The Family Business (20 page)

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Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber

BOOK: The Family Business
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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.
The steel doors opened, and a large, bald-headed black man holding a sawed-off shotgun gestured for me to come in. The man’s name was Kennedy, and he, along with two other knuckleheads, worked directly for my brother Junior. They were assigned the duty of keeping secure the fifty-plus classic cars my father had collected over the years. Kennedy and his men also doubled as muscle for our family during times of trouble. They were all highly trained and would give up their lives to protect Junior and our family without a second thought.
“Hey, Miss Paris,” one of the men said, lifting his head from the desk where he’d been sleeping.
“What are you doing, Freddy? Sleeping on the job again? Wait till I see Junior,” I scolded halfheartedly. I wasn’t about to snitch on him, because I liked Freddy. He wasn’t much to look at, but he was a nice guy and knew how to handle a gun under pressure—something I admired in any man.
“No, no, I was just resting my eyes. Whatchu here for, anyway?” He walked over and gave me a hug.
“Business,” I replied, turning toward the bolted door to the room where they were holding Miguel. “Our guest doin’ all right in there?”
“Yeah, he’s a’ight. I gave him something to eat about an hour ago. Junior just said to keep him tied up until someone from the family called or came by,” Kennedy replied.
“Well, here I am.”
I took a step toward the door but was cut off by the third man’s rolling office chair. His name was Kareem, and he was a good-looking brown-skinned man about my age. I’d given him some ass a couple of years ago, but that nigger didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut. He was lucky that shit didn’t get back to my brother, or I would have killed his ass.
“Where you think you’re going?” Kareem asked, blocking my way.
“To see the prisoner. You gonna let me by, or are you gonna stand here and jack off for shits and giggles? Lord knows your dick’s small enough to make a bitch laugh.”
Both Kennedy and Freddy started cracking up.
“What you trying to say? That shit ain’t funny,” Kareem barked.
“If that shit wasn’t funny, then you better talk to your boys, ’cause they sure as hell laughing. Now, open the damn door and get your ass out my way before I move it for you. I told you I have business with that man.”
He stood his ground, until Freddy said, “Yo, man, you better let her pass before she fucks you up. You know she’s not someone to play with.” Freddy shook his head at Kareem’s stupidity.
Kareem moved aside, mumbling under his breath, and Kennedy walked over and unlocked the door. I entered with both Kennedy and his shotgun on my heels.
“I need to speak with him. Alone.”
“You sure?” He looked surprised by my request. “Junior said that man is dangerous.”
Yeah, maybe with his tongue and dick,
I thought. I glanced at Miguel, who was lying motionless in his underwear across the bed. He was blindfolded, and his hands were tied behind his back.
“Is that what you think?”
“Well ... yeah,” he said with a shrug. “Dude’s down with them Mexicans. Can’t take no chances with that.”
“He’s tied up, for crying out loud. What’s he going to do? Shoot me with his big toe? Don’t worry. I can handle him. Just wait outside,” I ordered.
Kennedy hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether he should challenge me, but deciding against it. “A‘ight, if you say so. But if he gets outta hand, just holler and we’ll come runnin’,” he offered.
I might holler, but you better not come running in until I’m finished.
He exited the room, and I closed the door behind him. I stepped out of my heels and headed to the bed, treading softly across the cement floor. I stopped alongside the bed, taking a moment to quietly observe him as he slept. I took in all his sexy-ass tattoos that covered his back. He was bruised and beaten, there was no question about that, but not broken. I was actually surprised they had let him sleep. My daddy was getting soft, though I’d never say it to his face. Five years ago Miguel would have told him everything he wanted to know by now, or they would have dumped his lifeless body somewhere in a landfill on Long Island.
Placing my purse on the table next to the bed, I reached out and shook Miguel gently. “Hey, wake up. It’s me, Paris.”
Miguel flinched at first, spinning around quickly to confront me. I wasn’t really sure what he planned on doing with his hands tied. I eased off his blindfold and saw that his eyes were blackened and his lip was busted, but his face was still pretty.
“Señorita Paris.” His shoulders relaxed, and he gave me a weak smile. That was a good sign. It meant he trusted me. We could get a lot accomplished as long as he trusted me.
“Daddy’s not happy with you,” I said, arms folded.
“Yes, I noticed. He thinks I stole his dope.” His mouth twisted into something I couldn’t quite interpret. Was he smirking, or did it just look that way because his face was so damn busted up? I sure hoped it wasn’t a smirk. As far as I was concerned, that would be almost like an admission of guilt. The uncertainty made me angry.
“Did you? Did you take our fucking shipment, Miguel?”
His entire demeanor changed, all trust replaced by fear. He pleaded, “No, I did not. I tried to tell your people that ... the night they beat me.” He sat up in the bed with a grimace. He probably had a few broken ribs, and in spite of myself, I felt sympathy.
I placed my hand on his chest, touching him softly. “I hate seeing you like this. But you need to try harder. Give us what we want. Just tell me where it is, and I can get you out of here.”
“I can’t, Paris, because I do not know. I swear on my mother. You know I would tell you.”
I backed away from him with a sigh. “You takin’ me for a fool, Miguel? Because I’m not a fool. I know you know something.”
“No, no, I do not. You know how I feel about you. I swear I would tell you.”
