The Family Business 3 by Carl Weber Page A

from left to right, then straight in front of him again. After a few seconds, he looked over his shoulder at me and nodded that it was okay for us to enter.
    Kennedy went in first, and I was right behind him. The moment I stepped my black ass through the door, we were ambushed by three men.
    â€œRio, run!” Kennedy shouted as he let one off, hitting one of the men in the chest. That man fell to the ground.
    This fired up the other two, who immediately began shooting. At first I was going to follow Kennedy’s orders and make a mad dash for the car, but he’d been protecting me since the moment we set foot on the doorstep. It was time I returned the favor. I started shooting at the two guys left standing—even if I did position myself slightly behind Kennedy. Don’t hate! Hell, his gun was bigger.
    I swear it was like a crazy Western scene. It was two against two, and no one was backing down. Within seconds, another man inside Sonya’s house was down, and then finally the third.
    â€œHell, yeah! That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!” I cheered. This was bananas. We’d actually had a face-to-face shootout with three of X’s men, and both of us were left standing. That was some shit.
    Kennedy turned around and looked me in the eyes. “You did good, Rio. I might have to buy you a drink after we pick up Vegas from the airport.” I thought I saw him fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from rising into a smile.
    This man had done everything in his power to protect me. What I really wanted to do was run into his arms and thank him, but I played it cool. “Thank you, Kennedy. I might just take you up on th—”
    Before I could get the last word out, I heard a gunshot. Next thing I knew, I saw blood seeping through Kennedy’s shirt. He grabbed at the wound on his stomach, looking down at the crimson fluid flowing between his fingers. Then he looked up at me, his confused expression asking, What the fuck?
    There was another shot, then Kennedy hit the ground. I immediately began shooting toward the doorway, backing up as I fired the gun. I saw a man lying in the doorway, taking his last breath. In his hand was the gun that had fired the last two rounds that took Kennedy out.
    â€œSon of a bitch,” I murmured. Then I looked down at Kennedy’s blood-soaked body, and it came out as a scream. “Son of a bitch!”
    Kneeling down beside him, I lifted his head into my hands. “Kennedy, man. You okay? You’re going to be all right.”
    Gurgling through blood-stained lips, he gathered the strength to tell me, “Go. Go to Vegas, now.”
    I shook my head. “I can’t leave you like this. I’m going to call for help.”
    â€œNo! You’re a Duncan. You’re too valuable. Just go. Go to your brother. Lincoln is on the way.”
    â€œI’m not leaving you. No way, not going to happen. I refuse.”
    Barely able to move his lips anymore, he mumbled, “Rio, I would have come out for you. Please go. Please.” He closed his eyes, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he would drown in his own blood.
    Gently resting his head on the floor, I got up and ran to the car. It was unlocked, and the keys were still in it. Clearly Kennedy had known there was a chance we would have to make a quick getaway. I looked back toward the house and silently thanked him for looking out for me.
    I had no idea if more of X’s men were on the way, so I jumped in the car and wasted no time getting out of there. Fumbling for my phone as I drove, I dialed Orlando’s number.
    â€œKennedy is dead!” I cried out. “Fucking sons of bitches killed him. O, man, we need to get that motherfuckin’ Brother X.”

Sasha
    16
    After we left Lojack in his hood, Paris and I switched cars and changed into black jeans and yuppie T-shirts to head over to Brooklyn Heights. Montague Street, the main drag, might as