Chapter 24
Sinclair
Daniella Dunham had been born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, the only child of two parents who by all appearances had loved her very much.
Her story proved one hundred percent truthful. I’d found her birth certificate and had discovered her photo in the high school she’d attended.
Along with Zane Emmett’s.
I’d found her college transcripts and the dates she’d provided me had checked out. She’d disappeared, dropped from the school registrar’s office records two weeks later. Not her doing. I was certain of that.
What had struck me funny was that there hadn’t been a formal inquiry into her absence. It was as if she’d never existed.
I’d discovered enough about the Brotherhood she’d mentioned that I’d made a few phone calls. Reluctantly, I’d been told just how powerful the organization truly was. Their powers were far reaching. She had no idea how close to my world hers had come.
As far as her mother, she’d become the belle of the ball in Savannah.
Because of her heritage. Her mother had tried to avoid the inevitable, marrying a common man.
A man who’d turned on the Brotherhood, providing information to the authorities that would have potentially incriminated a few players.
They’d had her father killed, made to look like an accident.
While I had no doubt her mother had run out of options, forced to take her place in the legacy of the Brotherhood, there wasn’t a reason good enough for her to turn on her daughter.
If I wanted full revenge, she’d suffer as well.
Only I followed a single rule that had been ingrained into every member of the Prince family.
Women weren’t to be killed for any reason other than self-protection.
After Daniella’s disappearance, her life had begun as Josette just where Enzo had found it. Living in New Orleans after attending a two-year culinary college in New York.
What I also found were police records of Zane being questioned for other physical assaults and lo and behold, the cases had been labeled as having insufficient evidence. The power of family.
And the Brotherhood.
The reason I’d been mostly unaware of them was simply because they’d never had a hold in New Orleans. Now they wanted one.
I knew their methods well. I’d played by some of those same rules myself over the years. But never the way Zane and his father had done, and I suspected every member of the Brotherhood.
Now I had a plan in motion, one that would need to be handled carefully.
But my revenge would be sweet.
I stared at the pictures sent to her phone.
I’d found it between the seats of the Charger.
They fueled my anger even more than anything that had occurred.
While she’d been the object of Zane’s twisted affection, he and the Brotherhood members had found the perfect weakness against me. Only their efforts had failed.
My phone rang and I took a deep breath, sliding hers into my pocket. I’d yet to tell her she had three calls from an unknown phone number. Something else that might prove useful. Things were in motion, and I wanted them finished quickly.
“Jacques. I’m glad you finally returned my phone call,” I said casually as I stepped from my vehicle.
The afternoon sun bore down, the day warmer than usual.
“Sorry about the delay,” the family Consigliere said. “I was checking on our good buddy Marcus. He certainly went to great lengths to try and hide the financial details regarding the purchase of the Strathmore property.”
“Apparently. What did you discover?”
“While there are several smaller investors, he managed to get himself in bed with Mark Zuckerman. Does the name sound familiar?”
How interesting. Zuckerman, the man at the restaurant who’d come right up to greet me, gloating because he’d thought he had reason to. A man of means and some connections. Perhaps he’d been gloating when he’d dared mention the transaction.
Squinting, I glanced at my brother’s house, the sun providing the perfect halo style backdrop.
Since he’d married Catherine, the place had taken on a softer look with flowers in pots, pillows on a swing hanging from the front porch, and two decorative flags positioned on the house, more in the flower garden out back.
I wondered what my house would look like with some vivid colors both inside and out. I could imagine Josette’s touch with everything. A smile crossed my face. I’d had no understanding of her level of bravery.
She’d insisted on being a part of whatever I had planned. Only she had no idea that it had nothing to do with bringing him to justice with the law. Unless you considered my act one of judge and jury.
However, she deserved to face her attacker. Perhaps she’d be useful. But only if she obeyed my every rule.
The men involved in the Brotherhood were powerful and controlled several companies worldwide.
While they weren’t involved per se in politics, they certainly had control over certain prominent members of various law agencies and even a few inside the Senate.
