“Fuck you, Harris. And unless you want the next blood that’s shed to be yours, you’d better step the hell back,” I threatened.
“Well, I’m the one here helping your mom and your family as you run around with another man’s wife,” he continued boldly. If it hadn’t been for London rushing into the room, he would have wound up face down on the floor.
“Harris!” she shouted, getting her husband in line. “You okay?” She came toward me, wrapping her arms around me. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone.”
We held each other tight for a minute, until she noticed that I wasn’t alone.
“Sonya.” She smiled, acknowledging my woman in an appropriate way. “We were worried about you too.”
“We’re good. Sorry to hear about your father,” Sonya offered as the two of them hugged.
“He’s strong, and I don’t care what anybody says; it’s gonna take way more than this to kill LC Duncan.” I hoped like hell that my sister was right.
“Well, clearly I’m the only one around here dealing with reality,” Harris chirped, sounding like he was still itching to get his face smashed in.
“Honey, can you go check on the girls?” she asked, with anger simmering just beneath the surface in her tone.
“Marisol is with them,” he said, still not understanding how unwelcome his presence had become. The look that passed between them must have clarified it, because he stood up and left the room.
“Yes, I know he’s being a jerk,” she said in defense of her husband, “but we all deal with our fear differently.”
My phone rang, and Orlando’s number showed up on the screen.
“In ten minutes, a bulletproof car is going to meet you on Dixon and Third. Three of our men will be there, along with a second vehicle. Two blocks from the hospital, a paramedic vehicle will meet you, and they will transport you into the emergency wing, where you will be placed onto the back elevator and brought to Dad’s floor. We have guards at every entrance to the floor. You will be safe.”
“What about Sonya?” I asked.
“It’s probably best she stay with me,” London announced.
I looked at Sonya, who nodded in agreement. “I’m not ready to see your momma, Junior.”
“Okay. See you soon.” I hung up, kissed my woman, and then I was on the way to see the man who had given me life, hoping that somehow my presence would help him hang on to his life now.
Paris
28
It had been two weeks since I’d seen my son Jordan, so I was on my way outside to call his grandmother, Consuela, and check up on my little rug rat—or at least I was, until Orlando spotted me as he got off the elevator. I could see from his serious expression that something big had gone down. He took my arm and pulled me down the hall in the opposite direction of Daddy’s hospital room, where the rest of the family was loitering around the door.
“Hey, I was just coming to find you.” He looked like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kick somebody’s ass or cry. Talk about having the weight of the world on your shoulders. My brother had always been an intense man, but I’d never seen him look like this before.
“What’s wrong?”
It took him a long time to answer, and while I waited, I could see a storm brewing behind his eyes. He blew out an angry breath and finally told me, “X and his people took out our Long Island dealership. Torched it to the ground.”
“What the fuck!” I stomped my foot against the wall, leaving a permanent mark with my stiletto heel. “This motherfucker is getting on my last nerve.”
“That’s not the worst of it. They also took out warehouse number nine and killed everyone but Victor.”