His statement stopped me in my tracks. What did he mean, how he felt about me? And why did I care so much? I mean, the sex was hot, but what did I really know about this guy? I definitely wasn’t used to feelings getting involved when it came to the family business, but there was something about Miguel that was tugging at my heart.
“You told my father you would marry me. Is that true?”
“Yes, Paris. I would marry you.”
“You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. I told you I could fall in love with you when we made love, did I not?”
He did say that, but did he mean it? Was it just a moment of passion, or was he falling for me? Maybe this was just the attempt of a trapped man who would say anything to get released, but I wanted to believe him. I sat on the bed next to him and leaned down to kiss him, as if the truth might be found on his lips. The heat between us was instantaneous.
I stood up and unzipped my dress, letting it fall to the floor. “Enough talk,” I said. “I’ve got something that will ease your pain.” I took off my bra and slid my panties off my hips. “They’re outside the door, so we’re gonna have to be quiet,” I told him, though I didn’t think I had to worry about him making any noise. He was staring at me, dumbfounded, looking like he couldn’t form a thought in his head. Who could blame him? I’d had sex in plenty of strange places, but never with a man in captivity. As crazy as it was, I was totally turned on, and from the way his dick was straining against his boxers, I could tell he was too.
I removed a switchblade from my purse and cut the cord that was binding his hands together. Instead of trying to escape, he fell back onto the bed and reached his arms out to me. I climbed on top of him and then moved up until my pussy was right over his face. He wasted no time going to work. I could feel his warm tongue on my thigh, and then across my clit, again and again. I wanted to cry because it felt so good. I rode his face like a jockey, and it wasn’t long before I came.
I slid down to his hips, guiding his already hardened dick out of his underwear and deep inside of me. Certainly this had to be a treat after what he’d endured. I placed my hands on his chest, bracing myself as I brought my hips up before dropping them down with a corkscrew of my waist. I worked myself up, riding that dick good as I came all over him.
“Oh, oh. Damn, girl,” Miguel gasped, ignoring the pain, courtesy of my father’s beating.
“That’s it. Just close your eyes and enjoy it, baby. Take this here pussy,” I coaxed. My ass cheeks clapped together, grasping his long shaft as I bottomed out on it. His breathing became shallow as he reached up to take both my breasts in his hands. I let a moan escape as another shudder ripped through my body. From his intensity, I could tell Miguel was close to blowing his load.
A beep from my cell phone brought me back to reality. Miguel had me so hot that for a second I’d almost forgotten where I was. I wasn’t about to stop riding him, but I knew I couldn’t ignore the text, either. I reached for my purse and pulled out my cell phone so smoothly that he didn’t even notice.
I’d gotten a text from Daddy: We found the truck and Alejandro’s men. You may need to go to California and take care of it. You need to meet me in Orange County ASAP.
I tossed the phone on the table and began slamming my hips even harder against Miguel, watching his face contort in ecstasy as I reached for my purse again. This time I pulled out a Glock 17, similar to the one he favored, but the latest model. Without breaking my stride, I suspended it scant centimeters above his face, placing my finger on the trigger.
“I love you,” I purred in his ear, smoothly bringing my motion to a halt.
“I love you too,” he said with that accent I absolutely adored. When he opened his eyes to find out why I had stopped, he gasped, simultaneously erupting inside of me against his will. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man make a weirder face.
“Señorita Paris, why are you pointing that gun at me if you claim to love me?”
“Because you’re a lying son of a bitch. You don’t love me. And you really shoulda told us what you did with our shipment before we found it, Miguel.”
His face, that beautiful face, froze in terror. “I did not know where it was to tell, Paris. I swear to you!”
“Well, your two men were found with it,” I said angrily. “What the fuck have you done? I was defending you, and now you’ve made me look like a fool, Miguel.”
“No!” he protested, but I kept going.
“I was falling for you, but you’re just like the rest—which makes what I have to do here that much easier.”
“And what is it you must do?” he asked tearfully.
“My job. You do know my job description, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “Receptionist? Secretary?”
“No, I’m the company troubleshooter. I shoot anyone who gives us trouble. And you and Alejandro have just made it to the top of my list,” I stated, sliding a bullet into the chamber.
“Paris, you have to believe me. I do love you, and I don’t know anything about the truck.”
“Sad thing is, I actually believed you until about a minute ago,” I replied, with a feeling of genuine sadness, right before I squeezed a single round into his already swollen eye. As the bullet slammed back into his brain, Miguel’s body spasmed, legs protesting with a violent twitch before falling limp.
I climbed off of him and grabbed a corner of the sheet to wipe away his essence as it oozed out of me. Unlike most hits, I felt a twinge of regret. I realized that maybe I had actually been falling in love with Miguel. But it didn’t matter now. When duty called, my family would always come first. I wasn’t just Daddy’s baby girl; I was his avenging angel. Miguel and his lies would disrespect our family no more. I only hoped my father would let me go to California and finish off that scumbag Alejandro.
“Damn it, Paris!”
I turned instinctively, gun in hand, and aimed directly at the voice, only to realize I was face-to-face with Orlando, Freddy, Kennedy, and Kareem, whose guns were also drawn.
“What the hell did you just do?” Orlando shouted.

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