The Family Business (33 page)

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Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber

BOOK: The Family Business
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I closed my eyes, saying a quick one-word prayer:
Please.
When I opened them again, he was still standing, prepared to ruthlessly murder my daughter. A pair of hands with a glint of silver between them rose up out of the darkness behind him.
“Okay. I’ll do it.” I relented, not giving away what I was witnessing. I threw my empty pistol off to his left, knowing his eyes would follow it. At that moment, the shotgun moved clear of Mariah’s body and he turned it toward me.
“Bye, bitch,” he said with a grin just as Sihad emerged fully from the basement and whipped the taut wire over his head, twisting it tightly around his neck. As the panhandler gagged, he dropped both the shotgun and Mariah to the floor, fighting for his life. With fingers desperately trying to come between wire and flesh, both he and Sihad tumbled down the stairwell into the darkness below.
I could hear thuds and the sounds of a struggle. Then silence. Kicking the shotgun farther away, I ran to my daughter.
“Mommy?” Mariah called out as I swiftly pulled the hood off her head. Her eyes flickered as she adjusted to the sudden light. I couldn’t tell just yet if she’d been drugged.
“Shhhh. It’s okay. Mommy’s gotcha,” I said as I rocked with her in my arms.
I could hear feet lumbering up the stairs, unsteady but getting closer. I held on to Mariah tightly as I scooted away from the basement door on my butt. I didn’t know who would emerge.
It was Sihad, bruised from the fall and the struggle, but alive.
“How did you... ?” I asked.
“Hey. You said they were keeping her in the basement, remember? Figured I’d double back and go in that way. Window was tight, but I didn’t go on Weight Watchers for nothin’,” he crowed with a cocky, busted-lip smile.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“No need. Just doing my job,” he replied.
Junior came into the kitchen, helped along by the remaining member of our group. “Hey. We gotta get word to Pop and get the hell outta here. Now,” he urged.
“Mommy? Why are you all dressed alike?” Mariah asked, looking up at all of us.
“’Cause they’re Mommy’s playmates, and we’ve been playing hide-and-seek with you. Now you’re it,” I said, softly kissing her forehead as I sobbed. “You’re it, baby.”
Harris
 
