The Family Business 5:
A Family Business Novel
Carl Weber
with
La Jill Hunt
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Nevada - 1
LC - 2
Nevada - 3
Roman - 4
LC - 5
Vegas - 6
KD - 7
Roman - 8
KD - 9
Rio - 10
Paris - 11
KD - 12
Chippy - 13
LC - 14
Roman - 15
Nevada - 16
Roman - 17
KD - 18
Nevada - 19
KD - 20
Vegas - 21
Paris - 22
KD - 23
Roman - 24
Rio - 25
KD - 26
Chippy - 27
Roman - 28
Rio - 29
KD - 30
Nevada - 31
KD - 32
Rio - 33
Roman - 34
KD - 35
Vegas - 36
Rio - 37
Vegas - 38
Nevada - 39
Roman - 40
KD - 41
LC - 42
Nevada - 43
LC - 44
Nevada - 44
LC - 45
KD - 46
Vegas - 47
KD - 48
Roman - 49
Vegas - 50
KD - 51
Roman - 52
Rio - 53
Margaret - 54
Margaret - 55
Roman - 56
Chippy - 57
LC - 58
Epilogue
Urban Books, LLC
300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109
Farmingdale, NY 11735
The Family Business 5: A Family Business Novel
Copyright © 2020 Carl Weber
Copyright © 2020 La Jill Hunt
The Family Business 2012 Trademark Urban Books, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.
eISBN 13: 978-1-60162-094-1
eISBN 10: 1-60162-094-2
ISBN: 978-1-6016-2093-4
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Submit orders to:
Customer Service
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Phone: 1-800-733-3000
Fax: 1-800-659-2436
This book is dedicated to the fans of The Family Business.
Also, to the Cast and Crew of The Family Business TV Show.
—Carl Weber and La Jill Hunt
Prologue
After circling the Brooklyn Heights block for a fourth time unnoticed, the Ford Escape stopped, and Denny Torrez emerged. The handsome, athletic-looking young man had a natural street swagger that was more cute than threatening. He lit a cigarette, stepped onto the sidewalk, and leaned against a telephone pole as the car continued its loop around the block. From the way he kept looking from one end of the street to the other, it was obvious that he was scoping out something . . . or someone.
A baby blue Bentley GT convertible pulled up and parked. Normally, he’d just stand there admiring the car, but that was impossible when two of the finest women he’d ever seen stepped out of the luxury vehicle. Paris Duncan, a mocha sister with curly hair that fell past her shoulders and looks that rivaled any supermodel, was the passenger. The driver of the luxury car was her equally beautiful cousin, Sasha Duncan. Both women were dressed in designer jumpsuits and carried expensive handbags that matched their outfits.
“Twelve o’clock,” Paris mumbled, boldly studying Denny with seductive eyes. She glanced at her cousin, who hit the lock button for the Bentley as she gave Denny the once over.
“I’d do him,” Sasha replied, walking around to the front of the car. “But he’s more your type than mine.”
Realizing the women were checking him out, Denny squared his shoulders slightly and semi-posed. If they were window shopping, he was damn sure going to let them see the merchandise.
Paris smiled, lifting her sunglasses before taking a second look. “Yeah, he’s definitely my type, isn’t he?”
Paris was expecting her cousin to quickly cosign, but instead, she growled, “Dammit, I hate Brooklyn!” loud enough for half the block to hear.
“What the hell, Sasha?” Paris yelled.
“This has got to be the most ass-backward borough in the entire city. In Manhattan these things take cards.” She glared at the parking meter with frustration. “You got any change?”
Paris made a face, shaking her head. “Please. You know I don’t carry change. You just gonna have to eat the ticket. We’re five minutes late for our appointment.”
“Uh, hell no. Not after the way Uncle LC cursed your ass out about tickets when your car got towed last month.”
“That wasn’t my fault, Sasha. That was Daddy’s fault for not paying the tickets on time.”
“They were your tickets, Par—” Sasha stopped midsentence when she realized Denny had sauntered over.
He smiled at them, but his attention was mostly on Paris as he put four quarters into the meter. “Here you go, ma. That should hold you for an hour.”
Paris grinned seductively. “Thanks. Nice kicks. Those the new Jordans?”
“Yeah, they just came out.” Taking advantage of the moment, he reached into his hoodie and handed her a postcard flyer. “I’m a DJ at this new spot that just opened uptown. Y’all should come through for ladies’ night. Let me buy you a drink.”
Paris casually took the postcard and said, “Maybe,” before she and her cousin walked away, giggling.
Denny watched the ladies for a moment, then went back to his spot on the corner. He’d been so distracted by the girls that he almost forgot why he was there and what he was supposed to be doing.
The Ford Escape circled back again, and Denny gave the driver a nod as he passed by slowly. The driver pulled into an empty spot, and Roman Johnson, an almond-colored man with a mustache and goatee, jumped out, wearing a brown UPS uniform and sunglasses. He headed up the block, carrying a box, and stopped in front of Louis Franks Diamonds, a boutique jewelry store that catered mostly to entertainers and sports
