Page 12 of Lord of Retribution

Five weeks earlier

Daniel

Power.

That’s a word I’d heard early in my life, perhaps before I’d even learned how to walk. Some said my brother, sister, and I had been born with silver spoons in our mouths. From the outside looking in, I could certainly understand how they would say that. How could they not, given the fact we’d been brought up on a huge estate, a ranch that was something lavish even in the world of wealthy horse breeders and oil tycoons?

My father had worked hard his entire life to allow his three children to attend the finest schools, have sports cars waiting for them on the day they turned sixteen, and provide the kind of expensive toys that every man, woman, and child would drool over. He’d paraded himself around as a doting father and animal lover, both just fabrications for the press.

However, just like his wealth and power hadn’t been earned legitimately, the lives of his children hadn’t been all gold and diamonds either. We’d become used to dangerous people both in and surrounding our lives, forced to have bodyguards for as long as I could remember just to keep us alive.

We’d been studied and scrutinized wherever we went, members of law enforcement watching our every move. That’s why it had always felt as if I’d lived in a glass house, terrified someone would throw a large enough stone my entire world would be shattered into a million pieces. Perhaps the analogy was ridiculous since I’d flourished my entire life, taking my education and turning it into my own sense of livelihood. However, I was also worth billions because of the illegitimate acts and ruthless behavior perfected by my father.

His tactics were something he’d handed down to his children, although my sister had only been allowed to assert herself after Constantine had taken over. While only a few years older than me, my brother had taken the reins our father had given him with gusto, almost becoming a carbon copy of the patriarch. I was certain he would have had he not found the love of his life.

I’d learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter how opulent the surroundings my brother, sister, and I had grown up in, we were still living in a jungle.

One of greed and criminal acts not necessarily only performed by truly bad men. However, I’d been taught to be king of the jungle just like Constantine had. I’d done so in the shadows more than in the light, but that didn’t make me any less dangerous.

In fact, I was considered lethal and not just with whatever weapon suited my fancy. My father had once told me to choose my path carefully, that there were consequences for every decision made. Maybe so, but I was a take no prisoner kind of man.

It always struck me as fascinating how kids grew out of things, habits that had no place inside an adult world. I’d been a much different man at eighteen than what I’d become. Perhaps I was no longer the psychopath so many had considered me for a good portion of my life, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t maim or slaughter when necessary. However, most of my annihilation was done through the use of pen and paper instead of knives and guns.

Although I continued to keep my favorite hunting knife as a way of reminding me how far I’d come in my life.

I grinned from the thought as I walked into the private dining room of one of my favorite restaurants in Kansas City. The secluded lunch had been requested by Constantine and the moment I walked into the room, I had an inkling the bottle of expensive scotch that had already been opened was an attempt to bribe me into doing something.

Unlike my father, Constantine knew better than to resort to either verbal or physical intimidation. Neither would work on me, especially now that I had almost forty pounds of muscle on the man.

When I strolled in, he ended whatever call he was on, his blue eyes twinkling from the sunlight cascading in through the floor-to-ceiling window. This was one of our favorite places to do business, a location where we didn’t usually need to worry about anyone attempting to invade our privacy. The owner of the fine establishment was a good friend of the family, a man my father trusted.

That’s why seeing his top two lieutenants in the room surprised me.

“Are we expecting a possible war, brother?” I asked as I approached the table, picking up the bottle of booze. Seeing it likely cost well into the four digits, I laughed softly to myself before grabbing the remaining glass. “Or is this a celebration instead?”

“Neither,” Constantine told me from where he remained across the small room.

“You’re going to make me ask you what it is?”

He laughed, finally taking a couple of steps closer. We were both dangerous men, feared by those inside our employ as well as our enemies. While I was usually the calm and collected one, my brother had always been a rattlesnake coiled, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. At least before. However, on this bright and sunny day, he seemed more on edge than normal.

Business had been going well, although there was always the threat of someone wanting to take away all our successes by force.

“Let’s just say we need to have a frank discussion.”

I brought the glass to my lips, suddenly noticing he had a plain manila file placed on the credenza next to the table. That usually meant he didn’t want there to be a chance of anyone tracing whatever it was we were discussing.

“Okay. What are we discussing?” The last time we’d had a frank talk had been a couple of months before, about a new global threat that we could face in the future, a group called the Death Squad. It was nothing but a catchy title for a private organization that was even more secretive than the Brotherhood my brother had created years before.

The Death Squad was out to control the world while the alliance of some of the most powerful mafia leaders in the country was intent on keeping the peace. At least to the point of not allowing blood to rain in the streets. This wasn’t like the old days when mafia organizations gunned down anyone who got in their way no matter how many innocent lives were lost, but the life was still brutal nonetheless.

I didn’t like what I’d heard about the Death Squad, the fact the upper echelon of men and women controlling it remained unknown at this point disturbing. Several of what we’d call foot soldiers had been hunted down, erased from this earth, but there were hundreds if not thousands waiting in the wings to eradicate syndicates like ours.

We’d experienced our share of attacks over the years, although none recently. Still, the concerned look on his face surprised me. I’d heard nothing as of late to indicate our kingdom was under duress.

“First of all, I wanted you to know that the members of the Brotherhood believe it’s time to expand our number of members.”

“Is this because of the great Death Squad breathing down our necks?”

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