t. I was supposed to see the doctor tomorrow, but that sneaky bitch beat me to it. I know she did.”

Rio shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. “You a damn shame, you know that? She did not do this on purpose. Not everyone is as calculating as you, Paris.”

I put down my food and stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean? I know you’re not taking her side. You’re supposed to be my twin.”

Not only was Rio my twin; he was like my best friend. Having a gay brother meant I could talk to him about anything that I would say to a girlfriend—and I mean anything. So, this hurt a little.

“Girl, I ain’t taking nobody’s side in this one. You’re my sisters and I love you both. You know that.”

“But you love me more, right?” I tilted my head and smiled coyly. I loved putting him on the spot.

He chuckled. “Yeah, you my twin, my other half. I got to love you more, but that don’t mean I don’t love London too.”

Satisfied, I picked up my sandwich and took a bite, savoring the strong, salty taste. I’d been craving mustard all day. “Oh my God. This is so good. You have got to try it.”

I lifted my food toward Rio’s face, but he backed away, waving his hand in front of his nose. “No, thanks. I don’t know how you can eat bread and mustard with no meat. That’s nasty if you ask me.”

“I’m pregnant, silly. I can eat just about anything if I’m in the mood. And this is so good.” I took another bite then lifted the sandwich toward his face again just to watch him squirm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman standing at the register purchasing a bag of M&Ms. I put down my bread and said, “Rio, you know I got a beef to pick with you, right?”

He sighed. “Oh, Lord. What I do now? I know this ain’t about that baby shower I gave you last week, ’cause I didn’t invite London. Mom did. Besides, everyone thought it was the bomb!”

“No, no, that was fabulous,” I said as I watched the woman leave the shop with her candy. “This ain’t about that. We got beef because you didn’t tell me about this new drug Orlando’s been working on. You should have told me about that a long time ago.”

Rio paused a second before he answered, but I couldn’t read his thoughts. “I’ve only known about it for about two weeks. And I didn’t tell you because I was sworn to secrecy until O ran all his tests and was ready to bring it to market.”

“You’ve known about this for two weeks and you didn’t tell me!” Now I was genuinely pissed. “I don’t give a damn if you were sworn to secrecy by Bishop TK Wilson himself. That don’t mean me; that means other people. You’re not supposed to shut me out. Ever.”

Rio leaned in a little with this earnest look on his face. “Look, I know this seems hard for you to comprehend, but I’m trying to build a relationship with my older brothers. I want them to trust me, Paris. Pop ain’t gonna be around forever. I want them to know that we’re a team and they can count on me.”

“I hear you, but you still wrong for that, Rio,” I said. His homosexuality had always put a little bit of a barrier between him and the rest of the men in the family, so I understood his desire to connect with them. Despite his explanation, though, I was still annoyed. “You know I wouldn’t tell anybody. We’re twins. There isn’t supposed to be any secrets between us, dammit. I tell you everything.”

“Don’t even go there. You don’t tell me everything,” he said, sounding a little annoyed himself.

“What haven’t I told you?” I challenged.

He put down his spoon and looked me dead in the eyes. “You still haven’t told me who your baby daddy is, have you?”

Not this shit again. There was a table between us, but it felt like he was all up in my face. I took a bite of my sandwich rather than answer his question.

“So, Miss I-tell-you-everything, why won’t you tell me if it’s Miguel or Trevor, huh?” he demanded.

I threw my sandwich back on the plate. “Because it’s none of your fucking business, that’s why, Rio! How many times I gotta tell you that?”

Rio leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied that he’d proven his point. “See, that’s what I’m talking about. You don’t tell me everything. You tell me what you want me to know.”

“What the hell does it matter which one it was? My baby ain’t got no father anyway, because both of them are dead. So, I’d appreciate it if you stop asking me that shit.” I stood up, disgusted by the whole conversation.

“Where are you going?” Rio asked.

“Upstairs to see if this heifer had her baby yet. In case you forgot, she’s the one with the real baby daddy issues.”

I left Rio with an attitude and headed back to the waiting area of the maternity ward, where I was surprisingly greeted by a roomful of grim faces. When Rio and I left for the restaurant, most of our family was leaning against each other trying to catch a nap until someone came out of the delivery room to tell us London’s baby was born. There was no sign of the doctor, but Harris was there, sitting between my mother and father. His face was so scrunched up it looked like he was in pain. My parents’ faces weren’t doing much better. From the looks of it, someone had just delivered some bad news, and I knew exactly what it had to be.

“Oh, shit! Don’t tell me London’s baby got str. . .