The Family Business 3 by Carl Weber Read Free Book Online Page A

walked out of the lobby and into the warm Caribbean night, headed toward my rental car, a black-on-black European edition BMW 650 convertible. Placing the briefcase on the passenger seat, I let the top down and pulled out into the night air. Not long after, I was crossing from the Dutch side of the island to the French side, headed to Orient Beach.
    When I found a quiet place to park at the beach, I discarded my white button-down under the seat and scanned the area for the occasional late night dog walker, or perhaps a couple looking to get in a moonlit quickie on the beach.
    With nobody in sight, I turned my attention to the briefcase, lifting it onto its spine. Running my fingers along the lock, I spun each wheel until I had the proper combination, then pushed the two buttons on either side of the briefcase. The locks clicked open, and I was soon staring down at my two guns, Bonnie and Clyde, which were securely placed in foam cutouts next to clips, cartridges, ammunition, and other accessories. Bonnie was a Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm, which I favored over the Glock 9mm, while Clyde was a .500 S&W Magnum, by far the most powerful commercially made handgun in the world.
    At the top of the case, there was more ammo and a custom-made double shoulder holster, which I slipped on. I screwed a silencer onto Bonnie and snapped in a clip before placing her in my holster. I then reached for Clyde and snapped in a five-bullet cartridge before sliding the gun into my holster. There was no need to silence Clyde, because when I reached for him, I didn’t care who heard me. The next five minutes was spent tucking clips, cartridges, and ammo into their various homes on the holster. Once all of that was done, I took a deep breath, feeling complete for the first time in years. It was now time to do what I did best. I stepped out of the car and slipped into the shadows of the warm Caribbean night.

Brother X
    8
    We’d finally stopped moving after nearly two hours. I wasn’t sure if this stop was a good thing or not, because the driver had gotten out of the car and was talking to somebody. From my vantage point inside the trunk, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I remained hopeful, but I still tightened my grasp around the shank when I heard the trunk being unlocked.
    After two days in a safe house in Albany, we had headed south toward New York City, switching vehicles at least four times. I knew this was the last time as soon as my eyes adjusted to the light and I recognized the man helping me out of the trunk.
    â€œElijah,” I muttered, pulling him in for a brotherly hug. Elijah had been my friend and right hand man since I headed the FOI New York for the Nation. He was also more loyal than any other man I’d ever met and twice as deadly.
    â€œAs-Salaam-Alaikum, Xavier,” he smiled, squeezing me.
    â€œWa-Alaikum-Salaam, my brother.” He released me from our embrace. Looking past him, I noticed three cars and ten brothers standing with military precision thirty feet away.
    â€œYou’ve done well, my friend. What about my wife? Do we know where she’s been?”
    â€œYes, she’s been at home the past couple of days. Alone.”
    â€œAlone?” He nodded. “And what about this Junior Duncan?”
    â€œHe’s been holed up at his family home in Far Rockaway.”
    â€œInteresting. Have you completed what I asked?”
    â€œEverything is exactly as you instructed, except that the Jew wants to meet. I can debrief you in the car.”
    â€œGood.” I patted him on the back then turned back to the trunk, whistling for my rats, who quickly came out of their hiding place. I picked them up, giving each a kiss before I placed them in my pockets and followed Elijah toward the car.
    â€œX! Yo, X!” I turned in the direction of the familiar voice.
    It was Jefferson, who was leaning against the car, wearing civilian clothes. Nugent was sitting on the hood, arms