No More Mr. Nice Guy Read online

  No More Mr. Nice Guy:

  A Family Business Novel

  Carl Weber

  with

  Stephanie Covington

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Niles Monroe - 1

  Bruce - 2

  Bridget - 3

  Niles - 4

  Keisha - 5

  Majestic - 6

  Willie - 7

  Niles - 8

  Keisha - 9

  Bridget - 10

  Willie - 11

  Niles - 12

  Bridget - 13

  Majestic - 14

  Niles - 15

  Keisha - 16

  Bruce - 17

  Niles - 18

  Willie - 19

  Majestic - 20

  Bridget - 21

  Willie - 22

  Bridget - 23

  Keisha - 24

  Bruce - 25

  Majestic - 26

  Niles - 27

  Keisha - 28

  Bruce - 29

  Keisha - 30

  Niles - 31

  Bruce - 32

  Willie - 33

  Majestic - 34

  Bridget - 35

  Niles - 36

  Majestic - 37

  Niles - 38

  Bridget - 39

  Willie - 40

  Keisha - 41

  Niles - 42

  Bridget - 43

  Keisha - 44

  Bruce - 45

  Niles - 46

  Majestic - 47

  Bridget - 48

  Keisha - 49

  Majestic - 50

  Bridget - 51

  Niles - 52

  Bridget - 53

  Bruce - 54

  Niles - 55

  Majestic - 56

  Niles - 57

  Bridget - 58

  Niles - 59

  Willie - 60

  Majestic - 61

  Bridget - 62

  Willie - 63

  Majestic - 64

  Niles - 65

  Bruce - 66

  Niles - 67

  Bridget - 68

  Bruce - 69

  Bridget - 70

  Keisha - 71

  Bridget - 72

  Niles - 73

  Majestic - 74

  Willie - 75

  Niles - 76

  Keisha - 77

  Niles - 78

  Niles - 79

  Epilogue - Five Years later

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to Zoë and Dylan

  Prologue

  I piloted the G550 down the runway, lifting her off the ground and into the morning sky out of sheer force of habit. My real attention was focused on the beautiful young woman I’d just left behind, her outstretched arms still waving at me from the ground. Even when she ceased being a tiny pinprick in my view, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I loved her, how I already felt incomplete without her, and how much I couldn’t wait to finish this job and get back to her. I’d only been in love twice before in my life, but my feelings for Paris were more than my feelings for all the other women combined.

  My next thought came to me in an instant, as if it were hovering in the back of my mind all along. The thought was simple and life-altering at the same time. When I arrived in New York, I planned to make an appointment to meet with the private jeweler at Tiffany’s on Fifth Avenue and buy an engagement ring. When it came to Paris, only the best would do, and I intended to spoil her in ways she’d never known. That, of course, was going to be a near impossible task, since she was born with a platinum teething rattle, but that was what love made men do: the near impossible.

  “This is 34699, calling base. Unc, are you there?” I shouted into my headset over the heavy crackle of static. We had gotten in the habit of using ham radio signals, because they were unlikely to be listened to by law enforcement or criminal enterprises. “This is 34699. Are you there?”

  “Where the hell else would you expect me to be?” my uncle replied in a raspy voice. I could hear just enough to know that he had recently woken up, probably next to some beautiful young woman. I smiled at the thought. I hadn’t realized how much I missed his foolish behind.

  “I’ll be landing in Manchester in about two hours. Going to need you to pick me up. We got a lot to talk about when I get there,” I announced.

  “So we got another job?” Willie answered back, and I could hear the excitement in his voice. “Must be real big if you’re calling my sorry ass this time of the morning. It’s about time you put the band back together.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, we’re going home to New York.”

  “New York. I like the sound of that . . . I hope,” he replied. It was probably dawning on him that this meant the job was bigger than he had originally assumed. “How long we staying?” he asked tentatively.

  “Four to eight weeks,” I said in code, knowing he would understand that it meant less than forty-eight hours on the ground.

  And he did. “I’ll make arrangements for a charter from here to Teterboro Airport. We can be in the air within five hours of you landing. I’ve got your go-bags packed and ready to go. I’m figuring you’re gonna wanna see Lora before we leave.”

  “There’s no doubt about that.” I sighed happily, bringing the plane around in hopes of getting one last glimpse of Paris. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s doing good. I’m sure she’s laying around here somewhere playing with those damn rats you brought her,” he said with a laugh.

  “Will you stop calling them rats! Those are dogs. Very expensive miniature Dobermans, I might add, and she loves them.”

  “Niles, I’m from New York. I used to drive a cab for a living. I know a damn rat when I see one. Y’all just putting collars on them.” He knew his comments would get under my skin. Willie had always liked to push my buttons, but I knew it was all in good humor.

  I didn’t answer him, because my mind was suddenly somewhere else. Something was wrong, I quickly checked the controls panel, but nothing seemed out of order.

  “What the fuck is that noise?” I mumbled to myself, the vibrating static growing more intermittent.

  “Everything all right?” Willie asked.

