Page 59 of Lord of Debauchery

“Yeah.” I laughed before he added additional information. “You’re kidding?” I doubted that was a little game the Brotherhood was playing, which meant he’d managed to get to a level where the Death Squad was aware someone was looking for them.

“I wish I were. That kind of shit isn’t supposed to scare me, but I have to tell you, I’ve seen some evil games being played on the internet over the years. Especially involving the dark web, but I feel as if a storm is coming.” He even added a level of emphasis by glancing up at the perfect crystalline blue sky.

It would seem my entire force was comprised of drama queens. Then again, who was I to argue at this point? “Okay. Back off for now until I see if I can determine more of what we’re dealing with. Make certain our systems are secure.”

“Already done, boss.”

As I headed in through the front door, I glanced at the set of stairs leading to the other floors. I wondered if Kenya had heard their arrival, doing what she could to draw their attention. Unfortunately, it would seem my plans had changed. My needs would be forced to wait.

That also pissed me off.

Jeff flanked my side, both of us remaining quiet. I unbuttoned my jacket, removing my weapon and arming it.

“You sure about that, boss?” he asked rather quietly, his usual gregarious personality suddenly taking a backseat. “I thought you didn’t want to antagonize them.”

“Sometimes it’s vital for a man to make a point without needing to act on their desire for violence, Jeff. That’s what all great leaders learn. That is if they’re to become successful.” Shit, I was more philosophical than ever.

He laughed. “I always learn something from you.”

He was being more facetious than anything, but I couldn’t blame him at this point. I took my time walking down the hallway to my expansive office, the place where I often found the most peace. I hated going to the city and into the office. I wasn’t a clock puncher and had never been, even in my youth when dear old Daddy had insisted his three sons work minimum wage labor.

At least the experience had taught me work ethics.

Maybe that’s why I was taking all of this very seriously. Whatever was going on, either hundreds of people stood a chance of awakening one day with egg on their face or they’d simply cease to exist.

As I entered the room, I took a few seconds to focus on what I was seeing. Four men were located inside, all with drinks in their hands even though it was morning, all four wearing expensive suits.

And all were equipped with weapons.

“Gentlemen. To what do I owe this pleasure?” If I’d managed to either surprise or worry them, not one of the four showed it. I only stepped an additional foot inside, ensuring they noticed my weapon as I’d done with theirs. I took another few seconds to lock eyes with each man. I could feel a permanent smirk on my face.

The four of them now glanced at each other, one of them lifting a glass before slowly walking in my direction, talking slowly and evenly as he did. “Beckham Kennedy, son of Gregory Kennedy, nephew to Mitchell Kennedy, the man often considered a contender for the top position in the White House. Sadly, your father and uncle are estranged, have been for years, and the blood feud is unlikely to end any time soon. You barely know your cousins, but I assure you, you wouldn’t like them if you did.”

“Tell me something I don’t know about my own family. And you’re right about David and Parker. They are carbon copies of my uncle.”

The unknown man laughed, although I did recognize him, likely from pictures in magazines or online. Obviously, these men were all mafia royalty. “Well,” he continued, “I could go on about your incredible education, including a degree from Harvard, the fact you’ve increased your family’s wealth by thirty-two percent and that you have gained respect of all your employees and other crime syndicates through your decency and compassion. You also don’t need to hear you are an accomplished, sophisticated businessman who thinks before he acts.”

I did recognize Gabriel Giordano, which in my mind added credibility to the fact they were here.

And sadly why.

Now I lifted an eyebrow. “While I appreciate these… accolades, you’re correct in that I quite frankly don’t give a shit about what I’ve done in the past. It’s what I’m going to do in the future if you continue to stand in my estate, the one you forced your way into, and pontificate about bullshit.”

I wasn’t certain if I’d caused a rift between us but if I had, too fucking bad.

The first man burst out laughing, two of the other three doing the same. Only one had his jaw clenched, glaring at me as if I’d just confirmed to him that I was his mortal enemy. I glared right back at him. While certainly not in the mood for any games, I also wasn’t going to back down to any organization, no matter how powerful they considered themselves to be.

The obvious leader of the motley group stepped forward, extending his hand. “Forgive us for our intrusion but your father did mention it would be alright to wait for you until your return. Plus, you were making certain inquiries that were of interest to us.”

“The Death Squad.”

I could tell they were impressed.

“Yes,” the leader said with his booming voice. “Dangerous fucks.”

“So I know by firsthand experience.” I huffed softly. Pops gave the okay? Yep. It was confirmed. My own father knew a fuck load more than he’d bothered telling me about. Was every goddamn mafia family that way?

I shook his hand, realizing there was no need for fury or bloodshed on such a beautiful day.

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