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After our shower, the sizzling woman had chastised us both for taking so long, insistent on spending some time with her daughter. It felt good to have others in the house.
Still chuckling, I headed to the office where I’d placed my laptop, sitting down in my grandfather’s chair. I hadn’t paid any attention to his pictures, including several of my father when he was a boy. There were ones of me as well, including the few shots he’d taken when I was living with him. What surprised me were the ones of myself and my brother that had been on the internet. High school graduations. College graduations. The first time I’d been in Forbes Magazine as an up-and-coming billionaire. He’d captured and kept all the moments, putting them together in a collage.
Yeah, it was becoming clear to me that I needed a change in my life, a drastic one. I shifted my attention back to the computer, waiting as it took its sweet time coming alive. I typed in James’ name, uncertain if I’d find anything on the man. It wasn’t like the name was unique.
But there it was, the ugliness swimming right in front of me. It wasn’t all about the fact the man was an abusive son of a bitch that I wanted to crush like a bug. Nor was it the fact he’d managed to spawn an incredible creature like Britta, who didn’t deserve to learn the bastard was her biological father.
No, the sudden rage flowing through my veins was all about the fact the face of the man was that of the son of the family I considered our direct enemies. In the dark, often dangerous world of using extortion to get what I’d wanted, there’d been a single name that had continued to prove to be a thorn in my side.
Ernest Jenson had been an old friend of my father’s a long time before, a bastard of a man who’d prided himself on taking younger and younger wives. I’d heard through the grapevine stories about his level of violence against the various women. It seemed as if my father had joined a club of abusive men, likely telling stories over glasses of whiskey.
For some crazy reason, I was reminded of something my father had tried his best to drill into both me and Jackson.
Family is everything, the only entity that will always have your back.
Yeah, even as my father had spouted off the words, it was as if he’d been planning on stabbing me in the back. And his words hadn’t included our mother. He’d simply wanted heirs to his throne.
As a young boy, I’d even walked in on my father and Ernest having a conversation about whatever whore one or both of them had enjoyed.
Now, as I stared into the face of the man my father had ultimately threatened to kill, I couldn’t believe it was a coincidence his son was in the same goddamn city I was. I allowed the memories to emerge of my father telling Ernest in no uncertain terms that if it took until his dying breath, he’d destroy the man’s entire world.
Then there was the matter of Hank contacting my father. I had a feeling I’d been dropped into the middle of a coup of some kind. I continued remembering aspects of the situation with Ernest.
They’d gotten into a nasty fistfight the police had been called to break up. That had been years before, but my father had made good on a portion of his threat. He’d managed to steal every single business opportunity away from the man.
I rubbed my finger across my chin, trying to keep from laughing. There was no hint of recognition in James’ eyes just like there hadn’t been in mine. However, I didn’t buy it. Not one bit.
Yet, if this was some crazy act of revenge, then it had been planned well in advance. Did Hank and his good buddies really believe I’d fall for Jessie? Had they been counting on it? I had to weigh the possibility carefully. Maybe James had been waiting in the wings to see if I’d go through with the sale. It all sounded too farfetched, but I was no fool, and stranger things had occurred.
I took another swig of coffee, anger continuing to boil deep within. Whatever was going on, I refused to allow Jessie to be placed in the middle of it. I flipped through a few more google pages, not surprised when I found an article on James being arrested for destroying a club, beating a woman. I had no doubt Ernest had gotten him out of serving serious time.
What in the hell was going on?
I sat back, trying to think about the best way to handle the situation. There’d be no help from my father given the way I’d left town. My thoughts also drifted to Casper Jacobs and the threat he’d issued. Given the fast-paced nature of my business, it had been impossible to keep up with every activity engaged in by the company’s enemies. That would have taken unnecessary staff members. Was it possible there was some connection between Canyon Industries and Casper’s firm? I didn’t see how but stranger things had occurred.
Plus, Casper would have been required to help facilitate my grandfather’s death. What was it that Jessie had said about the man’s overall health? No, a heart attack could occur at any time. When he’d called, his voice had been strong, but that also meant shit. There was enough to deal with without jumping to ridiculous conclusions. However, it was time to begin making notices regarding the connections that could exist.
I flipped to the information about the various employees George had sent me, quickly shifting from one file to another. There wasn’t a single mention of any one of the ranch hands having a record. Not that it really mattered, but I wondered if George was hiding anything else.
I rarely carried a pad with me, although I preferred working through certain problems using a paper and pen. My grandfather had been old school. Certainly, he had paper somewhere. As I started opening his desk drawers, I noticed a picture of my grandmother, one where the two of them were very young. They looked so happy. I eased it onto the desk, shaking my head.
How many stories had I been told while spending time with him?
Exhaling, I continued searching, finding what appeared to be an old-fashioned day planner. That would do for now. I pulled it into my hand, flipping the pages in search of a clean one. When I noticed an envelope, something drew my curiosity. I pulled it into my fingers, turning it over. My grandfather’s name was in block lettering, clearly done by a printer. It was obvious it had been taped to something.
The single piece of paper had also been printed off a computer with no name or signature and no date either. However, the message was clear, the author of the note not bothering to veil the threat to any degree.
You were given a chance to sell.
You were provided with an opportunity to redeem your ways.
Now, you will pay the price.
Get prepared, old man. Now, you die.
What the fuck?
Anger was my constant friend, threats something I was used to. My grandfather had been no angel. He was as gruff and unforgiving as my father and me. He was also considered a powerful, ruthless man, especially when he was much younger. He’d been required to grow up on the tough streets of Philadelphia, creating the very firm I had control of today after being in control of the local union for five years. In those days, their enemies were handled much like those of crime syndicates.