  “I don’t know, but I hear some type of humming.” I took a quick look around the cockpit, noting that it was empty except for my bag. I always flew light.

  “Shit, Niles, you think it’s the plane?”

  “Everything seems all right,” I answered, but I knew anything out of the ordinary on a plane had to be checked out right away. One little miscalculation could mean death. I put the plane on autopilot and unstrapped myself from my seat, still wearing my wireless headphones.

  I walked to the back of the plane, stopping at the carry-on bag I’d brought onto the plane.

  “What the fuck!” I shouted. There was no doubt the humming was coming from within the bag.

  “What?” My uncle’s voice crackled over my headphones, but I ignored him as I reached down to open the bag and investigate.

  “Niles! Niles! Niles!”

  “Unc,” I finally replied, staring down into the bag.

  “Yeah.”

  “There’s a girl. Her name is Paris,” I murmured, getting choked up. “She’s really pretty, Unc. Really pretty. She goes to some fancy school outside of the city of Paris, but she’s probably from New York.”

  “Yeah? What about her?”

  “I love her, Unc. I love her like no woman I’ve ever loved before.” Tears began to run down my face as I tried to wrap my head around the situation I sudden
ly found myself in. “But if for some reason I don’t make it, I want you to kill that bitch!”

  “I don’t understand. You love her but I should kill her? Niles, what the fuck is going on?” There was fear in his voice. I think he understood more than he was admitting to himself at the moment.

  I looked down at my bag and all those warm thoughts turned dark and frozen with the realization that Paris was not the person I thought she was. “Because that bitch is trying to kill me. She put a bomb in my bag.”

  Niles Monroe

  1

  Five years earlier

  “Sargent Monroe, my name’s Frank Bush. This is my colleague, Lance Rodgers. Sorry we had you waiting so long at such a late hour, but our business is twenty-four/seven. We had to put out a small fire with our guys in Afghanistan,” the salt-and-pepper haired man said, offering his hand.

  “Not a problem.” I shook their hands, but I knew they were full of shit about the reason for making me wait the last hour and a half. That move was straight out of the Marine’s sniper school playbook for testing a man’s patience. “And call me Niles. I no longer wear Uncle Sam’s stripes.”

  Bush, who sat across from me, was probably a retired Army officer. His partner, Rodgers, was a well-built brother. He was definitely Army, probably Delta Force like me. Neither of them carried themselves as if they’d seen any real action in quite some time.

  “So, Niles, I have to admit I’m impressed. You’ve got quite a resume,” Bush said, looking up from a folder. Their company, Dynamic Defense, LLC, a defense contractor, had flown me up from Fort Bragg for a consulting job interview after hearing from my commanding officer that I had just retired from the Army and was looking to settle back home in New York. “Six years special forces with the Rangers, two in the Night Stalkers. Airborne, and you graduated top of your class in sniper school. You’ve had quite the career.”

  “Thank you.” It was obvious these boys had done their homework, and I was glad. Nothing I hated more than having to toot my own horn. People who bragged about themselves always made me wonder what they were hiding.

  Rodgers, who was sitting on the edge of the desk, leaned in close to me. “That was some first-class shit you did down in Syria. How the hell did you carry both of them out without being seen? That must have been fifty fucking klicks.”

  I was about to react, but Bush jumped in. “What I wanna know is how you made that shot in Qatar last year. What was that—four hundred feet against the wind?”

  “Four-fifty to be exact. But both those missions were classified.” The fact that they knew about top secret missions was making me suspicious.

  “Yeah, and so was the one in Colombia, Cuba, and the one in Taiwan, but who’s counting? Bottom line is you’re real good at what you do, and we can use your services. How’s two hundred grand a year to start?” Rodgers asked.

  The way they were staring at me made me think they were expecting an immediate yes to their large offer, but the whole situation was making me feel uneasy. I was starting to think this was some kind of set up, and there were few things I hated more than being blindsided.

  “How the hell do you know all this?” I stood up.

  “Hey, have a seat and I’ll explain.” Bush motioned to the chair. “This is a big company with a lot of friends and resources. We don’t just pay anyone two hundred thousand dollars. We needed to know everything about you. How else are we going to utilize your skills in the field correctly?”

  “What exactly do you mean by utilize? My CO told me that I was interviewing for a consulting job. This sounds like wet work.”

  “You are a remarkable soldier, Mr. Monroe. Why would anyone waste your talent consulting?” Bush said matter-of-factly. “Hey, I know it’s a little overwhelming, but don’t worry. We’re the good guys.”

  He was trying to reassure me, but I was no longer so sure I was interested in the job. I didn’t try to hide my skepticism, and Rodgers picked up on it, jumping in to try to convince me.

  “Look, kid, Uncle Sam taught you well and gave you a very valuable set of skills,” Rodgers added. “We can help you put those skills to work and make you a wealthy man in the process. Two hundred grand to start ain’t nothing to sneeze at, and when you add in the bonus money, you could easily clear three, four hundred thousand your first year.”

  “You show us your worth, and the sky’s the limit,” Bush added, leaning back in his chair confidently. No doubt they assumed a brother like me would jump at their ever-growing salary offer.