57
 
I checked my phone for the millionth time as LC and I headed to the meeting with Sal Dash. No calls, no texts—nothing about Mariah had come from the assault team. I’d told London to call me as soon as they had news. I still couldn’t believe she’d gone out with Junior acting all urban commando, but then again, there were a lot of things I couldn’t believe about her lately.
My phone vibrated with a text alert, and I opened it, expecting to see a message about Mariah’s rescue. Instead, I saw this on my screen:
IS HE DEAD
? I deleted the text, which had come from an unknown number.
“Any news?” LC asked.
I whipped my head in his direction. His eyes were focused straight ahead now, but what if he’d looked at my phone and saw the text before I erased it? I had no way of knowing what he knew. My heart was pounding as I lied, “No. Just a robo-text from Verizon telling me I’m over my monthly limit.”
Mercifully, LC took me at my word and dropped it. He was probably too distracted to give it much thought as we approached the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge heading into Staten Island.
The closer we got to the meeting with Sal Dash, the more I thought about his orders: kill LC and I could have Mariah back, no questions asked. If it got to that point, would I even be able to do it? I prayed we could get my daughter back before I was faced with making that decision. I’d reloaded the gun back at the house, though, just in case. It sat in my jacket pocket now, its presence giving me very little comfort.
LC’s phone rang. He kept his conversation brief.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. I see. I see. Very good. Thank you,” he said, his stone-faced expression not giving away any emotions.
“Any news?” I asked, barely giving my father-in-law time to hang up the phone.
“Nope.” He was cool, calm, and collected.
I, on the other hand, was nervous enough for both of us. LC had no idea that if we didn’t hear something soon, I was going to have to put a bullet in his head to get my daughter back.
I glanced at the two bodyguards seated in the front and realized that if I was going to hit LC, I sure as hell wasn’t going to get a better chance than this. There were only three of them in the car with me, and I had six bullets. I wasn’t an experienced shooter, but at this range, maybe I could do the job. Just shoot LC and the two men up front when they parked the car, then call Dash to clean up the mess. At least then I’d have my daughter back.
I took a deep breath.
Okay, Harris, get it together. You’re not going to have to shoot anyone. They’re going to call. They’re going to call,
I repeated like a sort of prayer. I looked down at my phone, willing it to ring. Nothing.
We drove past the entrance to the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, continuing down the Belt Parkway, going who knows where. No one else in the car seemed concerned about the detour we’d just taken. Apparently I was the only one in the dark.
“Uh ... why did we just pass the bridge? Staten Island is that way.”
“There’s been a slight change in plans,” LC said, tapping the driver’s shoulder. “I decided against meeting in Staten Island, but we’re still meeting with Dash. Anyway, before we get there, anything you want to share?”
“Uh ... no,” I answered. “Why?”
“Think carefully about your answer,” my father-in-law said, sitting calmly next to me with his hands folded together in his lap.
He advised me to think carefully, but I could barely think straight. How the hell was I going to get myself out of this? I couldn’t come up with a lie, so the next best thing was to play dumb.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” I said with a casual shrug. “We’re supposed to be going to see Dash, see what he wants, while Junior and them try to get my daughter back. I trusted you to do that. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. What’s going on, LC?”
“You’re the father of my grandbaby. Keeping family together is important to me,” he stated cryptically. “You can appreciate that, can’t you?”
“Absolutely,” I answered. This line of questioning and LC’s demeanor were making me extremely nervous. I felt the palms of my hands getting damp as the SUV exited the parkway.
“You know, I’m a little hungry. You want something to eat? You hungry?” LC asked me, his mood suddenly switching to a more energetic, animated state. The problem was that when LC mentioned he was hungry, it often meant someone was about to die. I’d learned that the night he took me to the apartment above the fried chicken joint and initiated me into the family business.
I checked my phone again. Still nothing.
“Nah, I’m good,” I told him. I could barely hear my own voice above the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears. “I just want to get this meeting over with and go home to my daughter.”
“C’mon. Let’s grab a bite in Long Island. I know a good Italian place. You’ll like it. It’s called Frangio’s. Ever heard of it?”
My lip started quivering uncontrollably.
“They say it’s Sal Dash’s favorite eatery, this place Fran-gio’s.
You ever been there?”
He intentionally stressed the last four words. Obviously, he already knew the answer.
I took a deep breath and wiped my sweaty palms on my lap, prepared to beg for my life if I had to. “LC, I—”
“What was the plan, Harris?” he asked, no longer toying with me.
I lowered my head, heart pumping rapidly as I considered the revolver given to me by Dash. Clearly, LC knew something, and the men seated in front would be ready if I tried anything.
The truth. It might be my only chance for survival.
“The plan was that I kill you and they let Mariah go,” I answered in defeat.
“You still gonna kill me?” He pointed at my jacket, almost daring me.
“No. I wouldn’t, LC. I swear. It was never my intention.”
“Really? So why didn’t you tell us about your meeting?” He pointed at the space between us on the back seat. “Go on, now. Take it out. I want to see it again.”
“LC, they ... they showed me a video of Mariah,” I said, choking up. “But I couldn’t do what they wanted me to. You gotta believe me.”
“Take the gun out, Harris,” he demanded.
I warily complied, closing my eyes as I pulled the revolver from its hiding spot. Once in the open, I placed it on the seat beside me then pushed it farther away. Then I raised my hands in surrender. A bullet to my head was sure to come next. I should have killed him when I had the chance.