All under the radar. One connection I rarely used, an old college buddy of mine in a high-ranking position in the military, had discovered they had several offshore bank accounts and had strong-armed their way into various land deals.
Their claim to fame.
They were rich and powerful.
But in an entirely different way than the Prince family.
Land acquisition by way of contractual force using whatever method necessary.
They had various building contractors on their payroll and had been the silent investor in hundreds of profitable land deals.
Resorts. Hotel chains. Housing developments.
Given they also hadn’t concentrated their operations to one location in the country, no one had been the wiser it was a group working in tandem.
Brilliant if you ask me.
That was the reason for muscling in on the Strathmore property.
Whatever was built would make money, the prime piece highly sought after for years.
No wonder the Johnsons were willing to go against our family.
Or they’d simply been threatened. It was entirely possible the Brotherhood hadn’t needed muscle to the tune of the Las Riveras up until now.
But they’d known they would come up against the Prince family by coming into New Orleans, which had prompted their decision to hire muscle.
Who wouldn’t take the deal going south without exacting revenge.
The death of Vincent hadn’t been on their game plan. That had created a sense of urgency. Perhaps the assassination attempt on my life had been all about sending a warning. We’d look toward the Las Riveras while the Brotherhood swooped in and we’d be none the wiser.
Only they hadn’t counted on the accidental meeting I’d had with an object of Zane’s lust. If there was one thing I knew about possessive men, it was that they didn’t like to lose in business or in pleasure. His discovery of our affair had likely set him off.
If I allowed Josette’s assistance, I could easily bring him out in the open sooner. However, doing so was risky, especially since she was so vulnerable. The names of the members had been a best kept secret.
Until now.
But I had to admit having her by my side was appealing. As long as there wasn’t additional bloodshed.
Whatever happened, Zane would be hunted and killed. Period.
“Anyway,” Jacques continued, pulling me from the images rushing through my mind.
I’d learned more about what had occurred on that late night eight years before and in doing so, for the first time in my life, I’d felt guilt. I’d manhandled her. Yes, we’d had a connection. Yes, we’d enjoyed passion only a couple of times before, but I’d reacted as a monster instead of a man.
“I don’t see how I can get the Johnsons to budge, Sinclair. They were offered twice our price. Unless you want to triple the offer.”
“Do it.” He was shocked I’d agreed, his voice a testament to annoyance. “Go through Greg to make it happen.”
“Don’t you want to run this by Alexander?”
He didn’t think I’d go that high. Was it worth the money? Not really. However, it would stretch out the game for a little while longer. It would put them on edge.
“I already have.”
“What about the Johnsons?”
While I understood that Jacques had his law license to worry about, I had no such worry. “I’ll handle the situation, Jacques. You won’t need to worry about it.”
“Don’t do anything rash, Sinclair. There are other decent properties in New Orleans.”
“I know. But you know how I am, Jacques. I don’t like to lose.” I ended the call before I said anything else. There were too many loose ends that I’d need to tie together.
Like a noose.
One last call before I faced my penance. My old buddy. He owned me one or two favors given I’d gotten his ass out of a sling a few times. When he answered on the first ring, I grinned. Maybe he’d been expecting my call.
“Sin. Twice in a week. To what do I owe the honor?” Greg acted chipper, but I sensed a hint of nervousness.
“Let’s cut to the chase, Greg. You and I need to have a nice long chat.”
“About the Strathmore property? Marcus is adamant he wants to purchase it.”
“About Marcus and other aspects of business.” I had no intention of playing my hands.
“What about?”
“Let’s wait until we can have a full conversation. You’re going to meet me at our favorite little bar later. Five sharp. Don’t be late.” I’d hold the Brotherhood card until I met with him. If my memory was intact, he would prove more than helpful.
“I’ll be there,” he said, ending the call.
The coincidences were piling up. Only they were no such thing.
Walter Emmett, her estranged stepfather was a perfect example of the Brotherhood. His great-grandfather was definitely an original founding father so to speak. The man had money and flaunted it.