Bernie began waving his hands in protest. “It’s not like that!” he shouted, sounding scared.
I reached for my gun. Those bodyguards might have been big, but they sure were stupid, I thought thankfully. They hadn’t even attempted to search me or Rio for weapons when we got there. Probably didn’t think we were a threat. This was one time I was glad that someone had underestimated me. “Oh, no? Then exactly how is it, Bernie? Did you or did you not make a call to free my brother?” Bernie didn’t answer. “Hell, you weren’t even going to wire the money, were you?” I bent over and picked up the paper Bernie had handed to Michael, expecting to see nothing but scribbles on it. Instead, it was something much worse.
“What’s it say?” Rio asked when he saw me shaking my head.
“It says Kill them,” I replied. “But thanks to you, that’s not going to happen, little brother.”
“You fucked up, Bernie,” Rio said. “No offense.”
In spite of his fear, Bernie tried to play tough with us. “Do you know who you are messing with?”
“Yes, I do. I mean we do.” I looked to Rio, who cocked his weapon.
“Obviously you didn’t know who you were dealing with,” Rio spat. “This is for LC Duncan.”
Bam!
I got out of my chair and turned to my brother to ask the million-dollar question: “So, is Vegas still alive, or what?”
Daryl
51
Thunk! Thunk!
Junior and I took down the two sentries standing guard in front of the small East New York brownstone with no resistance, thanks to a major distraction from Paris. Those two Muslim brothers didn’t have a chance the way she sashayed down the street in that skirt that left nothing to the imagination. Hell, even I had to raise an eyebrow at how sexy she looked, and I didn’t want any part of that little vixen.
The moment the sentries were down, Paris kicked off her six-inch heels, snatched up one of the fallen guards’ automatic weapons, and ascended the stairs, holding position at the door. Junior and I posted up at the bottom of the stairway, guns drawn, sending four men scurrying into the backyard. Two were then stationed on either side, while another two were set up as lookouts.
I thought I’d gotten it out of my system, but I really did love this Jason Bourne type shit that Vegas was always dragging me into.
“Where the fuck are they?” Junior groaned, checking his watch for the fifth time in the last five minutes. He looked at me with a frown.
“I know,” I said, trying to keep Junior calm while we contemplated our next move. So far, all the intel that Elijah had given us had panned out, except for one big thing: He should have been out that door by now with Sasha in tow.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Three gunshots rang out from inside, without return fire. I turned to Junior, whose worried expression said, This is not good. Paris looked like she was about to say fuck it and just go in, so Junior and I ran up the stairs. Three of our men took our place at the curb, pointing weapons at the front door. We had ten other men around the building, ready to go at a moment’s notice.
I turned to Paris, who was holding the gun she’d confiscated from the dead guard like she really knew her shit.
“You ready for this?” I asked. She checked her gun, giving me this sensual look that made me feel very uncomfortable.
“Just keep up, handsome, and make sure you don’t get your dick shot off. I might have use for it after this,” she said, pushing the door open.
I glanced over at Junior, who shrugged his shoulders and said, “That’s just my sister, Dee. She’s off the wall. I don’t know what else to tell you.” We followed her inside, with six of our men trailing behind us.