“Put your damn hands down,” LC instructed me, sounding disgusted. I listened, but kept my hands tightly gripped on my seat.
The SUV came to a stop. We’d traveled down a worn road riddled with potholes and covered in debris. I looked out the window at the bleak surroundings, which were remote, far away from prying eyes.
Then the doors unlocked. I’d been brought here to die.
“I only did what I had to do. I never wanted to hurt or disrespect you or the family,” I said solemnly. “So ... I guess this is it.”
“We’re still meeting with Dash,” he stated, not taking his probing eyes off me. “Or rather, you are.”
“Me? I... I don’t understand.”
“Take your gun and get out,” LC ordered.
“LC, I never planned on using it.”
“Well, you’re going to use it now—if you want to leave here alive.”
A wave of panic came over me. Did he expect me to shoot it out with his men?
“Please, please don’t kill me,” I begged. “I just wanted Mariah back safe.”
“Who said anything about killing you? You’re my son-in-law, part of my family, right?” he said with only a slight hint of irony in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Good. So I need you to prove it, or, as the Italians say, it’s time to make your bones.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“You’ll know when you get there. And while you’re doing that, I’m going to follow up on a few things, check on Mariah.”
LC motioned toward the door. I still wasn’t sure where I stood with LC—did he consider me family or foe now?—but I took the revolver and got out as ordered. I flinched when the bodyguard lowered his window, half expecting him to shoot me. Instead, he instructed me to walk through the overrun parking lot in front of me, toward a building that looked to be abandoned.
“Just knock on the door,” he said.
The door of the abandoned building was rusted, but from the flakes on the ground I could tell it had been opened recently. Someone was inside. I took a nervous breath, patting the gun to make sure it was still in my pocket before I knocked.
I was greeted by a well-built white man around my age, probably Italian, if I had to guess. He stepped aside so I could enter. Inside the dimly lit space, two men were leaning against a desk smoking cigars. When they saw me, the white-haired one got up and led me to another door.
“Right this way, Mr. Grant. Mr. Dash is expecting you.”
I nearly shit my pants when I realized Sal was there—and LC knew it before he’d sent me into the building. At this point, I was pretty sure I’d been set up. LC had probably made some type of deal with Dash the same way he’d done with Rio. The difference between me and Rio, though, was my sharp lawyer’s mind. I had the ability to talk my way out of sticky situations. I just had to figure out a way to talk myself out of this one.
It took me a minute to process what I saw when I opened the door, because it was so far from what I had been expecting. Sal Dash was there, but instead of sitting behind a large desk surrounded by juice-head goons ready to kill me, Sal was in his underwear, tied to a chair in an otherwise empty room.
I walked cautiously toward him, still trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Sal grunted as he tried to free himself with a harsh tug. His chair hopped once, but that was all. Expert knots held the rope that bit into his skin. His face looked like someone had taken out some frustration on it.
I removed his gag. “Hello, Sal,” I muttered, feeling cocky all of a sudden.
“Look at this shit. Bastards snatched me when I was going to church service. I’m a family head, Harris! You just don’t do something like this to me.”
“Just like you don’t take a man’s child?” I said, taunting him.
Sal stared at me in contempt, until he saw me remove the gun from my jacket. For the first time, I witnessed something less than the supreme confidence he usually displayed. I witnessed fear in his eyes.
“That was overreaching,” he offered meekly. “I’ll be the first to admit it. But you have to understand. I never intended to hurt your daughter. I wanted LC to think the Mexicans took her, so they’d go to war.”
“You used my child to start a war?” I asked, barely able to contain the rage I felt building in my chest.
“My men are weak ... selfish. I knew if we had to go head to head with LC, they would fall apart under pressure. I needed to do something to weaken LC ... take his family out of the equation. At least enough where my family could survive. That’s all it was.”
“Is my daughter okay?” I whispered harshly, gripping the pistol with a new intensity.
“Of course. She’s somewhere safe.”
I raised the gun.
“Cut me loose,” he pleaded, his face now wet with tears. “I’ll pay you anything you want. You name it.... Don’t you see? They’re trying to pull you in, make you just like them. But you’re not like them, Harris. You’re not.”
“They didn’t pull me in, Sal. You did, when you first visited me back at Georgetown all those years ago, trying to make me into something I wasn’t. I see now that I’ll never be through with you. I’m done trying to play both sides of the fence.” I pressed the gun against the side of his head.
“Please. I’ll leave you alone. For good. I swear. Don’t you understand this was just business?”
Sal’s red face and shaky voice gave me a feeling different from anything I’d ever experienced. I felt incredibly powerful. Never again would I let him push me around.
“Don’t become monsters like them,” he urged as he closed his eyes.
“They’re not monsters. They’re my family,” I said as I pulled the trigger. “And nobody messes with my family—or our family business.”
For a few seconds, I just stood there, a changed man with a smoking gun in his hand. I had done the one thing I was determined never to do. I’d killed a man in cold blood, becoming a murderer just like my father.
I turned away from Sal’s lifeless body and walked out of the room. The three men were still there, now joined by LC.
“Is Mariah okay?” I asked, unable to bring myself to look at him.
“Yes,” my father-in-law replied. “She’s fine.”
“And London?”
“She’s fine also.”
I nodded, thankful that my family was safe, but unable to say anything else. I think part of me was still back in that room with the man I’d just murdered.

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