Page 66 of Lord of Debauchery

“In a manner of speaking but things will get ugly.”

“Like how much so?”

“I’m not going to lie to you or sugarcoat this. And no, I’m not going into detail. However, there’s likely to be a war, one everyone won’t survive.”

“In your family?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “In the world.”

Jesus Christ. He was serious.

With that, he walked out leaving me aching and terrified. And worse, I had a feeling that he was right.

CHAPTER 18

Beckham

Even after the shit I’d heard, I kept a smile on my face. Tonight was all about pleasure. Tomorrow was a different day entirely. I’d need to decide what to do with Kenya during what I was starting to think about as a crisis. I didn’t like the odds of keeping her with me, but I’d allow myself to think about that later.

Plus, the God’s honest truth was that I couldn’t see myself spending time without her. Shit. I had it bad for the girl. Shitty timing given what we were up against. My mother had always told me there was never the perfect time to find a relationship since it found you. When you knew, you knew. That’s what made it perfect. For all the years I’d harrumphed at her wisdom, now I find out the woman was truly fucking brilliant.

Still, who the hell broke into someone’s place of business only to find their soulmate? Well, I guess it would be one of those stories to tell our grandkids. Yeah, right.

There were a half dozen options that could work, but it was obvious the assassins had kept close watch on my daily activities, which meant they could get to her at any time.

I’d quickly changed, still enjoying the fact every touch of her skin, every kiss had led to my body being covered by her intense scent. Kenya was so… I laughed as I headed down the stairs, unused to wearing jeans and a polo shirt, although I owned one in every color of the freaking rainbow.

Some might call me a clothes whore, but it was all about ensuring I had the proper attire for any situation. I was even wearing dock shoes, which was definitely not like me. The smile remained until I walked into my office. Seeing my father with his pensive face and furrowed brow irritated the fuck out of me.

“Don’t you ever announce your arrival or at least fucking knock?”

“Your men let me in. I am your father. I have a right to see my own son.”

And that meant what? Privacy was becoming an issue in a town we owned a solid twenty-five percent of. “You allowed members of the Brotherhood to enter my house without my permission. Have you come to say you’re sorry for being a dickhead?”

He pointed his finger at me, his entire arm shaking from anger or perhaps from the beginning of Parkinson’s disease. My mother had confided in me he’d had tremors for years, only recently getting them diagnosed. I hated it for the man, who’d once carried himself like a god. He’d never take the diagnosis easily or do anything to allow his own children to know.

“I am your fucking father. I will do what is best for my children.”

There was something entirely different about his voice, as if he was terrified of what was happening. From what I’d learned, maybe he had every right to be. If the infamous Death Squad had their way, all the crime syndicate regimes in the world would be compromised.

“Yep, you are, Pops. But that doesn’t give you the right to assume you know what’s best for me.”

“Did you talk to the alliance?” He had a drink in his other hand, a bead of sweat trickling down one side of his face. I’d never seen him this nervous in all my years.

I remained a few feet away, shaking my head and staring out the window at the pool I adored. How long had it been since I’d swum a lap? Too long. Swimming had been my form of release, a half hour when I could forget all about who and what I was. I’d spent significant money having it enclosed for the winter, yet I rarely used it then. Maybe I was a beach boy, something my mother had told me as a kid.

It was strange to be reminiscing about my childhood right now, but I felt a life-changing situation coming on. “Don’t worry, Pops. You wanted me to become a member of the Brotherhood and I did. I can’t help but feel you had an ulterior motive.” When he said nothing at first, I slowly turned my head toward him. He seemed shocked I’d accepted the position. “Oh, come on. Don’t look so surprised or offended. You’ve orchestrated almost everything about my life over the years. Why not this? However,” I said as I moved closer, “I need to know what you’ve learned about the Death Squad and don’t you dare fuck with me on this. You know more than you were willing to tell me. I need to know why.”

Now, not just his arm was shaking but his entire body as well. He turned abruptly, heading back to the bar. It seemed my refreshment counter was the center of everyone’s attention. I studied him as he struggled with either his emotions or what he would feel comfortable telling me. I decided to give the man a break.

“I know good ole Uncle Mitchell is a part of it. I also discovered that it would appear Cousin David is being groomed to become the next president of the United States, only his term will be until what, his death?”

I don’t think I could remember a time when I managed to jar my father. But as he tipped his head toward me, there was an emotion in his eyes that was incomprehensible. “It was supposed to be you.”

“Me? What are you talking about?”

He was shaking so badly as he poured more of his scotch that a large portion slipped past the rim. “It’s complicated.”

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