  Well, I had learned a long time ago that all money ain’t good money, and to kill for my country was one thing, but to kill to put money in my pocket wasn’t an option. It would just make me a thug.

  “Thanks for the offer, gentlemen, but I’m no soldier of fortune. And to be quite honest, after what I’ve been through the past few years, a desk job sounds pretty good to me. I just want to lead a normal life.” I took a step toward the door.

  “Niles.” Rogers’ commanding voice stopped me.

  “Yes?” I spun around on my heels to face him.

  “Guys like us don’t lead normal lives.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell gonna try.” I walked out the door.

  Bruce

  2

  “Please! Please, no!” Lydell Washington pleaded as Majestic clamped a giant hand around his neck. I almost felt sorry for Lydell as Majestic removed him from the back of my Navigator and dragged him out into the open. I’d seen that deadly look in my best friend’s eyes before, and all I can say is I wouldn’t have wanted to be Lydell. “You know I’m not no snitch. I swear I didn’t say shit.”

  “That why you been hiding from us?” I asked, emerging from the shadows of my truck with one of my signature mint toothpicks between my lips.

  I glanced down the Robert Moses Causeway to make sure we were still alone. I’d known Lydell most of my life, and, up until a few days ago, I’d thought he was one of my friends. A lot had changed in the past three days, and most of it was no good.

  “That why you disappeared after getting caught with that package?” I asked Lydell. “That why your ass is not in jail and standing in front of us?”

  Dude looked like he was about to shit himself.

  “You think you can snitch on us and get away with it?” Majestic’s deep, growling voice made him appear even bigger than his six foot six, 350-pound frame. My man was so damn big he looked like a handsome refrigerator.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lydell cried. “I swear I would never talk to the cops about you. That goes against everything I stand for. You cats are like family. Whoever told you that shit is a liar.”

  I had to give it to him. He said the shit with real conviction, but I still knew it was a crock of shit, because I’d gotten the information from the source myself. I spit out my toothpick and stepped up in Lydell’s face.

  “You calling me a liar, motherfucker?”

  “Naw, Bruce, man, I’d never do that.” The way Majestic’s meaty hand was clasped around his neck, I was surprised he could even get the words out of his mouth, but then again when you’re fighting for your life, I guess you find all kinds of ways to get your message across.

  “Then why you been hiding?” Majestic asked, the veins on his neck throbbing the way they always did when he was furious.

  We’d surprised Lydell when we busted up in his girl’s uncle’s house about midnight. Little did his dumb ass know that I’d been fucking his chick just as long as he had. I just wasn’t stupid enough to make her my girl. She hadn’t even hesitated to call me when she found out where he was hiding. I guess we know who’d been fucking her better over the years, don’t we?

  Lydell shook his head, or at least that’s what it looked like he was trying to do, but like I said, he was limited in his mobility by Majestic’s massive hands. “Majestic, me you, and Bruce, we’re like brothers, man.” Lydell coughed, struggling to catch his breath. “I’ve followed you to hell and back. I’m a loyal dude. Yo
u gotta believe me.”

  “I wish I could, but I can’t let you take us down. We ain’t dealing in nickel and dime shit no more now that we’re with El Gato. This is the big time, and Bruce and I got too much to lose. You shoulda kept your mouth shut, Dell,” Majestic explained calmly.

  In one smooth move, he lifted Lydell up off his feet like a paperweight and dangled him over the guardrail of the bridge. Of course, Lydell’s ass went crazy.

  “Please! Please, Majestic, man! You’re the godfather of my kids. You can’t do this, man. We family. Shit, please don’t do this! I don’t wanna die.” Dude was crying like a little bitch.

  “You better stop moving or I’m gonna drop you for sure. It’s a long way down.”

  Lydell glanced down at the water, and reality set in quick. All of a sudden, he was as stiff as a board. I mean he got real still. Majestic turned and locked eyes with me. A look passed between us that, had Lydell seen it, would have made him even more afraid.

  “What you think we should do with him?” Majestic asked.

  “We do all go way back,” I reminded him. “But, on the other hand, you know how I feel about snitches.”

  “Come on, Bruce. Don’t do me like that, brother,” Lydell pleaded. “How many times have I saved your ass over the years?”

  “That’s all good, but here’s my problem: You disappeared after getting knocked with a package.”

  “That don’t mean I snitched.”

  “Maybe, but my people at the First Precinct and the Suffolk DA’s office say you’re the witness against us for the Johnson brothers hit we did for the Duncans a few years back. Somehow they found the bodies and have a witness to connect us to it. Problem is, nobody knew about that shit but the three of us.” Lydell’s eyes grew wide.

  “Now,” I continued, “since the cops are looking for me and Majestic, that only leaves you. Do you know how that makes us feel to think that you would turn on us? And what’s really pissing me off is that you keep lying about it.”

  Lydell finally recognized that his bullshit lies weren’t going to work. “A’ight, a’ight, look. I ain’t had no choice. I got three strikes. They were gonna lock me up for good if I didn’t talk,” he sputtered.