The Family Business

“Hundred grand? Vinnie, I owe a lot of people a lot of things, but I think I’d remember if I owed you a hundred grand.”


“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said.

“I’m not acting at all. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If he didn’t stop bullshitting soon, he was going to be the recipient of all my pent-up tension.

“You and your people put it out on the street that you were paying a hundred grand for any information about that truck.”

Shit. Now I knew exactly what he was talking about. Earlier today Vinnie had called me with a tip on the truck. This information was just what I needed to prove my value to LC, to prove once and for all that I was more than just the convenience of a son-in-law with a law degree. No, I wasn’t a blood Duncan, but surely this would help me move up in rank. His tip had turned out to be right on the money, except for the car being missing from the truck.

“Vinnie, you never mentioned that you were looking for the finder’s fee when you told me about the truck.”

“Didn’t know I had to, but I did give you a tip that helped you find the truck, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you did, but the car’s not in it.”

“Don’t know anything about a car. I was looking for the truck.” He laughed, probably reveling in the fact that he knew something we didn’t know. Smug bastard.

“How’d you know where the truck was, anyway, Vinnie?”

“Someone offered us the truck. We declined, of course, but still, we acted just interested enough to get a location.”

“Who offered it to you?”

“Now, that’s something you’re going to have to ask my old man about. I can set up a meeting.”

“Let me get back to you on that.”

“That’s up to you, counselor. I just wanna know when I’m gonna get my money.”

“I’ll make arrangements. Don’t worry, Vinnie. You’re gonna get exactly what’s coming to you.”

After I hung up, I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Rio was just getting into the car. He looked over his shoulder and spotted me staring out the window. Slipping on his diamond-studded sunglasses, he waved and then slid into his seat. I watched until the car headed down the driveway and was out of sight.

I called LC and let him know. “He’s on his way. He should be at the airport in fifteen minutes. My men will let me know the minute his flight takes off, and I’ll call you.”

“Good. Junior and I are on our way to the truck. I just texted Paris to meet us up here. Why don’t you check on Orlando and make sure Miguel’s okay.”



Paris



31


I walked up to the large steel doors and gave the secret knock. I knew I shouldn’t be there, especially since my father and my brothers had chewed half my ass off for sleeping with Miguel in the first place, but I needed some answers. Sure, Orlando had promised to get to the bottom of things with all that chemistry mumbo jumbo, but I didn’t want to wait for that. Besides, I had my own agenda, my own set of questions. I needed to know that I wasn’t wrong about Miguel, that his swagger wasn’t anything more than confidence, not conspiracy, and our lovemaking was filled with affection, not betrayal.

I had always said that talking got me in trouble, but handsome men who showed me affection were my true Achilles’ heel. My therapist had tried to tell me I had Daddy issues, but I stopped going to that bitch right after I whipped her ass for bringing up that crazy shit. I hated it when people talked bad about my father.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books